A New Meaning To Seven FR

A new meaning to Seven FR 🥵🥴

7 Different Sheets (BTS OT7 x Reader)

Pairing: NonIdol!BTS x black!female reader

Word Count: 3,897

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

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

~

You had 7 fuck buddies.

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

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

Mondays were for Jimin.

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

“Does that feel good, my pretty slut?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

~

Tuesdays were for Seokjin.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He smirked down at you.

“Open wide, darling.”

~

Wednesdays were dedicated to Hoseok.

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

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

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

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

“Hmpf, shit.” Just like that.

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

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

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

“Yes? What is it?”

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

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

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

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

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

A gentle touch.

“But….”

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

~

Thursday’s were for Namjoon.

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

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

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

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

“Damn, relax your throat, love.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

~

Fridays were for Taehyung.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He’d pick up another shift next Friday.

~

Saturdays were for Yoongi.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

~

The end of the week meant only one thing.

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

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

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

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

“Baby, come on. I said I’m sorry.”

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

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

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

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

“Oh. My. God. J-Jungkook!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Count.”

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

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

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

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

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

He was an idiot for letting you go.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“W-again?”

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

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

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

And he’d teach you faithfully every Sunday.

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

tongue technology | myg, jjk

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

🧡wc | 2.2k

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

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

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

🧡requests: open | tag list: open

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

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

He thought it was a joke at first.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Mm…”

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

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

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

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

“She’s so fucking pretty, hyung.”

Keep reading

OH.MY.GOD. Your mind, hello?? Yes this is scapegoat I needed!! Please we love extraterrestrial Bangtan stories. Oh poor jungkookie 🥹 shout out to Hobi, his kindness really be otherworldly. Wait so so, can Zephi make themselves invisible?? Is that what he did to make Yoon calm down 😮. Ayeee also 👀 is that a side pairing I senses 👀 VMon/TaeJoon ?? 👀

Hehe but no fr this was such an exciting intro chapter, Yoon’s spidey senses really had him knowing something was off before he even knew it. Really looking forward to the unfolding of this story 🫡

cosmic collision (1) | myg + jjk

A responsible weedman, Yoongi always tests out new marijuana strains before selling them to his customers. When his supplier offers him a new strain, Cosmic Collision, Yoongi is eager to try it. What he doesn't expect is the alien that comes with it.

↳ pairing: weedman!yoongi x alien!jungkook

↳ genre: BTS | 18+ | supernatural | strangers to lovers | slow burn | crack | fluff | smut

↳ wc/date: 6.8k | april 2023

↳ warnings: marijuana | yoongi blacks out from being too high, but i promise nothing bad happens to him | jungkook is so precious you might not survive | yoongi is TRYING HIS BEST

↳ notes: welcome to this silly lil world of galactic mysteries 👽 i hope you enjoy the journey. pls keep your arms, hands, legs, feet, and head inside the spacecraft at all times

↳ main masterlist // series masterlist

↳ what was jai listening to? know yourself - drake

✨ want to be added to the series taglist? send me an ask or reply to this post ✨

“What’s this one called again?” As Namjoon speaks, a thick cloud of white smoke rushes out of his mouth. 

Hoseok is quick with a response, answering before Yoongi has a chance. “DJ Short Flo,” he reads the piece of masking tape stuck to the top of the glass jar on their coffee table. The name is scribbled in blue Sharpie. 

Namjoon repeats the name to himself in a low and scratchy tone. He clears his throat a few times more than is really necessary. “What the fuck’s that supposed to mean?” 

Yoongi’s not sure the names of marijuana strains really need to mean anything, but he’s not part of the conversation. He’s too busy counting a rather fat wad of cash as he stands in the entryway of his apartment. 

Suddenly, the chill vibes playlist Namjoon so artfully crafted for the group’s weekly Friday night smoke sesh pauses. He flashes a glare at Taehyung spread out on Yoongi’s bean bag as he passes the blunt off to Hoseok, who is now making grabby hands next to him on the couch. 

“This is that nasty flow!” Taehyung belts the Drake lyrics prematurely, using his phone to switch from Namjoon’s playlist to the song that has seemingly popped into his head at the mention of Flo. 

Hoseok’s eyes widen as he lifts the blunt to his lips. He takes a drag from it while his head leans over the back of the couch. “Hey, wasn’t that Yoongi’s rapper name in college? Or was it DJ Short Glow?” 

“Top boy in this shit, I’m so international!” 

Yoongi slams his foot into his dirty red Vans. He has to bend over slightly to hook his finger in the back of the shoe to pull it out from underneath his heel. Life would be much easier if he just untied his shoes and put them on correctly. 

“It was Gloss.” 

“Reps up is in here, got P Reign and Chubby and TJ and Winnie and whoa!” Taehyung’s voice cracks as he chokes out the lyrics, and smoke simultaneously puffs out of his nose and mouth. 

“DJ Short Gloss?” Hoseok asks. 

“Yeah, and you know how that should go!” 

“Man, shut the fuck up.” Yoongi throws his middle finger up at whoever may be looking. “I’m not even short.” With his shoes on, Yoongi shrugs into a light windbreaker and stuffs the money into one of the pockets. He has to wiggle the pocket’s zipper a few times before it fully zips closed. “I’ma be back in probably two hours, okay?” 

Hoseok and Taehyung are now belting an Ariana Grande song, so only Namjoon acknowledges Yoongi’s announcement. He throws his friend a thumbs up as smoke unfurls around the blunt squeezed between his lips. 

“Have fun, bro. Tell Jin he better respond to my message on Discord. We got games to play.” 

Yoongi gives the front door a sharp kick before he yanks it open. He reminds himself to figure out how to fix it from getting stuck constantly. The paint on the bottom corner is starting to crack from the number of toes that have jammed into it. 

“Yeah, yeah. I got you, Joon.” 

Seokjin is notoriously difficult to get ahold of. Yoongi can’t text him, which is understandable, even if using other apps like Discord to communicate is annoying. It always goes back to not wanting his real phone number associated with their conversations. Yoongi never feels like pointing out that a Discord account - like literally everything else - can be traced back to Seokjin’s phone. It’s a losing battle, and Yoongi isn’t the type to argue. 

So he shoots WWHandsome#7451 a quick “omw” and drives the thirty minutes to Seokjin’s brother’s house. Or was it his cousin? Best friend? Yoongi can’t remember. All he knows is the guy is cute, and that is enough to make Yoongi not want to go to his house. 

It’s a small house tucked away in the culs-de-sac of a modest but nice-looking suburb. Yoongi always feels dirty as he parks on the curb in his 2001 Honda Accord. The car has wires sticking out where the spoiler was once connected in the back (accidentally ripped off by Taehyung, who closed the trunk too hard). The metal below his front left headlight is dented and stitched together with black zip ties after Yoongi idiotically let Namjoon drive and his friend hit a mailbox.  

The feeling of being out of place typically intensifies as Yoongi trudges up the walkway to the front door. He feels frumpy in his dad hat with a frayed bill, eccentrically-patterned pink button-up shirt over a white graphic tee, and forest-green joggers. He never cared about fashion; throwing on whatever’s clean is enough for him. But when Seokjin’s friend (Yoongi is now remembering they are just friends) flings the door open and lets his eyes roam over Yoongi’s frame, he wishes he’d at least ironed his shirt. 

“Hello,” the man purs. He brushes blue-grey hair away from eyes that are sharp and heavy as he looks up at Yoongi through his bangs. Yoongi tries not to pay attention. “Jinnie’s in the basement.” 

The basement is really just one giant gaming room with a spot off to the side dedicated to Seokjin’s rather impressive inventory of marijuana. He’s exceptionally organized, which Yoongi appreciates, with each glass jar and drawer stuffed with green buds neatly labeled. It makes the exchange quick and easy. Yoongi would prefer not to linger. 

It’s not that Seokjin has ever done anything wrong. In all honesty, Yoongi can’t quite put a name to the feeling he gets in the elder’s presence. He just knows something about Seokjin makes him uneasy. 

“Yoongi-ya, good to see you, my friend.” Seokjin’s hand clamps over Yoongi’s shoulder and his fingers dig into his clavicle. 

“Good seeing you, too,” Yoongi mumbles. He shrugs off his backpack and holds it against his chest like a shield. However, it doesn’t protect him for long because Seokjin almost immediately pries it from Yoongi’s grasp. He watches as the older man tosses the empty bag onto the coffee table in front of a large TV, making the glass rattle. 

“Sit.” 

Yoongi plops onto the couch. Halo Infinite is paused on the TV. He knows nothing about video games, but he’s sure Namjoon would squeal over Seokjin’s setup. Yoongi makes a note to never tell him about it. 

“Want your usual, right?” Seokjin asks though he’s obviously not in any rush to get Yoongi his supply when he settles beside him on the couch. He tilts his black bucket hat back, pulling the brim away from his eyes to expose dark eyebrows. 

Seokjin wears clothes similar to Yoongi’s usual attire: comfortable graphic tees and joggers. He always manages to look better, though. Sleek and expensive, with logos of brands Yoongi doesn’t even know stitched into the fabric, all monochrome rather than the patterned clothing that makes Yoongi look like a rainbow threw up on him. 

“Mhm,” Yoongi hums. “Chem Valley Kush, XJ-13, and DJ Short Flo sold really well.” 

Seokjin’s eyes crinkle as he grins. In the dim lighting of the room, Yoongi swears his teeth look sharp. “XJ-13 put your ass in gear, didn’t it?” 

This Yoongi has to smile at. “The most productive I’ve been in my life,” he laughs. “That tangerine aroma, too? Fuckin’ beautiful.” 

Seokjin reaches for the clear glass bong atop the coffee table. He brings it to his lips, pausing momentarily to say, “It’s the Jack Herer in it.” 

Yoongi watches the smoke furl through the intricately curled tubing. He’s always been more of a bowl kind of guy, but he doesn’t say no when Seokjin passes him the bong and a lime green lighter.

“I’ve got enough of all three, but try out this one.” Seokjin watches expectantly as Yoongi inhales and doesn’t continue talking until he blows a thick cloud toward the ceiling. “It’s called Cosmic Collision. Totally brand new strain, an experimental hybrid. Nobody’s got this on the street except me.” 

“Cosmic Collision?” Yoongi runs his tongue across his teeth, then the inside of his cheeks, like he’s gathering the taste in his mouth. It’s fruity and went down so smooth it almost felt more like vaping or hookah than weed. “Tastes like cereal.” 

“Good, right? Shit’ll take you somewhere otherworldly.”

Describing the strain as experimental and otherworldly is relatively accurate, Yoongi muses as he takes a few more hits from the bong. Each pull is smooth and surprisingly kind to his throat as he breathes it down. Weed like this is hard to come by on the streets. Most are harsh, perhaps from being doused in pesticides or growing in shoddy environments. Seokjin has never let Yoongi down, though. Everything he provides is always high quality, to the extent that Yoongi wonders if the man grows it himself or if he’s got the hookup with someone professional. 

Before long, Yoongi sinks into the couch and forgets his promise of returning home after two hours. His phone buzzes in his pocket with text messages he can’t seem to find the desire to check. He doesn’t hear the notifications, only feels the vibration against his thigh. The sensation warms him to the point that the way his body tingles is a little embarrassing. 

Something else buzzes in his ear, something he can hear as a muffled squeak that pulses against his eardrums. It’s rather annoying. Yoongi’s face twists into a slight grimace that quickly melts away when he feels something poke his cheek. 

“Yoongi-ya!” 

His head is almost too heavy to turn, but he manages. Seokjin’s image is blurry initially. It takes a few blinks for Yoongi to adjust, and only then does he realize his eyes have been closed for a good while. 

“Hm?” Like his head, his tongue feels heavy to lift. His mouth tastes like Froot Loops. A small smile stretches his lips against his teeth. God, he’s so fucking high. 

“Jimin and I need to leave; I’m sorry,” Seokjin gives him a sheepish look. 

Yoongi blinks a few more times and wills his arms to lift up. He stretches his back with a groan. “Shit, sorry. Didn’t realize how long it’s been.” 

His phone tells him it’s been nearly four hours since he arrived. His brain struggles to comprehend this new information, just like it struggles to accept that he has somehow migrated upstairs and is now sitting at the kitchen table with a glass of water in front of him. When the fuck had he moved? 

Seokjin gives him a knowing smile. “Drink more water when you get home. And drive safely!” 

Nodding his head, Yoongi slings his backpack over his shoulder and follows Seokjin to the front door. The bag is heavy with what Yoongi assumes is weed - the whole reason why he came to the house in the first place. But he has no recollection of Seokjin giving it to him. 

“That’s some strong shit,” Yoongi mumbles mostly to himself as he says his final goodbyes. 

There’s the knowing smile again, though Yoongi doesn’t know what Seokjin knows that he doesn’t know. “Like I said, otherworldly. Have a good night, my friend. I’ll see you around.” 

As he returns to his car, Yoongi decides that Seokjin most definitely gives him the creeps. A twinge of guilt accompanies the thought because Yoongi knows Seokjin hasn’t actually done anything to deserve such judgment, but he can’t help it. Knowing that he completely blacked out for hours with the guy sends a shiver down Yoongi’s spine. Smoking has never affected him like that before. 

The car ride home is frigid and quiet. Yoongi leans forward against the steering wheel, grasping it with both hands and straining his eyes to see into the dark. Driving while high is a skill Yoongi has perfected over many years of smoking, but tonight he finds himself struggling to stay focused. His eyes keep flicking up to check the rearview mirror. He knows this means he’s so high that paranoia starts kicking in. He usually cuts himself off before that point, but tonight got away from him. Checking for cops in the rearview mirror is one of those paranoid habits of his. At least the sense of self-preservation isn’t too ridiculous. Driving while under the influence of marijuana is illegal, after all. 

To his horror, the next time he looks into the mirror, the empty street isn’t what greets him. Instead, Yoongi stares into two large, bright eyes. 

There’s a motherfucking person in his backseat. 

“What the fuck?!” 

Yoongi stomps on the brakes. The abruptness violently lurches the guy forward, making him smack his face into the back of the passenger’s seat. 

The guy groans loudly and cups his hand over his nose. “Owww.” When he meets Yoongi’s eyes through the rearview mirror again, they’re shiny and wet. “You hurt me.” 

“Who the fuck are you?!” 

It doesn’t matter that he’s stopped in the middle of the street. Yoongi puts the car into park and twists in his seat to see the person behind him better. Any feeling of intoxication has swiftly left his body. He doesn’t think he has sobered up so quickly in his entire life. 

The guy appears to be a few years younger than Yoongi. His shaggy black hair falls into his eyes, though most of his face is obscured by the large hood of his mossy-green sweatshirt. Looking down, Yoongi sees that he’s in a pair of black basketball shorts that are inappropriate for the cool autumn weather. Tattoos of strange symbols litter his hands and creep up his arms, from what Yoongi can tell. The thought that his teeth look sharp like Seokjin’s do flashes in Yoongi’s mind, but he’s too freaked out to linger on that. Imagined sharp teeth are nothing compared to how the younger man’s eyes glow with a turquoise ring around his black irises. 

Despite the fear those eyes strike in Yoongi’s body, he can’t help but admire how beautiful the man is. Something about him feels… otherworldly, Seokjin’s voice sounds in Yoongi’s head. 

“My name is-” 

Whatever the man says is lost to Yoongi. His supposed name is nothing Yoongi has ever heard before, sounding more like strange clicks and whistles instead of a real language. 

Apparently sensing Yoongi’s confusion by his mouth hanging open, the man gives him a nervous smile. “You may call me Jungkook if that is easier for you to pronounce,” he whispers hardly loud enough for Yoongi to hear. “When I am in this realm, that is the name I go by. Elder Seokjin gave it to me.” 

Realm? Elder? 

Yoongi shakes his head while his palms press into his eyes. Maybe if he slowly counts backward from ten and focuses on his breathing, the marijuana-induced hallucination will disappear. 

Silently, he mouths the numbers until he finishes his ten seconds of attempted meditation. To his chagrin, he opens his eyes to see the strange man sitting on the edge of the backseat with his hands clasped between his thighs. He watches Yoongi in earnest. 

“I can tell that you are upset.” He speaks slowly as if he thinks Yoongi may not be able to understand him. “There was nothing else that I could do, sir. Elder Jimin and Elder Seokjin closed the portal when they left after they assumed I had returned home without them. But I was in the garden! I do not like the smell of marijuana. It hurts my head so badly. I needed to get fresh air until you left.”

The man waits rather impatiently for Yoongi to respond. He fidgets in his seat, though he keeps his eyes locked with Yoongi’s. His gaze is so intense that Yoongi has to look away. 

It’s too much. 

Before any more bullshit can spew from the guy’s mouth, Yoongi flings the door open, snatching the keys before slamming the door shut behind him. His hand shakes as he presses the button to lock the doors, leaving him standing outside and the younger man inside. 

He looks up at Yoongi through the back window with confusion. Yoongi could swear that the turquoise rings around his eyes dim. 

Turning his back to the car so he doesn’t have to look at the man anymore, Yoongi finally takes out his phone. It takes Namjoon three calls to pick up, but Yoongi can’t be mad; he’s just grateful his friend picked up at all. 

“Yoong. It’s three-thirty in the morning. Hobi said you never came home.”

There was a reason why he called Namjoon instead of his roommate. Hoseok is such a heavy sleeper, Yoongi knows it would have been pointless to try. 

“I need you to come get me. I don’t really know where I am, but there’s a guy in my car.” 

Silence on the other end of the line makes Yoongi grow antsy. He lets out a loud huff, then another to indicate the sense of urgency he needs his friend to share with him. 

“What?” 

“I’m not kidding, man. There’s some random fucking dude in the backseat of my car.” 

Yoongi takes a peek over his shoulder. The guy has crawled halfway into the front seats and is pushing the buttons on Yoongi’s radio. Probably fucking up all his saved stations. Yoongi lets out a hiss. 

“Bro, you’re tweaking.” 

“Fuck you, I’m serious.” 

“Tweeeeeaking,” Namjoon drawls. There’s a giggle in the background, the soft deepness of the sound unmistakable. 

“Give Taehyung the phone.” 

For a few seconds, Yoongi only hears more giggling and some rustling. He tries to respect his friends’ privacy and not ask why they are still together so late at night. 

Eventually, Taehyung murmurs a greeting. “Hey, boss man.” 

“Come pick me up right now. This dude is refusing to get out of my car.” 

“What if he hotwires it, and when you go back in the morning, it’s gone?” Taehyung raises a valid concern, but Yoongi isn’t in the right mind to think with common sense. 

“Then it’s fucking gone! It’s a piece of shit car anyway!” 

Taehyung gasps. “Don’t talk about Mary Jane like that!” 

Yoongi pinches the bridge of his nose and squeezes his eyes shut. Maybe he is tweaking. The universe must agree since he turns around to see an empty car. 

“Yoongi?” Taehyung’s voice is small and distant. 

Yoongi holds his phone a few inches away from his ear and stares at his car in disbelief. He slowly approaches it, peering into the windows to inspect the backseat. There’s nothing. 

“Uhh… nevermind. I’ll be fine. Make sure Joon drinks some water, okay?” He hangs up before Taehyung has the chance to question him further. 

With trembling hands, Yoongi unlocks the car and slides behind the wheel. Another quick look around confirms that he’s again the only person in the car. How was it possible for the other guy to get out? Yoongi knows that he locked the doors when he got out. But perhaps he unlocked them from the inside, and the alarm didn’t go off? Yoongi can’t think straight, but he supposes it doesn’t matter. His car is empty. 

It remains empty for the rest of the drive. Yoongi is on edge the entire time, but he has calmed down considerably by the time he parks on the street near his apartment.

However, Yoongi doesn’t feel true security until he’s in bed, after showering away the smell of weed and the tingling feeling of his skin. The marijuana is put away, although he hides Cosmic Collision in his closet. He doesn’t know why, but something tells him to keep the odd strain to himself for now. 

With how droopy the weed made him and the stress of the ride home, Yoongi quickly falls asleep to his Pink Noise playlist and tries not to dream of turquoise-ringed eyes. 

Yoongi loves autumn Saturday mornings. He loves snuggling into his blankets while the sun gently kisses his skin. He loves tilting his head to see red and gold leaves glowing in the sunlight outside his window. He loves knowing there’s nothing that needs to be done, that he has a day to slowly move through the kitchen in his pajamas with a cup of coffee and a blunt with nowhere he needs to be. He loves gentle days. 

Today, he does not have the pleasure of enjoying a gentle day. 

Rather than the sun waking him, it’s his roommate. Hoseok squeezes Yoongi’s shoulders a bit too tightly as he shakes the older man awake. 

“Yoongi,” he whisper-yells. “Yoongi, you didn’t tell me you had someone over. He’s really fucking hot, I get it, but you have to tell me! I just walked out of my bedroom naked, which I should be able to do since it’s my apartment, and I knew you wouldn’t be up yet, and surprise! Some gorgeous man is sitting on the couch, eating my chocolate chip cookies, by the way, staring at my dick! Do you know how embarrassing that is?!” 

With squinted eyes and a scrunched nose, Yoongi stares up at Hoseok. To be perfectly honest, all he heard was hot, naked, cookies, dick. Which… Is not what one expects to talk about before their eyes have even adjusted to the daylight. 

“Wha-what, Hoba, what?” Yoongi forces himself into a sitting position. 

Hoseok flaps his arms at his side and lets out an exasperated sigh. “Your hookup is still here. And he saw me naked. And he’s eating my food. That is what I’m trying to tell you.” 

“My hookup?” 

“Yes, fuck. He’s really sexy in an adorable kind of way. I was shocked. Not really your usual type, but an improvement, honestly,” Hoseok rambles.  

Ignoring the subtle dig at his taste in men, Yoongi tries to focus on the meaning behind his roommate’s words. He is no stranger to casual sex but seldom brings people over out of respect for Hoseok. It’s a situation precisely like this that he tries to avoid. 

“But I came home straight from Jin’s… Didn’t I?” Yoongi wracks his brain, desperately searching for some kind of missing link. “I swear on my life, Hoba. I swear on my life I went to Seokjin’s and came straight home. You can ask Joon and Tae. I called them after I left because-” 

Hoseok leaps back as Yoongi rips the blankets off of his body. “Fuck!” He flies out of his bedroom, feet barely touching the ground. 

He’s breathing hard when he bursts into the living room. 

The man from the night before - Jungkook - is cuddled up on the couch. He’s wearing the same outfit, though his hood is lowered now. Yoongi can see just how disarmingly beautiful the man is without the fabric obstructing his view. His face is round with flawless skin that practically glows in the daylight. His bangs are sticking out in all directions, hair mused in what Yoongi assumes is bedhead. Yoongi can’t help but find him kind of adorable, especially when his cheeks are puffy from stuffing so many chocolate chip cookies in his mouth. 

Except he shouldn’t be fucking real! Or in his apartment!

As Yoongi steps closer, he notices the turquoise rings around Jungkook’s irises. Fear that Yoongi can only describe as primal tickles the base of his spine. It’s impossible to stamp down, no matter how many deep breaths he takes. 

“You.” He points an accusatory finger. “You.” 

Not his most intelligent moment, but his brain doesn’t know how to function anymore. A cookie-covered smile makes Yoongi falter, but he does his best to maintain a stern expression. 

“Good morning, Yoongi! Your apartment is kind of dirty, but it feels cozy. I like it.” Jungkook places the now empty container of cookies on the coffee table. The action draws Yoongi’s attention to the stack of other empty food containers, beer bottles, weed residue, and game controllers littering the table’s surface. Maybe he is dirty. 

Nah, fuck that. This is not what’s important right now. 

Yoongi shakes his head, his shaggy blonde hair falling into his eyes. “Why are you here? How did you get here?” 

Hoseok makes an odd sound that Yoongi desperately tries to ignore. But then he feels the press of a warm hand against the nape of his neck, and he can’t brush him off from how tightly Hoseok is digging into his skin. 

“Yoongi…” He sounds like he’s about to scold him. 

Before he can start, Jungkook hops up from the couch. Both strangely-tattooed hands lift upward, about chest-high, and he twists them to hold his palms out. 

“It is my fault, Mr. Hoseok.” 

“Just Hobi.” 

Jungkook nods. “I did not explain the situation well. Elder Jimin and Elder Seokjin told me never to speak to humans about this, but I don’t know what else to do. No one else from our team is here, and they must wait until the next cosmic collision for the portal to reopen.” 

His voice trembles as he speaks, and Yoongi worries the guy is about to start crying. He tugs at the many hoops adorning his earlobe and rocks on the balls of his feet, much like children do to comfort themselves. 

Maybe he’s a dick, but Yoongi would prefer not to deal with a stranger crying in the middle of his living room. 

“Cosmic collision? Like the weed?” He understands all the individual words Jungkook uses, but none of them in how he has strung them together. 

The man bites his lip. His teeth wiggle as they dig into the pink flesh. At night they had appeared sharp, but in the daylight, they are blunt and almost too big for his face. 

“Not the weed,” he says without further explanation. 

Hoseok’s grip on Yoongi’s neck tightens until he turns to look at him. Human? He mouths not so subtly. 

Yoongi shakes his head. Nothing about any of this makes sense. With a sigh, he runs his hands down his face and grimaces at how oily his skin feels. 

“Look,” he starts, furrowing his eyebrows in Jungkook’s direction. “I’m gonna take a shower. And then I’m gonna drink a cup of coffee. By that point, I expect you to have called Jin or Jimin, fuck, I don’t care who, to take you home. Okay?” 

Jungkook opens his mouth, likely to protest, but Yoongi tuts his tongue against the roof of his mouth. “Nope. I said what I said.” 

“Yoongi-ya,” Hoseok protests on behalf of the bewildered man. He follows Yoongi back into his bedroom, awkwardly wringing his hands as he watches him look for clean clothes to wear. “He seems genuine…” 

“Genuine?” Yoongi scoffs. 

Hoseok shoots him a glare. “Yes.” 

“Did you not hear him, Hoba? Humans? Cosmic collisions? Portals? Last night he said he goes by ‘Jungkook’ when he’s in this realm and made some weird ass clicking sounds like The Predator, like that was supposed to be his fucking name.” 

“Okay… that is a bit strange… But I think you’re being harsh. Clearly, the guy is confused, and if he’s a friend of Jin, I think you should be nicer to him.” 

“Jin gives me the creeps, too.” 

“Yoongi!” Hoseok untangles his fingers to wave them around. “Just, just take your shower. I will get all of us coffee, and we will sort this out.” 

They do not sort this out. 

While Yoongi showered, Hoseok probed Jungkook a bit further. It was all more or less the same, though. Utter nonsense. 

He discovered that Jungkook didn’t know what coffee was, didn’t seem to understand why Hoseok had initially been upset that he’d seen him naked because “nudity is the natural state of all humans,” and seemed shocked that Hoseok could “alter” his features - pointing at the deep orange he had recently dyed his hair. As if to explain his thought process about the hair observation, Hoseok watched with thinly-veiled horror as Jungkook’s hair turned a deep purple right before his eyes. 

Needless to say, as Yoongi inches his way into the kitchen after a shower that should have been refreshing but only left him feeling cold, he does not expect to see Hoseok leaning across the kitchen table to stare unblinking at their odd guest. Their odd guest whose previously-dark hair is an icy blue. 

“Umm?” 

Hoseok lifts his eyes to Yoongi. They’re bright and full of wonder, so shiny Yoongi worries he might be on the verge of tears. Out of sadness or something else, he’s not sure. 

“He’s magic.” 

Jungkook giggles at Hoseok’s declaration. However, one look at Yoongi’s narrowed eyes makes him clap his hand over his mouth. 

“Excuse me?” 

“He can change his hair color. And his eyes! See, look. Show him, Jungkookie.” 

Jungkookie? In the time it took Yoongi to shower, they’d gotten on nickname-level? 

Pouring himself a cup of coffee, Yoongi forgets about his previous threat to kick Jungkook out. Instead, he sits at the table, lets the mug warm his hands, and tries to tell himself that the wave of heat burning down his body is from the coffee and not the intensity of Jungkook’s stare. 

A stare that glows brighter the longer Yoongi looks at him until he watches the turquoise rings turn a deep pink. When Yoongi finally pulls his gaze from his eyes, he sees that Jungkook’s hair compliments his new eyes. 

“What in the actual fuck?” 

“I can change other parts of my body, too!” Jungkook beams. He shakes his head, and his hair returns to its original black. His eyes’ turquoise rings replace the pink. “It takes a lot of energy to change big things, like my facial structure. Hair and eyes are the easiest. I made myself taller when I first got to Earth, though. I like being tall.” 

Yoongi slumps in his seat. If Hoseok wasn’t here witnessing this, he would assume that the weed Seokjin gave him was fucking with him harder than he could have imagined. But Hoseok is entirely sober and untainted by Cosmic Collision. 

That means only one thing. 

This shit is real. Whatever the fuck this is.

“Where were you before you came to Earth?” Hoseok is too willing to go along with this. But, on the other hand, Yoongi feels like everyone is playing a game he doesn’t know the rules to. 

Jungkook’s nervous lip-biting returns, but he seems to push through his feelings. “Our planet is called Zephipra.” He shoots a quick look at Yoongi. “It is further into the universe than you humans have visited. Your scientists do not know about us.” 

“So you’re an alien?” It comes out like a challenge without Yoongi meaning for it to. He feels a tiny bit bad when Jungkook deflates, closing in on himself as he draws his shoulders inward. 

“We don’t like that term.” 

Hoseok reaches an arm across the table. He flips his palm upward as though offering it to Jungkook to hold. 

“What is a better term for you?” he asks softly, and Yoongi envies his roommate’s ability to be unconditionally kind. 

It takes a few minutes of silence before Jungkook hesitantly squeezes Hoseok’s hand. 

“I suppose extraterrestrial, but my people are called Zephi. That is also the language we speak.”

The gulp of coffee Yoongi takes is scalding. He should have waited for it to cool, knows this means his tastebuds and throat are burnt to shit and nothing will taste good for days. But he needs something to do as Jungkook rambles on about the history of aliens like this is all real.  

Hoseok hums along, asking a few follow-up questions when something Jungkook says confuses him. Yoongi finds it all confusing, but he doesn’t say anything. 

“So,” Hoseok claps his hands together and startles Yoongi out of his thoughts. “You said you’re stuck here until some kind of space phenomenon happens?” 

Jungkook nods. 

“And there’s absolutely no other way to get home?” 

Another nod.

“Hmm…” 

Yoongi accidentally catches Jungkook’s eyes once again. He knows his cheeks burn, but he doesn’t understand why. The heat only dissipates once Jungkook averts his gaze. 

“How long does it take, usually?” 

Jungkook draws the coffee Hoseok fixed for him closer. He peers down at the dark liquid and gives the light steam radiating off the surface a few sniffs. Yoongi doesn’t want to find how he scrunches his nose adorable, but he can’t stop the thoughts once they start. 

“Hmm, usually a few weeks.” He looks at Yoongi again, and Yoongi really wishes he’d stop doing that. “Sometimes a month or two, right?” 

Yoongi’s eyebrows shoot up into his bangs. “How would I know?” 

“Well, how often do you purchase marijuana from Elder Seokjin?” When Yoongi doesn’t respond, Jungkook sighs. It’s the first time he looks genuinely upset. “I have never been here alone.” 

By the time what Jungkook has said clicks in Yoongi’s head, he and Hoseok have migrated back to the living room. Yoongi scrambles after them as he pulls up Discord on his phone. No new messages from WWHandsome#7451. 

Scrolling through their history, he finds that there is a pattern to how often Yoongi buys from him. Once he sorts through stoner memes and news articles about the legalization of marijuana at the federal level, he can see that each conversation about picking up a new order occurs around every four to five weeks. Yoongi rarely initiates the conversation; he doesn’t have to. Seokjin will let him know he has a new supply, and Yoongi suddenly realizes that, yeah, he’s almost out. He mentally joked with himself about how astute Seokjin is, that he must have some sort of supernatural sense to know when Yoongi is running low. 

Now Yoongi wonders if there’s more to it than that.  

“Are you not supposed to be here on your own?” Hoseok drapes a blanket around Jungkook’s shoulders and tucks him into the corner of the couch where the cushions are the comfiest. With Jungkook taken care of, he flops onto the couch beside him, leaving Yoongi room on the opposite end. 

Although Yoongi considers himself to be a pretty reliable guy, Hoseok’s ability to take control of an emotionally-charged situation is Yoongi’s saving grace. Unfortunately, he’s not the best when it comes to emotional shit.  

Jungkook tugs at his earrings once again. His other hand curls into a fist he repeatedly hits on the top of his thigh. It’s not hard or aggressive, but it’s distracting. 

“No. I am an… intern? I believe that is the correct term. Only researchers are allowed on Earth alone. Interns must stay with their research mentor. Mine is Elder Seokjin.”

Hoseok lets out an understanding hum. He peeks at Yoongi out of the corner of his eye, but Yoongi doesn’t think he gives Hoseok much to go off of. Yoongi still has no idea what to think about all this; his brain won’t let him. 

The three men are silent for what feels like forever. The air is full of tension, although Yoongi wonders if he’s the only one who notices it. Jungkook simply looks worried, his fist still thumping against his thigh and his fingers playing with his earrings. Hosoek is almost completely relaxed. Yoongi knows his roommate well enough to tell from how his shoulders sag, and that he’s reaching for the pre-rolls and lighter resting on the coffee table. 

“Is this the 93 Boyz?” 

Yoongi shakes his head, amazed that his friend can casually light up a joint as if this is just a normal day. “Chem Valley Kush.” 

“Nice,” Hoseok speaks out of the corner of his mouth before inhaling as he brings the lighter to the tip of the joint. 

Jungkook makes a small noise, perhaps a cough, when Hoseok exhales. His cute little nose wrinkles up, and Yoongi remembers that he doesn’t like the smell of weed. 

“Want some, kiddo?” Hoseok hands the joint to Jungkook, who hesitantly pinches it between his fingers like a snake ready to lunge at him. 

With furrowed eyebrows, he brings the joint to his lips and sucks in the smoke. Yoongi averts his eyes when Jungkook looks up at him through his lashes, cheeks pink and hollowed. There’s something about the guy that makes Yoongi’s skin crawl. 

Despite his dislike of the smell of weed, Jungkook takes a few hits of the joint like a champ, only coughing once, and even then, the sound was dainty and soft. 

Yoongi accepts the joint from Hoseok when Jungkook passes it over. He tries not to think about how Jungkook’s lips had just wrapped around the end of the joint, the same place Yoongi is about to put his lips. He keeps the hit quick and deep, passing it on to Hoseok before he’s barely inhaled fresh air to push the smoke further into his lungs. 

Only after Hoseok starts the second round of the rotation does he say, “Well, you’ll just have to stay here until the collision or whatever happens.” 

Yoongi’s heart drops into the pit of his stomach while a blinding smile blooms across Jungkook’s face. “Whoa, wait a second. Why can’t he go back to their house?” 

“We can’t leave him alone!” Hoseok chastizes him as though this is the most obvious solution to their dilemma. 

“Hoba, where is he going to sleep?” 

“Your room.” 

Yoongi scoffs. If it’s Hoseok’s bright idea, it should be him giving up his bedroom. “Then where am I sleeping?” 

“The couch.” Hoseok shrugs and passes the joint to a still-hesitant Jungkook. “Or with him, if you’re gonna be a little bitch about the couch. Do you care, Jungkookie?” 

Jungkook inhales too deeply and sputters a rough “No, of course not” in between coughs that sound painful. 

There’s no way in fuck Yoongi’s going to sleep in the same bed as an alien. “Do ali- I mean, Zephi, even need to sleep?” 

Smoke rushes out of Jungkook’s nostrils. The rigid set of his jaw makes him look older and more angular. The masculine aggression of it makes Yoongi’s stomach twist - which he ignores. 

“Yes,” Jungkook hisses. “We are not freaks.”

“No one said you were, kiddo.” Hoseok lightly flicks Jungkook under the chin before shoving the joint in Yoongi’s face with a grimace. “You, behave.” 

With that, Hoseok rises from the couch. He places his hands on his hips and looks between the two men. Yoongi hates when he gets like this, calculating. Usually, whatever that over-imaginative brain cooks up is never good for Yoongi. 

“Is there anything at your house you need while you stay with us?” Hoseok asks with his head tilted to the side as he examines Jungkook. 

The alien - Zelphi - chews on his bottom lip. His cheeks are still pink, as are his eyes. Except this time, it’s from being high rather than being some supernatural oddity. 

“They took all my things when they returned home,” Jungkook admits after a long pause. He stares at his hands in his lap, lacing and unlacing his fingers to the point that Yoongi wants to grab his wrists and force them to his sides. “I don’t require much, though. I do not want to be a bother.” 

At that, he steals a shy glance at Yoongi. Yoongi feels heat spread over his cheeks, so he opts to look at Hoseok instead. Which is a mistake because his roommate is glowering at him. 

“Jungkookie, no matter how much of a dick Yoongi is, I promise you are not a bother,” he speaks to Jungkook but keeps his eyes on Yoongi. 

“I’mnotadick,” Yoongi grumbles. He folds his arms against his chest and stares at his reflection in the TV. It’s not a clear reflection, but it’s enough to tell that his hair is, rather unfortunately, sticking straight up on his head. 

“Anyway, I’ll let you borrow some of my clothes. I tend to wear them baggy, so they should fit you fine. I have to go to work soon - I’m a hairstylist. Fucked up, working on the weekends, right? Ahh, but anyway, you can stay with Yoongi.” 

Jungkook merely nods with bright, round eyes gazing up at Hoseok as though the man is divulging his most remarkable secrets. 

“And if he’s mean to you, you can, I don’t know, shoot him with lasers out of your eyes or whatever scary things you’re capable of.”

“Oh, I would never do that,” Jungkook quickly disagrees, turning those beautiful eyes to Yoongi. 

“You can do that?” 

“Yes, but I promise I wouldn’t do that to you. I promise.”

Yoongi throws his head back against the couch and groans. His body starts to slip down the cushions, but he does nothing to stop himself from falling onto the floor. 

“You cannot leave me with him, Hoba.” 

“Oh, hush.” Hoseok swats the back of Yoongi’s head as he makes his way to his bedroom to get ready. “You’ll be besties in no time.” 

all rights reserved © gimmethatagustd on tumblr & AO3

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

Right in the feels, my baby he will be back soon 🥹!!

the one where hoseok comes home

Pairing: Jung Hoseok x gn!Reader Type: Drabble // Fluff // Established Relationship AU Rating: SFW — Minors DNI w/ my content, regardless! CW: None 💕 Summary: It’s October 2024 and your life finally — finally — resumes its orbit. WC: .5k A/N: Deviating from my WIPs (ope) because I needed a fix-it fic for, like, reality? Nobody requested this lil baby blurb, unless you count… me. Dedicated to (m)y jihope-biased emotional support moot, @here2bbtstrash

You’d learned more in eighteen months than you had in over eighteen years of formal education.

The first lesson came on your second morning alone: hotteok tastes better when it’s made for you. Even if the cook gets distracted by the background music they themselves are generating. Even if the edges are crispier than they should be, and the centers are a bit gooey, or there’s pre-packaged mix dusting over your previously clean countertops. Even if that hotteok is cold by the time you stop kissing and start eating, you know now that few things in life are sweeter.

He is, of course, but the point still stands.

Showers, you’d learned, are colder when you take them alone. This was a surprise you grappled with for weeks and a confounding reality you still struggle to square. A scientific mystery, then and now.

All of the hot water was yours — exclusively — to use as you pleased. You didn’t have to scramble, soap-covered and squealing, for the prime spot under the shower head. Cold air didn’t nip at your damp skin when you lost territory because you didn’t have to compete for any in the first place. Still, without whole-chested laughter to echo off the walls, not much existed to separate your body from cold porcelain.

The absence of personal space isn’t something you intend to ever take for granted again.

Of all the things you’d realized in your uncharacteristically quiet apartment, one thing hit a little harder:

Love looks different every day.

Sometimes, it comes at an odd angle. It’s spending all thirty minutes of a daily allowance with a phone propped against a faucet. It’s staring up at someone’s chin, watching fondly as they brush their teeth, and smiling when they remember — without being told — to put the cap back on the toothpaste.

Other times, it looks like an Excel spreadsheet of pop culture news, fastidiously collected and organized so that no groundbreaking celebrity gossip goes unreported. It’s incredulous eyes and a scandalized mouth hanging open, interjecting occasionally with, “Wa, jinjja?”

Every now and then, it looks like handwritten letters with thick, black redactions applied after the fact with a far heavier hand. Though you couldn’t tell where in the Republic they came from, you knew — without question — that government censorship does not apply to hastily doodled hearts.

Today, however, love doesn’t look like much of anything because its hands are covering your eyes.

It sounds like clean spoons clattering back into the dishwasher you’d been emptying, entirely unaware that the door down the hall had opened and shut out of earshot. It smells like army-issued shampoo and Thai milk tea from that little spot near the train station, where surprise journeys home occur two days ahead of schedule. And it feels like the ground shifting beneath your fluffy house slippers; the Earth now back on its axis and ready to resume spinning like it should.

Tonight, love will taste like hotteok for dinner — and you won’t have to make it yourself.

Oooooo excited for this one!! A pack of seven alphas vying for one person ?? Dangerous and spicy I love it

Moonchild | OT7 | WIP Wednesday

MAIN MASTERLIST

Pair: OT7  x f!reader ; endgame ??? x f!reader  

Summary: Working at a coffee shop that only opened in the late hours of the night was the most exciting thing about your life, really. You never had that many friends, your love life was nonexistent, and you just couldn’t explain the feeling of not belonging that chased you no matter where you tried to find your place. 

It was when seven very handsome strangers came into your life that weird things started happening around you and within you. Could they be the ones to fill in what’s been missing? Or would getting involved with them and their world put you in danger? 

Genre: Series, fluff, angst, smut, non idol au, ABO, werewolf au. 

Warnings: This is just a little teaser from the first chapter of the series, since this story won the poll for the wip wednesday game! I’ll be posting the whole first chapter on my membership on Ko-fi, if you’re interested. 

WC: 1.7k

Min Yoongi was the first one to meet you.

He never believed in fate, really, most of the beliefs his kind took as gospel, he chucked to superstition and coincidences. But even he wouldn't deny that it wasn't by chance that he ended up at Moonlight Café that night. 

Yoongi had been following Namjoon’s orders, checking in with some old friends that were part of the same faction his pack was in. With the North and South of Seoul being as divided as it was right now, it was important to keep close to those who were still on your side. 

But that didn't explain how he reached that part of town, only two streets away from the border where the north territory ended and the south started. 

He shouldn't be there. It was too close to the limit. If he ran into trouble, he could easily be taken as a threat; and facing members of the Southside Clan alone was not something he was ever interested in.

But Yoongi still walked into the coffee shop, the only place actually open at this time of night. The whole street was pitch black, only a few lamp posts reflecting from the wet asphalt. 

Moonlight, however, was warm and welcoming. The low lights of the inside didn't disturb the wandering souls that came in looking for a coffee at three in the morning.

Or a place to rest, in Yoongi’s case. 

"Welcome to Moonlight." you were saying as soon as he crossed the doors. The prettiest smile on your face; one he wouldn't mind seeing more of. 

His heart took a leap in his chest as his stomach turned upside down. 

It took Yoongi a while to recompose himself and actually walk up to the counter and place his order. He would never forget that night, but he really wished you did.

Yoongi was a flustered mess, stumbling over his words, which made you laugh and, most likely, think he was a fool. 

He had only ever heard of encounters like this, his inner wolf chirping happily simply by being in your presence. 

Yoongi went home smelling like you that night, after one single brush against his shoulder. That was his only mistake. 

The fading scent of you that was stuck to his clothes was enough to catch the attention of the three youngest of the pack, so much so they followed Yoongi for four days until he returned to the coffee shop just because he had to see you again.

Park Jimin was the second to meet you, after a heated game of rock, paper, scissors that he may or may not have cheated to win against Tae and Kook. He didn’t really understand the appeal of a coffee shop that opened between midnight and six am; but then again, he wasn’t there for the caffeine. 

He was there, however, to meet the cute barista girl who’s scent he couldn’t get out of his mind. 

Jimin was someone who had flirting as his second nature. To him it came as easy as breathing, almost. So he had the perfect pickup line for you, one to make you blush, maybe let out a giggle or two. And he rehearsed it over and over in his head as he confidently walked up to the counter. 

“What can I do for you tonight?”

It wasn’t the sweet tilt to your voice that disarmed him. It wasn’t even the way your eyes seemed to let out pink and purple fireworks in a dark night sky. But smelling you in person was much much better than catching a whiff of you in his hyungs clothes. 

At that moment he knew. Sakura flowers and vanilla beans were his new favorite smell in the whole damn world. 

Kim Taehyung was the third one to meet you. 

He had been waiting outside as his closest hyung made a fool of himself in front of you. Taehyung could hear Jimin’s inner voice spilling curses at himself and praises at you, repeating over and over again how nice your scent was in person. 

Taehyung walked up to the counter after Jimin had left, when you were walking around the main room to make sure the few sleepless patrons were well served. He had his arms crossed as he read the food and drink options scribbled onto the chalk wall behind the counter. He didn’t drink coffee, so he might have a problem. 

“Do you like hot chocolate?” 

The raising of the hairs in his arm were the first sign you were standing next to him, body reacting before his brain could even catch up. 

Then he watched you make the sweet drink from a distance as he tried to figure you out. 

Kim Seokjin was the fourth to go looking for you. He had heard whispers about you between Jimin and Taehyung, who kept coming home late after a job, buzzing with sugar. But it was only when Yoongi showed up one morning, with red cheeks and a dopey smile on his face that the eldest of the pack was intrigued. 

Being the older wolf also had its perks; like having a way of knowing where his pack members had been –by having access to an app, it wasn’t a super power or anything like that–. 

It was a breach in privacy that he never resorted to, unless it was in situations like this. So he typed up the address he found and the GPS in his car let him into Moonlight. 

Only he didn’t know the weird hours the coffee shop worked with, so he stood in the rain for a good twenty minutes before someone arrived. 

“Oh, goodness! Have you been there for too long?” 

Seokjin knew instantly that it was you that his members were coming to see everyday  for almost two weeks now. And he could definitely understand why. 

You passed him your umbrella, uncaring that you had to be the one left in the rain now, as you opened up the coffee shop. You gave him something to dry his hair with and his first coffee of the night was free of charge. 

Jung Hoseok was a curious man. 

But he was also Namjoon’s right hand when it came to taking care of their pack. Which meant he needed to be alert and watchful of what went on with his brothers, while the leader was more concerned with affairs from the outside of their home. 

He was the fifth to pay Moonlight a visit. His only goal that night was to keep an eye on you from a distance, find out what it was about you that seemed to cast a spell on the members of his pack the way that it did. But all it took was an easy smile and the offering of a gingerbread cookie for his protective stance to falter. 

“I swear it’s going to feel like a warm hug.” 

You promised him when you served him the sweet, your own recipe, he found out. But now he was wondering how it felt to hug you instead. 

Jeon Jungkook couldn’t believe he was the sixth to meet you. He was the one that could scent you from Yoongi hyung’s clothes the minute he was walking into their shared home, he was the one to find the way to Moonlight when Taehyung hyung and Jiminie hyung lost Yoongi on a side street. 

But he had been busy lately, and with new attacks happening closer and closer to their border, Jungkook was needed in the field. 

Yet, all seemed worth it when he made it into the café only thirty minutes before it closed. 

Instead of treating him like an inconvenience, you were sweet as honey and didn’t mind all his chatting. He walked you home that early morning, not even noticing how your small apartment was three streets inside the Southside territory. 

“You really didn’t have to come all the way here just for me. Get home safe now, okay?”

You parted from him with a small squeeze to his shoulder, one he really wished would have lasted longer. On his way home, Jungkook wondered just how many days he could wear that shirt before it lost your sweet scent. 

Kim Namjoon’s pack ran itself at this point, which allowed him to focus on the business he had to take care of on the streets. But he liked to believe he could read his brothers very well, so it didn’t take him long to catch up on the fact that something was going on for weeks now. The leader would catch whispers, hear the main door opening and closing at all hours after dark. 

And, god, he could smell you. 

It didn’t take him long to figure out his pack members were interested in someone. Even the hyungs were bickering with the youngest. Namjoon watched from afar as they discussed who had more rights in courting you. Yoongi saw you first –a childish reasoning that made Namjoon laugh to himself–, Jungkook knew where you lived –a more concerning logic–, Seokjin was the eldest –that motive didn’t really hold any weight in a pack made solely of alphas–. 

It was all fun and games for now, but as soon as it got serious, Namjoon knew that bickering alphas, especially when a potential affection –or even worse, a mate– was involved, things could get ugly. 

It was even easier to figure out where his members had been going every night, and as soon as he walked into the coffee shop with the odd hours, he knew why. 

“Hello! Come on in.”

You had to be the prettiest thing Namjoon had ever laid eyes on; you were small, at least by their patterns, delicate and soft features, but nice hips that would make you the perfect omega for an alpha; or seven. But your scent was still the best part about you, a sweet and mouth watering sakura and vanilla smell that Namjoon wanted coursing through his veins, stuck to his clothes, his skin, and his bed sheets. 

Being inside Moonlight that night also brought a few concerns to his mind. As much as it was still on Northside territory, it was too close for comfort with the south; and the constant visits to the border by the Bangtan pack could be seen as a taunting threat. 

But by far, what puzzled Namjoon the most, was the fact you weren’t an omega. You weren’t even a wolf. 

You were human. 

Bless thee hat for inspiring the creating of this amazing fic 🕯️💜🕯️!! This was too adorable and romantic wow loved it 🥰🥹 Min Yoongi is indeed a special kind of man

the hat (m) - myg

summary: Your world famous boyfriend has just worn his hat to your apartment. It starts things.

pairing: Min Yoongi x Reader

genre: smut, fluff

au: idol, established relationship

rating: 18+

word count: 2,688 (unedited - i'm lazy, ok?)

warnings: yoongi's ridiculous and sexy hat is worn, yoongi is a bit of a silly man, penetrative sex occurs, lots of kissing, talk of being in "control", unprotected sex (wrap it up!), creampie

author's note: i'm not entirely sure what this is, sort of inspired by a line i wrote in this drabble and then the conversation that @minttangerines and i had about this scene. it's kind of chaos, completely unedited (so excuse the mistakes) ... happy birthday yoongi!

It all starts with the hat.

The wonderful and absurd hat.

The hat with its gray (polyester) outside that reminds you of pants you owned in the 90s, the kind that made a noise every time you took a step (you had loved that noise when you were younger and once, Yoongi mentioned that he had too). Then there is the white lining, not quite sherpa fleece but something close to it. 

He looks good in hats. 

No. 

He looks excellent in hats — the beanies he wears just slightly above his ears, the baseball caps that make him look simultaneously like a sexy father and the cool-as-shit rapper that he is, the bucket hats that he wears when he doesn’t want to be perceived but has to be — but he looks particularly excellent in this hat. 

It all starts with him coming into your apartment (after a long trip to the States) wearing that hat.

It’s not particularly cold out, but that isn’t what surprises you about it; it’s the fact that he’s wearing it in an apartment building that is not his own and it is … a very recognized hat. 

The hat! Known to be worn by Min Yoongi, Suga of BTS, Agust D. 

Sure, he’s wearing a hood overtop of the hat (you’re not entirely sure how it’s possible but it makes the hat look better), but still you stop a few feet away from the little area where shoes go. He stops too (shoe still on) and looks at you. 

“What?” 

Your gaze shoots to the hat. 

“You’re wearing the hat!” 

He reaches up and slips a finger under the strap of his mask and pulls it off with ease and grace (god! Why does he look good doing that?). 

“It’s supposed to be cold tomorrow, I wanted to wear it. What’s the problem?” he asks as he looks down and undoes the laces of his Nikes (his pure almost mint condition Jordan’s). 

The fact that he’s doing something else while asking the question means that he honestly has no idea what you’re thinking or worrying about. That’s something you’ve learned in the almost year of being in a relationship with him — If he’s doing something else when he’s asking questions it means that he hasn’t thought about it the way you’re thinking about it — and it has caused many a fight. Especially at the beginning. 

“What if someone recognized you?” 

You know that you might be a little too worried, obviously it’s not something he thought about and therefore it means that maybe you shouldn’t think about it too. 

He looks up from his shoes, moving his head in what must be an awkward position as he has to look out from under the brim of his hat that he has pushed up, but given his position of being hunched over, hand still on the laces, he smiles at you. 

“You worried?” 

You nod as a feeling of frustration bubbles up in your chest. Of course you’re worried. You’ve been with him long enough to know that you would like to spend the rest of your life with him but short enough to still be scared of someone finding out and your whole world shifting in a matter of seconds and thousands of tweets. 

“Yes,” you reply. 

You watch as his smile falls just a little with one corner of still meeting his eyes. You’ve seen that look before, the one that tells you he’s entertained by you. It’s a look that you sometimes think is annoying. 

Now, you’re not sure how you feel about it because it both makes you feel silly and makes you feel loved. 

Because oh! How he loves you. 

Finally he steps out of his shoes and into your apartment, walking toward you with his gaze locked on yours. 

Sometimes, when he looks at you, really looks at you, it takes your breath away. Knocks you on your metaphorical feet because he looks at you like you’re the only person he’s ever looked at (which you know to be not true given that he looks at literally thousands of people when he’s performing). 

With his gaze touching you first, his hands touch you second. Those fingers sliding up your bare arm and onto your biceps. The calluses on his fingers (he’s been playing guitar in an almost hyper-fixated way) meet the small little bumps and edges of your stretch marks that decorate your skin in a gentle reminder that you both are human beings (Something that some people forget). 

You look up at him. 

“Jagi,” he says softly. “Jagiya.” 

“Hmmm?” 

“You don’t have to worry. I’m not worried. I wouldn’t have worn it if I was,” he says, confirming that you are being foolish.  “Lots of people have this hat.” 

Your face squishes into a small pout and it makes him let out an entertained breath of air. 

“Lovely,” he whispers and then kisses you softly as his hands move up to your neck, one traveling further to your chin and jaw. 

You melt into the kiss. 

It’s chaste and gentle. You’ve learned he is often like this. His moods are like where the ocean meets the shore — sometimes hard, pushy, and demanding; sometimes gentle, calm, loving, moving with everything around him and then silly, playful, and foolish — he is ever changing. 

He breaks the kiss and his thumb moves over your cheek. 

For a moment he stays like this. Just watching you until your eyes flutter shut and all anxiety and worry slips down your spine, drips onto the floor, and disappears into the space between your apartment and your neighbors. 

Then, suddenly he clears his throat in a shocking noise that forces your eyes open with surprise, he drops his hands and walks around you, smacking your ass on the way.

“Now! What’s for dinner?” he asks. 

“You jerk!” you laugh as he opens one of your cupboards and looks inside for things he could make into something that resembles a meal. 

He peers out from behind the door for a moment and winks at you before his face disappears again. 

You shake your head with surprise, taking a moment to mix the feeling of being looked at and kissed with this one. Slowly, they settle into some sort of sweet and silly feeling that pools in your cheeks. 

You walk to him and wrap your hands around his waist and lean over his back to peek into your very empty cupboards. 

“We’re going to have to order in,” you say in a sly tone. 

“Was this your plan?” he asks. 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about?” 

He moves his head to the side in a move of disappointment and clicks his tongue against his teeth. 

“What am I going to do with you?” he asks in his deep, dark, whiskey smooth voice. 

Your mind whirs at his tone. 

He knows it has an effect on you and will stop your brain. He knows this and while your brain short circuits he spins around and grabs you by your waist pulling a surprised shriek of delight out of you. 

He lifts you for a moment and wraps his arms around you to protect you as he guides you into your small living room (really the apartment is just one large room with a loft that looks over the rest). 

His fingers find your ticklish spot on your lower back and the room fills with your laughter and his breath. Which is hot against your neck. 

“Yoongi!!” you cry as you fall onto the couch with him on top of you. 

He is heavier than people might imagine (months at the gym and in pilates class) but he balances most of his weight on his knee that is pressed to the couch between your legs and onto his hand just above where his face presses into your neck. 

He stops tickling you and your breath moves from laughter into something more serious, determined, and lusty. 

“Jagi” he breathes against your neck and for a moment both of your bodies are completely still. 

Then, almost as if you can read each other’s minds, you are kissing, hands working and clashing together to undo each other’s jeans. 

He tastes like coffee. 

Your hands succeed and push the zipper down before you move both hands into his hair and push the hat off, it falls awkwardly against your head (breaking the kiss for a moment) and then onto the couch. 

He breaks the kiss then and pulls back. Your chest rises and falls, clothes pushed up and down on both your bodies, and you watch him with a slightly confused look. 

“What?” 

He looks at the hat and then at you and grins. 

“Come here,” he says and pat his leg before he moves to sit against the back of the couch. 

You move to straddle him but he stops you. 

“These need to come off,” he whispers (in that tone again) and points to your shirt (his, actually) and your jeans. 

With weak knees you stand and slowly slip your shirt over your head. You aren’t wearing a bra and his gaze lazily moves over how they rest against your body. He raises his hand and gestures for you to come closer. You do. Your hips swaying with each step all because of how he looks at you and how it makes you feel. 

Slowly (fucking painfully slowly) he reaches up and slips the very tips of his fingers down your collarbone, then sternum, until he meets the soft curve of your breast and he traces it; following the the movements of your body like they are notes he has played before and is hearing in a cleaner sound. 

“Fuck,” he whispers. 

You shiver. 

He takes your jeans off of your body. Those callused hands moving gently over marked skin, and then as he pulls the denim down, onto the floor, he presses a kiss to your stomach. 

You shiver and slip your hands into his hair again, down his neck and back until you reach the hem of his sweater and pull on it. 

He undresses as you stand watching. Your gaze drifts over how each muscle group moves and works with the others as he pulls off sweater, then shirt, and throws them aside. He arches up on the couch (slightly awkwardly) as he pushes his jeans down and you watch, amused, as he struggles with them until he lifts his legs and nods at them with a playful smile. 

You laugh as you step back to grab and tug them off him. 

Finally you move to his lap and sit down. He kisses you again, fingers dragging over your neck, then shoulders, and down your back. 

“Yoongi,” you whisper against his lips.

“Yeah?” 

“Fuck me, please.” 

He smiles against your lips before he bites your bottom lip. 

“Needy.”

“You started this,” you whisper. 

He lets out another entertained scoff and pulls back to look at you. He studies you for a moment and you can feel the frustrated heat grow in your chest as your excitement slips down your lips and onto your thigh. You push against him, rubbing yourself against his clothed erection (wait! Why the fuck is he still wearing his boxers?). 

He moans.

“Something is off,” he says, still studying you.

“Yoongi, if you make me move because you forgot to take your boxers off, I am going to go into that bedroom and make you listen to me finish myself off.” 

He smirks at this and then shakes his head. 

“The hat.” 

“What?!”

“The hat. You should wear the hat.” 

He says it so casually before he reaches over to grab the hat and plops it down on your head. 

He nods. “Yup, much better.” 

You frown. 

“Take it off and I stop.” 

You stick your tongue out at him and he leans forward and kisses the tip gently which makes you sputter and laugh. 

He moves his hands between your bodies.

“Mmmm,” he moans. “No need for lube this time?” he asks.

“Don’t question it, hat man,” you say as you pull him into a kiss. 

He smiles into the kiss and his fingers dance over your thrumming clit. He moves his finger over it in the way he knows you like it and your body reacts. This is what you want from him but it’s not enough. Your body is screaming more, more, more, more!

“I need you,” you whisper against his lips and he nods, separating his hand from you and you feel him pull the materials of his underpants down his thighs. You shift to help him and then you feel him against your wet folds. 

He moans deep in his throat as he moves the head of his dick along you, gathering as much of your excitement on himself before he slowly (and carefully) pushes in. 

(He stops for a moment as you wince and then with a nod from you, he continues.) 

“Fuck,” you both breathe out and swallow the other’s word. 

You begin to ride him, taking your time, adjusting. His hands roam your body. His mouth falls from your lips to your breast and licks and kisses your nipples. He moves to look at you and laughs. 

“The hat!” 

You slap his chest, trying desperately to hold in your own laugh, before he pushes into you. 

It goes like that for a few moments, laughter mixed with the moans, rising in the apartment like heat in an oven. 

Until finally, the two of you slip back into the feel of each other’s bodies. He presses his thumb to your clit and moves it with you. You ride him fast then slow until he pushes back into you in a sign that he’s desperate for you.

“Stop torturing me,” he says against your neck. 

“I’m wearing the hat, it means I’m in control.” 

He chuckles.

“Oh is that what it means?” he asks as he pushes into you causing you to moan loudly. “That’s what I thought.” 

You slap his chest again and before you can get your bearings he wraps his arm around your waist and guides the two of you down onto the floor. He towers above you, taking in the surprised look on your face. 

“If you think this means you’re in charge then give it back to me” he says as he grabs the hat off your head and pulls it onto his. He smirks (bastard looks so good in that fucking hat, with that fucking smirk) and pushes back into you. 

“Oh! Fuck!” 

He is in charge and he is desperate. His movements are quick and deep. You can feel the stretch around him as you wrap your legs around his waist and pull him closer to you. He groans at this slight change and thrusts faster, almost relentlessly so, until you can feel the build. 

“I’m —” 

“Come,” he commands, then kisses you. 

He kisses hard, your eyes shut tight as you concentrate on the feeling in your core, the ache in your legs, the rug under your back. Then you come. He doesn’t stop, only encourages you to be louder (which you do), and then he comes moments after you. You feel him twitch inside and against your walls. 

For a moment your breaths sync, his head resting against your chest as you hold him against you. 

“So,” he says as he separates from you and leans against the couch, fixing his boxers (you’ll shower soon). “Chicken for dinner?” 

You shake your head, “I want bulgogi gimbap.” 

He sighs and shrugs, “I’m wearing the hat.” 

You exhale with feigned anger and move, only to feel the mess he left inside you slip out of you. 

“You jerk! I can’t move without making a mess and I want gimbap!” 

He smirks. Shrugs. 

“I’m wearing the hat, means I’m in control,” he says. 

(He buys you gimbap.)