#bts rated m

[star-my]

Vixen ~ Two

➼ Pairing: Jimin x OC (Shin Ara)

➼ Length: 8.4k

➼ Rating: M (minors do not interact)

➼ Content: Arranged Marriage AU, CEO AU, Mafia AU | TW: Human Trafficking (not by BTS/SKZ members); Light Violence | Bangtan and SKZ are mafia; think Kitty Gang Jimin; Jimin calls Ara 'Princess'; Smol Ara is a menace to Seokjin | SMUT: Oral (M + F receiving); Fingering; PiV; Loss of Virginity; Aftercare

➼ Thanks to @moonleeai for betaing!

➼ Taglist (Open): @bangtan-famiglia-net @kookthief @otome-wandering @sarcasticbambi

➼ Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction and in no way represents any member of BTS, SKZ, or any other K-pop group mentioned in any way beyond the face and name claims the author made for this work.

➼ Chapter 1 (13/10/23) ➼ Chapter 3 (15/10/23) ➼ Ao3 ➼ Masterlist

Jimin knocked gently on Ara’s door. No answer sounded from within, so he poked his head in. To his surprise, his wife was nowhere to be seen. 

Frowning, he headed downstairs to ask Mrs. Lee and Jungkook if they knew where Ara was, almost walking into her.

“Princess? You’re up early.”

Her white suit was open to show her silver-gray blouse and thin gold chain jewellery that glinted in the light from the foyer chandelier.

“You look nice; where are you going all dressed up?”

“Thank you. I’m heading to the hospital to check on Appa, then to ShinCorp to talk some things over with Jin-oppa and Joon-oppa. I’ll see you at lunch. Bye, yeobo!”

With a swift kiss to his cheek, Ara headed out the door, her ponytail bouncing behind her.

Jimin let her escape with Jungkook, momentarily stalled. “Yeobo?” he mouthed, pressing his hand to his cheek.

He didn’t stop grinning all morning (at least in private).

~~~

Ara sat confidently in the seat her father normally occupied. Namjoon and Seokjin stood in front of her desk, hands clasped in front of them.

“Namjoon-oppa, you’ll take over like Abeoji wanted, and Jin-oppa, you’ll stay where you are. I will be totally uninvolved, except when I’m not, of course,” Ara winked. “Let’s try and make Appa proud so he doesn’t worry, huh? Hwaiting!”

“Hwaiting!” echoed the two men.

Jimin entered the warehouse cautiously. A couple of lanterns in the middle provided just enough light to see who he was meeting: Vixen, head of the Stray Kids mafia that had rapidly grown over the last few years.

In the shadows behind her, he could just make out her two bodyguards, dressed all in black, just like Vixen: black combat boots with steel toes, black cargo pants, a black leather jacket with steel studs and zippers, and a black mask covering the top half of her face. The black hoodie underneath the jacket covered her head, casting shadows over her face that were only broken by her glowing gold eyes.

Jimin had to admit Vixen was a bit unnerving. Her mind games started before you even saw her face-to-face; there was the reputation of the female mafia leader who lived in the shadows, whose face no one had ever fully seen. Her gang had really exploded in the past five or six years, taking over a sizable chunk of the city with minimal bloodshed. Vixen relied heavily on secrets and manipulation, preferring nonviolent threats to force. Her reputation included being a whiz with a blade, proving she wasn’t a one-trick pony.

Vixen took a step forward, the glint of a silver-and-gold dagger strapped to her thigh catching Jimin’s eye.

“Why did you want to meet?” Jimin met her gold eyes steadily.

Vixen took another step forward. “I want to ally with Bangtan. I have a partnership with Gray…we run a bar; you may have heard of it, Blueprint?”

Jimin nodded. The Blue bars run by the Gray Family were some of the most popular in Seoul: Blue Moon, Blue Side, Blue Hour, and Blueprint. “I’m listening.”

Vixen’s signature red lips turned up in a smirk.

Jungok stayed in the hospital for another few days while his private doctor got caught up on his issues and treatment, agreeing a longer stay would be more beneficial to his healing.

Once he was cleared to go home and rest, he was taken back to his house, refusing Ara’s offer to have him move in with her and Jimin.

Taking time out of her gallery-opening schedule, she made sure to visit him twice a week and check up on his care.

Jimin didn’t see Ara very much (though they did make time for their weekly dates), as they were both busy working on their separate projects; Jimin on opening Dionysus, the bar Bangtan and Stray Kids were officially partnering over, and Ara on opening Secret Secret, the name she’d finally settled on for her gallery.

~~~

Ara surveyed her closet as she changed from the outfit she’d worn to her date tonight to her comfy pyjamas.

She frowned. “Jimin hasn’t been paying me much attention lately.”

She opened her spacious drawers, holding up outfits and juggling accessories.

“Hmm…”

She pulled up her contacts list on her phone, selected a name, and pressed call..

“Hey, it’s me. Want to help me with something?”

~~~

Jimin leaned against his car in the parking lot outside the mall, frowning when he saw his wife laughing with another man.

Jealousy bubbled up in his chest, and he frowned harder as they briefly hugged before separating.

The man turned–it was her ex-boyfriend, Lee Minho–and winked at her cheekily before heading to his car. Jimin walked up behind Ara and put his arm around her waist firmly.

“Hello, Princess,” he purred in her ear. “What a surprise to see you here.”

Ara tensed but relaxed when she recognised his voice. “Hello, yeobo,” she said cheerily, as if she hadn’t just hugged her (ex?)boyfriend in front of his salad.

He scoffed quietly. “What are you doing here?”

“Shopping, of course! I found something I’m sure you’d love,” she winked at him adorably, an awkward one-two blink. “Oh, and I got you some chocolate. But what are you doing here?”

“I was coming to shop for your birthday present, jagiya. I suppose I can take you home.”

“How sweet of you to offer,” Ara smiled, and Jimin felt his jealousy fading.

While Ara was distracted, gathering her bags before stepping out of his car, Jimin slipped her phone out of her purse and into his pocket. Being the exemplary husband that he was, he dropped Ara off at her suite with her armload of bags before heading to his office.

The bookshelves were rather obvious, so Jimin’s father had constructed his secret lair opposite them. Jimin put his thumb on the light switch, the built-in sensor reading his print and unlocking the Genius Lab.

“Suga, are you busy?” He greeted his tech guy by his hacker name in case he was on a call with someone.

Yoongi grunted, turning in his chair to face him. Jimin tossed him Ara’s phone, Yoongi’s fingers snagging it out of the air. 

“Can you put a tracker on it, in case she’s ever caught up in this?”

“No problem.”

“...and while you’re at it, can you trace her activity for the next few days?”

Yoongi eyed him but said nothing, opting to work in silence. “There’s already a tracker in here. Must be Seokjin’s,” mused Yoongi.

Before the alliance, Jin and Suga were rival hackers-slash-frenemies. The first time the two met in person, Jimin was a little worried until they decided not to deck each other but talk shop instead. 

Yoongi fixed the phone and handed it to Jimin. “That all, Boss?”

“For now, thanks.” Jimin left and knocked on Ara’s door. “Hey, I found this in the car,” he said when she answered.

“Oh, thanks! I was wondering where I’d left it! I guess it slipped out of my purse when I grabbed the bags or something.” She shut the door, and Jimin headed to his office to plan.

After one of Ara’s lovely meals, the couple said goodnight and headed their separate ways. Jimin lay on his divan, planning what to say tomorrow, when his phone got an alert.

Ara was talking to Minho.

Jimin scowled and tapped into the call, mid-chuckle from Minho.

“Yeah, it was pretty obvious.” Ara laughed.

“Anything to help,” said Minho smugly. “So, how does it work?”

“It fits perfectly, you smug cat-boy. Thank you for your advice.”

“I bet he’ll be shocked when he finds out, huh?”

Ara giggled. “Yeah, I can’t wait. That’ll teach him to ignore me.”

“Tell me if it works,” snickered Jimin’s rival.

Jimin ground his teeth.

“I will. He’s been off all afternoon, I should probably tell him sooner rather than later. He probably saw us.”

“Good, maybe he’ll finally realise what he could lose.”

“You’re so cynical, Lee. But yes, I am a catch for anyone.”

“Park is either blind or in denial if he’s not in love with you.”

“Thanks for humouring me today, Minho; it was fun. See you later!”

“Night, Ara.”

Jimin huffed and disconnected.

A second later, a text from his wife popped up on his screen.

SA: Can you come talk for a minute?

PJ: I’ll be right there, Princess.

Jimin yanked his robe’s belt shut, stomped into his slippers, and flounced down the hallway to his wife’s room.

She answered his irritated knock immediately. 

All thoughts fled his mind; in front of him was a blessed sight most certainly not intended for his mortal eyes: Ara in a red lace onesie.

He swallowed and tried to refocus his thoughts. Focus, Park! Did Minho pick this out for her? They discussed her wearing it over the phone?! 

…and Jealous Jimin was back.

“Why did you want to see me?”

“You seemed off all afternoon…I wondered if something was wrong.”

“Yes, something’s wrong!” Jimin exclaimed, his eyes travelling the length of her heatedly. “You went shopping with your ex-boyfriend for that? Is he even your ex?”

Ara grinned widely. “Ah, you saw Minho and me. No, he didn’t choose this for me, I chose it myself. I did ask his opinion on a hypothetical situation or two while we were at the mall, but nothing inappropriate happened, and yes, we are definitely exes. We only had one true date, where we realised we were better off as friends. We pretended to be dating for public appearances and such, a mutually beneficial, platonic relationship to keep gold diggers and well-meaning matchmakers away. Also, I’m married to you, and I’m not a cheater. I apologise if I gave you that impression, but I have in no way, shape, or form acted in a way that would break our vows.”

Jimin sighed, knowing that Ara was right. She wouldn’t hurt him like that; she was loyal to those she cared for.

“I’m sorry. I got jealous.”

“I can see that,” she said wryly, taking his hand. “Don’t worry, yeobo, I only love you.” She looked at him from under her lashes, her eyes sparkling, yet uncertain. Attempting to stay calm and ignore the butterflies in his stomach, he replied. “I was trying to plan the perfect date tomorrow to tell you that,” he said. “I love you too.”

The uncertainty morphed into complete love as Ara tiptoed and waited for him to kiss her. It was perfect.

~~~

Their lips barely brushed, then Jimin pressed more firmly against her, wrapping his arms around her and pulling her to him. Ara returned the favour, prodding his lips with her tongue until he opened up for her. He obliged, gentleman that he was. His warm hand trailed from her neck to her waist, sending sparks through her nerves as he grazed her almost-naked skin. 

He nipped at her lip before pulling back a smidgen, his eyes dark and hazy. “I love you, Princess.”

The words settled in her core, warm and insistent. “I love you, too.”

His plush lips turned up before he leaned forward for another kiss.

She placed her hands on his shoulders, pushing him down to the loveseat so she could straddle him, running her fingers through his hair and her other hand down his firm chest.

Sensing her goal, Jimin leaned against the back of the seat to untie his robe and push it off impatiently. 

He leaned towards Ara’s tempting cherry lips again but she wasn’t focused on his face anymore.

“And why haven’t I seen you shirtless before?” she demanded, her fingers sliding teasingly across his rib tattoo. “You never told me you had abs!”

Jimin shrugged, focused on sneaking his finger under the strap of her onesie. “Didn’t think to tell you. Would it have made a difference?”

Ara paused, tilted her head consideringly.

“Yah! Want me for my mind, not my body!” He pretended to cover himself with his hands like a scandalized maiden. “I’m more than just a pretty face!”

Laughing, Ara collapsed into his neck, pressing kisses down it as an apology. Her warm, wet mouth continued down his chest, pausing to run her tongue over his nipple. He shivered, and felt her smirk at the information she’d just received.

She straightened again, dropping a last kiss on his mouth. By now he’d slid the straps of her onesie down her shoulders, the loss of support causing the neckline to droop and expose her breasts to him. 

Ara’s hips began moving slowly over his as he began kissing and nipping at the sensitive skin on her neck and chest. A tug, and the red lace pooled even lower at her waist. His hand was arrested from ripping it off completely as Ara clamped her hand over his, surprisingly firmly. 

He glanced up at her, taking in her loose, mussed hair, shiny red lips, and half-lidded eyes; the prettiest sight he’d ever seen. “Princess?”

She glanced down to their hands, biting her lip. “I…uh…you’re my one and only, Jimin.”

Jimin’s eyes widened. “Oh! I see…uh…do you…Should I slow down?”

“No, it’s fine. I just want it to be slow and special?” She met his eyes.

“Of course, Princess. Thank you for telling me. Is there anything else you want…?” She shook her head. “No, you’re perfect. I just thought I should tell you so you’re not surprised.”

“Right, yeah, good idea…I just thought…y’know…” “Yeah,” she giggled awkwardly, swooping in to sweetly kiss him. “Thank you for being so understanding.”

Jimin smiled widely at her. “No problem at all, jagiya.” He kissed her softly. “How about you tell me what you want me to do, eh? Do you want to keep making out or…”

“Park Jimin, we have been married four months and have kissed only a handful of times. If you stop now, I swear I’ll call Minho back!”

“No need to call your ex when your husband is right here and is more than willing to help you.”

“Good.” Ara wiggled in his lap, pointing at her bed. “What are you waiting for, then? Make me yours.”

A growl escaped his mouth as he swept her up and carried her to her bed in three large steps. He gently tossed her on the bed, crawling up her body to cage her in with his arms and knees.

Breathless, Ara stared up at him. He was so pretty and handsome at the same time. It was unfair, she decided. 

His soft, expert lips covering hers broke her from her admiring musings, a tiny noise escaping the back of her throat as his hand slid up to gently twist her nipple between his fingers. She lifted her hips so he could pull her lingerie off the final stretch, his thigh settling between her thighs. 

Only Jimin’s underwear and sweats remained, and she hooked her fingers under the elastic band of his sweats. 

He got the message, kicking them off to join the rest of their discarded clothing. He crawled up slowly between her legs, running his fingers lightly over her sensitive skin till he reached her inner thighs, diverting them to trace over her stomach and hips teasingly. 

She caught her lip between her teeth as he glanced up to check on her, the vision of her husband between her legs a sight that made her unbelievably wet. 

“This okay?” he murmured, his fingers pausing just above her heat. 

She nodded eagerly, resisting the urge to trap him between her thighs and make sure he never left her. 

The first gentle stroke of his thumb through her wetness had her gasping, nerves lighting up like she’d never felt before. 

“You’re so wet, Princess.” His awed voice was strained, his other thumb holding her open as his tongue darted out to lick his lips. 

“All for you,” she replied, hands moving to tug at her nipples.

“You smell so good. Bet you taste even better.”

She whined impatiently, and who was he to deny his wife’s wishes?

At the first pass of his tongue over her heat, they both groaned, Ara at the sensation and Jimin in ecstasy. He dove in hungrily, a man starved for his wife’s plentiful juices.

Her legs tightened around him, and her hand flew to grip his hair as he swirled his tongue just right.

He brought a finger up, gently circling her entrance, gathering her arousal and his saliva before entering her tight heat.

Her head dropped back onto the pillow, involuntarily clenching around his finger as he worked it in and out.

He groaned, sounding pained. “Can you take another, Princess?”

She gasped out an affirmative, groaning louder as a second finger joined the first.

Jimin moved them around, feeling for something.

Sparks tingled up  her spine and she gasped, “There!”

He resumed sucking at her clit as he stroked her inner walls, the pressure building higher and higher.

“Come on my face, Princess.”

With a cry, she let go, falling over the edge to pure pleasure.

When she opened her eyes, Jimin was staring at her in awe, licking his fingers clean, his pink hair mussed from her grip. “You are gorgeous, Ara.”

She smiled, pulling him in for a steamy kiss, tasting herself on him as she waited for her legs to stop shaking.

With him distracted, she flipped him, straddling his thighs, arms around his neck. “Your turn!”

“Princess, you don’t have-”

“I know, but what if I want to?” She peered up at him, fingers already working his underwear down.

She licked her hand, wrapped it around his length, and gave him a couple tentative strokes. “Tell me what you like.” She licked at the head, looking up at him for guidance.

A pained sound escaped him. “You’re doing great so far, keep doing what you’re doing. A little harder, ye-ah.”

Ara took him further in her mouth, running her tongue over the smooth skin. This would take some getting used to, but lucky for him, she was a perfectionist and willing to practice often.

Careful to keep her top lip over her teeth, she began moving up and down, attempting to take a little more each time. 

Jimin’s head was hanging back, his mouth open. “You’re doing great, Princess. Use your hand...yeah, like that.”

She coughed and pulled off him, the tip hitting the back of her throat. “Yeah, I’m going to need some practice.”

“Anytime,” he groaned, holding the base of his length firmly. “What position do you want to try?”

“Good old missionary?” she asked, settling herself.

Jimin leaned over her, grabbing a pillow and tapping her hips so she’d lift them for him to slide it under her. 

“You’re sure?” he asked her, pressing a kiss to her forehead.

“Yes.” Hooking her arms around his neck, she smacked a quick, reassuring peck on his lips. “I feel like you’re more nervous than me.”

“Well, it’s only the responsibility of making sure I don’t ruin this for you and us forever,” he said dramatically.

She snickered, making him pout. “You’re doing an amazing job so far, jagi. I have faith in you. Besides, even if it’s not great at first, we have a whole lifetime to practice together!”

He carefully pushed in inch by inch till he was fully seated inside her, the previous orgasm and foreplay loosening her up marvelously. There was only a slightly uncomfortable stretch that was quickly fading as he kissed and nipped up her neck.

“You can move,” she said, rocking her hips experimentally. 

He started off slow and gentle, getting into the rhythm. Ara moved her hips up to meet his, her fingers digging into his shoulders. “Harder,” she gasped.

He acquiesced, his head dropping to her chest, his lips finding her nipple and tugging. 

A particularly hard thrust had her nails dragging scratches down his back. “There, Jimin! I’m close!”

He moved his free thumb to her clit, rubbing in circles. “I’m close, too. Come, Princess. Let go, Ara.”

She loudly moaned his name, tightening around him and triggering his own orgasm.

“Princess…you are going to be the death of me.” He sank into her arms. “I love you.”

“I love you,” she replied, and kissed him softly. “Ew, we’re all sweaty.”

“Join me in the shower?” He kissed the tip of her nose.

“Of course, my prince.”

Gathering her into his arms, he swept her off to her ensuite, running the water till it was an appropriate warmth. 

Ara stepped in, and he lathered up a loofah with her body wash. They took turns washing each other, trading kisses and teasing touches besides the soap.

Once they had dried off with their fluffy towels, Jimin wrapped his robe around her, tied the belt, and picked her up.

“Where are you taking me?” she squealed as he headed for the door.

“My room. You’re sleeping in my bed tonight, Princess.”

The air whistled in his ear as he dodged Vixen’s roundhouse kick. He attempted to punch her stomach, but she brushed his arm away with her own. She feinted a sweeping kick and followed up with a jab to his solar plexus. 

One bodyguard pointed to Vixen. “Three points.Vixen wins.”

Shaking their sweaty hands, Jimin and Vixen ended their spar. 

His opponent took a bottle of water from a second bodyguard  and handed it to him before drinking her own. “I’m planning on attacking a human trafficking ring on Friday. I could use more manpower; care to join?” “What will you do with the ring?”

“Take care of the leaders, send the rest to the cops, find good homes and resources for the victims. Don’t worry; I know what I’m doing. I’ve done this a time or two.”

Jimin considered. “I’m in. How many men do you need?”

“Six to ten should be good. I’ll have my guy send Suga the time and place.”

~~~

The door shut behind Jimin, automatically locking. Vixen turned on her heel and headed for the back room, her inner circle already gathered there.

Vixen pushed her hood back and took her gold contacts out, grimacing. 

“Okay, there’ll be us nine, plus Jimin, Jungkook, V, Jay, Kai, Taehyun, and Yeonjun. The predicted twelve traffickers will be easily taken if we have all sixteen of us.

“Chan, when you send Suga the message, can you add that I’d like Suga to be on standby online to follow the police scanners? We don’t want them there too early, and Jin will be busy with his division.”

Chan nodded. “You got it, Vix.”

“Thanks. OK, you all take the next two days off, but prepare for Friday. I’ll be on a date at L’Domino Thursday night. I don’t think we should reuse waiters, so Hyunjin, you’re up. 

“Call or text me if anything comes up or there’s a problem. I’ll see you Friday morning for a final debrief.” 

Vixen hung her jacket in her locker and folded her hoodie, placing it neatly on the top shelf beside her mask and contacts case. 

“Boss, why aren’t you hurrying like normal?” asked Felix. “Did you hurt yourself? Need Hyunjin to look at it?”

Vixen waved off his concerns. “I’m fine. Ara just texted Jiminie to pick up ice cream on the way home. He’ll need to text her a picture of the case and ask which type she wants, so I’ll have plenty of time to escape.”

“Smart,” her boys nodded.

With a wink and a nod, she headed into the small bathroom.

Five minutes later, she emerged in old sweats, a college T-shirt, and a fluffy pink jacket; her blood-red smirk had become a pink glossy smile.

“Bye, boys.”

A beep sounded from her phone.

PJ: [1 Image Attached] Vanilla, chocolate swirl, caramel crunch, blueberry, or mint choco?

SA: Caramel crunch please🥰 Get two 😉

PJ: You got it, Princess

Friday night the members of Bangtan and TXT (Bangtan’s subunit of hoobaes) gathered in Stray Kids’ warehouse for the run-through.

Vixen sauntered in her usual outfit, but a kevlar vest bulked up her jacket. The dagger had a twin strapped by her left boot, and a pistol was fastened on her left thigh.

Her normal scarlet smile had received the expensive upgrade of fangs designed with razor-sharp edges. The better to bite you with, my dear, she smirked, remembering the first time she’d tested them out. Ah, that piece of trash had let out a most pleasing yelp when she sank her teeth into hisd forearm. Served him right; he’d attempted to choke her, besides committing many other crimes, of course.

The men introduced themselves as their callsigns, most of them meeting for the first time.

Jimin had brought JK, V, Jay, Kai, Fox, and Kang to meet Vixen and Chan, Lino, Hyune, Han, Felix, Min, Bin, and I.N. 

Chan handed earpieces out like candy, each one connected to his, Suga, and Jin’s lines. The members of Bangtan were directed by Suga and Stray Kids was guided by Chan. Jin was set to watch the police and help Chan if needed. 

The echo of doors slamming in the warehouse signalled the start of the mission as four black SUVs were filled with armoured men (and women). Tires screeched and they peeled out, ready for a hunt.

~~~

A breeze gently played with Jimin’s hair as he and Vixen carefully scouted the area ahead of their men.The soundtrack of city nightlife filled the air until Jimin broke it. 

“Do all your captains work at L’Domino?” He asked quietly.

“No; they were keeping an eye on someone for me, collecting information. It’s my chosen currency, you know.”

“It was my understanding that Min was a part of Gray.”

“He’s my spy in Gray,” Vixen returned in a monotone, peering around a shipping container’s corner.

“Do you have a spy in Bangtan?”

Even with the crescent moon’s feeble light, Jimin could tell Vixen was smirking. “What do you think?”

“Lino?” ventured Jimin.

She scoffed quietly. “You met him as your wife’s ex. No, he’s too obvious to be a spy on you.”

Up ahead, a figure of a trafficker exited from a crosspath. “Focus. Bin, two on your two o’clock.”

“Jay, one on your nine; V, one at twelve.” Suga’s voice cut through Jimin’s line. The dozen traffickers were quickly and quietly taken out by the combined gangs’ ruthless efficiency.

The shipping container’s lock was shot off. Even with the silencer on, the echo hung in the air, the humidity from the coming rainstorm accentuating every noise.

Unearthly groans sounded as the doors creaked open. Letting the people inside acclimate to the night’s dim light before barging in with bright flashlights, Vixen marshalled a few of her helpers to speak softly and convince the victims they were there to help.

The children inside still didn’t trust the men’s words, so Vixen crouched where the metal base met the damp concrete. 

Raising her hands high enough to be shown by the backlight, she spoke slowly and calmly.

“Hey, kids. My name is Vixen; I lead a mafia here in Seoul. I asked a friend of mine to help me get you guys out of here. All the bad guys out here are taken care of. The police are on their way to help you, alright? Do you have a person in charge here I can talk to and try to prove we want to help you?”

A gangly teenage boy, maybe fifteen or sixteen, Vixen guessed, raised his hand.

“If you’re mafia, aren’t you the bad guys? Why would the police come here if they’re not in on it?”

Ah, lovely, it was time to have the morals talk.

“Good question! Technically, mafia are the bad guys. In this situation, however, we are what you could call the good guys. Our mafias do not participate in human trafficking–some of our members actually arrived with us because they were trafficked themselves. We may be mafia, but we have rules, and one of ours is no human trafficking. As for answering your question about the police,” Vixen sighed, wondering how to explain dirty cops and their tenuous relationship. “We sent an anonymous tip. They’ll be here in a few minutes to make sure you get support. We’ll make sure they send you home, if you have one, or that you get a good living situation worked out.”

A tween girl nudged the boy and whispered in his ear. He straightened and looked at Vixen. “We’re trusting you,” was all he said.

She nodded solemnly. “Thank you. I will do my best not to break it. While we’re waiting for the police, how about we get your information, so we can make sure you’re taken care of?”

Jin logged the kids’ info as they gave it, creating a file for each one. Suga had taken care of identifying the three head traffickers.

By the time the police arrived, the kids were all in a huddle, wearing warm hoodies a size bigger than they needed and holding a pocketknife that Jungkook had given them once they promised not to use it unless it was an emergency.

The traffickers were left in a heap, thoroughly roughed up, courtesy of Jimin, Felix, and I.N. The three men heading up the operation mysteriously disappeared from the pile containing their underlings.

Once the red and blue lights disappeared from the maze of shipping containers, carrying the kids to the station to be processed, two shadows jumped from their vantage point.

Vixen’s fist met Jimin’s in an unspoken acknowledgement before they split, heading to their respective pieces of the night.

ARA, THIRTEEN (TWELVE YEARS AGO)

Ara ducked into the closet in her dad’s office, laughing to herself. She’d been taking pictures around ShinCorp’s HQ as she explored the newly renovated and furnished office tower.

Jungok was supposed to be in soon, and Ara planned to surprise him and then show him the photos she’d taken that day; she was really improving, thanks to Jungkook and Photography for Dummies.

The sound of his door opening made her peer through the crack, ready to surprise her appa…but there was a strange young man with him.

“You’ll be organising my schedule for both ShinCorp and the Gray Family’s business. You’ll have Jungjoo’s list of legitimate contacts and who I’ll be meeting with on both sides of the business. Jungjoo has agreed to be available to answer your questions if you’re unsure of my contacts’ connections. If I’m around, feel free to ask me as well. The rest of the details are in our contract. Please do your best, Secretary Kim.”

The young man bowed to her father and bent over the desk to sign his employment papers. The new angle let Ara see more of his features.

Ah, it was one of the Kim cousins– Kim Seokjin, she believed. Ara had heard of the Gray mafia of Seoul–they’d just recently opened a new bar downtown, Blue Side. So her father was the head, huh…

“My daughter, Ara, is around today. She does not know and is never to know of Gray’s connections to ShinCorp, do you understand? Generally, I allow her free reign in the building, as she is not a mess maker, but keep an eye on her if she's in the vicinity of a forbidden area or wants to enter my office when I’m in a meeting. Keep her out of sight of any of my visiting rivals and allies, except my immediate family and Jeon Jeonghwa. I want as little attention on her as possible. Her mother’s death was truly an accident, but I don’t want a second accident, planned or not. Ara is all I have left, and I will do anything to ensure she stays safe. My daughter’s safety is of the utmost importance, understand?”

“Understood, sir.” Seokjin bowed. “I will keep Miss Ara safe with my life, sir!”

“Good. You’re dismissed.” Jungok nodded approvingly at Seokjin as the man left.

A few minutes later, he called his car around to head for a meeting.

Ara snuck out of her hiding place and crept to the door. Observing the new secretary leave for a cup of coffee, she waited until he was fully gone before she snuck out of her father’s office.

Her sneaking skills had really improved over the past couple of years. Her appa was much more secretive, and in the months immediately after her mother’s death, she’d caught him breaking off a phone call about her more than once. Wanting to know what had happened to her beloved mother, she memorised all the creaks in the floors, how to wear socks and slippers to dampen her footsteps, and to remember to check where her shadow was falling while she eavesdropped.

This, however, was the first time she’d realised her father was involved in some less-than-legal proceedings.

A shrill yelp pierced Ara’s ears as Jin caught his mug, startled by her sudden movement from under his desk.

Brown coffee splashed dangerously close to the edges of the mug he clutched to his chest. “Are you Miss Ara? Aish, you almost gave me a heart attack, child!”

“I’m thirteen, not a child,” Ara rolled her eyes. “Just call me Ara. Are you the new secretary? I’ve seen you somewhere before.”

“Kim Seokjin at your service. Yes, I'm the new secretary. Your father is good friends with mine, Kim Honggil.”

“Ah, you’re one of the Kim cousins. Kim Seokjin, Kim Sihyeon, and Kim Namjoon.”

Seokjin nodded. “What’s in your hand, Miss Ara?”

She glared at him. “Ara. It’s my camera. My best friend Jungkook taught me how to take good pictures. Can I take a picture of you…oppa?”

Seokjin shook his head. “Aish, I’m going to die of a heart attack caused by this girl. Sure, you can take a picture, as long as I get a signed copy.” At her quizzical glance, he explained. “I need to have an autographed copy from when you were young and unknown, before you become some hotshot photographer and forget your first model, whom you used to call Jin-oppa.” He sighed. “Ah, the good old days…I don’t know how she forgot such a handsome face,” he mourned.

Ara giggled. “You’re ridiculous, but I like you so you can have a photo.”

Picture taken, Ara headed for the elevator and waved goodbye. “I’m just keeping you on your toes, oppa! You’ll never get old with me around!” She laughed maniacally as the door slid shut and Seokjin slumped over his desk.

“What have I gotten into?”

ARA, FIFTEEN (TEN YEARS AGO)

“Jungkook, you know how you’re going to be my official bodyguard in a couple years, when you turn 18?”

Jungkook’s head was in Ara’s lap, her fingers combing through the soft black strands. “…yeah?”

“So then I won’t have Lee watching us all the time?”

“Yes? Where are you going with this?”

“Patience, Kookie.” Ara booped his nose, making him crinkle it at her.

“Well, then I’ll be able to sneak out with you more. I won’t have to make you sneak out to get my stuff anymore, and I can really begin my- our plans.”

“But I don’t mind it! I like it!” Jungkook protested. “It keeps you safe and under Lee’s watch, where you’re supposed to be.”

“Yeah, but it’s so boring. I don’t get to practice my black belts on anything…you can join the underground rings but I can’t, yet. Ugh, I wish you were older so I could polish the plan better.”

“Slow and steady wins the race, Ara. You’ve got two years to finish learning all that stuff you want to know, as if Namjoon-hyung and Jin-hyung won’t help.”

“Yeah, but they’ll be busy for appa, and it’s too close; he’d be suspicious, and they’ll be in trouble even if I’m not. It’s good for me to know hacking and strategy, anyway. You’ve been with me for my physical training, but I can’t lead a gang just because I have five black belts in martial arts and a gun.”

“Okay, you have a point, Bug.”

“When do I not?” she smirked saucily at him.

ARA, AGE 17 (8 YEARS AGO)

Ara popped the second contact in and stared at her reflection in the mirror. Two gold eyes stared back at her. Black combat boots laced tightly; black stretchy jeans to allow for more agile movements; black kevlar weave-shirt layered under her black hoodie and leather jacket; scarlet lipstick; special-made mask seated over her face, forehead-to-nose.

Perfect.

The get-up was about as far as she could get from her typical glitter-and-pastel outfits. She slipped the knife Jungkook had given her to celebrate Vixen’s first outing into the holster, her pistol into her ankle holster, and her backup knives up her sleeves.

Vixen stepped out of the bathroom and Jungkook, also masked and all in black, fell in behind her. Their black motorcycles sped quietly through the night to the old warehouse. Underneath the floor was a lively auction in full swing.

Jungkook entered first and began mingling with the patrons, sussing out any members of Gray or a rival family she’d need to be aware of. Seven and a half minutes later, Vixen entered quietly, staying in the shadows at the back as she analysed the room. About half an hour later what she was here for was beginning to be auctioned off.

Making eye contact with Jungkook, she nodded at him to place an opening bid. Once a couple offers were made she also joined the bidding. She and Jungkook upped the price, creating a flurry of a bidding war, until Jungkook acquired one and she the other two. 

This was the highlight of the auction, so once they won the bids, the auction house cleared out slowly. Too many people leaving at once would be far too blatant to any prying eyes.

The auctioneer approached Vixen. “Lady Vixen, your goods await your retrieval.”

She nodded curtly, motioning him to step forward, and she followed him to the room at the back, covered with steel bars and securely locked up.

Jungkook passed her on his return from the vault, nodding subtly, his new purchase behind him.

The auctioneer unlocked the door and the armed guard retrieved Vixen’s purchases: two Korean-Australian teenage boys, handcuffed and blindfolded. “Pleasure doing business, Lady.”

She smirked slightly and inclined her head at the auctioneer. “Indeed …I hope to do further business with you.” She put a hand on each of the boys’ shoulders and turned them to face the exit. “Straight ahead, boys!”

With a jaunty wave at the remaining staff in the warehouse’s secret bunker, she headed for the exit to meet up with Jungkook.

Once they were topside, Vixen put motorcycle helmets on their heads, warning, “No funny business, or we all die.” She put the smaller one in front of her and the bigger one on the seat behind her. Revving her engine, she headed for her warehouse HQ, where Jungkook awaited.

~~~

The two boys Vixen had brought were put in a small, specially prepared room while Vixen surveilled them and Jungkook’s boy, who was in a room twin to the other.

Vixen didn’t put it past the black market guys to slip a plant in, attempting to pull the wool over her eyes since she was small, fairly new to the illegal scene, and a woman.

She flicked her knife open and cut the zipties binding their wrists tightly. Leaving them, she shut the door and joined Jungkook in the surveillance room.

The first boy pulled his blindfold off, blinking at the dim light till he could see a table, two chairs, and two sealed water bottles. Once he perceived no one else was in the room and it was (so far) harmless, he undid the second boy’s blindfold and started rubbing his wrists. 

They began to talk in whispers, but Vixen had bugged the room so she and Jungkook could hear everything plainly. They spoke in English, with an Aussie accent.

“Where are we?” Boy Two asked.

“Another holding cell, it looks like.” “I hope Innie’s okay.”

“Me too. At least we’re together,” Boy One reassured him. “I wonder why the ‘Lady’ bought us…” “She didn’t seem as bad as the others, but you remember Roxie…”

Both boys shuddered.

Boy Two continued, “Do you think the water is for us?”

“It could be a test. We should inspect it.”

Each boy grabbed a bottle, carefully holding it up to the weak lightbulb in the room.

“Let’s just share a bottle in case it’s not for us,” Boy One suggested, twisting open the cap.

“Good idea, Chris-sorry.”

“Chris”--Boy One– tasted a sip thoughtfully, then passed the bottle to the other. “It tastes okay.”

The water quickly disappeared, and the boys sat on the floor facing the door, backs to the wall.

It was the same position “Innie”--Boy Three– was in. He, too, had carefully inspected the water before drinking it, before retreating to his current position.

They had definitely communicated before, Vixen decided. If anyone was a plant, it was likely to be Innie, but he seemed a bit young to be an actor. 

She unlocked the door and Jungkook walked in. “Innie?” he tried.

The boy’s head snapped up. 

“Do you know ‘Chris?’”

Innie pursed his lips, then nodded slowly.

“Please come with me.”

Innie followed Jungkook to the door, retying his blindfold behind his head.

Jungkook frowned, then mimed a punch at Innie’s head, stopping just before he actually hit him.

Not a flinch of a reaction showed on Innie’s face.

Jungkook gently took his elbow and led him to the room next door, opening the door and spinning him in. 

Vixen, watching the cameras, saw the two scramble up to meet Innie, hugging him tightly. 

Jungkook rejoined her and they shamelessly eavesdropped as the three caught up.

“We were so worried about you!”

“You got taken together?”

“Yeah, by a woman. The man took you, right?”

“They must know each other,” nodded Chris.

“Are you okay?” asked Boy Two.

“Yeah, you?”

“We’re fine. What do you think they want?”

“I don’t know. The guy just came in and asked me if I knew you and told me to follow him. I didn’t see the woman, and the man had a mask on.”

“They’re listening to us, then,” said Chris. “Unless they asked the guard at the other place our names, but they just called us all ‘Boy’...”

The trio looked at each other. 

“Why? We don’t know anything; we were handcuffed and blindfolded most of the time,” said unnamed-Boy-Two.

Jungkook left Vixen to knock and enter the boys’ room.

“That’s the guy,” whispered Innie to his companions.

Jungkook kicked the chair from Innie’s cell over to the other two and nodded at them. “Sit, please.”

They sat down, eyeing him, and Jungkook moved to face them all.

“We were eavesdropping because we wanted to make sure none of you were plants to take down our newly-formed operation,” explained Jungkook. “What’s your name?” he asked Boy Two.

“...Yongbok.”

“Chris, Yongbok, and Innie?”

The boys nodded, confirming their names as Jungkook pointed at them.

“Do you remember how you got to that auction?”

Chris and Yongbok told their take on how they’d been kidnapped in Australia and became friends on the way to Korea. 

Innie was taken from his native Incheon streets and met the other two at the cells where most of the trafficked children and teens were kept. They became friends during the three weeks they were captives before they were moved to the auction warehouse the day before this one.

“No one’s looking for you back home?” Jungkook asked the Australians.

“Why?” asked Chris, while Yongbok simply shook his head.

“So you’re technically illegal immigrants,” mused Jungkook out loud, telling Vixen to contact Jin and have him finagle two new Korean IDs and an updated one for Innie.

Once that was done, Vixen joined the group in the room, smiling at the boys.

“Hello, Innie, Yongbok, Chris. I’m Lady Vixen. JK here, and I bought you from the traffickers.” She nodded at Jungkook to continue.

He inhaled deeply.

“I was a trafficked kid, too. I’m from Busan, but one day a bunch of us young street kids were grabbed and shipped up to Seoul. We were rescued by cops who were breaking up the ring, and I was adopted by one of the cops, who is friends with Vixen’s dad. I’m Vixen’s bodyguard, so we spend a lot of time together, and one day Vix hatched this scheme to help trafficked kids like me. If you want to go home or find accommodations elsewhere, that’s cool; we’ll help you as much as we can, or you can stay and help us. No pressure either way,” JK said slowly.

“Right, you spent all that money on us just to let us go home? What do we have to do first?” asked Chris sceptically.

Vixen smiled. “I know; it’s strange. But I know not all the kids get happy endings like JK did, and I don’t want that to happen to more. He’s my brother in all but blood, and I have plenty of money to spend as I please, so why not help little JKs?”

“If we don’t leave, how will we help you?”

“I’d like to analyse you separately and see what you’re best suited for. Tech, medical, espionage…” “You make it sound like a gang,” said Yongbok facetiously.

Vixen didn’t bat an eyelash. “I am starting my own mafia, if you must know.”

“Wait, jjinja?”

“Yep! There’s a difference between a mafia and a gang, you know,” Vixen explained. “Mafia are higher calibre and have more rules. They only bring out the big guns if they need them; they prefer to have boring meetings first to attempt peace or treaties before full-on bloodshed. Ideally, no one knows they’re mafia. They’re the one percent. 

“In comparison, gangs are…the middle class, at best. Gangs are always fighting for their turf, showing off their affiliations. There is a world of difference between a gang and a Family.”

The three fell silent, contemplating.

“What if I join and I want out later?” asked Innie.

“As long as you spill no secrets about us, you’re free to leave whenever. I’ll even help,” promised Vixen.

“I’m in,” they decided at last.

“Glad to have you join us!”

Jungkook left and Vixen stood up, slapping her thighs. “Okay, JK’s off to prepare your assessments for later. I have a room ready, but I’d like it if you’d shower and see my doctor to make sure you’re all in good health before you sleep.”

They agreed to her suggestion, and she led them down the hallway to a plain wooden door.

Rapping on it four times in a row, she waited till a tall, lean man with long dark hair answered.

“Hey, Doc, these are tonight’s recruits: Chris, Innie, and Yongbok. Dr. Hyunjin is my team’s doctor–he’s currently apprenticing under my father’s doctor, Dr. Lee. Are you okay with me leaving to get some breakfast for you?”

Chris nodded, and Vixen left with a smile and a look for Dr. Hyunjin.

JK found Vixen in the small kitchen, frying egg rolls. He snagged one off the plate and she smacked his hand.

“Tonight went well, Bug.” He leaned against the counter, mouth full of egg.

She turned back to the stove, rolling another layer. “Names, JK. Yeah, it did. Thank you for helping me. How were the memories?”

“Better than I’d hoped. I think it helped that I was the one in power that time, going there to help instead of as a weak little kid, y’know.” “Mmmh.” Vixen flipped the roll onto the plate and sliced it neatly. “Hyunjin’s making sure they’re all physically okay, but I’m sure we’ll need to get them a counsellor, too. Should I hire one when we make it big?” she mused.

Jungkook swallowed another slice of egg roll and contemplated as he danced away from Vixen’s spoon. “It probably wouldn’t hurt, but I don’t think you need to worry about that at the present.”

“Right. Thanks, Kook.”

~~~

The boys were in pretty good shape, all things considered, so once they said they were ready for their assessments, Jungkook set them up.

Jin made and dropped off IDs for Bang Chan, Lee Felix, and Yang Jeongin–the names the boys chose for themselves–now that they were confirmed to stay as a part of Stray Kids for the foreseeable future. 

Chan became the Head Strategist and Hacker, Felix the Head of Security (Vixen’s bodyguards and strike team), and Jeongin was appointed one of her bodyguards.

Seo Changbin was her other main bodyguard, and the pair became known as the Double IN team.

Vixen’s close friend Minho was her spy in high society since he could gather intel on the male-only parties that she couldn’t attend. 

Her second spy was a street kid Jungkook had saved in the winter and introduced to Ara. He fell for her hard and rapidly agreed to join Stray Kids as its first member, though officially he was still unaffiliated with any gang or mafia. Jisung (or, as his contacts knew him, Han), was Vixen’s Head of Espionage.

Even the best-trained forces aren’t always perfect, and Ara’s small band often needed medical attention. Namjoon was able to get Hyunjin in with the Gray Gang’s doctor as an apprentice medic; when Hyunjin wasn’t busy patching up sparring wounds, he was acting as an infiltrator for Vixen, utilizing his good looks to their best advantage. He was kept in the wings, so he wouldn’t become easily recognized.

Since Jungkook couldn’t be with Vixen all the time, he began training Felix and Jeongin as her bodyguards and fighters. Felix was promoted to chauffeur once he got his license, and Jeongin, or I.N. –his street name– became the Head of Information.

Changbin became a member of Stray Kids by following Jungkook and Vixen from an underground fight he’d spectated at. Finding them curious, he stalked them back to their HQ, where they agreed to let him join once he proved his skills in the ring. As the son of a wrestler, he was a prime candidate for bodyguarding.

Vixen’s third and final spy, Kim Seungmin, was kept under wraps from all but her inner circle. He was needed on the inside of Gray, to uncover the more mundane information Namjoon and Seokjin were usually too busy to gather for her. These eight became Vixen’s closest friends and joined Jungkook in the ranks of honorary brothers.

A/N: Jungkook's nickname "Bug" for Ara is a shortened form of the nickname "Shutterbug" because she was always taking pictures.

#bangtanwhq #bangtanfamiglianet #group: bts #group: skz #member: pjm #type: fic #series: godmother #title: vixen #chapter: 2 #au: arranged marriage #au: ceo #au: mafia #rating: m #length: 8-9k #tw: human trafficking #star scribbles #bts ff #bts fanfic #bts fanfiction #bts jimin smut #bts jimin fanfic

[angel-fic-recs]

Murmuration - fringecity (indiachick)

Park Jimin x Min Yoongi x Kim Taehyung (Taegimin)

Rated : M

Wordcount : 167k (multi-chaptered)

Genre : Muder Mystery | Urban Fantasy AU

WARNING : GRAPHIC DEPICTION OF VIOLENCE, temporary character death

Description : Park Jimin is a rookie detective at the flashiest department in Seoul Metropolitan. When he's tasked to work with Min Yoongi - an apathetic, disgraced cop handling the ineffective cold case division - he doesn't expect the murder case they're working on to turn intensely personal.

For both of them.

(Superpowers AU with mysteries! Taegimin)

Angel's review : After this long absence here on tumblr, I present to you one of the most intricate, complex, researched story I've ever read. When I tell you this story should get published, I truly mean it. The setting kind of takes some time to build itself but once everything starts going downhill, I couldn't put this down. Slowly but surely, the truth starts to unravel before ours and Yoongi's eyes and we were both not ready for it. I can't tell you much without spoiling anything, only that this fic will stay in your mind for quite some time ;).

Link : https://archiveofourown.org/works/15758577/chapters/36651837

#fanfic rec #taegimin #ao3 #angst #rated m #mind the tags #graphic depictions of violence #temporary character death #superpowers #murder mystery #urban fantasy #happy ending #wordcount : +100k #multi chaptered #bts #angel-fic-recs #poly

[min-yunki-agustd]

Hi I would love to request a Hoseok fic, with a little of smut between sope, like sope probably visiting each other in each other home for the weekend, but also as cute boyfriends but Hoseok has work so much that he ends up sick, he doesn't wants to eat from stress, nerves, and because his stomach bloates like a balloon each time he eats, leaving him feeling uncomfortable, so big in his abdomen, all achy, and with too much gas, but Yoongi decides to feed him and begins to take care of him, so he could be healthy again, and even though his belly bloats so much after each meal, Yoongi still finds him so attractive so sexy, and like a fine delicious meal, like even kissing his pudgy bloated soft rounded tummy to help him feel less bad about his tummy bloating troubles.

No emeto please, if that's fine with you?

I prefer like a lot of stomach ache,like really horrible uncomfortable stomach aches during the night, like him complaining with the worst stomach pain while his stomach is all bloated and hard and doing noises that wakes his boyfriend up, or a lot of stomach aches after eating or having upsets like to much air, to much gurgles, bubbling,noises or farts. Not too much appetite, and probably even taking him to the doctors or whatever you like to wrote too!

And lots of love between them, being all cute, romantic couple, all kissy lovely, hugging and cuddling. Yoongi as the best caretaker ever, being so sweet with poor Hobi's bloated upset balloon tummy and giving that big sick belly all the love runs and kisses it deserves!

I love your works!

WARNING NSFW - RATED: MATURE 18 and Older only please

This... This is pure gold. I will say it is hard for me not to put emeto in it simply because I'm addicted. but there are a lot of fics out there that have lots of sick stuff and no emeto so I will gladly respect your wishes. Thank you for requesting. Also, I'm really glad you like my writings. I was hoping to expand my horizons and work with more fic kinda like this! I also, also want to add that smut doesn't typically have a plot but I added one because uhhhh * insert valid excuse* if you don't like it I will rewrite a shorter version with no plot. Let me know though if that is what you were going for or not ( plot or no plot that is the question lol) (but for now, I'm finna hoe out on this fic)

Sick: hosoek

Caretaker: Yoongi

TW: Sm*T, sickness, bloated, lots of tummy talk, affectionate characters, fluff, farting ,etc NSFW content

Rating: T-M 18+

Word count: 3k+

This fic is not for the underage! I will have a more appropriate fic for you to read if this isn't your thing or if you are underage.

_______________________________________________________

FINAL WARNING! NSFW

It was now yoongi's turn to visit hoesok. Ever since they'd been granted more freedom, moved out of the dorm, and separated schedules for a while, hoseok and yoongi have been taking advantage of it. They've always had something together. They didn't get to explore it as much as they wanted while under bighit. They had strict rules to follow, but now, they were under HYBE, things were different now. Their freedom grew as did their passion for one another. They moved out of the old dorm, and now the members were either living in luxury apartments or they opted to just buy a home. At the end of each week, after their long schedules, they'd see each other. Their relationship was more official than it had been over the years. They knew with their tight and clashing schedules they wouldn't be able to see each other often. But, It was understood between the two of them that every other weekend was their time together. Hoseok had stayed with yoongi in his home and now it was yoongi's turn to stay over with hoseok. Despite having a few different personality traits they were perfect for each other. It couldn't have been more perfect.

yoongi POV

Yoongi wakes around 8'oclock in the morning, he got up bright and early. He's one to be thoroughly prepared whenever he planned to go/stay somewhere for a while. He wanted plenty of time to gather important items. Making sure to grab everything he needed. The clothes he packed were organized and neat, each outfit matching and already chosen for each day. Today, he'd wear something nice to great his lover in. Something that wouldn't be uncomfortable with if they decided to go out and enjoy the day which they typically did. he chose 3 different pajamas to bring. Even though he'd only stay for three nights and 2 days he adds a fourth along with an outfit for the day just in case he says fuck it and skips Monday's day of work to be with hoseok longer. He's done it before and he really shouldn't but sometimes it's hard to leave. It's challenging to be without the one you love for so long. yoongi brings slippers, socks, underwear, and anything else he might need. He also grabs things like cologne and body care items, and the final things he brings are a pin and paper and his laptop just in case he decides to work on his album. yoongi can't really go anywhere without working. It may sound crazy to work while you don't have to but his work brought him joy, why wouldn't he want to do the thing he loves to do most around the person he loves most anyways. Once he was packed and ready to go. He throws his things into his car and he heads over. Hoseok and yoongi's homes have a bit of distance but it's not so far that it's impeding, even if it was,yoongi was sure something would have simply been worked out. Hoseok knew exactly when yoongi was coming, yoongi was typically quite punctual, as is hoseok. One thing they very much had in common was that they were well-put-together people on the outside. yoongi was excited, he couldn't stop thinking about hoseok. Every single time he drove over to his house. He couldn't stop thinking about how the way he feels in his arms, how warm and welcoming hoseok is when he's around. How excited yet, relaxed hoseok was, there were no cameras, no crew, no members, they didn't feel the need to act a certain way, they were their raw, and natural selves around each other. Yoongi couldn't care less about what he was doing, but when he was with hosoek every moment was sweet and he felt alive. He didn't give a damn about what people would say if they were holding hands while walking down the street, those things didn't matter. He was happy and he wouldn't let others ruin that for himself or hosoek.

It felt like yoongi arrived at hoseok's home faster than usual. He assumed it was because of how deep in thought he was. He parked in the free area of hoseok's large garage. Hoseok usually kept that place open for yoongi. Yoongi turned off his car and grabbed his bags. He pulled out the key to hoseok home. They decided to give each other keys so they could enter freely. They had lots of trust and commitment toward each other. The key hoseok gave yoongi reminds yoongi so much of him. It was custom, it had a white background with small smiling flowers with pink, yellow, and light blue color peddles. Even though hosoek knows yoongi is coming over, yoongi presses the doorbell, to inform hoseok of his entry before he unlocks the door. yoongi opens the door. The lights were off, it seemed normal inside but something seemed off. Hosoek would typically be waiting for him in his living room but he wasn't. He sets down his things and locks the door behind him. " Hoseok!" yoongi calls out. Was he even home? yoongi thought. Yoongi decides to check hoseok's bedroom. he climbed the steps. He listen softly as he walked, He could hear soft moans. seeming to be in pain. Once yoongi arrived in hoseok's room he was astonished to see its state. It wasn't that bad but hoseok was a very tidy person and a few things were scattered along his floor. Hosoek lay on his bed huddled over groaning softly. Yoongi slid off his shoes and lay down spooning him from behind. Yoongi sat in silence, allowing himself to settle in behind Hosoek. Hoseok took yoongi's hand into his own. yoongi rested his face in the crease between hoseok's neck and shoulder. yoongi was engulfed in hoseok sweet scent. He always smelt fresh and sweet. He didn't say a word but he knew hoseok was in pain. " my stomach hurts." hoseok whines. Yoongi doesn't even have to ask. " what have you been eating love?" yoongi asks his hand running from the edge of his hobi's shoulder all the way down to his hip. " I haven't really been eating much. Stress has been really geting to me lately." hoseok admits sadly when hoseok muttered those words it kinda broke yoongi's heart a little. If they had the time to be together he wouldn't have ended up like this, yoongi would have caught it immediately.

what kills yoongi is that he can feel the difference in weight as he lightly glides his fingers down hoseoks body. yoongi's voice and gentle hand were soothing to hoseok. It brought him comfort." you should eat something then... I can call in a-" yoongi was interrupted. " no, I don't want to, every time I try, my stomach hurts and I feel bloated." hoseok says his voice wobbly with sadness. " you gotta eat, or you'll only feel worse." yoongi says. " I'll be bloated if I do, and It'll look so bad, I can't shoot my music video like that." hoseok says sounding like he could burst into tears. "you won't like me looking like that." hoseok says quietly but loud enough for yoongi's ears to catch. " Hoseok!" yoongi didn't shout but he was geting upset with how his boyfriend was talking so bad about himself. Yoongi held hoseok tightly. " I love you no matter what." yoongi plants kisses on hoseok's neck and collar bone, which was more prominent than before. hoseok was thinking irrationally, it was the stress talking. It weighs heavy on him with all the pressure they were all under. It kept him from relaxing. The stress was going to eat away at his lover if yoongi didn't do something about it. Yoongi sat up, planted a kiss on the top of hoseok's head, and got up from the bed. " I'm going to go make you breakfast I'll be right back. While cooking up hosoek some breakfast, yoongi thought about the things hoseok said. It really upset him. yoongi was pansexual, he wasn't one to judge others about someone's body. It was the personality that got him going. Hoseok could be really sweet, assertive, gentle but very rough. yoongi loved that. He tries to stop his thoughts from going any further, doesn't need to end up geting hard. That makes him think of what they did the last time yoongi was around. Yoongi smirks to himself.

He needs to remind hoseok that he still loves him and still very much finds him attractive. Actions are louder than words yoongi thinks. He finishes up cooking. He ends up making hoseok some jook. He figured he should have something easy on his stomach since he's a bit under the weather. Yoongi brings the steaming bowl of jook to hoseok's room. Hoseok doesn't even try at first, but he allows yoongi to feed him. yoongi would pick up a spoon full, blow on it, and feed it to hoseok. After a few more bites hoseok begins eating on his own. he finishes half the bowl and sets it to the side. While he does so yoongi decides to use this moment to show hoseok How much he loves him and his body. yoongi stayed silent as he began lifting up hoseok's shirt. He pushed back his shirt so that he could see it properly. Hoseok didn't know what yoongi was up to. yoongi looked at the younger's belly. He could see it was definitely bloated but he could also see hoseok's ribs peeking out of his ribcage. yoongi plants kisses from hoseok's sternum, all the way down his plump belly, the skin was soft. He plants a circle of kisses around his belly button. He wants hoseok to feel loved, and good about himself. yoongi's heart begins to flutter from the internal knowledge of what he's about to do next. He planted kisses further and further away from his belly button until he reached hoseok's waistline. yoongi felt his own pants get tighter. He stops what he's doing and looks up at hoseok. Hoseok's head is thrown back over the pillow enjoying the sensations. Hoseok looks down when he feels yoongi reach all the way down and stop. yoongi's mouth against hoseok's skin was gentle and precise. He looks up to the other as though he were asking for permission to go further with his eyes. Hoseok gave him the green light. Yoongi continued traveling. yoongi teased the other a bit. He ran his long slim fingers around his waist, exploring hoseok's body. The longer he messed with hoseok the harder he'd get himself so he stopped and began pulling on hoseok's pajama pants. They were light and silk. Yoongi ran a hand down hoseok's inner thigh and he pulled hoseok out of his pants. Yoongi's breathing was calm despite his fast-beating heart, hoseok's breathing was erratic. Yoongi pushed hoseok's legs further apart. Hoseok wasn't soft at all in yoongi's hand. Hoseok's face was flushed and already sweating. Yoongi smiled at him when he noticed this. Yoongi took hoseok into his mouth. Yoongi wasn't really a fan of giving oral but the face hoseok made when he came was worth it. yoongi started off slow. Sucking on his tip and licking around his base.

Hoseok's heart was beating out of his chest. yoongi waited till hosoek least expected it to take him in all the way. yoongi intentionally moan while taking him in. it was deep and muffled. The vibrations and being shoved down the back of yoongi's throat were enough for hoseok to finish right then and there but he held on a little longer. He knew yoongi wasn't finished with him. Hoseok tenderly put a hand on yoongi's head and held his mouth there for a moment before letting him go and breathe. yoongi tried his best to relax. He knew it'd be easier to take him in if he relaxed his throat. Once hoseok released him and let go of his head he took his mouth and got off hoseok immediately. He turned to the side and coughed roughly choking a bit. Something about yoongi choking on him and having to stop for air stirred something inside hosoek. He was a bit sadistic. Yoongi collected himself and finished hoseok off. Bobbing his head on the head of hoseok's dick. Yoongi knows hoseok likes it fast so he brought up his speed. He kept going until hoseok took yoongi's long hair into his hands and began fucking his face. yoongi's eyes begin to water from the force. yoongi put a hand on hoseoks forearm, like a reminder to not go too hard. yoongi takes him in like he hadn't had any in a long time. They go on for a while until hoseok reaches his climax. He gets that tender feeling in his stomach and involuntary pumps his hips into yoongi's mouth. yoongi feels something light and sticky gush in his mouth. He tastes it. It's salty-sweet and a little bit bitter. hoseok slows to a stop. He's stuck in one place for a moment and then he feels his body relax afterward. Euphoria sets in. Hoseok lets go of yoongi's hair. He looks into yoongi's in his eyes. There is a little water and irritation in them. but he knows he's alright. he asks anyway. " you ok?" hoseok asks pulling yoongi off his knees and closer to him. hobi doesn't even recall yoongi going on his knees. Yoongi says yes. when he tries to speak he realizes how ruined his vocal cords are. His voice comes out graveled and scratchy. " would like me to..." hoseok eyes look down to yoongi's obvious and prominent boner. " no" yoongi says plainly. " you'll repay me when your feel better. yoongi says and smirks. Hoseok gets up from his bed finds yoongi a towel and hands it to him. Hoseok leaves the room to grab some water for yoongi. hoseok always did this it was sort of like a thank you or a way to show that he cared too. Yoongi cleaned himself up while hoseok was out of the room. He wiped his mouth and cleaned his pants up. He made a bit of a mess in his pants while tending to hosoek. Once done yoongi lays out on hoseok's bed. He was exhausted. He was always exhausted after such activities. hoseok enters the room with two water bottles in hand. He hands one to yoongi. " thanks." yoongi says with a raspy voice. Yoongi drank the water.

Hobi POV

hoseok lay cuddled up with yoongi. They end up taking a short nap together. Hoseok wakes to a familiar ache. He was no longer distracted with sleep or oral, his stomach started giving him trouble again from the jook he had earlier. He feels ache and gassy. A loud gurgles coming from hosoek's tummy wake yoongi. He was turned away but turned to face hoseok when he heard the commotion. " you ok baby?" yoongi says rubbing his palm against hoseok's bloated tummy. It felt worse than before in his hand. his stomach was a bit stiff than it was earlier and it wasn't as soft. Yoongi's hand felt like magic on his belly. he can feel it row back and forth slowly and gently. Hoseok relaxed under yoongi's hand before speaking. "no my stomach's hurting." yoongi stared concerned at him, he didn't want him to worry but his stomach is giving him a lot of trouble. Yoongi being here rubbing his hand against hoseok's bloated belly, made hoseok feel warm inside. Yoongi, cooked for him slept with him, and even pleasured him, hoseok felt loved. He couldn't understand why someone love him when he was like this. hoseok felt his stomach go cold as the warm hand leaves his middle. Hoseok watched as yoongi sat up and looked at his watch. " honey? where are you going." hobi asked pulling on yoongi's shirt. " I'm going to make us lunch, it's twelve thirty." yoongi says. hoseok doesn't want him to leave the bed. he latches on to yoongi's arm. "stay here with me instead." Yoongi faces him and gives him a passionate his on his soft pink lips. hoseok felt his body tingle and his heart skip a beat when the other connected his lips to his. yoongi turned from his sitting position and kissed hoseok more. pressing hoseok against the bed. Hoseok can taste vanilla coffee on yoongi's lips. Making the moment a little sweeter. Hosoek could feel yoongi sliding a gentle hand down hoseok's waist. Once again hoseok felt a lack of warmth, this time on his lips as his love backs away. Hoseok opens his eyes. " Come with me." hoseok obliged. following the older into the kitchen where he began cooking. Yoongi put on a boiling pot of water and waited for it to begin boiling. As he waited hoseok wrapped his arms around his wanting to stay close as possible. Feeling a little more clinging than usual. Once the food was finished they traveled to hoseok's living room and put on a little tv as they ate. hsoeok wasn't really hungry. He could bring himself to even take a bit. he made the mistake of letting yoongi catch him. " is something wrong hun?" yoongi ask in between bites of his food. hoseok shook his head, and take a bite of meat not wanting yoongi to worry.

They finish their meal. Hoseok lays back on the couch feeling up his tummy. He can feel his stomach gurgling and making uncomfy noises. It grabs yoongi's attention. Hoseok blushes, feeling embarrassed about his tummy. yoongi grabs their plates and leave to the kitchen. Hosoek let puffs of air escape his backside. He was hoping yoongi would leave some way or another. He felt embarrassed. His stomach began bubbling up with air. hoseok was very gassy. yoongi returns and sits back down with hoseok on the couch. Yoongi puts an arm around hoseok and pulls him closer. yoongi spots hoseok's hand holding on to his belly from the corner of his eye. yoongi sides his hand under hoseok, and he rubs it. He carefully adds pressure to tight areas of hoseok belly. It felt really go to hsoeok. The only problem was it promoted the air to travel down his intestines. He began moving around a lot, trying to avoid farting. he pushes yoongi's hand away. " what's the matter hobi?" yoongi asks as hsoeok squirms out of his hands. hoseok accidentally let out a fart moving so much. He stopped moving and his ears lit up red. he looked away in shame. yoongi gets closer. " is that all it is, come here," yoongi pulls him back. " I don't care if your gassy come here. hoseok was struggling to get out of yoongi's grasp. Hosoek felt embarrassed and wanted to get away. yoongi didn't let him. hoseok gave up and let yoongi cuddle into him. " your funeral, " hoseok says jokingly. " I told you my stomach was hurting, hoseok giggles". "yeah yeah, yoongi says going right back to messaging hobi's tummy and adding pressure to the hard areas. Yoongi knew the other had air trapped there.

Hosoek rested his head on yoongi's shoulder, feeling a bit asleep as yoongi rubbed his tummy. hoseok cooed at the feeling. They stay like that until hoseok's eyes began to get heavy. He drifts off to sleep. yoongi kept rubbing until he fell asleep as well. They end up laying on the couch in each other's arms sleeping. They sleep the rest of the day away. hoseok was sleeping deeply until he felt a rumble in his achy tummy. He tried ignoring it. Keeping his eyes closed and turning his head away. It rumbled again. His stomach wouldn't leave him alone. This time it gurgled out louder, making yoongi rustle around beside him. yoongi woke up and faced hoseok. He didn't seem annoyed or angry he just reached down and gave his grumpy belly kisses. " you belly seems angry" yoongi says hsoeok giggling threw the pain.

____________________________________________

I hope you enjoyed it, I know there's not a lot of smut but I just wanted to test the waters and see what you guys like to read more of before trying anything else. I enjoyed writing this, thanks so much for the request!

Ps if you like more smut let me know and I'll gladly do another. sope smut or any other memebers

#tw nswf #bts sickfic #sick bts #sopensfw #btssickfic request #rating: T-M #nsfwbtscontent #btsnsfw #bts!nsfwfic #bts nswf #btshoseoksick #sick!hoseok #caretaker!yoongi

[yeoubimoments]

daily fic rec

blood and the moon by @/vxmins (@015friends)

vmin ✦ 100k ✦ teen avatar TLA au, angst

THIS FIC AAAA

i don't think I can give a super coherent explanation for this rec, but i can try— avatar TLA holds a special place in my heart, and this fic was everything i love about it. poetic, ripped my heart out, and yet i read the whole thing in one night and could barely function on like 2 hours of sleep after it. this is definitely one of my favourite fics of all time, and i'm not sugar-coating it.

summary:

The Avatar, by now, should be nearly three years old. The Avatar should be an earthbender, first. The Avatar should have eyes that Jimin convinces himself that he could know—will know—with nothing but a look.

Years after losing his best friend to an attack on the Order of the White Lotus, Jimin finds the Avatar.

#rec #length_150k #rating_t #although personally i would rate this m #rating_m #au #angst #ao3 #bts fanfic #bts fic #bts fanfction #vmin rec #vmin recs #vmin fic rec #vmin fic recs #bts fic rec #bts fic recs #vmin #atla au

[sailoryooons]

Boyfriend Material | jjk (m)

☾ Pairing: Hockey Player!Jungkook x f. Reader 

☾ Summary: Jungkook isn’t boyfriend material – except when he is.  

☾ Word Count: 2,127

☾ Genre: FWB, Hint of Angst, Smut

☾ Rating: 18+ Minors are strictly prohibited from engaging and reading this content. It contains explicit content and any minors discovered reading or engaging with this work will be blocked immediately. 

☾ Warnings: Friends with benefits who are very obviously pretending not to have feelings, being in a confusing relationship that is basically a relationship without titles, feelings of confusion and self-doubt, lying to oneself, mentions of some toxic interactions with other people/women, repressed feelings, explicit sexual content including oral (f. receiving) in the shower, honestly, in general, some very cliche/stereotypical conflict you’d find in a relationship with someone of status 

☾ Published: March 23, 2024

☾ A/N: This is a self-insert of one of the most confusing relationships I have ever had in my life and I will die on the hill that no one should date athletes because 98% of them are the rule, not the exception no matter how much they seem like it! TRAUMA!!! Also, should I have been dating a professional athlete for the sport I worked in? No!!!! This is for all the people who have been in a not-relationship-that-is-a-relationship why the fuck do people do that like it is okay to have feelings and call ur partner ur partner?? 

☾ A/N 2: This is drabble number six for the Drabble Challenge that I have been utterly failing at! Today I rolled for ‘athlete’ but I didn’t feel like writing actual sports so I was like :) I worked in sports for ten years, I can just share a glimpse of my life when I was 23 years old :) Enjoy 

☾ Disclaimer: All members of BTS are faces and name claims for this story. This is entirely a work of fiction and by no means is meant to be a projection, judgment or representation of real-life people. Any scenarios or representations of the people and places mentioned in works are not representative of real-life scenarios.

Main Masterlist ☾ 100 Drabble Masterlist ☾ Ask ☾ Song Inspiration

“Fuck, I’m so tired,” Jungkook groans, leaning back in the chair and stretching his arms. Sun beats down on his golden skin. You feel the heat of it on your back and the top of your head. It’s pleasant, the cool spring breeze threatening to send the napkins on the table running. “Wanna lay out at the pool?”

Finishing the rest of your coffee, you nudge the empty plate away from you. Where once an eggs benedict had stood is now smears of leftover yolk and a single onion you missed when eating your hashbrowns. 

“Not sick of me?” you ask, raising a brow. 

Jungkook isn’t looking at you, scrolling on his phone. The bill of his hat is pulled low, hiding most of his face as he squints down at the device held low in his lap. You wait patiently for his answer, running your finger up and down the now-empty glass as it sweats from the sun. 

“Nope,” he answers, popping the end of the word sharply. “Did you ever get your desk fixed? Yoongi said he would fix it if not.”

“I have not.” 

He nods. “He said he’ll swing by this afternoon. We can lay out at the pool at my place and then head to yours after?” 

Your mouth twitches. You don’t say it out loud because you don’t want to risk him backing out, but another full day spent with Jungkook is a surprise to you. Not because it doesn’t happen often – it does. But rather because it keeps happening more often.

Jungkook isn’t boyfriend material. He’d established that the first night he met you at a bar. Him being a professional athlete was a warning sign enough that you didn’t want to romance that but what had come afterward has been nothing short of surprising. 

Friendship and… well. You don’t know how to explain the extras. 

Jungkook isn’t boyfriend material. But you do your groceries together on the weekend. You drop him off at the arena when they’re heading out for a road trip. You take him to doctor's appointments to monitor the knee injury from last season. 

You’re not Jungkook’s girlfriend but he takes you to team events. He lets himself in and does your laundry at your apartment while you’re at work so you don’t have to do it when you come home. He has his teammates fix furniture for you and they’ve asked you to babysit their kids. 

“Babe?” the endearment makes you blink a few times, realizing you’d been staring into your lap. Jungkook’s dark eyes are focused on you now, phone shoved into his pocket. “We don’t have to go to the pool. We can just nap.”

We. Not you. Jungkook is going to hang out with you regardless if you like his original idea or not. Your stomach flips in that way you hate, the way that you know you’re doing everything you said you wouldn’t.

“Sounds good.” 

Jungkook flashes a grin and you become acutely aware that thinking you could be friends with benefits without being anything more was a stupid idea. Jungkook is not made to be resisted, with round eyes that darken when he’s turned on, a giggle that contrasts with the big, broad-shouldered athlete built, a smile that lights up the room and can dispel any tension, a sweet voice that can tempt anyone the moment he pouts or when he decides to pur. 

You were fucked - literally and figuratively - that first night you let him in your apartment. 

Instead of thinking about it, you hide from the truth. Again. Jungkook is not boyfriend material, despite the fact that he pays for breakfast despite your protests, and reaches over the center console in the car to squeeze your thigh. 

“Mmm,” he hums, fingers skating over your flash and making you squirm in the passenger seat. “Warm.”

“I was sitting in the sun.”

“I like it.”

Jungkook likes a lot about you. He tells you all the time, very open about how he likes the way you taste, likes the way you organize your books by color, likes the way you sing in the shower, likes the way you speak in Star Wars quotes. 

Perhaps that’s what makes you the most wary about him. He says he’s not boyfriend material, but his actions betray his words. And you let them, every single time. 

Jungkook smells like sunscreen, sweat, and a little bit of his cologne from earlier that morning. You’re hyperaware of him as you lounge on the cabana bed together, close enough to feel the heat radiating from his firm body. 

His tattooed arm is tossed over his eyes, blocking out the sun as he snores a little. Careful not to knock into him, you lean over him and grab his phone to check the time. You haven’t been lounging in the sun long, but you don’t want him to get a sunburn.

Again. 

You wager you can stay a little longer, placing the phone back down under his discarded shirt where it can hide from the sun’s heat. Sitting back in your spot, you pick up your book from your sweaty thighs as the sound of the gate to the pool yard opening catches your attention. 

Some of Jungkook’s teammates live in the same apartment complex. It’s easier that way, especially for the players who get sent up and down from the minors. You catch a few of the younger players with a few girls you don’t know the name of tugging a cooler on wheels behind them with a speaker blaring. 

Jungkook doesn’t so much as move. He can sleep through anything – has slept through you falling into his gaming setup while trying to get to the bathroom drunk. His slumbering leaves you to watch them head to the beds a few over from yours. 

One of the girls notices you. You don’t recognize her specifically, but she recognizes Jungkook. Looks back at you. Frowns and mutters something to one of the other girls, who is not very subtle as she cranks her head around in your direction. 

You don’t wince anymore. It’s not an uncommon thing, among these circles. You refuse to engage with any of it. You used to tell yourself it was because a casual whatever-Jungkook-is simply isn’t worth the drama. At night, you know you don’t engage with it because you don’t want to know. 

Ignorance is bliss, especially in this dangerously plastic world Jungkook exists in. 

Thankfully, you’re not alone in the matter. Jimin appears out of thin air, dropping down on the empty bed next to you. Namjoon – arguably Jimin’s better half and team captain – is nowhere to be found. Jimin lowers his shades and looks beyond you to the group of now rowdy players. 

“Gross,” he huffs. He slides his glasses back up the bridge of his nose and stretches out on the bed like a cat. Jimin doesn’t play, but he certainly has the body of an athlete, all fine lines and corded muscle. “Ignore them.”

“I was doing that already.” You lift your book as if to prove yourself.

He snorts. “You were thinking about it, be honest.” Your silence is answer enough and Jimin grins, lacing his hands behind his head as he tilts toward the sun. “Don’t let Jungkookie burn again.”

“I’m not,” you huff before snapping your book shut. Jimin is in the circle of player’s partners that you genuinely enjoy, but he has the keen ability to get under your skin and tell you all of the truths that you don’t want to be voiced out loud. Still, having him on your side has more benefits than just keeping the hyenas away from you. He’s also genuinely nice when he wants to be. “Jungkook, wake up.”

The man mumbles and turns his head away from you. You sigh heavily, squeezing his strong, very sweaty arm gently. “Come on, you’re gonna burn if you stay out here any longer.”

“Mm. Feels nice.”

“A sunburn won’t feel nice.”

“You can rub aloe all over me.”

“I will not.”

“Just five more minutes.”

“Jeon.” 

He drops his arm from his eyes, squinting in the bright light at you. His hair is damp with sweat and hangs in his eyes. He’s been growing it out longer and longer, especially since Seokjin keeps encouraging Jungkook by telling him he has the best flow on the team. 

“So you don’t want to rub aloe all over me?”

“You don’t need to get sunburned for me to touch you, Jungkook.”

“Bleh,” Jimin grunts. 

That makes Jungkook sit up, rolling his shoulders and twisting to pop his back. He sighs for a moment, closing his eyes as though willing himself to get up. When he opens them again, there’s a light in them and he smirks, looking you up and down.

“Wanna shower?”

Your mouth twitches and you roll your eyes to hide how much you want to shiver. “Come on,” you sigh, getting up, the fabric of the sunbed clinging to your sweaty skin. 

Eyes cling to you as you pull the sundress over your head and slide your sandals on. You don’t have to glance over at the mini-party a few sunbeds over to know you’re being watched. You suppose they’re watching Jungkook more than anything, but you’re in direct view behind him, grabbing your book. 

You know Jungkook notices them. He says nothing, though. Instead, he offers his hand out when you shove all your belongings in a bag, wanting to carry it. You grin and hand it over to him, smile growing as he shoulders it easily and offers his hand again, this time for you to take.

And you do take it. Perhaps the satisfaction that thrums through you as he leads you out of the pool yard and onto the deck that crosses the lake toward his apartment building is a little bit insidious. You don’t care. The momentary triumph that you shouldn’t be feeling at all is far too powerful and Jungkook’s hand is far too warm and safe in yours to care about why you feel good about the public display of affection.

It isn’t like he hasn’t done it before. Jungkook isn’t shy with others in front of you. It’s what makes the whole thing worse, somehow. Because Jungkook isn’t boyfriend material, but he introduces you to people and friends and slides between your legs to lean on you when you’re sitting on a barstool. He holds your hand when you go on a lunch and shopping spree with your mom and he brings her coffee and flowers. 

Jungkook isn’t boyfriend material, but you don’t care when the shower hits the warm skin and runs down your back as he presses your chest to the cold shower wall in front of you. The cool stone stings against your nipples, over-sensitive and sending a shiver down your spine as your eyes flutter shut. 

Jungkook isn’t boyfriend material, but he curses low under the sound of the shower as he pries your legs apart, tongue seeking the heat between them hungrily. Your mouth falls open as Jungkook’s tongue licks you soft-slow, lips sucking gently against your clit. 

“Shit,” you hiss. The difference in temperatures between the hot water and the cold wall makes the room spin. Steam makes it harder to breathe, your head pleasure-dizzy as Jungkook laughs and rolls his tongue lazily around your dripping cunt. “Fuck.”

Jungkook isn’t boyfriend material, but he eats you out slow and hungry. He doesn’t care that the water starts to lose its warmth as his mouth works you, smacking his lips loudly and moaning, vibrations going straight to your core where you drip on his soft tongue. 

His hands grip your ass, fingers digging into the flesh as he pries you apart further, tongue delving into your aching hole. He slurps at you, mouth loud and sticky over the sound of your panting and the water hitting the tile floor. His little hums of appreciation buzz through you, making the room spin.

“Fuck,” you whisper, pressing your cheek to the wet, cold stone as you try to ground yourself. You twist an arm backward, gripping Jungkook’s wet hair. He lets out a loud groan in appreciation, always pleased when you pull on his hair. “Don’t stop.”

Jungkook isn’t boyfriend material, but he does whatever you want him to. His tongue delves in, working you to orgasm until you’re shaking against the wall, knees knocking together and nearly collapsing on him. He catches you easily, standing and pressing you against the wall as he grabs your chin and brings your mouth toward him, his to devour.

Jungkook isn’t boyfriend material. 

But more than anything, you want him to be. 

#jungkook smut #jeon jungkook smut #bts smut #jungkook fic #jeon jungkook fic #jungkook bts fic #jungkook x you #jungkook x reader #bts fanfic #100 drabble challenge

[whatifyoulivelikethat]

(seven) days a week, m | jjk

pairing(s): jungkook x reader

summary: It only takes seven days (a week) for Jeon Jungkook to get you in his bed to fuck you right. And showing up in weird places. And kissing in the rain. He's crazy. Okay, it's kinda complicated.

warnings: rated M (18+) for language (reader swears a lot); strangers-to-lovers; vague allusions to a loveless childhood and bad parenting (no specifics); JK might be insane and you do tell him that he is; slight crack; fluff; smut (fem reader, fucking with clothes on and off, m and f-receiving oral, light hair pulling, fingering, nipple play, choking, penetrative sex, handjob); non-idol!BTS – persistent!Jungkook x noona, def tsundere!reader lol ft instigator-cupid!Park Jimin setting them up

this directly follows Jung Kook's 'Seven' MV, so make sure to watch it (although I'm sure you've seen it if you wanna read this lmao)

--

monday.

“What? Something on my face?”

You stared at him and he stared back. Wide eyes, slightly parted lips, the look of caught prey and all. You had your hands in front of you, long fingers laced together, elbows on the table. You probably shouldn’t have scowled like that. That was a bit rude, especially to someone you didn’t know well, but this guy had been staring at you all night and barely speaking to you, even when prompted, so you were getting both impatient and annoyed at accepting this invitation.

“You wear… a lot of jewelry,” Jeon Jungkook said out loud, with awe.

You looked down at your hands. Well. The rings, the bracelets, even the earrings on both your ears, all sterling silver or white gold. You had even swapped out the lower lobe piercing for a pair of dangling dice earrings with grey freshwater pearls. You liked the cooler tone to bring some death to your warm-toned skin.

“Yeah. Is that a problem?” Your low voice had an edge of guarded to it.

A quick, nervous head shake. “No. No, it’s cool. I’ve never seen a girl wear so many chunky rings like that. I didn’t think I’d like it either, but then I saw you.”

You opened your mouth to snap out a comeback and then his words hit you.

There was no doubt that Jeon Jungkook was cute. Black-brown hair with a lustrous quality. Bright, expressive dark brown eyes. Slightly rounded cheeks with a distinct jawline. He said he had, and you could see, tattoos and piercings, something you quite liked but not a requirement. Built body, in the way that people where when they were committed to taking care of their physical appearance. Not so much in vanity, but in the way that matched how they felt that they should look in their head. Respect for that. But, in this chance that was what you had expected to be his, Jungkook didn’t taken it.

He looked the part.

Didn’t act it, though.

Black blazer, matching trousers. White t-shirt. Dressy but not too much. To be honest, the outer appearance didn’t matter much to you. It actually mattered the least. You wanted to give him the benefit of the doubt. Really. You were often told that you had too little patience for people, but, come on!

This conversation was awkward.

Hah.

You turned as you sensed a lively presence re-entering your icy atmosphere. Hmph. The actor playing Cupid in the instance. He looked the part too. Baby blue dress shirt with the top buttons undone. Ivory slacks, neatly pressed. Black hair perfectly curled over his forehead, framing an angelic face. Full lips forming an infectious smile that made his eyes disappear as small hands folded away the receipt and tucked his card back into his wallet.

“Ah, the waitress and I had a cute little chat,” flirty Park Jimin chuckled, giving you a little eyebrow wiggle. You rolled your eyes at him. “Did you guys have a nice talk while I was gone?”

“Um…?” Jungkook started, nearly afraid to glance at you for some support.

You gave Jimin a deadpan stare. “You trying to get her number?”

“Me? No, no!” he waved his hands, sitting back down to lean in. “She gave it to me anyway though.”

Figures Park Jimin would introduce you to a guy and also get the number of someone else in the restaurant. You deliberately hadn’t answered Jimin’s question, but he hadn’t noticed.

Jungkook, however, did.

Out of the corner of your eye, you noticed him deflate a little and you winced in unease, not sure if you should have avoided it, but at this point the waitress had returned, lashes aflutter and gushing about how they just had to try to fried ice cream and it was on the house, as long as Jimin promised to come back, right? Right?

Jimin promised of course, of course, with a big smile.

You completely ignored him and picked up one of the pieces of fried ice cream – mango, it seemed, by the color – and placed it on one of the small plates before setting it right in front of Jungkook.

He perked up and gave you these big, hopeful eyes.

You didn’t say anything but felt your cheeks flush and your gaze shift, putting on an expression of reluctant apology. After a half second, you bowed your head just a bit, shaking off the moment and serving yourself before serving Jimin.

What?

Damn flirt didn’t even notice.

-

tuesday.

“You didn’t like him?”

“I mean, there’s nothing to like or dislike. He barely said anything. Also, Jimin, I told you, I’m not really a relationship person,” you sighed into your phone, walking quickly to the train station. “I don’t want to give this guy the wrong idea about me. He didn’t really strike me as a fuck-around-and-find-out kinda guy.”

“You said you would change your mind for the right person though.”

Sometimes you thought Jimin argued with you just to argue.

“Yeah, and I don’t even know what kind of person he is because he didn’t say shit,” you barked back to that snippy tone on the other side of the line. Some idiot honked at you and you resisted the urge to flip him the bird. Maybe he wasn’t honking at you. The hanging out the window and catcalling could be to the couple walking next to you.

You highly doubted it.

Also, maybe you just wanted to give someone the middle finger because you couldn’t show Jimin right now how much you deeply appreciated him.

“Jungkookie’s just super shy, but wait a minute and he’ll make you his.”

You rolled your eyes. Damn bad habit that you were forming ever since you became friendly with this mildly infuriating angel. “He’s not making me do anything.”

“I’m telling you; he suits you perfectly. You’re being stubborn and not giving him a chance. Anyway, I gave him your number, so don’t worry!”

“Wait, you did wha–”

The roar of the subway train below cut you off.

“Oop, you’re at the station. You’re breaking up! Can’t hear you, byeeeeeee!”

You twitched as Park Jimin hung up on you.

Asshole.

You pulled your phone away from your ear and pulled up the app to pay for your ticket. Paused for a second. New message, unknown number. Then it was your turn, so you hovered your phone screen, heard the beep, and hurried to the correct train line, finding the one to take you home. It was hectic even now, still within the dregs of rush hour, so you didn’t even think to check for the content of the text until you sat down with a big sigh, somewhat of a fwump with your distressed bomber jacket and baggy cargo pants, both made of thick black fabric. The side of your jacket slid off, exposing your bare shoulder and tight white tank top.

The guy standing about a meter away from you snuck a glance in your direction.

You tucked your tongue in your cheek and yanked your jacket back in place with the hand that was holding your phone. Noticed the screen flash, reminding you of the notification.

Fuck it.

Pressed your thumb and your phone unlocked.

Hey, it’s me. Jeon Jungkook… I wanted to say that I’m sorry about not talking that much last night. I was really nervous because you were so pretty and self-assured. I was so impressed that nothing I could think of seemed like a good thing to say, so I blanked out. I’m very sorry. I hope it is okay for me to text you like this.

An essay.

You paused for so long that you felt your cheeks heat.

The fuck?

You frowned at yourself. For some reason, even though he hadn’t talked much, you could hear the text in your head as if Jungkook was speaking to you directly. Sense the anxiousness in the typed words. See those big eyes gazing right at you with a mixture of curiosity and wonder and what-ifs. You sighed, feeling defeated. It would simply be rude to not reply.

I apologize for being too intimidating.

You sent it before thinking. Aw, shit. That was a bit short, wasn’t it? Damnnit. You saw the sending quadlet of dots spinning slowly, struggling due to you being underground. Fuck. If you sent another message now, it might be out of order and that would just get confusing. And what else could you add? Oh, geez, you didn’t even confirm it was you. The conversation with Park Jimin must have scrambled your egg brains.

The train roared out of the tunnel.

All of a sudden, the message sent and a reply instantly popped up. Actually, a serious of bubbles, rapid-fire like bullets. The confirmation must have lagged.

You’re not intimidating at all! Well… not in a bad way. In a sexy way. I mean, in a good way! In a cool way, like you’re not afraid to say what you wanna say. I really admire that in a person, so I really admire that in you. Sorry, that was weird, wasn’t it? I made things weird… ㅠ.ㅠ

You blinked slowly at the messages. It was pretty clear Jungkook had sat there and pondered over the first message for quite a while and these subsequent ones were stream of consciousness spewing. Honestly, kind of funny. Heh. You could sort of imagine it. Maybe he hadn’t expected you to respond right away. Hm, you wondered if he had hoped you would. He really was trying hard, huh. For what? What was the reason?

You tucked your tongue in your cheek and responded anyway.

Oh, you’re definitely weird, but you never know. I might like that. What’s the outfit of the day, Jeon Jungkook?

Were you fishing for a photo? Of course. He would probably scramble to put on a good outfit to impress you. To your surprise, the downloading image icon popped up instantaneously, spinning, spinning. You tilted your head, surprised at the prompt obedience. He must have snapped a pic right away when you asked. It was taking time to load though. You saw some people getting off the train and looked up, checking the stop. Oh, yours was next.

You took care not to look directly at anyone around you, keeping your sling bag in your lap.

Then you looked down to the inquisitive dark brown eyes of Jeon Jungkook with messy black hair and a black leather jacket. White t-shirt. It was a selfie, so you couldn’t see the pants. It was something borderline vain about the angle, but also a seek of approval in that parted mouth, silver ring and stud dotting the edge of the right side, flash of white teeth and slight bite of the left side revealing a small mole at the center underneath his lower lip.

You twitched.

Bold, wasn’t he?

You weren’t sure if you liked it – well, you didn’t mind it, you just weren’t sure if you like-liked it, what was he trying to play at here, trying to get your heart to beat fast or something, hmph – and you clutched your phone pointedly, your rings clacking as you prepped your fingers to type back… something, be honest here… and your fingers wavered.

Shaking a little.

You let out a breath you hadn’t known you had been holding.

Oh, the pants are blue jeans, but I’m out right now so there’s no mirror to show you.

You heard your stop being called and stood up automatically, filing behind other people getting ready to step off, the train slowing down, everything slowing down, finding yourself staring at Jungkook’s expression in the photo, why were you staring, shifting your eyes quickly, then back, it wasn’t like Jeon Jungkook could see you, ugh, this was so annoying.

Do you want to see? I can take another photo when I get home.

You let out a frustrated exhale that no one else around you could understand. Maybe not even those closest to you would get it. But you knew what it meant, and knowing also frustrated you.

Being self-aware was a bitch.

You finally sent your answer.

I much prefer this look on you than the blazer. Is this your normal fashion style?

You had worn a flowing white blouse and floaty black skirt the night before at dinner, but it was not your typical style. Well, it was, but it was one of your work outfits since you had come straight from the office. Something you wore to not get in trouble with the dress code and knowing you would have to meet up with people later. Sometimes you were a little riskier if you were feeling frisky, but Jimin had told you to look nice for the friend he was introducing you to.

But maybe it would have been better to look more you.

Then again, the restaurant was pretty high end. They might not have let you in.

Oh. Yeah. Hahaha, I wore the blazer because Jimin-ssi told me to look nice for you. I guess this is street-style? I don’t know… I’m not fashionable, I only wear what I think is cool or comfy. What about you?

You strode out of the train and briskly walked to the elevator, muscle memory already knowing where to go, typing back. Pausing when you saw the vending machine. A green tea would be nice right now.

You veered off course and headed to stand in line.

I think my friends would describe my style as dark and strong. They’re always telling me I should dress more feminine or at least in less black, but one of my core traits is not listening to shit people say. And swearing.

You tapped your card and made your selection. Waited out the whirr and clunk. Didn’t pay much attention to the world around you. It was a typical day, people passing by, no warning feelings. And, besides, your phone was much more interesting right now.

You did not just think that.

You scowled at your reflection in the glass of the vending machine before picking up your drink.

I hope I get to see you sometime soon so I can appreciate it. :)

You raised an eyebrow at your phone as you ticked open the can and started walking again, taking a crisp sip. It was slightly irritating that he was better at flirting over text than in person. Or maybe it had just been the circumstance. Come to think of it, it would have been weird if he did with Jimin right there, although you were sure Jimin wanted to be there to witness whatever unfolded. The awkwardness was probably just as entertaining to him as it would be if Jungkook had been more forward.

Hmph.

What was more irritating was that you weren’t instantly annoyed by it.

Hmmmmph.

Are you saying you aren’t intimidated by me, Jeon Jungkook?

You hurried home, following the streetlights, breathless, not because you were running, but because you wanted to be home so you could be alone with…

I’m saying I like feeling your effect on me in person.

Him.

-

wednesday.

The next time you saw Jeon Jungkook, you were groaning and setting your forehead on the edge of washing machine, screaming internally. Would have banged it against the metal if you weren’t going to lose a substantial number of brain cells. You were going to pay cash because you wouldn’t get that card surcharge if you did but, of course, of course you had accidentally shorted yourself and pocketed the wrong amount.

Fuck!

Now you were already at the laundromat. Walk back home and lug your shit to and back to get the right amount? Or just forget it and pay the extra charge? You had already put the detergent in. Fuckity fuck fuck. Technically you could go home, it wasn’t that far, but, ugh, it was extra annoying today because you had slept late and now you were grumpily doing your life responsibilities. Come back a different day? No, you had specifically told yourself to get off your ass and get that pile washed. Damnnit, if you hadn’t slept late and scrambled your egg brains, this wouldn’t have happened!

But you had been talking to Jeon Jungkook.

Ending the conversation had been more difficult than you expected. You gritted your teeth, feeling stupid for pulling such a teenage move. Still young, huh? Young and stupid.

Grr.

You heard the metal slide of the money drawer being closed and then an approval ping!

You jumped back, freaked out at the thing you hadn’t done, and then snapped your head to the sudden presence next to you. Dark blue jeans with giant holes at the knees. Gray hoodie sliding off a built right shoulder. White ribbed tank top. Messy black hair. A piercing, no, two on the right side of open lips.

Big, round, dark brown eyes.

You noticed he was wearing a few silver rings himself.

“Um… hi? I noticed you were short a little so I just…” Jeon Jungkook trailed off, giving you a hopeful look.

You gawked at him.

“What are you doing here?”

Ouch. A little too snappy. Jungkook faltered, those peepers shifting. “Ah… well…”

You bit your tongue and reeled it back. “Sorry. I didn’t expect to see you, is all. Obviously, you came here to wash your clothes like everyone else.”

He reached up and scratched the back of his head nervously. Wait. Why was he looking at you like that?

“W-Well, actually… Jimin-ssi told me you normally come here on Wednesdays to do laundry and I was nearby so I figured., maybe, I’d just check if you were here…”

You stared at him.

“You’re stalking me?”

“N-No!” Jungkook sputtered, waving his hands frantically even though you hadn’t raised your voice.

There was a bristle to your tone though. Indignation and frigidity you couldn’t hide. You frowned, narrowing your eyes, cornering him with your gaze. There were only a few people on this slow day, which was why you picked Wednesday to do laundry, but all the patrons had AirPods or other earbuds in, busying themselves with their shoving of clothing in and out of the washers and dryers. No one was going to interrupt anyway.

Not their business.

“I… I…”

“And how did you recognize me anyway? My head was down,” you remembered, advancing on him, and Jungkook took a step back, swallowing hard. Your outfit was baggy too, dark denim jacket and jeans, the tight black tank hidden by the bulk.

“I couldn’t forget how beautiful your hair is,” he mumbled out quickly, looking a little too mesmerized by your fierceness. Forget that. “And your hands were on the edge of the washer. Your rings. The star chain bracelet you wear. I…”

He was fixated on your collarbones and the thin black choker around your neck.

Or lower.

“Oi! My face is up here,” you hissed, snaping your fingers and making him jerk his head. He had stopped backing up though. You pointed at him, somewhat rudely. Actually, very rudely, but whatever. “What do you mean, check if I was here? And who told you? That idiot. I’ll kill him.”

And why was Jungkook looking at you like that?

Like he thought you were hot when angry.

He better stop that shit because you were losing your irate demeanor for some fuckin’ reason.

“I texted you almost all night. That wasn’t enough?” you half-growled, half whispered.

A tiny head shake.

Ah, shit.

You deliberately did not think that was cute.

“I liked it so much that I…” Oh no, oh no, not that honest tremble and deep gaze into your eyes. “I was hoping I could talk to you again, in person, more bravely this time.”

You opened your mouth to sink in that verbal bite and nothing came out.

The entire laundromat could flood right now and you wouldn’t even notice because you were staring at Jeon Jungkook and wondering if this audacity was freaking annoying or freaking impressive. Not this damn guy within two days leaving you speechless. Well… actually, no, never mind the technicalities.

“Are you even thinking before you do things?” you grumbled, not yet backing down.

Jungkook stuck his hands in his hoodie pockets suddenly. Hm? Nervous and shaking? You couldn’t tell, but you watched him closely, observing his body language, your eyes following those lines.

“Mmmm…” He bit the left side of his lower lip. “No?”

You strongly resisted the urge to roll your eyes.

Shy smile greeting you, accompanying the lip bite.

“I’m just listening to my heart.”

Now you visibly cringed. “Don’t say stuff like that.” Looking away slightly, somehow unable to meet those honest eyes.

“Why? You don’t like it?” Genuinely curious.

“You don’t mean it.” He did mean it and you could see that he meant it but you did not want to admit that you knew that he meant it. Yeah. “You barely know me. We only talked over text.”

“But you gave me thoughtful, frank answers. I don’t believe that you were being dishonest,” Jungkook protested, following you over to the tables a few steps away from the washing machines. You dragged your laundry bag with you and kept your voice down.

“I told you, I’m a straightforward an honest person. I won’t lie to you. And I won’t hesitate to cut you off if you lie to me,” you reminded him.

He nodded. You wanted to shake him and yell at him to stop giving you those eyes. “So I just decided to do what I wanted to.”

You cocked your head at him in disbelief. “You didn’t think you went too far?”

What was with that mischievous smile? “I’m the all-in type.”

You let out a puff of air.

“Also, you haven’t told me directly that you don’t like it,” Jungkook pointed out, leaning toward you, smiling.

You gave him a deadpan stare. “You don’t get me,” you said back flatly.

Those dark brown orbs sparkled. “That’s okay. I don’t have to get you to think you’re cool, clever, and stunning.”

Your eyebrow twitched.

“And why do you say that? Because you see how people look at me? Because you enjoyed my useless facts and tangents last night? Because you think with your dick?” You added the last question with bite, leaning forward too, having enough of this, not really him but…

The fact that you didn’t want to tell him to fuck right off.

Silence.

Jungkook was staring into your eyes.

“The shape of your eyes is so… perfect.”

You felt your ears heat.

He raised a finger and traced the air right in front of your left eye, the scent of his clean cologne drifting in your direction. “The way they sharpen in the inner corner, like a bird of prey… And your irises are so dark and striking…”

You grabbed his finger out of the air.

“Don’t be… weird.”

Why did you pause? Hello? No way you’re being like this over this guy right now.

You pointedly pulled his hand down, pinning it to the table. “Pay attention.”

Jungkook was giving you this dreamy, hazy expression. “Huh? What were you saying?”

You narrowed your eyes. “You can’t even listen.”

He leaned in closer and you caught a whiff of that delicious cologne again. “Sorry. I will. Say it again, please. I’ll listen carefully.”

The fuck were you saying again? The lights of the old laundromat flickered but you barely noticed. A common occurrence in these ol’ mom-and-pop places. And, besides, you were staring at this determined, patient smile and mentally shoving down those butterflies that you definitely weren’t feeling, nope, violently compacting those distracting internalizations into a tiny, windowless box.

“You don’t seem very good at listening,” you finally said, tight and even.

“I am,” he insisted softly. “I promise.”

“I’m too much for you.”

Or was Jungkook too much for you?

“I’m offering all of me,” he whispered to the shared air between you and him. “It might not be enough so I’ll be to work hard and do my best.”

What was he so earnest for? You hesitated, the edges to your hard demeanor softening. You didn’t want to trust stuff like this. It was so easy to get burned and you wanted to be the one to do the burning. And how could you trust people? Even you didn’t say everything out loud. Some things you could say and some you couldn’t say. It was too much trouble to believe in someone.

You had never received unburdened kindness when you were younger.

“We’re not on the same page.”

Jungkook tilted his head. “Aren’t we? But you’re reading me easily and I’m doing my best to learn about you too.”

Your shoulders released the tension. “Don’t pretend with me. It’s clear you’re a relationship kind of guy. And, while I’m not against them, I can’t deliver the same kind of devotion you are willing to give. Can’t you see that?” You removed your hand from his, not realizing it was still there.

His fingertip traced a line on the back of your hand.

Sparks raced along the base of your head.

You remained stern, feeling heavy and hot in your clothes.

“Why do you say that? You don’t think you’re loyal?” he asked very sincerely.

Your eyes narrowed. “Of course, I am. If I like you in that way and you asked me to bury a body, I’d already be digging the grave. But I’m not a flowers-and-chocolate kind of girl. That’s not how I show affection.”

You had no idea how far your clothes were in the cycle. The whole world could crash down and you would still be staring at Jungkook and his body language. His shoulders slouched a little more so he could look up at you with those pleading eyes.

Inhale still in your throat.

“Then, do you not like me?”

Say something.

But you didn’t say anything at all, gazing down at Jeon Jungkook and wondering why you couldn’t get through his thick skull that you were a bad decision. Honestly? Honestly, fine, it was because you grew up with parents that never liked each other nor their kids. Honestly, it was because you grew up too fast and with too much independence to not see the filthiness of the world. Honestly, it was because you saw the finicky innate nature of humanity of never devoting themselves to anything, much less anyone, and why would they?

People were crazy.

Call it personal experience.

You sighed.

“Jungkook, I’m not gonna lie to you. I fuck before I care about anybody. I’m only living to get my pleasure and not take care of anyone, okay? I’m barely keeping my own head together. I’m blunt. I don’t need or want romantic gestures. I just want dick. There. I’m not a good person.”

He was smiling.

Aw, shit.

“I must be favored to know you.”

You twitched, tucking your tongue in your cheek to avoid scowling, which was pretty much scowling anyway, so you failed spectacularly.

“Also, you haven’t said you don’t like me,” Jungkook pointed out. Infuriatingly. “Because it’s not true and you don’t lie. Right?” He said your name with a little too much sweetness and knowing.

You yanked your hand out of his and shoved his hard, muscular chest. He bounced back, grinning a little too happily. You told yourself to hate it and you didn’t. Fuck. “What are you even still doing here? Gonna fold my clothes for me or something?”

The energy at being offered a household chore was disturbing. “Oh! I can! I’m very good at doing laundry. And washing dishes. And cleaning. I like doing that stuff.”

“Sure, you do,” you puffed sarcastically,

“I do,” Jungkook insisted, coming around the table. “And I’m good at it.”

You scrutinized him up a down. “Yeah? Because you don’t know where else to put all that energy of yours?”

His lips parted but all he did was gawk at you. Oop. Right on the money. You were liking this expression a little too much. Maybe it was time to lower these walls a bit. After all, it didn’t seem like Jungkook was going to go away any time soon. He was pretty harmless anyway.

“I could drain you in a night,” you chuckled, smirking.

The tips of his ears were getting red at your lowered tone.

“You think you could keep up?”

-

thursday.

Ugh, it was one of those days that fuckin’ suuuucked.

Woke up late and had to rush to get dressed and bounce, then got to work and some shit was going down about missing documents and people moving papers they shouldn’t have, forcing you to play manager because everyone else had no goddamn spine to fix anything. This department would be a disaster without you. To top it all off, you had people stalling, keeping an irrelevant conversation going, leading you on a wild goose chase with no funny honking – turns out the documents were in some random copier right behind you, for fuck’s sake – and you had a very strong inkling it was because of what you looked like.

Which was fine.

Unless you were actually trying to do your job.

Then, one of your side dishes you had brought for lunch had gone off, so you ended up slightly less full than you wanted to be, and you forgot your jacket at work, leaving it hanging on the back of your chair in your rush to leave, and the train halted several stations before your stop because there was some emergency maintenance or some shit.

Fuckity fuck.

It wouldn’t be so annoying it if wasn’t so windy, but it was and you were wearing a sheer sweater with splashes of jewel-toned colors and a longline black sports bra under it – you had worn your jacket half-zipped until your boss had left in the middle of the day and your co-workers didn’t care how you looked, the dress code was stupid anyway – and black jeans, mid-rise. The rules were more about being covered up rather than being professionally dressed.

The job was primarily sitting at a desk and sorting documents, did it matter how you looked?

Or maybe you just broke the rules a little because you were a rebel.

Your stomach growled angrily and you told it to shut the fuck up.

You stood on the corner halfway between work and home, debating on whether or not to do some damage. The problem was you didn’t have any of the usual bad habits most people had. You didn’t drink, so getting stupid drunk and getting thrown out of the noraebang was out of the question. Also, you couldn’t sing. But, anyway, you barely took medicine, let alone know where or how to procure the illegal fun stuff, so that was also out. You didn’t have a sweet tooth either so you couldn’t down a whole cake with gusto, although that sounded like a great way to go.

You sulked.

You had an addiction, but you just stared at the names in your phone and felt guilty. Guilty! For what? For some guy you met literally less than four days ago? Ugh, no, this couldn’t be you right now. Seriously? Seriously? You crossed and stalked up the block, not yet deciding what to do so you kept walking until you figured it out during this internal battle. You had to keep this guy at a distance. Okay, yes, you could admit you liked him.

And that was the problem.

If you didn’t really like him, you could just fuck him and establish those hard boundaries. No issue. You had been in love before but that was a long time ago and ultimately you ended it because it wasn’t right and you weren’t good enough to be devoted to.

You breathed out hard, the unease spilling out of your insides.

It was definitely easier to not expect anything from anyone. You had spent a lot of life not having and, ultimately, not needing to rely on others, both out of necessity and simply having too much to work on by yourself. Years of fighting off bitterness that you had always tasted, years of letting go of important moments realizing that supposedly important people in your life would never be there for them, years of lashing out and becoming the shadow of the abuse you endured. Eye for an eye and all that. Keep the cycle going, until you had that moment in the eye of the storm to get hit by lightning and realize that this wasn’t right.

It wasn’t any particular thing.

Just finally accepting the creeping self-awareness that you had been miserable and were making other people miserable on purpose because you tore them open and took their hearts to find yours.

Metaphorically, duh.

So now you sort of did this martyr shit of being there for people when you could and not asking for anything back. Especially not a relationship. Intimate to heal a heart and then give it away, which totally worked if they weren’t into you, just into what you could do.

You didn’t really feel it yourself but you did get sex out of it.

Bad addiction, yeah.

Your phone vibrated in your pocket.

You ignored it.

Stepped into a chicken place and stood in line, feeling the weight of your world on your shoulders. You brain tried to reason with you that it was Jeon Jungkook’s own fault if he got hurt. He was the one who chose to spend all that time sitting at the laundromat with you talking about random shit. Your favorite video game – Persona 5, excelling in your top three most important things about a video game: music score, gameplay, and art style. Your favorite American rapper – Ludacris and the way he could rhyme the weirdest words. Your favorite movie genre – surrealist psychedelic drug movies, which earned you a confused head tilt. You had asked Jungkook what he liked. Mood lamps. Singing. Watching cooking videos on YouTube.

Had asked him if he believed in soulmates.

Your phone buzzed in your pocket as you ordered at the kiosk and paid.

You don’t think I could have met you in another life?

You stood with the other waiting patrons, ignoring everybody and your phone thrumming against your hip, thinking about last night.

I probably broke your heart.

Thinking about that smile with two piercings and a lip mole. That smile didn’t trust your answer at all.

Maybe the universe is giving me another chance to make up for my past mistakes. I can’t give up.

You made a face at past Jungkook’s answer, too taken aback all those hours ago to scowl properly. Maybe you had been too tired. Too worn down by his earnest nonsense to fight it properly at that moment. Your hand hovered over you hip, wondering if you should check it. Then dropped.

What, did you need to see him every day or something?

Your name was called and you stepped up to receive your order.

Oh, fuck, you miss him.

You yanked your phone out of your pocket and stared at it as you walked out of the restaurant, only to get plopped by a fat raindrop on the lit-up screen. You looked up to the gray sky and let out a hiss.

“Are you fucking kidding me?!”

You turned around and sat down, grumbling as rain poured down and you replied to Jungkook’s texts.

Stupid.

Not him. Just you.

-

friday.

“What are you trying so hard for?” you snapped.

“Why aren’t you trying hard enough?” Jeon Jungkook shot back.

It was going really well.

Clearly.

You let out a hiss and flicked your hands as if you were trying to physically get rid of his reply. Argh, this… man! The thundering rain was pouring down, down, and you were both standing under a bus stop with no intention of taking the bus. You bit back the volume of your sudden anger. There was no need to yell anyway. No one was coming out in the thick of this monsoon.

Only you and crazy-ass Jeon Jungkook.

Switched tactics. "And what makes you think your virgin ass–"

"I'm not a virgin!"

"You are here!"

And you jammed two fingers into that very muscular chest, right next to the left side of his sternum. Too fast to be stopped. The shove actually made him stumble. Or maybe it was the utter shock of the verbal and physical double jab combined with the deep growl that your voice had suddenly become. His racer jacket and black hair were slick with rain. Half of his white t-shirt soaked. Even the front of his blue jeans drenched.

You panted hard after your outburst, the anger draining away all in a flash of lightning.

Jungkook stared at you with stricken eyes.

The rain pelted down, down, beating into the silence.

“How did you know?” he breathed out.

You didn’t but somehow you did, feeling something inside of you break. Not afraid of the world. Never, never again. No, afraid of what you could do, afraid of breaking something this pure, because you broke your first love too and that past guilt still lingered. Not that you thought Jungkook loved you. He couldn’t This was only the fifth day of him knowing you.

The fuck is going on?

“I see your type all the time,” you sighed, your damp hair all over your face. “Looking for light in black holes instead of stars.” The rain had slipped off your black leather jacket. Your cropped band shirt wasn’t wet, but your black cargo pants were sodden knees down.

This coldness, however, didn’t come from the rain.

“You really should stop. For your own good.”

You looked away from him, feeling as if your own words had pierced bullet holes into your walls. Dark sky, never-ending rain, cars struggling to drive, people running with umbrellas and ponchos, arms huddled close to their bodies, and here you were just standing here in the rain, the world acting out your mind. How nice. You thought you had come to terms with everything, but obviously not. Somehow once you saw Jungkook again, once you felt his presence again, the pull was even stronger and the storm was even more intense and the worst part was that you didn’t want to leave.

You heard Jungkook’s soft, silvery voice through the gray rain.

“Why are you blaming yourself for shit that hasn’t even happened yet?”

You turned your head to look into those pleading brown eyes.

Lightning shot across the sky.

Thunder followed seconds after, eating up the night.

“W… What?”

He shook his head, dripping water.

“You haven’t hurt me. You don’t mean to, either.”

That smile, his hand extended, the inked snake on his wrist showing.

You stared at Jeon Jungkook with droplets beading on your skin but those goosebumps weren’t from the weather. Jerked your head away. What is with this gentleness? How could he know anything? He couldn’t know anything. He was just an airhead who watched too many dramas and made others believe that they could be real.

“Noona?”

You whipped your head to Jungkook, shocked at his use of the honorific. He only used it when Jimin was at the meal. Afterwards, the conversations had been clearly directed at you. Not completely informal speech, but sometimes you slipped and he did too. You never corrected him because, well.

You slapped his hand away.

Nothing was going to happen.

You closed the distance and grabbed his head, pressing your lips to his shaking ones.

It was going to be terrible. Cold. Wet. Acidic from the lingering feelings. There was no way that this kiss could be anything else with this setting.

This was real life.

Not a story.

Your hands cupped his cheeks and you sunk into his kiss. The hard edge of his jewelry and the softness of his breath, caught by your mouth, your eyes already screwed shut, nothing to do but feel, feel the way he instantly pressed back and set his hands on your elbows, pulling you closer, shuddering as your forearms pressed to his chest. A weird feeling, like two fires melting together, prickling racing across your skin, no, deeper, past your ribs and into your heart.

The storm raged on.

You snapped out of the kiss, nose to nose, water trickling in places it shouldn’t, over your eyelashes and down your neck, feeling fingers graze across your elbows. Slipping under the leather. Droplets soaking into your shirt and then warm hands lingering at the curve of your exposed waist.

Tracing your lines.

“Fuck,” you muttered.

And you kissed Jeon Jungkook again.

-

saturday.

No, you didn’t take him home. You’re reckless, yeah.

But you knew how that would go.

Not that Jungkook didn’t try. Maybe you would have done it, if you weren’t the equivalent of wet cat and equally torrenting emotions. His hands around your waist, pulling you closer, heat blossoming between layers of rain-drenched clothing, kiss after kiss, your hands in his hair, tangling those dark waves into wilderness, getting more and more breathless, heady with a feeling you knew but didn’t want to believe in.

For someone who hated lying, you sure enjoyed lying to yourself.

You had reasons.

How could this time be different if it was just following the same trajectory that you always followed?

You had to pry yourself from him, lips tingling, tongue curling, feeling your blood course through your veins and your heartbeat as loud as thunder, opening your eyes to his blissed-out expression, his own eyes still closed, pressing his lips together to savor your taste.

Damn.

You had wanted to tell him to stop it, stop it with all this falling, you were being dragged down by his vibe, clothes feeling heavy, desperate to be stripped away, but you kept your hands along the sides of his head, your exhale escaping but giving you away like a bad con artist.

Those shimmering dark eyes had opened, following Jungkook’s smile.

“You’re a great kisser, noona.”

His hands stayed on your waist, drumming his fingertips on your skin, tangible kisses creating invisible but no less real electricity.

You scoffed, corner of your lips rising.

“Shut up.”

Tendrils of his black-brown hair clung to his forehead. The rain drummed but it had lessened a bit. You had looked back to his eyes, defeated.

“Shut up so I don’t miss you more.”

One last, drawn-out kiss, tongue to tongue and you had broken from him, warning him sternly.

“Don’t follow me.”

Ran all the way home, face burning, not even feeling the rain even though it was still falling.

Now, present time, you sat at this boring farewell party in some fancy hotel with the sun blaring outside. Figures the nice weather would come out when you would have to stuff yourself in a fitted blazer dress and pretend to care about your boss’s boss retiring. Black, of course. For the formal occasion. Sadly, no one was dying except this old coot’s career.

Maybe you were a little salty that you couldn’t retire yet.

You looked down at your phone, which was on silent, noticing you had a new message.

ㅎ.ㅎ

O… Okay. Whatever that face was supposed to mean. You didn’t even bother to answer. Couldn’t, anyway, forced to plaster on a mildly interested expression as your boss gave a speech that you zoned out of. There were multiple large circular tables in the hotel ballroom. Outside the ballroom was an outdoor area with the buffet. Everyone had served themselves before sitting down, but, first, a few words.

A few was turning out to be too many and your salmon was getting cold.

Employees had been allowed to bring plus ones. Wives and husbands. There were a few empty seats, and a few significant others popped in mid-speech, trying to be quiet and politely bowing in apology. Of course, they weren’t required to be on time, having other obligations and such.

You twitched.

Was that why this was dragging on? So everyone could eat at once? For fuck’s sake, who cared if they were late. Then you noticed your boss’s wife stepping in, looking pretty and put-together in a forest green high-necked dress, holding the small hand of a kid in a lopsided children’s tuxedo with an equally confused expression.

Oh.

Come on.

You suddenly felt a disturbance in the Force.

“Excuse me. Sorry, sorry.”

You whipped your head around to see Jeon Jungkook in a black pinstripe suit cha-cha sliding in the empty chair next to you, picking up your black velvet purse and holding it out to you with a grin that made his large, dark brown eyes light up.

You gawked at him.

“Hey. Sorry I’m late.” He added your name politely and with affection, smooth as butter, criminal undercover. Even the honorific, oh, shit.

The blood drained out of your face and you tried not to think about how your co-workers sitting at the table were staring at you and him like you both had three heads. Of course, no one was supposed to be talking, so no one asked questions yet, but that was definitely going to start the second your boss was finished with his sentence.

You took your purse without another word and glared at Jungkook with such fire that you hoped he burned alive at the spot. Oh, this could turn into a murder and a funeral real fucking fast. All he did was give you those shining big peepers that made you want to strangle him. In an unsexy way.

For now.

You leaned over as the clapping started. He caught on and delicately leaned over, offering his ear to your lips.

“The fuck are you doing?”

Jungkook turned his head so only you could hear his whisper.

“I was nearby, so I figured…?”

You stared at him, plumb slack-jawed at this audacity.

He closed the distance and gently kissed your cheek. You ticked your head almost robotically, piercing eyes following his playful ones, and now you wondered if Jeon Jungkook was truly not right in the head or perfect for you.

Well.

You weren’t right in the head either.

You did text him earlier this morning that you needed to come to this party at this hotel to send off this important retiree. If you missed this, then it would have reflected poorly on you, especially when you wanted to keep your job, so, yes, it was part of the reason why you had not attempted to convince Jungkook to sleep over – not that he needed any convincing whatsoever – and the other reason was to get enough sleep so you could tolerate socializing. Did you think Jungkook was gonna finesse his way into the seat next to you? Hell no. Did you think he was gonna dress smartly and with his black hair parted neatly in the center, fuckin’ black tie pressed and collar pinned? Fuck, no.

Did you think you would like it?

No!

“How did you get them to let you in?” you hissed under your breath.

Jungkook was clapping like a seal because everyone else was. A champagne bottle was being popped. He looked systematically impressed and awed. Amazing acting. “I just said I was with you.��� Glanced at you and grinned, the silver piercings on his lip gleaming. A hoop and a stud. “Aren’t I, noona?”

The urge to growl at him to shut the fuck up was silenced by your brain reminding you to be safe-for-work.

You felt a poke at your sleeve. Your co-worker sitting at your left, bleach-blond and with the curiosity of a child. Full of sudden comments and questions too, just like a kid.

“Oh, oh! You never mentioned anything about a boyfriend!” Because you didn’t have one until right now, apparently. “So handsome!” Yes, he was. You had taste. “How did you meet?” Circumstances beyond your control.

“Through a… friend.”

That was a very generous word for instigator Park Jimin.

Jungkook poked his head past you and waved. “Hi! Nice to meet you.” He was using you as a shield to avoid directly interacting with these people he didn’t know. Just chiming in with polite nods as you introduced him to the table and sitting back to let you have this uninvited spotlight that was burning you like the sun did to vampires.

Pretty close, in all honesty.

“Aw, what a sweet guy. It’s nice to meet you too. I didn’t think your type was so young and cute.”

You almost made a face of distaste. “You thought my type was old and ugly?” Oop, there goes your sharp tongue.

“Nooo.” You tried not to flinch at the playful slap of your arm. “More mature, maybe? But this is better. You don’t have to be so serious. Look at his smile! I bet that’s what drew you in.”

You glanced at Jungkook and he appropriately smiled big at the right time. Somehow, he had obtained a plate of steak. How, you didn’t care. You narrowed your eyes just a sliver. Jungkook did not stop smiling but there was at least an iota of fear in those big brown eyes. Speaking of vampire, maybe you should suck the life out of him because he was being too fuckin’ much.

“Well, he was persistent to put it lightly. Might as well give him the chance to win me over.”

Jungkook beamed like a billion-kilowatt lightbulb. Or a crystal chandelier. It depended if you wanted to say the light came from his white teeth or sparkling eyeballs.

Fuckity fuck.

You wanted to rub your temples but refrained.

You would never recover from this.

“Are you mad at me?” Jungkook asked you later.

Oh, now he wondered if you’re mad. You didn’t even look at him, dragging him away from the crowd by the elbow. Hopefully you had stayed long enough but there had been so many of the same questions that you were either getting dizzy or murderous. Hm. Why not both?

“I’m not mad at you,” you muttered.

“You kinda sound mad.”

“I’m not mad but I’m gonna get mad if you keep saying I am,” you warned. “Don’t start a self-fulfilling prophecy.”

“A what?”

“Where did you park?”

His voice became small even though he was right next to you. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have done that.”

The sun was blaring down on the open parking lot, it was annoyingly humid, you were socially drained, and this, not this. You spun abruptly, too much crashing down too fast, flinging Jungkook’s arm from you.

“No,” you hissed out. “No. Don’t you dare take it back. You wanna be crazy and drive me crazy, fine, do it, keep doing it, don’t stop, but own up. I’ve got enough push-and-pull jammed into my head and I don’t need you adding to it.”

It was so easy to simply give in to the rising anger, but you found yourself locked into Jungkook’s wide, taken-back eyes, drowning in them, deeper than the ocean, seeing how rueful he was.

“Don’t do that to me,” you sighed.

At least your voice didn’t crack. You didn’t want to be angry anyway.

You raised your hand to cup his cheek but paused, not knowing anymore what was what. Always been so sure until the world started getting flipped upside down by Jeon Jungkook. You always knew all of the things to do to make someone interested, all the things to say to make them swoon, and now you didn’t know anything at all because this guy showed up and jumped right in, not even caring about the damages, the fine print, or the past that lingered.

Why are you blaming yourself for shit that hasn’t even happened yet?

Jungkook leaned forward and completed the curve of his cheek into your hollow palm, now looking at you eye-to-eye with a curious expression.

The corner of your lips curved upwards.

You leaned forward, saying your next words very seriously.

“You. Are. Crazy.”

-

sunday.

You sat against the window, waiting for the document to print out.

No one was in the office. You had rolled over here out of sheer boredom, looking up at the gray-blue sky and watching shafts of sunlight phase in and out. Overtime to prepare documents for Monday. You hadn’t bothered to follow dress code, but there was a breeze today, so you wore brown plaid trousers and an old vintage t-shirt with the sleeves cut off. The faded album cover of Papa Roach’s Infest. Your oversized black leather jacket was on the back of your office chair once again.

You spun in your chair, the print job long done.

Thought back on the week.

Day one, awkward dinner and the start of a rollercoaster.

Day two, clutching your phone and waiting for replies due to the spotty service of the subway.

Day three, washing machines and dryers and long conversations.

Day four, shitty day with a nice ending to more texts. Better service too.

Day five, cold rain and warm lips.

Day six, surprise! You have a boyfriend and everybody knows!

You got up and wandered to the copier. Stacked everything up and clipped the right parts together, setting it on your boss’s desk. Glanced at the time at your computer. The blank screensaver abruptly appeared, showing you your blurred reflection.

Your fingertips lingered on your chest, the soft, worn fabric of the shirt reminding you of night after tumultuous night of the past. Time that made you, you. Scars you made by holding on too tightly to pain others gave you. The thought of scars in others that you started and they held on to. Repenting, in a way, healing the hearts that came in your path with intimacy and the passion you were afraid to show Jeon Jungkook because what if, what if…

What if it actually matched well?

“You,” Park Jimin had said to you months ago, “You need someone who thinks of you as their whole world.”

“I don’t want that.”

“You don’t want it. But you need it.”

You didn’t have Park-Jimin-being-right on this year’s bingo card, fuck.

You clocked out and collected your stuff, turning off the lights as you left the office, black boots the only solid sound around you, pulling out your phone to check the address one more time.

“Why are you wearing clothes?” you asked accusingly.

“Um…?”

You gripped the sides of the denim jacket and yanked it off his shoulders, pinning Jeon Jungkook’s arms to his sides. He immediately yelped but you silenced him by stepping through the door and pulling him to you by the button placket, tracing the edge of his open lips with your tongue.

“W-Wait, noona, the d-door…”

“I don’t care.”

Kissed him, deeply.

That now familiar scent, closer, slipping your tongue between his lips, succumbing to the flutters. In, out, feeling him collapse under you and moan in his throat, hard body stumbling into yours, hand haphazardly smacking the edge of the door.

It closed behind you.

You rolled your body into his, closer than close with too many layers in between, tangling his arms in his own jacket, swallowing his gasp and feeling him wiggle determinedly to free his hands and then they were on your face, strong fingers fanning out over your jaw, his jacket falling to the floor, hungrily following your tongue and lips with his own.

Something addicting about the addition of metal to those soft mouth.

This was your forte, the ability to make fantasies come true, and you took it seriously, throwing your bag onto the table by the door and shedding the protective layer of leather. Pressed chest to chest, holding his head and tracing his lips, slow fucking them, running your fingertips over the curve of his ears and making him shiver, noting the three hoops along his left ear.

Pressed your hands down his chest, over the smooth ribbed white tank molding to his muscular torso, down, down, kissing past his lips, to that mole underneath, down his chin, his head tipping back, your name drifting above your head as you kissed down his neck, the sharp clean scent of his cologne getting stronger.

“I thought… we were… o-oh, g-going out…”

“I’m gonna fuck you,” you breathed into his collarbones, hot and low, nicking his skin with your teeth and making him shiver. “Right now. Tonight. Maybe tomorrow too.” Undid the button of his jeans with some effort, yanking him towards you again and molding your hips to his, thighs to hard thighs, and that stiffness wasn’t only a sturdy zipper. “Tuesday as well. Fuck it.”

“The whole week,” Jungkook gasped as you unzipped his charcoal jeans.

“Yeah, good, you’re keeping up,” you murmured and grabbed his head again, catching a fistful of his black hair, kissing him hard with your other palm pressed to his hardness. Your tongue tracing the edge of his lips, breathing into his mouth and swallowing Jungkook’s wanton moan, intoxicated by the moment.

You pulled back just to yank your shirt over your head, tossing it to the floor.

It took longer for it to float down than for you to get on your knees.

“Woah…!”

Hooked your fingers on the elastic waistband of his Calvin Kleins and tugged them down, exhaling over that thick length that popped out. He smelled clean, like he had just showered, and you half-smiled, approving, closing the distance to curl your tongue around hard taut skin.

“Ooooh… fuuuuuuuck…”

Tightly taking control, using only your tongue to scoop around his girth and flick against his balls. Kisses, licks, flutters of breath, all of it, sensation after sensation, layering on the heat, adding sweetness to the obscene, his twitching cock hitting your cheek as you pressed kisses to his balls.

“Let me show you something,” you hummed and swallowed his pride.

Jungkook gasped so loud that his hands shot up to his mouth, fingers laced over his moan, one inked arm and one tan one, tilting his head back as your lips closed around him, softly, your tongue cupping the head, caressing the underside, the slit, letting him throb against wet muscle. Pushed him up to the roof of your mouth and slowly, in and out, rubbing the base of the head against your lips every time you ascended, fanning your fingers over his crotch to hold the base and cup his balls in between your index and thumb. Steady and consistent, sucking him off with deliberate precision.

You had a lot of fancy skills to show off but, for this first time, might as well give him the stripped-down version.

Heh.

So you blew Jungkook at his front door in your bra and pants with his clothes half-on and struggling to breathe.

“A-Ah, so s-soft… and so tight… h-how…”

You didn’t speed up. Didn’t put in more force. Used your whole torso, not just your head and neck, to avoid strain, holding his hips to take him deeper but at the same pace, letting the orgasm build with his heart rate, running your thumbs over his balls, a gentle caress, closing your eyes to savor it. Hard and twitching, but you didn’t let him disturb what you had going on, extending out the minutes, saturating every second with flowing, unavoidable bliss.

What?

You could match his vibe with your kind of romance.

You heard Jungkook’s pitch hike and the muscles under your fingers all tensed up. You spared a look upwards, but he wasn’t looking at you, shoving his hands into his messy black hair, displaying his prominent triceps, and moaning to the ceiling, dragging his bangs over his eyes.

“Oh my God, I’m cumming, fuuuuck…!”

You pillowed your tongue around the head and his salty orgasm flooded your mouth, spilling out and down your throat, but you cupped what you could and coated the sensitive head, pleased to hear Jungkook’s shudder and whimper of ecstasy, gripping his hair and pulling. The close-fitted nature of his tank top left nothing to the imagination, the aftershock rippling up his chest, even his hardened nipples poking against the fabric.

You swallowed.

Jungkook moaned and his head fell back again, his eyes probably rolled back.

Gotta finish him off right.

You licked around him carefully, cleaning him off and keeping him hard.

“You…”

Cocked an eyebrow as you shifted your eyes up, his cock buried in your throat, pulsing your muscles around his length. His chin was on his chest, wayward dark curls hanging down, shaking wide eyes watching you with fascination, his shaking voice full of awe.

“You know… how porn calls it a mouth-pussy? I really thought that shit was fake and sounded stupid, but… you have a mouth-pussy.”

You blinked at him and tried not to snort out in laughter.

You just raised both eyebrows and flicked his balls with your tongue. A few seconds later, you pulled back and countered with, “Really? Mouth-pussy? That’s how you show gratitude for the best suck of your life?”

“B-But it’s true!”

You shook you head and waved a hand at him.

“Clothes. Off.”

Every hour, every minute, every second.

Full of sex.

Jungkook wasn’t lying. He wasn’t a virgin. He was a little too good at fingering to be a virgin. Well, you hadn’t had his dick yet but it was pretty obvious with the slow circles on your clit and the kissing of your collarbones. Clothes didn’t even make it to the bedroom. Most of them were left by the door. Your shoulder blades and ass touching the bed, his other hand along your back and tracing your spine as he kissed across your breasts, shyly shifting his gaze back to your face to constantly check if you were enjoying it, not quite confident that he was making your heart flutter. You smirked back at him, taking his hand and pressing his fingers to your wet slit, pushing them in yourself.

He breathed out with you, watching your face as the pleasure snaked out from your core.

Two of them, taking it slow, but you shook your head and pressed his down, your hard nipple against his lips, and he followed your lead, faster, harder, your inner walls clenching around him, sighing deeply as the pleasure flowed, soft licks and tracing tongue. You let him have it, the slower, more romantic pace, spreading your fingers over his sheets and thrusting into his hand, adding to the pleasure, and Jungkook’s eyes glittered, kissing from one nipple to another with a smile.

“Harder?”

“And faster,” you agreed, licking the air between you and him.

Hey, you weren’t a virgin either and you liked it rough.

He kissed you first, entranced by your tongue, harder, faster, your hips following his hand, entangled in this beat, and then it was back to your nipples, kissing sucking, sparks of sensuality over your skin, your hands diving into his hair. Heat. Roughness. Passion, catching your breath and your head falling back, inhaling his scent and the clean sheets, the orgasm flooding through you, delicately forming his name with your lips.

“Ah, Jungkook…”

You didn’t let it stop there though.

His hand moved to pull out and you clutched his wrist and pushed him back in, your nail catching his ring finger, collecting it too, gasping at the added fullness, and you pulled his left hand out from under your back.

Jungkook watched you curiously as your rode his right hand and turned his left, thumb down.

You fitted it around your neck and positioned it correctly, grinning devilishly at him.

He got the hint.

Slightly unsure at first but you built his confidence, comfortably laying back on his bed and spreading out your fingers, moaning softly for him, rocking your hips into his hand, climbing to the high again, stronger his time. His fingers pressed inwards and you breathed out, savoring the choking, the way time slowed down, the way the sensations heightened, your spine arching, low gasp like heavy smoke, immortalizing the moment in his memory, black pupils blown out in those beautiful dark eyes, leaning forward to run his tongue over your nipples.

Your fingers curled into the sheets, thrusting into his fingers harder.

Lids heavy, drowning in the pleasure, his tongue, his hands, the way he looked at you like you were his whole world, the tension between you and him, sweet and intense and overwhelming, just perfect, your exhale only a thin wisp now, closing your eyes and moaning to the ceiling as you came.

It was a hard, thundering pulse, much more powerful than before, your shivering pussy gripping his fingers and your hips bucking. Thighs snapping closed, whining as you felt the hardness of his tattooed forearm, your head snapping to the side the second he released you, the rushing blood knocking you down and making your nerves sing, strong flinches across your arms and torso. Gasping to catch your breath.

Wasn’t his first time choking, but maybe the first time he got really turned on by it, because Jungkook was ogling you like a three-star Michelin meal.

It was like that all night.

From the first time he entered you, one condom wrapper the start of many, biting the left side of his lip and shuddering – “H-How are you so tight…? I just f-fingered you – oooh!” – and you wrapped around him tightly, smirking a little too smugly, one arm around his neck and one leg on his shoulder. Your fingers petaled around the base of his head, cupping him in the flower of your touch. Your thigh against his hard chest still trembling from your kisses. You angled your hips and he slipped in deeper, groaning in disbelief, his brows furrowing at you.

“H-Hey!”

Your tongue pocketed in the side of your smirk and you fucked him right.

“Gah!”

Jungkook, too, fucked you right.

You lead the pace so he could bring the force of his hips. Ah, fuck, right there, like that, and you let him know, the cries tumbling out and mixing with his, rushing wave after wave pressing into you, filling you with his girth and his power. You brought the intensity, the flint to his flame, the break in his pride and Jungkook was looking down at you, shoulders flexed, jaw tight and eyes hazy, clear emotion swirling within them and you saw your own gaze fixated on him, wanting him more than you wanted the sex.

Oh.

Shit.

You gasped and dug your nails into his scalp, grasping the pillow and throwing your head back, not expecting the suddenness of your high, injected into your heartbeat and pushing all the air out of your lungs, veins ablaze with heat as your core clenched, inner walls throbbing all around him. Jungkook groaned, biting his lower lip and thrusting hard, the small mole underneath shaking just as hard as his shoulders, but he couldn’t hold back any longer, squeezing his eyes shut, muffled scream as he came, his head falling back, two tones the start of an ongoing, wanton melody.

“Holy… fuck…”

Well, more like unholy fuck but you didn’t correct him.

You kind of expected him to pull out and leave, but instead his head snapped back and he dived down, catching your lips and dripping sweat on you, making you both laugh. Kiss after kiss, all over your face, and you could barely sputter out – “Oi, you’re sweaty!” – but he didn’t care, kissing all over your cheeks and down your neck, your chest, slurping at your nipples, you narrowed your eyes at that but those playful eyes just sparkled with deviousness, trailing down, down.

Slowing.

Jungkook pressed his lips to your waist, looking up at you.

Your heart thundered against your chest and sparks danced over your skin.

Somehow at ease.

“What?”

You smiled down at him.

“I don’t ever want to leave your side.”

Your lips parted to give him a snappy comeback, yeah, well, I gotta go to work, but nothing came out.

Jungkook grinned, his whole face lighting up and dove between your legs, biting and kissing the inside of your thighs, attacking them with his menacing mouth.

“Hey! Oi! I’m sensitive, f-fuck!”

Even planting a fat wet kiss on your clit for good measure.

“Ah!”

Shoving his tongue in your pussy.

“YO!”

You gawked at his audacity, twisting away from him. Infuriatingly, he followed, scrambling for your ass.

“There was just a condom in there!”

“Ah, who cares,” said the one that clearly didn’t. “Kiss me.”

“Hell no!”

After cleaning up and pinning him down on his own bed and thoroughly scolding him, somehow you ended up making out with Jungkook and his fingers were in your pussy again. It sounded very wet and squishy down there, probably because you showed Jungkook just now much you liked kisses under your earlobe. His tongue against your skin, teeth nicking, sucking hard and making you moan and grind on his hand, pressing against his chest.

“Sit on my face,” he whispered in your ear.

Which was know you ended up grasping his headboard and his tongue between your legs, the piercing pressed against the left side of the outer lips. You kept your weight on your knees, but Jungkook grabbed your ass and tipped your hips at a different angle, your clit right on his tongue, his nose against your crotch.

“Fuuuuck, you smell so good…”

You could barely hear him but you felt him speak, gasping at the strange sensation of hot breath and swiping tongue, his lips wrapping around your most sensitive nerves. He had a much softer tongue, but there was consistency there and plenty of gusto. It helped, actually, to have his hands gripping your thighs, adding the amplifying pleasure of restraint. You rode his face, matching the movement of his tongue. One of your hands left the headboard. Trapped your nipples between your fingers and pulled at them, making Jungkook’s eyes go wide and watch eagerly, licking and sucking harder.

Layered and intricate, full of sensation and emotion, gazing down at him and smirking as the sparks turned into lightning and you soaked his face, shivering, tipping forward at the flinches of climax, swearing under your thin breath, panting, snapped tension draining you and wetly sticking to his lips, his tongue, his cheeks.

He shoved his tongue into your quivering pussy and you sucked in a breath, feeling your inner walls pulsate around his curling muscle, his low, gravelly moan filling what little air there was between his mouth and you, his satisfaction vibrating through your body and mixing with your afterglow.

You slid down his chest and kissed him again, tasting your subtle sweet-sour on his slick lips.

He wanted you to jack him off hard and fast, the fingers of your other hand splayed out over his chest, forgetting about anything else, time only a construct, your phones discarded by the door, and here, in this bed, there was only Jungkook and you, his cock pulsing in your grip, your foxy expression to his desperate one, his eyes rolling back in the intensity, biting down hard on the left side of his lip, the small mole underneath shaking in anticipation, the tendons of his neck popping out.

You raised your free hand and gently stroked his cheek with your knuckle as you punished his cock.

His lower lip popped out of his mouth and he groaned, rough and breathless.

“A-Ah, fuck!”

A hot stream of liquid dripping down the back of your hand, drenching you and him in the strong scent of sex. Thick and potent, and you leaned forward and kissed him deeply, tightly holding his jerking cock and squeezing it all out of him.

“You’re amazing,” Jungkook panted, even after getting up – once again – to attempt to clean up your collective mess.

“Mhm,” you hummed, sitting beside him. He was radiating heat. “I was never worried about that.”

“Hah… You’re… You’re crazy…”

You had obtained your phone and just now sent a message to your boss that you would be taking a sick day on Monday. You have plenty of those. “Speak for yourself.”

“I mean, you’re like… um… uh, oh! A semen demon…”

“What?”

You almost threw your phone in laughter. Actually, you couldn’t even hear Jungkook’s explanation for what the hell he meant by semen demon because you were laughing too hard, barely able to breathe. There wasn’t a normal explanation anyway – how could there be? – and you kept inelegantly snorting afterward at inappropriate times. Jungkook, for his part, seemed proud for making you laugh so much.

“You look so beautiful laughing.”

Your response was quick, immediate, and lighthearted.

“Shut up.”

He snuggled his still too warm head into the crook of your shoulder.

“Will you stay?”

You gave him a look and then showed him the sent text message on your phone. There was something special and perfect about the smile that lit up his face, clearly showing his devotion and clearly seeing yours.

“Yeah, I’ll stay.”

Jungkook skipped work too. Both of you ended up sleeping in.

--

masterpost

#jungkook x reader #bts smut #jungkook x you #jungkook x noona #jungkook smut #jeon jungkook x reader #jeon jungkook x you

[kingofbodyrolls]

Say I Do (m) | jjk

Summary: you and Jungkook tease each other at your wedding reception.

Pairing: jungkook x female reader (no Y/N and unnamed)

AUs: non-idol!au, wedding!au

Genres: smut– like it’s just smut, nothing else 🤣

Rating: mature/explicit/R18 – this is mature/explicit content, so minors, please do not interact!

Word count: 5,2k

Disclaimer: I do not own BTS or know them personally and this work of fiction is purely fictional and for entertainment purposes only. The actions and personalities described in the story do not reflect those of BTS— it’s just fiction. Also, if you would kindly read the tags/warnings before reading, that would be lovely: and if you don’t like whatever is described in the tags, just hit return and find something else to read. Thank you 🌸

Warnings/tag: unprotected sex, exhibitionism, voyeurism, public sex, handjob, oral (female receiving), dirty talk, slightly rough sex, choking, biting, spitting, ass grabbing, impreg kink, degrading names (whore used once).

Author’s note: I made this for my lovely friend Lua (@letjungcoook7)!!!! SURPRISE!!!! I hope you like it! I was inspired to make this because of our chat, and I just want to say that you are so fucking lovely, sweet and kind 💖 I really hope this isn’t too much, but I just had too 🥹 I really wanted to make it dirty, but it ended up being more sweet instead, I’m sorry! I love talking to you and I just wanted to let you know that I adore and treasure you 😘 

Honestly Lua, I just wrote this to tell you how beautiful you are– mind, body and soul. Thank you Lua, I love ya 💜

This is just something very short while I work on ‘My Heart’s Home’. But I hope you like it, and please let me know what you think: my inbox is always open, and I love to hear from you, even a reblog/comment will put a big smile on my face 💜

Also!!! This is written from Jungkook’s POV (well I tried, lol). And normally I don’t describe the reader/MC, but she does have a tiny bit description in this, but I still feel it’s vague enough. But if that isn’t your thing, it’s completely fine 🙂 This is not proofread (because I’m too lazy for that right now).

This has nothing to do with my other fic 'say that again (I dare you)', but if you want to read that I'm not opposed (it's also a jjk fic) ✨

Fancy reading on AO3? 😉 

Rising gracefully to his feet, Taehyung's infectious enthusiasm fills the room as he declares, “I propose a toast!” His radiant smile sweeps over the myriad of guests you meticulously invited to your wedding—more than a hundred souls sharing in the joy of your love story. 

As he prepares to speak, Jungkook can't help but marvel at the grandeur of the occasion. Despite his personal inclination towards a more intimate celebration, he wouldn't dream of denying you this moment, surrounded by the warmth of friends and family who have come together to witness the union of two hearts.

Despite Taehyung's earnest attempt to capture Jungkook's attention with a throat-clearing preamble, Jungkook finds himself inexplicably entranced elsewhere. Even in the midst of one of his closest friends delivering a heartfelt wedding speech—something he should be wholeheartedly absorbing—but it’s hard. As hard as his dick that you’re palming over his dress pants.

The tantalizing dance of your hand sends ripples of pleasure through him, an intoxicating distraction that eclipses all other thoughts. It's an artful symphony of sensation, each movement crafting a masterpiece of desire within him. The struggle to concentrate on anything else becomes an exhilarating battle. Fuck. 

You, the mischievous enchantress, wield your allure like a potent spell. 

A tantalizing awareness of your own danger courses through your veins, and you wield it with an expert finesse. Every knowing glance, every sly smile, is a calculated move in the game you effortlessly play. You've mastered the art of ensnaring him, wrapping him around your finger with a magnetic force that compels him to dance to your whims. It's a dangerous dance, but he willingly succumbs to the intoxication of your charm, embracing the thrill as much as he cherishes the intoxicating love he feels for you.

What the fuck is Taehyung saying?

Taehyung’s words dissolve into a meaningless buzz, drowned out by the illicit symphony you're orchestrating beneath the table. The audacious zipper sliding down and the tantalizing exploration of your hand over the fabric of his boxer briefs command all of Jungkook's attention.

Profanity trembles on the edge of his tongue, but it's lost in the overwhelming sensation that eclipses any coherent thought. Your stealthy touch renders him blissfully oblivious to everything else unfolding around him.

Suppressing a low, guttural sound, he clenches his teeth, using every ounce of willpower to stifle the moan building in his throat. As desire courses through him like a wildfire, he willingly parts his legs, a silent invitation for you to explore more boldly, granting ample space for the electrifying touch of your hand over the hardened length of his cock.

He marvels at your audacity, finding it both exhilarating and daring that you'd embark on such a provocative escapade during your wedding reception. Yet, deep down, he acknowledges that it's a reflection of the wild spirit that has always defined your relationship. It's a shared affinity for dancing on the edge, reveling in the allure of danger, and delighting in the thrill of engaging in activities that should, by all accounts, remain private. It's a facet of your relationship that has always been magnetic, drawing you both into a world where the risk of being caught only adds to the intoxicating excitement.

In the blink of an eye, your hand deftly maneuvers beneath the fabric of his boxers, sending a shiver down his spine. A hiss escapes his lips as your long, slender fingers confidently envelop his cock. The warmth of your touch is both a balm and an inferno, and he instinctively tilts his head back in the chair, a silent plea for discretion. 

As he surrenders to the delicious sensation, he can't help but cast a furtive glance around, fervently hoping that the clandestine ballet unfolding beneath the table remains a tantalizing secret shared only between you.

Despite the uproarious laughter echoing through the room in response to Taehyung's speech, Jungkook remains oblivious to its contents, ensnared the choreography of your hand beneath the table. 

The mirthful ambiance only fuels his curiosity, surmising that Taehyung must have delivered a punchline or shared a humorous anecdote. Meanwhile, beneath the table's concealment, your hand skillfully traces a tantalizing path along his hardened cock, drawing a hushed hiss from Jungkook's lips. 

With a steely resolve, he masks any trace of emotion, locking his features in a stoic facade and maintaining an impressive silence. His determined effort is not just to conceal the electrifying sensations your actions are evoking, but also to safeguard the clandestine intimacy you both share from the prying eyes of the unsuspecting guests. 

Every fiber of his being is a coiled spring, resisting the urge to yield to the pleasure that threatens to unravel beneath the veneer of his restrained expression. 

As his gaze shifts towards you, he's met with an unexpected sight—there you sit, an image of demure elegance in your exquisite white gown. 

The fabric caresses your curves in all the right places, accentuating the allure of your figure. The daringly low neckline teases a glimpse of the captivating silhouette of your bosom, leaving him momentarily breathless. The off-the-shoulder design unveils a generous expanse of your soft, tender skin, a tantalizing sight that aligns perfectly with his preferences. 

Despite the provocative allure of your attire, your outward appearance betrays no hint of the illicit affair transpiring beneath the table. If he didn't intimately know the secret you were concealing—your hand discreetly exploring the realm beneath his pants—he'd be fooled by the serene facade you present, seemingly absorbed in the captivating rhythm of Taehyung's speech.

In a silent plea of gratitude, Jungkook revels in the fact that the attention of the guests is fixed on Taehyung's speech, sparing him the scrutiny of prying eyes. 

Little do they know, the real spectacle unfolds beneath the table, where your touch becomes an exquisite torment. 

Every movement of your hand is a tantalizing dance, a blend of ecstasy and torture that threatens to unravel him. With a teasing finesse, your soft fingers caress his frenulum, tracing a path towards the depths of pleasure. The deliberate slide over his slit elicits a shiver of pure ecstasy, leaving Jungkook teetering on the precipice of desire that you expertly navigate.

Your hand envelops him, a cocoon of warmth that intensifies with each skillful stroke. The pleasure coursing through him is undeniably exquisite, a testament to the mastery of your touch. Yet, a lingering awareness tugs at the edges of his consciousness—an impending climax that threatens to unravel the careful threads of restraint. The exquisite sensations you evoke compel him to desperately anchor his thoughts, to redirect the intoxicating focus from the captivating dance beneath the table to Taehyung's speech.

The challenge lies not just in resisting the magnetic pull of pleasure but in maintaining a semblance of composure, navigating the delicate balance between the ecstasy you're orchestrating beneath the table and the public façade demanded by the occasion.

“We’ve been friends for so long, how many years is it now, Gguk?” As Taehyung poses the question, a hushed anticipation envelops the room, and all eyes converge on Jungkook. 

Fuck. 

All eyes are on him and he can’t think— he’s mind is clouded with thoughts of you. 

Taehyung– Fuck. How long have they been friends? 

In a sudden stumble of recollection, he breathes out, “17 years,” the weight of the shared history resonating in the room. Yet, the gravity of the moment is unexpectedly intensified as you administer an assertive squeeze around cock. Fuck.

With a chuckle that slices through the tension, Taehyung seamlessly continues his discourse, effortlessly reclaiming the attention of the room and redirecting every wandering gaze back to him. A collective exhale echoes in Jungkook's mind, a silent gratitude for the timely diversion that spares the clandestine spectacle beneath the table from becoming the unwitting center of attention. 

Relentless, you maintain the rhythm on his dick, displaying an unwavering determination that hints at an intention to push him to the brink, right under the unsuspecting gaze of the gathered guests. 

As the divine caress of your hand propels him perilously close to the edge, a surge of urgency overtakes him. Desperate, he turns his face towards you, eyes silently pleading for respite, but your gaze remains steadfastly elsewhere. 

Frustration wells within him, and he attempts to use his hands to guide yours away, only to find your grip tightening in response. The conflicting forces of pleasure and restraint collide within him, his muscles tensing as a hitch in his breath betrays the precarious precipice upon which he teeters.

Leaning in, you bring with you a halo of your natural sweet scent, an intoxicating allure that wraps around him, overwhelming his senses and leaving him slightly dizzy. 

Your lips, soft and plush, delicately find his cheek in what appears to be a tender gesture to the outside world. To the unsuspecting onlookers, it's a simple, sweet kiss on the cheek. 

Little do they know, in that same moment, your daring move involves not just the gentle press of your lips but the subtle exploration of your other hand slipping under his boxers to fondle his balls.

Fucking hell he’s gonna come.

Ecstasy courses through him like a wildfire, an imminent eruption fueled by the intoxicating cocktail of your skillful touch on his balls, warm breath teasing his ear, and the relentless grip on his pulsating desire. The threshold between pleasure and release narrows to a perilous edge, and he finds himself teetering on the brink, held captive by the maddening symphony of sensations you've orchestrated. 

Despite his valiant efforts to remain attentive to his friend's speech, the sheer mastery of your pleasure-inducing touch proves insurmountable. Every deliberate stroke, every strategic squeeze of his balls, propels him further into the abyss of ecstasy. In a moment of surrender, he can no longer contain the torrent of desire, and ropes of his essence surge forth from his throbbing dick. His lips bear the weight of a stifled moan, as you keep stroking him through his orgasm.

Beside him, your chuckle is a symphony of sweetness interwoven with a hint of mischief, a melodic backdrop to the ongoing crescendo of pleasure you expertly administer through his orgasm. 

As he traverses the realm of oversensitivity, a low, guttural grunt escapes him, drawing the curious gaze of Taehyung, engrossed in his ongoing speech. Though momentarily caught in a gaze of questioning inquiry, Taehyung forges ahead, resuming his speech with a peculiar stare, unwittingly oblivious to the spectacle unfolding beside him.

Thank fuck both of your parents aren’t seated right next to you. That would have been utterly mortifying and embarrassing.

With a deliberate finesse, you retract your hand from his crotch, guiding it gracefully over the table, where you nonchalantly employ a napkin to erase any lingering evidence. Seated there, you adopt an innocent facade, a picture of angelic composure that conceals the fact that, mere seconds ago, your hand delved into the forbidden realm beneath his pants. 

With an audible exhale, he reaches for a napkin, hastily attending to the aftermath on his pants. The damage is fortunately minimal, thanks to your deft intervention that efficiently captured most of his release. Smart girl.

But a mischievous spark ignites in his eyes, a silent vow echoing beneath the surface - oh, he's going to get back at you for that, you little minx. 

–

As the notes of the classic wedding waltz envelop the room, Jungkook marvels at the surreal reality—he gets to call you his wife now. The ethereal glow surrounding you transcends the physical, a radiant aura that has always defined you. Despite your humble protestations about your own beauty, he's captivated by the undeniable truth: you've always been, and continue to be, an enchanting vision. Countless times you've confessed to feeling otherwise, but in his eyes, you're a masterpiece. In this moment, as you dance together, you're not just a part of his world; you are his entire universe.

Gazing into the pools of your sweet, doe-like eyes, their exquisite almond shape captivates him, holding his attention in an unbreakable trance. He contemplates the nuances of your beauty, from the enchanting curvature of your slightly upturned nose to the endearing moments when he can't resist playfully poking it during your teasing exchanges. Every inch of you, in his eyes, is a masterpiece, and he pledges to vocalize his admiration every day, a ritual aimed at etching your beauty into your own consciousness. 

He dreams that with each affirming word, he'll weave a tapestry of self-love around you, until the day you see yourself as he does—undeniably, breathtakingly beautiful.

As you dance, your eyes ablaze with an unmistakable love, he luxuriates in the intensity of your gaze. A daring current of desire propels his hand, gliding with deliberate intent down your body until it boldly claims your ass. 

Uninhibited, he seizes it with audacious confidence, the bold move oblivious to the watchful eyes surrounding you. A soft, mischievous squeeze elicits a sweet chuckle from you, a harmonious note in the symphony of shared amusement that reverberates through the party, as the crowd collectively succumbs to the captivating allure of your uninhibited dance.

As the soft strains of the music envelop you both in a waltz, your heads draw nearer, the enchanting melody echoing the tender dance of your hearts. With the song nearing its end, he seizes the moment, leaning in intimately close to your ear. The hushed promise that escapes his lips carries a tantalizing undercurrent, his warm breath grazing your skin as he vows, “I'm going to get you back for earlier, babe.”

He senses the subtle shiver coursing through you as his touch lingers, a silent testament to the shared electricity between you. As the final notes of the song fade into the applause and cheers of the crowd, seizing the perfect moment, he leans in, embracing you in a sweet and passionate kiss. 

As the rhythm of a more upbeat song invigorates the dance floor, he seizes the opportunity to whisk you away from the lively crowd. Amidst the pulsating beats and the vivacious laughter of the guests, he guides you outside the building, their merriment gradually fading into the background.

In the crisp night air, he asserts a sudden dominance, pressing you against the sturdy wall. His gaze, infused with an unmistakable hunger and need, locks onto your beautiful eyes, creating a magnetic tension that reverberates between you. 

“You are a little minx, you know that?” His words, not laced with anger but rather a dangerous undercurrent of arousal, hang in the charged air. Your chuckle, a sweet symphony that further stirs the tempest within him, prompts a hiss as he succumbs to the magnetic pull, diving fervently into the captivating abyss of your mouth.

The kiss intensifies, a collision of passion that is both hard and rough, fueled by an undeniable need. In the urgency of the moment, he can't afford to wait, the impatience palpable in every fervent press of lips. 

You envelop him in the embrace of your arms, fingers intertwining at the nape of his neck, while your gaze rises to meet his. In the depths of his eyes, once warm brown orbs now transformed into pools of near-black intensity, a reflection of the potent arousal coursing through his veins. 

Your hand embarks on a daring journey, descending to the front of his pants once more, and the response is instantaneous – hardness reignites, a testament to the insatiable flame you kindle within him. Desire for you pulses like a constant current, an almost permanent state of arousal that defies logical explanation. Whatever enchantment you cast upon him, it's an irresistible force that weaves a tantalizing spell, leaving him perpetually captivated by the mystique of your touch.

Breaking away from the embrace of your soft lips, he wears a smirk laden with both warning and allure. “You're playing with fire, babe,” he remarks, the subtle edge in his voice echoing the intoxicating dance of danger and desire that swirls between you.

In a hushed whisper that flutters against your ear, he breathes, “You've been a naughty girl.” 

The words, laden with an undercurrent of sultry authority, send a shiver down your spine, awakening a cascade of tingles that traverse the landscape of your entire body. 

Descending to the delicate expanse of your neck, he peppers it with soft, almost teasing kisses, each touch a prelude to the symphony of sensations. Then, in an abrupt shift from gentle caresses, he bites down, coaxing from you a loud moan that resonates through the air—an intoxicating sound that echoes in the depths of his desire, a melody he'll never tire of hearing. 

Continuing his explorative journey, he ventures further south, his lips descending to the curve of your breasts. With a deliberate tenderness, he places a kiss atop the soft expanse of your tender tits.

Gracefully sinking to his knees, he gazes up at you with a mischievous smirk, the air thick with a heady mixture of desire and anticipation. His tongue darts out, grazing his lips in a provocative dance of anticipation, signaling the imminent exploration of pleasures yet to unfold. 

With an assertive grip, he seizes the front of your dress, drawing it away in a swift, purposeful motion. Despite the abundance of fabric, he deftly bunches it up with ease. “Hold your dress, please,” he directs, handing you the end of the gathered fabric. 

“Hmm. Nice lace stockings, and that girdle—what are you doing to me?” he murmurs, his voice a tantalizing blend of desire and fascination. His gaze lingers appreciatively on your beautiful thighs encased in nude stockings adorned with lace at the top, fastened to a concealed girdle on your waist.

His eyes widen with a mix of surprise and arousal as they land on your wet and glistening pussy, the evidence of desire trickling down your thigh. “Oh my god. You're not wearing panties?” he breathes out, his voice carrying the weight of both revelation and anticipation. A subtle lick of his lips betrays the intensity of his reaction.

A playful chuckle escapes your lips as you hover above him, and without a moment's hesitation, he immerses himself in the intoxicating warmth of your desire. His lips eagerly find their destination, tracing a decadent path from the delicate folds to the pulsating essence of your clit. 

The sensation ripples through your body, igniting a shiver that becomes an involuntary response to the electrifying dance between tongues, pleasure, and the shared yearning that binds you together.

He embarks on a tantalizing journey of tongue and suction, starting with teasing caresses that send tremors of anticipation through your body. His hands, strong and purposeful, find purchase on your thighs, holding you in a firm grip as he orchestrates a symphony of pleasure with his skillful tongue, creating an intoxicating dance that blurs the lines between sensation and desire.

A throaty moan escapes your lips as his nose delicately brushes against your pulsating cl*t, his tongue delving as deep as its voracious hunger allows. The exquisite sensation of his exploration elicits an involuntary clenching around him, a testament to the overwhelming pleasure coursing through you.

Your thighs, unable to withstand the intensity, succumb to a tremor, trembling beneath the intoxicating caress of pleasure that consumes you.

His dexterous fingers ascend to your throbbing clit, and with a skillful touch, he sets in motion a rapid dance of pleasure, causing your entire body to quiver with newfound intensity. The quickened rhythm of your breath becomes a symphony of desire, a telltale sign for him that you're teetering on the precipice of ecstasy.

Eager to reciprocate the pleasure you bestowed upon him within the confines of the reception, he fervently laps at your tender folds. Simultaneously, his fingers engage in a deft dance around your throbbing clit, orchestrating a symphony of sensations that echoes the pulsating rhythm of desire between you.

With the harmonious fusion of his skilled tongue and nimble fingers, he orchestrates the unraveling of your senses. As ecstasy courses through you, your body convulses in euphoria, your walls clenching around his tongue, and the pulsating rhythm of your clit intensifying under the spell of his fingers. 

Waves of pleasure surge through you, causing your body to quake, and in the throes of ecstasy, you release a high-pitched, strained moan that bears his name—an intimate symphony of pleasure that lingers in the air.

Breathless and overwhelmed, you gasp out his name, a plea woven into the words, “Fuck, Jungkook. I can't stand up anymore.” As he gracefully withdraws from your core, his gaze rises to meet yours, locking in a shared moment of intensity.

He chuckles, the rich timbre of his laughter lingering in the charged air. “I know, babe. Do you want me to fuck you against the wall?”

You draw in a sharp breath, and he keenly observes the subtle clench of your hand, the fabric of the dress tightly gathered within your grasp. 

“Fuck yeah,” An unbridled affirmation escapes your lips, a primal declaration of desire. As he rises to his feet, a surge of urgency propels him to capture your mouth in a hungry kiss. The taste of your own release lingers on his lips, creating an intimate communion of shared pleasure that binds you together in the aftermath of passion.

As he engulfs you in a fervent kiss, the symphony of desire playing out between you, his hands deftly navigate the zipper of his dress pants. With a purposeful movement, he unveils his throbbing cock, stroking it in rhythmic cadence. 

His hands, driven by a primal urgency, seek out the contours of your a*s with a possessive intent. “Jump up, babe,” he commands, the resonance of his voice weaving a spell of anticipation. As you obediently jump, he effortlessly lifts you, cocooning you against the wall. 

In a brief struggle against the bulk of your dress, both of you grapple with the fabric, pushing it away from the front of your entwined bodies. A shared chuckle hangs in the air, a lighthearted interlude in the midst of fervor. But as the fabric yields to your efforts, Jungkook seizes the opportunity, moving in with an insatiable hunger to bite at your neck once more. 

With a sultry whisper, he breathes, “I'm gonna fuck a baby into you, would you like that, hmm?” 

The words, pregnant with promise, glide against your ear, and the responsive clench of your legs around his waist speaks volumes. A knowing chuckle escapes him as you endeavor to pull him even closer, the shared desire resonating between you in the charged space.

“Please,” your plea, a desperate yet fervent entreaty, escapes your lips, a poignant melody of desire that resonates in the charged air. The subtle smirk that graces his lips is both a testament to your undeniable need for him and an acknowledgment of the power he holds over your cravings.

With a deliberate touch, he locates his throbbing cock with one hand and skillfully aligns it with your dripping entrance. The tantalizing dance begins as he teases your slick folds with the head of his pulsating dick, creating an electrifying friction that amplifies the anticipation between you two. 

“Gguk, please,” you plead with a mixture of desire and frustration, your voice echoing the urgent need for him to bridge the gap between anticipation and fulfillment. However, he remains steadfast, skillfully teasing your slick folds without granting the entry your body craves. 

With a desperate plea escaping your lips once more, he finally relents. The moment stretches with anticipation before he forcefully thrusts his thick cock into your eager pussy. The collision is met with an audible impact as your back forcefully meets the wall.

He forgoes the customary pause for adjustment, intuitively aware that you relish the exquisite stretch when he enters you so abruptly. Without hesitation, he plunges deep into your core, reaching the furthest recesses, his thick length grazing against your cervix. 

“You’re so big, the stretch feels so good!” 

You gasp breathlessly against his body, overwhelmed by the sheer size of him. The intoxicating stretch sends waves of pleasure coursing through you, a visceral reminder of the intensity between you two. Determined to fully immerse yourself in the sensation, you pant against him, actively striving to ride the wave of pleasure, desperate to fuck yourself on him, the relentless pursuit of ecstasy evident in every ardent movement.

He establishes a relentless rhythm, driving into you with a force that resonates against the unyielding wall of the building. The symphony of your combined panting echoes in the air, a melodic accompaniment to the unbridled passion unfolding. Jungkook, captivated by the primal symphony, savors every delightful noise escaping your lips—a harmonious blend of desire and surrender, heightening the intensity of the fervent connection shared between you.

As he thrusts into you, each powerful motion striking your cervix, he elevates the intensity by trailing one hand up to your neck. With a gentle yet possessive touch, he wraps his fingers around your throat.

He knows you like it dirty and rough, and fuck he does too. 

His taunting words, laced with a playful yet provocative tone, cut through the charged air. “Did you enjoy the little game with your fingers down my pants while Tae was making his speech?” The rhetorical question hangs between you, a teasing challenge that elicits a subtle clenching reaction around him. 

In a sultry revelation, he whispers, “'Next to your bridesmaid and your parents. You naughty girl.” The hand steadying against the wall takes a firm hold of your ass, squeezing the soft flesh with deliberate intent. A resonant moan of pleasure escapes your lips, harmonizing with the rhythmic cadence of his thrusts as he skillfully targets your sweet spot. 

“So naughty,” he breathes, punctuating each fervent thrust with a rhythmic intensity that sends shivers down your spine. “You enjoy getting off in front of your friends, huh?” His words, infused with a seductive blend of desire and provocation, become a tantalizing soundtrack to the relentless grind of his dick into you.

“And getting me off too? Whore,” he seethes into your ear, the heated accusation leaving a scorching trail of desire in its wake. Your response, a shiver against his body, fuels the intensity of the moment. 

As he continues to fuck you with an unrestrained force, your breasts bounce in a mesmerizing rhythm that captivates him. So fucking perfect.

“Stick your tongue out,” he commands, his eyes intently fixed on you as you obediently roll out your tongue, anticipating the act you relish. The charged moment lingers, pregnant with expectation. With a deliberate move, he spits on your waiting tongue, and you, the embodiment of submission, dutifully swallow it.

Damn it, he knows he won't last much longer if he continues to be entranced by the rhythmic bounce of your enticing breasts—they possess an almost hypnotic allure over him. And that tongue of yours, oh, it's pure seduction. 

“And you can't even wait until we reach our hotel suite to be fucked. So fucking needy, and I love it,” he declares, a blend of admiration and desire lacing his words. The deliberate clench of his fingers around your throat follows, a subtle yet potent assertion of control. His gaze remains fixed on your eyes, watching with a predatory intensity as they dilate even more.

As he tightens his grip, the sensation of his fingers constricting around your throat elicits a primal response—your walls clenching around his cock. The synchronized symphony of pleasure and control intertwines, and a guttural groan escapes him, an audible testament to the ecstasy coursing through his veins. 

Driven by an insatiable desire, he redoubles his efforts to fuck you even deeper.

“My filthy wife,” he pants into your ear, the possessive term dripping with desire, a declaration that ignites a primal response within you. The sultry proclamation elicits a moan of his name from your lips, a vocal affirmation of the all-encompassing pleasure coursing through your body. His acute awareness of your nearing climax manifests in the rhythmic clenching around his dick, a tangible sign of the intimate dance between you two.

“Fuck, Gguk. I'm so close again. Fuck!” you pant fervently against the curve of his neck, the words laced with desperation and desire. He senses the mounting intensity in your voice, a symphony of passion reaching its crescendo. 

Yet, he's attuned to the nuances, recognizing the subtle signs that your body, though on the brink of ecstasy, bears the weight of fatigue, having navigated the day in those tantalizing heels. 

“You crave an audience, don't you? Want people to watch you, to hear you,” he moans into your ear, the words a sultry declaration that fans the flames of desire between you two. The acknowledgment of your shared exhibitionist desires ignites a fresh surge of pleasure, prompting an instinctive clench around him.

“Then scream my name, let everyone in the damn party know how damn good I'm fucking you,” he commands, the intensity of his voice sending shivers down your spine. As your walls clench with even greater fervor, pulsating around his dick, a wave of your liquid envelops him, transforming the intimate connection into a slippery dance of shared pleasure.

You unleash his name with a primal scream, the sheer force of your ecstasy reverberating through the open air outside. Your head drops against the curve of his neck, seeking refuge in the haven of his embrace as the waves of pleasure cascade over you.

He relentlessly thrusts his dick into you, the urgency palpable as he seeks his own release. “I'm gonna give you a baby, just like we've always dreamed of.”

“Ahhh, fuck, yes!” The exclamation bursts from your lips, a little too loud, as an uncontrollable surge of pleasure courses through you. Your teeth instinctively seek refuge on his shoulder, sinking into the firm flesh in an unbridled act of both ecstasy and restraint.

“Fuck, babe, I'm gonna come,” he confesses with a guttural moan, each subsequent thrust punctuated with the desperation of impending release. His rhythm stumbles, an involuntary response to the intensity building within him as he hurtles towards the precipice of his orgasm. And then it hits him.

The rhythmic bounce of your tits in his face, the soft and sweet scent that envelops him, and the melodic cadence of your voice—all converge to cast a spell on his senses. In the midst of your lovely moans, he succumbs to the intoxicating blend of sensations, unleashing a torrent of white-hot semen deep inside your spent pussy. 

Panting and gasping, you both struggle for precious breaths, bodies slick with the sheen of sweat acquired in the throes of passion. Amidst the shared exhaustion, a mutual chuckle reverberates between you, an intimate exchange that encapsulates the postcoital atmosphere.

With your head nestled against his, you gaze into the depth of his eyes and confess, “I love you, Gukkie.” The words, tender and raw, bridge the physical intimacy you've just shared with the emotional vulnerability of a heartfelt declaration.

“I love you too. Every damn inch of you, you're so beautiful,” he pants, a declaration infused with both desire and admiration. As he smiles at you, the post-passion glow accentuates the sincerity in his eyes, turning the exchange into a powerful affirmation.

He'll never tire of professing his boundless love and adoration for you, vowing to weave those sentiments into the fabric of each passing day. The promise to remind you, with unwavering devotion, echoes in his commitment to articulate his love every damn day.

Please let me know if you liked it with a comment, reblog, and ask or whatever 💜

#jungkook x reader #jungkook x you #jungkook smut #jungkook bts #bts jungkook #jeon jungkook #jungkook fics #jungkook fanfics #jungkook fic #jungkook fanfic #jeon jungkook smut #jjk fic #jjk smut #jungkook #jungkook one shot #bts x you #bts x reader #bts smut #bangtan smut #bangtan x you #bangtan x reader

[spookyserenades]

Trouvaille - Chapter Sixteen (M)

Pairing(s); BTS OT7 x Reader

Genre/Themes; Hybrid!AU, themes of the supernatural and the occult, religious themes, violence, hurt/comfort, horror, romance

Rated; 18+ for swearing, violence/gore, future sexual themes. Reader discretion is advised.

Word Count; 20.5k

Trouvaille Masterlist

Trouvaille playlist

Updates on the 7th of each month

Heyyyy besties LOL! Prepare yourselves! This chapter is definitely my spiciest yet, so hold onto your seats (and don't look at me LOL I'm Seokjin thirsty). Besides that, though, we have domestic moments, and GHOSTBUSTING WOO HOO! I hope you all enjoy this and don't hate me for being thirsty. Love to hear your thoughts and thank you for reading!

As an additional warning/reminder, for the smut: the scene is explicit, and is only intended to be read by those over the age of 18. Please practice safe sex, and readers please have discretion!

Previous Chapter

Suddenly, all of the sounds of the city faded into oblivion. Cars rushing by passed in colored blurs, romantic music flooding out from restaurants filled with couples celebrating Valentine’s Day dimmed to a hum, and all Y/N could focus on, or even register, were the clumps of powdery snow beginning to gather on Seokjin’s long, straight lashes. His fiery eyes were shifting back and forth, assessing the expression on her face, his sleek black tail curling self-consciously around his waist. Y/N’s brain was scrambling for any kind of coherent response, Seokjin’s grip on her hands going slack once the seconds stretched on. 

“Maybe I shouldn’t have said anything,” Seokjin whispered sadly, to himself. It was that statement that had Y/N snapping out of her state of shock. 

“Jin–” Y/N exclaimed, but Seokjin had let her go, turning slightly and trudging away, his hand tightening around the handles of the shopping bag. “Wait, honey!”

“We should head back to the car, it’s getting cold with the snow,” Seokjin’s voice sounded thick, like his throat was closing up, making Y/N hiss and lurch forward, catching him by his felt coat. Promptly, he halted, though he wouldn’t turn around to face her. 

“Actually, we should talk,” Y/N managed, pulling Seokjin along desperately, yanking him up the stairs of the church they were in front of and pushing the two of them inside the warm building. 

The place was lit up, but mercifully empty, and Y/N assumed the priests were in the back of the building, a separate room, where they kept vestments– Jeongguk had been telling her about various aspects of Christianity and the architecture of churches during their hours of reviewing tapes for the Sanders’ case with Namjoon. Huffing, she towed her jaguar hybrid to the enclosed room at the front of the church’s entrance, the one with a window facing altar; the space was intended for parents with crying children to sit in so as not to disturb Mass. Y/N thought it was as good of a place as any to have a private conversation without freezing their asses off in the snow. 

“W-why are we here?” Seokjin still wouldn’t turn his face to hers, instead choosing to studiously stare out the window, fixing his eyes on the elaborate wooden pulpit. 

“Seokjin, look at me,” Y/N requested gently, tugging the fabric of his coat lightly to encourage him. 

Stiffening, Seokjin swallowed, his ears still pressed flat against his wavy head of black hair, chewing on his lip as he finally looked her in the eyes once more. Heart clenching seeing the aching vulnerability on his face, she took the bag of their purchases from Eataly from his hand, placing it on one of the chairs behind them. 

“You don’t have to let me down gently, Y/N…” Seokjin uttered quietly, and despite herself, Y/N was rolling her eyes while her back was to him. 

“Seokjin, will you just hear me out for a few minutes?” Y/N replied, trying to compose herself despite the way she was nearly ready to pounce on Seokjin. “Don’t shut down on me like that.”

Seokjin remained quiet, his throat bobbing when she faced him again, Y/N sighing and wondering how the hell to explain to him her feelings, not only for him, but for the rest of his housemates. It had her head swimming, and the strong scent of church incense wasn’t helping. 

“You… said you loved me?” Y/N wanted to confirm, Seokjin’s neck turning an even deeper shade of red, but he nodded slightly nonetheless. His tail was still curled around his waist. 

“Ever since my birthday. Probably even before then,” Seokjin admitted, Y/N’s heart beginning to race in her chest, one of Seokjin’s ears fluttering at the sound. 

“Oh,” Y/N squeaked, watching Seokjin trying to not look crestfallen. 

“I had to tell you. I couldn’t keep it hidden any longer, especially after tonight,” Seokjin continued, one of his hands coming up to rub at his bicep. “Even though… you and Yoongi.”

Time stopped, space ceased to exist. All that mattered to her in those seconds was Seokjin, and his undiluted earnesty was palpable. Nothing could stop Y/N from opening her mouth impulsively, at that point. 

“I think I fell in love with you on Halloween,” Y/N blurted loudly, Seokjin’s jaw dropping open in pure shock, her voice echoing in the empty room and emphasizing the ferociousness in her tone. “Seeing you with the kids, handing out candy. Or maybe it was that night you held me after Tae and Joon’s fight.”

“What?” Seokjin breathed, a combination of elation and confusion taking over his expression. 

“I fell in love with Yoongi when he offered to teach me piano,” Y/N couldn’t help the word vomit pouring from her mouth, figuring if anything, she could confess all of her feelings to Seokjin, and maybe he’d get where she was coming from. “Jeongguk and Joon when they helped me with the spirit, that day outside when we did the cleansing ritual, I knew I loved them. I fell for Hoseok when I realized he was the glue holding us together.”

Understanding dawned on Seokjin as she spilled her guts to him, but all he did was reach for her hands, a tender look in his eyes so sweet Y/N nearly began to weep. Honestly, she could have been weeping, but she couldn’t stop her speech as Seokjin held her. 

“Seeing Jimin wear his expressions so earnestly, innocently, and Taehyung’s trust in me, his love for our home…” Y/N shuddered when Seokjin pulled her in for a hug, her face pressed against the front of his coat, and palms stroking up and down her back to soothe. “I’m in love with you all, I can’t help it, but I do. I love you, Seokjin, so, so much.”

Seokjin didn’t reply, but his chest began to vibrate with purrs, simply holding her as Y/N took a few moments to breathe, initially not coming to the conclusion that saying all of that out loud would end up being such an emotional release for her. Physically, she felt lighter once she admitted all of that to Seokjin, but she was nervous about how he was taking the news that she had feelings for 6 others. 

“You really love me? You mean it?” Seokjin broke the silence, his hands shaking as he pushed lightly on her shoulders so he could look at her face, his ears finally perked up after being pressed flat to his head for so long. 

Grasping one of his wrists, Y/N maintained eye-contact as she pressed his palm over her heart, no doubt beating rapidly even underneath her thick coat. A small exhale came from Seokjin, Y/N craning her head upwards to scan his face, not wanting to keep him in the lurch any longer. 

“Of course I mean it,” Y/N whispered, her free hand curling in the material of his coat, feeling tears gather along her lash line. “You have my heart.”

Seokjin chuckled, the sound watery, and Y/N felt his hands still trembling as they moved to cup her face, thumbs tracing over her cheekbones with reverence. She shivered, sliding her hands up his chest to rest over his heart, beating wildly, drowning in the scent of his eucalyptus body wash. 

“I–” Seokjin swallowed, his own eyes shining with unshed tears. “Can I kiss you?”

Heart stopping altogether, her eyelids fluttered as she felt his shaky hands still cradling her face, so gently she could hardly feel the touch. 

“Yes,” Y/N replied eagerly, her voice barely coming out at all, transfixed by the way Seokjin looked at her with complete adoration. “Please.”

Slowly, like time had been suspended, she watched Seokjin duck his head, his eyelids growing heavy as he nudged the tip of his nose against hers, Y/N unable to shut her eyes as his beautiful face neared closer than ever. Sucking in a tiny breath, she melted against his broad chest, fingers sliding into the close-cropped hair at the nape of his neck. When Seokjin’s eyes closed, she kept hers open a fraction, only for stars to explode in her vision once his voluminous lips landed on hers. 

Immediately making a noise of delight, Y/N sank into Seokjin, not caring that they were in public, or a church, for that matter. The press of his mouth was impossibly sweet, loving, Y/N nearly groaning as his lower lip slipped against the seam of her mouth. While the kiss was chaste, Seokjin’s thumbs still tenderly caressing her cheekbones, it had her insides igniting, angling her head so Seokjin could work his mouth against hers more deeply. Her lungs were burning for oxygen all too soon, Y/N refusing to break the lock of their lips, but unfortunately, her jaguar hybrid sensed her need to breathe, and his perfect lips slid from hers sensually. 

Before she could speak, her hands still in his hair, Seokjin began stamping kisses all over her face, like he had the last time he scented her. The purrs coming from his chest grew in volume when she sighed in bliss, Seokjin’s hands moving to cup her neck while he brushed a kiss over her jaw bone. 

“I love you, I love you…” Seokjin breathed, his warm breath washing over the side of her neck, Y/N nearly passing out in his strong arms. “My Y/N. My pretty girl, I love you…”

“S-seokjin. Mmm,” Y/N attempted to speak, though the distraction of him mouthing over the slope of her throat was overwhelming. “You, uh? Know– that I, um. Love the others, too? Does it bother you?”

Seokjin paused, pressing one last kiss underneath her earlobe, his arms wrapping around her waist securely. His warmth consumed her, and the way he held her felt like she was being cherished– her own arms wound around his wide shoulders in retribution.

“There’s nothing you could do or say that would change how I feel,” Seokjin said firmly, Y/N shivering at the finality in his tone. “I just… I didn’t think you loved me the way I love you. I had hope when we had lunch with Hannah, but…”

“Yoongi,” Y/N finished for him, nuzzling her face into his chest. 

“Does he?” Seokjin probed cautiously, running his hands through her hair, seemingly not able to get enough of touching her so freely. 

“Know? Yeah,” Y/N blushed, the whole situation so complicated, she hardly knew how it came to be in the first place. “He knows I love you. All of you.”

Seokjin rested his chin on the top of her head, humming contentedly as he held her. All she wanted in that moment was to remain in his embrace, soaking in his comforting presence, but all too soon he was drawing away, his eyes sparkling and lips a tad swollen from their kiss. 

“I think we should head home. We scandalized the priests,” Seokjin nodded to the window, Y/N’s face on fire when she realized indeed, two young priests were gawking at them from behind the glass, and both of them hurriedly returned to arranging pamphlets in the pews. 

With that, her and Seokjin giggling the entire way, they left the church, Y/N waving apologetically to the priests while Seokjin grabbed onto her free hand. Y/N didn’t have time to think about what would happen when they got home, but because she swore to herself that she wouldn’t hide information from the others anymore, she wasn’t about to sneak around with Seokjin like she had with Yoongi. 

Outside, it was still snowing, but tucked closely into Seokjin’s side, she hardly felt the cold. His arm was around her waist, hand entwined with hers, tucked into her coat pocket. The walk back to the parking garage wasn’t long, but it took twenty minutes– Seokjin stopping occasionally for a kiss amongst the snow storm, his lips melting against hers. 

“Got the bag?” Y/N jumped out of the car, glancing at their lit-up house in front of her, chewing her lip nervously. 

It wasn’t too late in the evening, so Y/N knew that everyone was probably still up, snacking on their Valentine candy and watching TV, perhaps. Namjoon’s van wasn’t running, surprisingly, so neither he nor Jeongguk were hanging out in there. Seokjin appeared from around the car, the bag of ingredients and recipes in hand, a sweet smile stretched across his face. 

Someone flicked on the porch light, most likely Namjoon, who kept quite the canine watch over the front door, especially at night. Clearing her throat, she gestured for Seokjin to head up the porch steps, following closely behind and praying the wolf hybrid wouldn’t immediately sniff out that her and Seokjin’s relationship dynamic had shifted significantly. The jaguar hybrid opened the front door, letting Y/N in first, locking up behind her promptly– if he didn’t, Namjoon would have had a stroke seeing the deadbolt pulled back. 

The house was toasty, and judging by the scent, Yoongi had made his popular roasted chicken for dinner for everyone that was left at home. She was blushing as Seokjin unzipped her coat for her, shucking it off and hanging it in the closet, the sounds of the TV from the parlor indicating that a few of the hybrids were hanging out in there. 

“You’re back,” Yoongi appeared from the kitchen, leaning against the threshold with a dish rag in his hand. “I thought I’d have to call a cab for you two.”

“No, we took a walk to digest the wine before I got behind the wheel,” Y/N replied, Yoongi smirking when Seokjin was fussing over lint on her sweater from her coat, his fingertips skimming her arms and sides and leaving a trail of fire in their wake. “Hope there’s leftover chicken for my lunch tomorrow!”

“You know there isn’t, even without you and Jin eating your fill,” Yoongi scoffed, flicking long hair out of his face. The front of his white tee-shirt was damp from doing dishes, the material clinging to the muscles of his lower abdomen. “Here, let me take that.”

Yoongi sprung forward, taking the Eataly bag from Seokjin, and Y/N didn’t miss the way Yoongi subtly sniffed in her direction, his expression turning sly as he returned to the kitchen with the swish of his spotted tail. Stiffening, knowing that Yoongi could probably detect Seokjin’s scent all over her, as well as her uneasy expression, Y/N pinched the bridge of her nose. 

“How the hell are we going to break the news without me suffering from a heart attack?” Y/N sighed, shivering when Seokjin cupped the nape of her neck, stroking the sides of her throat, Y/N blinking up at him from her spot in front of the jaguar hybrid, unease heighting when she saw the mischief on his face. “What are you–”

“I LOVE Y/N!” Seokjin suddenly hollered at the top of his lungs, Y/N flinching a foot in the air, both because she never heard Seokjin speak so loudly, and the words that came from his mouth. “SHE LOVES ME BACK!”

Cringing, Y/N supposed that was one way to do it, Seokjin bending suddenly and picking Y/N up by her waist, spinning her around like a giant goober. While her world was turning, dizzying up her head, she caught Jeongguk and the shape of his antlers, poking his head over the bannister from upstairs with a hand pressed over his mouth and his shoulders shaking. Prick. 

Hoseok barreled into the foyer from the parlor, half of a Twizzler hanging out of his mouth, clever eyes round and filled with joy. 

“No way. You told her!?” Hoseok fist-bumped the air, whistling his three-note tone, russet tail swinging merrily. Y/N’s jaw was loose, the idea that Seokjin had been discussing his feelings for her with Hoseok hard to fathom.

Namjoon’s door cracked open a few inches, his eyebrow raised in curiosity as he glanced out into the hall, his glasses slipping down the bridge of his nose. Despite the news, his gaze went straight to the front door, making sure it was locked up, his half-bitten ear fluttering in satisfaction. 

“Didn’t strike me as the polyamorous type, kiddo,” Jeongguk slouched down the stairs, tattoos on both his arms exposed with the muscle tee he was wearing. “You on the other hand, Pink Panther, you should work on subtlety.”

Embarrassed by the jab from Jeongguk, an amused glitter in his black eyes, Y/N shot him a withering glare, very aware of Seokjin still holding her mid-air like a child. 

“Yo, Yoongi! You have competition!” Hoseok shouted in the direction of the kitchen, the leopard hybrid popping into the hall and giving Hoseok the finger. 

“Foxy, I’ve never heard a voice as grating as yours, let alone known someone to flap their gums so much,” Yoongi seethed, though his expression softened when he looked at Y/N. The silent exchange between the two was, as always, supernatural, the uneven set of Yoongi’s mouth almost telling her congratulations. “Leave Y/N alone, you’re embarrassing her.”

Hoseok finished chewing his Twizzler, still staring at Seokjin proudly, Y/N tapping on Seokjin’s shoulders for him to put her down sheepishly. Seokjin, reluctantly, lowered her to the floor, glee still plain as day on his face. 

“You guys could have a thr—” Hoseok was cut off when Yoongi used the dish rag he was still holding to smack the back of the fox hybrid’s head, even Seokjin offering Hoseok a low, feral growl. “Nevermind! I’ll butt out! Y/N, come watch Step Brothers with me!”

Hoseok, quick to recover from the sharp whack of the towel, his hand massaging his scalp with a wince, gestured towards the parlor, winking at Y/N merrily. Y/N snorted, hoping that the shameful spark of enticement that struck through her at that idea was undetected by the hybrids in the foyer. Jeongguk was calling Hoseok a ‘dirty goddamn pervert’ before retreating outside for a smoke. 

Casting a look upstairs, Y/N noticed Taehyung’s door ajar, the Kodiak hybrid’s head of dark curly hair visible. Too far away to gauge his reaction, Y/N hoped that he wasn’t upset, even though Seokjin had cut right to the chase, declared their mutual affection, and they weren’t sneaking around. She felt immensely awkward, between Yoongi and Hoseok still bickering, Taehyung watching from upstairs, and Namjoon’s disinterested retreat back into his bedroom. 

“Wanna go watch the movie with me?” Y/N put her focus on Seokjin, unwilling to part with him just yet, and truthfully, missing Hoseok like a lost limb. “I can stay up for a bit longer before I head to bed for work tomorrow.”

“Mmm-hm,” Seokjin easily agreed, the peeved look on his face disappearing when Y/N reached for his hand. Before they left for the parlor, Y/N addressed Yoongi, who was heading back into the kitchen, murmuring something about “fuckin’ fox”. 

 “Hey, angel. Any idea where Jimin is?” Y/N tried to pay no mind to Seokjin pressing on the vulnerable skin of the inside of her wrist with his thumb, Yoongi humming and leaning forward, kissing her cheekbone with a featherlight ghost of his lips. 

“His room, showering. Can’t you hear the noisy-ass pipes?” Yoongi replied, jutting his chin forward in the direction of Jimin’s room down the hall. “Don’t worry. Every hybrid in a two mile radius heard Seokjin’s declaration.”

“Ass,” Y/N muttered, narrowly dodging the dish towel he twisted up to level a smack to her behind, Seokjin growling gutturally and tugging Y/N towards the parlor, ignoring Yoongi’s amused snickers. 

Hoseok was already comfortable on the recliner, the movie queued up, snacking on his Twizzlers with a wry smirk on his face, staring pointedly at her and Seokjin’s intertwined fingers. Resisting the urge to wipe that smirk off his face with her mouth, Y/N squeaked when Seokjin yanked on her hand, the jaguar hybrid plopping down on the couch with her in tow. Somehow, she found her legs draped over his lap, her back leaning on the armrest and his hands running up and down her calves indulgently. It seemed Seokjin was resuming his touchiness, and that time around, he jacked up the intensity to one thousand. 

Hoseok simply played the movie, like her and Seokjin sitting like that was completely ordinary, Y/N finding herself a little tense with the intimacy of the position she was in. However, as seconds ticked by and Seokjin’s fingertips massaged her skin vigorously, she was melting into the couch, eyes already heavy with sleep. Over the noise of the movie, Seokjin’s content purrs lulled her to sleep, and the next time she had consciousness was when she felt him gather her in his arms and carry her to her bedroom. 

“I think we’re going to schedule the investigation for Monday, do you think that will work?” Y/N was in the process of stacking a new batch of Labradorite onto the crystal table at the shop, Judy helping her with her silver bangles jangling. 

“You’ll have to give Erika a call, and I’ll book the hotel that the family will stay in overnight,” Judy replied, blowing sandy hair out of her face. 

Y/N had about one million things going on in her life at that point, but prioritizing the investigation was at the near top of the list. First, of course, was Hoseok’s birthday that upcoming Saturday, and Y/N had finally managed to plan what they were doing after squeezing it out of him. That aside, she hadn’t seen hide nor hair of Jimin in 24 hours, the coyote hybrid was already outside with the horses before she went to work that morning, so Y/N had no idea what he thought of her and Seokjin yet. Taehyung, at least, was present for her early breakfast with Yoongi, and didn’t appear upset at all, which had her and Yoongi exchanging secret looks of pure disbelief. 

“Y/N? Did you hear me?” Judy snapped her out of her thoughts, a kind smile on her face when Y/N realized she was staring blankly at a slab of rose quartz. 

“O-oh, no, I’m so sorry. I have a lot on my mind, my bad,” Y/N stuttered, Judy nodding while adjusting the way a sphere of Labradorite was sitting in a shallow bowl, so the flash of blue in the crystal was sparkling just right. “What did you say?”

“Not to worry, Y/N. I was just asking about your hybrids… that reading I gave you many months ago. Have you seen any truth in it?”

It was common for Judy to speak like that, as if she didn’t have psychic ability, but it didn’t bother Y/N at all. In fact, she preferred Judy’s way of going about divination rather than her mother’s tactic of going behind her back or blurting out her random premonitions without warning. 

“I…” Y/N fumbled with the box in front of her, accidentally dropping the rose quartz point she was holding. “I took some notes, like you suggested. I was able to connect the cards to each of them.”

“Really?” Judy exclaimed, excitement lighting up her green eyes, though the tug at the corner of her mouth told Y/N her boss knew as much. 

“Considering my boy’s pasts, when you gave me that reading at the time, I was sort of against the idea of entertaining any kind of romance between us. I wanted them to feel safe enough to start living their lives how they wanted. But I couldn’t help…”

“Falling?” Judy raised an eyebrow, her smile kind and sincere. 

“Yeah, more like I hurtled myself off the cliff of no return,” Y/N joked, thoughts going to Seokjin, who sent her off that morning with dozens of kisses peppered across her cheeks. She thought of Yoongi, who got up extra early to make more chicken for her lunch. How Taehyung would snap pictures of her when she wasn’t looking, Namjoon’s thoughtful nightly book recommendations. 

“Good to know that my readings are still accurate,” Judy was amused, placing another crystal on the table with a chuckle. “That’s why you’ve been so chipper these days. A couple of months ago you seemed very stressed out.”

“I’m still figuring things out. Two of them reciprocate my feelings, so far,” Y/N mumbled quietly, somehow finding it nice to confide in her boss. Her mother would be way too excited to talk about her and the boys. 

“Is one of them part of our new investigation team?” Judy got to her feet, dusting off her maxi skirt. “That wolf hybrid seemed quite protective of you that day you brought him here in August.”

Y/N blinked, thinking back to that day– it was the first day she even spoke to Namjoon, the day she brought him home. She shook her head quickly, a pang in her chest, remembering his stoic indifference towards her relationships with Yoongi and Seokjin. 

“No, he’s not one of them,” she replied, Judy chuckling once again. 

“Stubborn, I remember that from the card I pulled for him.”

“Oh, not to change the subject, but speaking of Namjoon– my wolf hybrid, I mean,” Y/N joined Judy at the counter with the empty cardboard box from the kitchen, chewing her lip. “He’s interested in coming to work with me a few times a week. Would it be okay if I bring him next time I’m here?”

Judy helped her break down the cardboard box, nodding enthusiastically. 

“That would be wonderful! We won’t have to haul in these crystal boxes anymore and break our backs. I take it he’s interested in your practice?”

“I think he just likes to get out of the house, and he’s a big reader. Honestly it’s our book collection here that interests him, most likely,” Y/N glanced at her watch, noting that it was time for her lunch break, mouth watering at the thought of Yoongi’s chicken. “He’ll be happy you said yes, thank you so much!”

Judy waved her off like ‘no problem’ heading to the back room. Typically, around lunch, Judy would leave Y/N at the shop and head home if she had no scheduled readings. According to the books, there was no one scheduled for services, so it was likely Judy was on her way out and Y/N would have to lock up later. Humming as she unpacked her lunch, she shot Namjoon a text. 

Y/N: Judy says you can come to work with me whenever you want! 🥳

Joonie 🐺: Thanks for asking, I’ll come with you next week.

Namjoon wasn’t much of a texter, so she left it at that, grinning at her lockscreen as she closed it. She tended to rotate wallpapers, but currently, it was the picture of Jimin and Seokjin laughing at Hoseok being chased around by Bandit the rooster. Every time she saw it, it made her snort, her heart warming. Y/N flinched when she got a notification from her banking app, her direct deposit hitting her admittedly semi-drained account. Sighing with relief, as she had spent quite a bit of money on Hoseok’s upcoming birthday, she thought it was all worth it when she glanced at his smiling face on her lockscreen. 

“We should go on a date,” Seokjin had his arms wrapped around her waist from behind while she was folding some laundry in her room, his tail winding around her leg and lips in her ear. She dropped the tank top she was holding in surprise, craning her neck so she could look at him. 

“You wanna take me on a date, Seokjinnie?” Y/N cooed, prodding at his cheek teasingly. “Where do you want to go, honey?”

Seokjin pursed his lips as he thought, nestling his chin in the crook of her neck. Nearly swooning at how affectionate he had become in just two days, she felt his steady heartbeat flush against her back. 

“We don’t even have to go anywhere, pretty. We can stay here, just do something special, the two of us,” Seokjin replied, her cheeks aflame when he called her pretty, but Y/N was reminded of Seokjin’s slight distaste for traveling, so she got what he was trying to say. 

“I like the sound of that,” Y/N resumed folding her tank top, already cooking up some ideas for an at-home date for the two of them. “How about next Friday, the 24th. I’ll plan something for the two of us, okay?”

“Mmm,” Seokjin agreed, kissing her temple, regretfully pulling away from her and reaching for the laundry basket to help her out. “Only if you let me plan some things of my own for that night.”

“Of course, love,” Y/N giggled, but her laughter was cut short once she glanced at the jaguar hybrid, who was currently folding a pair of her lacy panties. “Oh my god. Let me fold that!”

Snatching the thong away from him, Y/N wanted to throw up from humiliation, but all Seokjin did was snort, retrieving another pair of panties from the laundry basket– to her mortification. 

“You’re acting like I’ve never seen these before. Pretty, don’t you know that we’ve all been folding your underwear for months each time we have laundry duty?” Seokjin was ever so nonchalant, Y/N stupidly realizing that her panties didn’t magically appear in her dresser, when she wasn’t the one to pull them out of the dryer. 

“Oh my god,” Y/N face-planted into her mattress, the realization like a bucket of ice water dumped over her head.

 She pictured smug Jeongguk in the laundry room, hanging up one of her skimpy bralettes, or worse, utility-grade sports bras on the drying rack, nearly curling into herself in shame. Seokjin patted her back, barely containing his laughter, but all that did was make Y/N want to hide in a hole even more. 

“Y/N, you wash our underwear every week, fold it, too. You bought us underwear, you know what they look like. Don’t be so embarrassed,” Seokjin hauled Y/N up by her elbows, clear humor written all over his face, Y/N unsure whether or not she enjoyed it when he teased her so much. “Ooh. I like these ones.”

Seokjin dangled a pair of baby pink panties in front of her face with his forefinger and thumb, the pair with a tiny bow on the waistline, the fabric a mixture of cotton and lace. Absolutely scandalized, Y/N felt both involuntary arousal and annoyance strike through her. 

“Okay, now you’re fucking with me,” Y/N bat his hand out of her face, Seokjin’s squeaky laughter filling the room noisily. “Don’t be pervy, Seokjin. It doesn’t suit you!”

“Oh, no?” Seokjin cocked his head, his sleek black ears fluttering as his expression turned sly. “Shame…”

Y/N swore Seokjin’s eyes darkened, and she wondered what he meant by that, hurriedly grabbing her underwear from him and stuffing the garment into her dresser. She heard Seokjin snicker, but he mercifully stopped teasing her, moving on to fold a pair of her pajamas instead, biting his lip. 

“Um, so what should we have for dinner tonight?” Y/N changed the subject, trying to block out sudden lewd thoughts surrounding her and Seokjin, her movements jittery. 

Seokjin looked like he wanted her for dinner that night, but he managed to compose himself with his gorgeous smile, tucking her pajamas into her drawer beside her. She mentally dared him to make the innuendo that was no doubt floating around his head, but Seokjin didn’t– Y/N hardly knew if she was relieved or disappointed. 

“Well, we got those steaks in the fridge Yoongi picked up from the butcher’s shop. Didn’t you show me a recipe for steak with some kind of bourbon sauce?” 

“Oh, yeah, I could go for that,” Y/N’s mouth watered, already picturing her plate filled with meat, smashed potatoes, and maybe some crispy green beans. 

Seokjin purred, closing up her dresser. Turning, Seokjin reached for her chin, Y/N’s heart pounding harshly in her chest, the jaguar hybrid looking down at her through his eyelashes. Tilting her face up, Seokjin’s hold on her firm but delicate, and involuntarily, her tongue peeked out to moisten her lips while Seokjin’s eyes narrowed as he followed the movement. She was staring at his mouth in a daze, saying huh when he spoke again, not hearing him the first time. 

“I said, pretty,” Seokjin’s thumb pressed on her lower lip, his voice lilting and spellbinding like a siren. “If we make that, take it easy on the bourbon, okay? You got sick last time Jimin brought out the whiskey.”

“I forgot about that,” Y/N responded quietly, blush settling over her cheeks when she remembered how Seokjin had to hold her hair back while she spilled her guts into the toilet after one glass, his free hand soothingly rubbing her back when she heaved over the porcelain bowl. “Emb-barassing. At least you still loved me after that, hurling and crying hysterically… what a mess.”

“Hmm…” Seokjin strengthened the hold he had on her chin, his expression a combination of playfulness and reapproach, making her gut tighten. “What do you humans say when you get married? ‘In sickness and in health’?”

Jaw hanging loose, still not used to how deeply Seokjin felt for her, and she was at a loss as to what to say. Appearing smug, Seokjin kissed her forehead softly, continuing to speak when she had no reply. 

“Remember, you took care of my fever when you adopted me? I was returning that gesture!”

“I love you,” was all Y/N could think of in response, feeling his tail wind around her waist sensually, Y/N leaning forward and up, capturing his lips in a surprise kiss, Seokjin freezing for a moment before he parted his mouth slightly, kissing her lower lip sweetly. 

Seokjin had yet to kiss her in a way that was, well, more heated, but she loved the chaste, adoring kisses that he did offer her infinitely. She whimpered against his mouth when one of his hands landed on her lower back, pulling her closer into his embrace. Seokjin made his own noise of pleasure in response, one that had her stomach flipping over. Before she could deepen their kiss, like always, Seokjin pulled away, his pillowy lips shiny and red. Releasing the hold she had on him– fists curled into the material of his sweater, she pouted at the loss of contact, but Seokjin simply snorted through his nose and shook his head, his eyes sparkling. 

“Let’s go, we still have to switch over the laundry before starting on dinner,” Seokjin let go of her, Y/N blinking away her desire, her pout growing deeper. 

“Ugh, my muscles are sore. I don’t wanna go back upstairs,” Y/N complained, watching Seokjin scoop up the empty laundry basket, his face becoming contemplative as he assessed her, before he set the basket down again. “Judy had me schlepping in 30 pound boxes of crystals into the store all week.”

“Here, then,” Seokjin turned, bending slightly, motioning for her to get on his back with a cheeky grin. “I’ll carry you up.”

Normally, Y/N would have been embarrassed to take Seokjin up on the offer, but childlike glee welled up in herself instead– not even hesitating to jump on him with a giggle. Seokjin straightened up, adjusting his steady hold around the backs of her knees, giving her a piggyback ride up the stairs to the laundry room happily. Arms draped around her jaguar hybrid’s neck, elated, she indulged in a desire she had been holding onto for months– and planted a kiss on the side of his strong neck, Seokjin shivering beneath her. 

Y/N watched Jeongguk lift a heavy box of gadgets into Namjoon’s van, the elk hybrid grunting with the weight of it, Y/N clicking her tongue at him. It may had had been a mistake to give him a bottomless budget to go crazy on ordering equipment, because he had enough of it to film an episode of Ghost Adventures and put Zak Bagans to shame. She supposed, however, that it made him happy and less bratty, and with just two days until the scheduled investigation, she noticed the elated difference in Jeongguk’s attitude.   

“So,” Y/N began, hoping that the fact that he had a brand new set of electronics to mess with would loosen him up. “Hoseok’s birthday tonight. We’re all going to go out together, right?”

“Do I really have to spend the evening in a sweaty nightclub with a bunch of drunk and horny humans?” Jeongguk peered over his shoulder with a grimace, scratching one of his tapered ears. 

“I spent almost a grand on a fucking table for eight, so yeah, you need to suck it up and put your leather pants on,” Y/N snapped, Jeongguk spinning around and staring at her with shock and contempt. “Seokjin doesn’t like loud noises or crowds and he still agreed to go for Hoseok.”

“Jesus wept, fine,” Jeongguk put his hands up, dark eyes round. 

“You’ll have fun. Get wasted and listen to music, two of your favorite things to do,” Y/N soothed, smirking. Jeongguk rolled his eyes, returning to his task, fiddling with some kind of EMF detector that probably burnt a hole into her already slimmed-down wallet. “Where’s Joon?”

“Am I the wolf’s keeper or something?” Jeongguk raised his pierced brow, leaning his hip against the van and humming at the growing annoyance Y/N was feeling towards him. “Check the stable, he wanted to go for a walk, mentioned needing to talk to the coyote. Satisfied, kiddo?”

Muttering, she stormed away from him, peeved that he was laughing heartily at her tantrum. She wanted to similarly check in on Namjoon, who had yet to give a response to the idea of taking a limo and spending their Saturday night in a club for Hoseok. Positive that Namjoon had never stepped foot in a place like the club she had booked, she wanted to show him a few pictures so he’d have an idea of what he’d be walking into. 

A couple of weeks prior, she cornered Hoseok, hugging him around his waist and refusing to let go until he picked out what he wanted to do for his birthday. Finally, he agreed to go out to the club, his cheeks red with embarrassment, but Y/N was relieved he told her so she could book a table in advance. The fox hybrid, the morning of his birthday, went out for his long-distance Saturday run, so she didn’t get to see much of him during the afternoon. No doubt, before they left, Hoseok would spend quite a bit of time getting showered and dressed for the occasion. 

Wrapping her coat more tightly around her body, she had the stable in sight, the sound of chickens clucking within their coop, a layer of snow collected on the roof of the building. It was likely that Namjoon and Jimin heard and smelled her approach, but she hoped that she caught them off-guard, secretly. Those two particular hybrids were friendly towards each other, but it struck her as odd that Namjoon would have something in specific to discuss with the coyote hybrid. 

Pausing by the stable door and peering around it cautiously, she spotted Jimin kneeling besides what appeared to be the early stages of the garden bed constructions, sawdust covering his jeans while he pointed at something. Neither of them glanced her way, Namjoon standing with his back to her, his arms crossed over his chest. Straining her ears, she was able to eavesdrop, astounded that neither of them caught her scent yet. 

“–yeah, this smaller one here is for herbs, if that’s what you mean,” Jimin was saying, his sandy tail swishing against the ground. 

“Do you think it’s big enough?” Namjoon had skepticism painting his tone. 

“Why, you don’t think so? Y/N wanted a small one for cooking herbs,” Jimin was chewing on his lip, light eyebrows pulled together. 

“Can you do another medium-sized one? I’ve been doing some research on the types of herbs she’d be able to grow during the summer in this area, there’s quite a few. That way she’ll have a bigger variety for her practice, and we can keep the culinary herbs separate,” Namjoon requested, Y/N clasping a hand over her mouth, blown away that Namjoon would do something so nice for her without her knowing. 

“Yeah, I can do that, I have enough extra plywood,” Jimin seemed just as stunned as Y/N, his yellow eyes wide, straightening up and sticking his hands into the pockets of his blue jeans. “You’re going tonight, right?”

“You think I’m going to let Y/N waltz into a nightclub without me? Human men are fucking disgusting. She needs us all,” Namjoon scoffed, Y/N feeling like her head was swimming. “Besides the humans, drugging and assaulting each other, Hoseok is going to cut loose, so will some of the others, so it’s important someone stays relatively sober. That’s why I’m mad at the kid right now, not wanting to tag along.”

“You mean Jeongguk? I think he’ll go, too. He seems like a tough son of a bitch, but he thinks similarly to you. Isn’t that why you’re close? Isn’t that why he was the only one able to calm you down… that night?” 

Namjoon’s chest rumbled, his ears turning downwards at the mention of the night he and Taehyung had their altercation. 

“I don’t like to think of that night,” Namjoon replied quietly, the constant sway of his tail stilling somberly. “Regardless, I don’t give a shit how Jeongguk feels, I don’t care if I have to drag him by his antlers to the club. He’s going.”

“Y/N spent a lot of money on Hoseok for this,” Jimin scratched his chin sympathetically, strolling to the stack of plywood, his steel-toed boots echoing around the lofty stable. “If he doesn’t go, he’ll make a lot of new enemies around here.”

“Dramatic phrasing,” Namjoon snickered, though as he moved for the first time Y/N had been spying on them, his mouth was in a thin line, evidently agreeing with Jimin. “I wouldn’t say enemies, but between Yoongi, the bear, and Seokjin, grudges would be made.”

Jimin made a noncommittal noise of agreement, Y/N beginning to feel guilty for eavesdropping, and her head was about to explode from the apparent concern Namjoon and Jimin had for her. Y/N was so wrapped up in her own feelings and care for the boys, she forgot to realize that they might hold her well-being in high regard as well. 

Backing up a few steps as quietly as she could, she made some clumsy human noises, skipping into the stable like she hadn’t heard anything. She was proud of herself for not giving herself away with a lovestruck look plastered on her face, the fur on Namjoon’s tail standing on end when she barreled into the building, the tips of his ears turning red. 

“Hi guys, whatcha up to?” Y/N asked innocently, Jimin blinking and dropping the piece of plywood he was holding. 

“Just talking about the garden beds,” Namjoon recovered smoothly, in stark contrast to Jimin’s attempts to seem nonchalant. “What time are we leaving tonight?”

“Ooh, Joonie, you’re going to come?” Y/N continued to play stupid, leaning on one of the empty horse stalls, one that Jimin kept a surplus of hay in. “I think we’ll leave around 9:30. The club doesn’t open until 10 anyways. Jimin, you’ll come too, sweetheart?”

Jimin’s cheeks turned pink, nervously brushing sawdust from his jeans, nodding. It was somewhat hilarious to watch the two of them pretend they weren’t just talking about her, and Y/N wasn’t about to embarrass them by revealing she had been listening on, so she feigned normalcy by picking imaginary lint off of her pink sherpa coat.  

“Of course, Y/N,” Jimin blurted, using the toe of his boot to push the plywood he dropped away, one hand gliding through his golden hair. “Wouldn’t miss it!”

Thankfully, once Y/N was able to find Jimin after Seokjin’s declaration the following day when she came home from work, the coyote hybrid had acted totally normal. Having a sneaking suspicion that like Taehyung, and even Seokjin himself, Jimin was a little bit avoidant, she decided if he was going to pretend nothing was different, so would she.

“How are we getting there?” Namjoon cleared his throat, stalking up to her side. 

“I ordered a limo. Just about the only vehicle that can get us somewhere all together,” Y/N smirked, Namjoon cocking his head in confusion. Often, she forgot Namjoon wasn’t familiar with things like that. “It’s like a shorter, longer version of your van, kind of. Bench seats and a fridge filled with champagne, and the driver is separated by a partition.”

“Flashy,” Namjoon scoffed, Y/N flicking off a clump of hay clinging to his forearm. “Matches the fox’s personality, I guess.”

“Oh, yeah. There’s a dress code, I figured you two should know that– no athletic wear. Just basic slacks and a nice shirt, essentially.”

“That eliminates half of Hoseok’s wardrobe,” Jimin piped up, his ears twitching when Y/N giggled. 

“Yeah, but he cleans up well,” Y/N could hardly wait to see what Hoseok would pull out of his closet– she had zero doubts he’d look drop dead sexy. “Alright, good. Everyone’s on board! I’m gonna go shower and scrounge up something for dinner later.”

“Dress warmly, the temperature is going to drop later,” Namjoon called after her, a frown on his face. 

“Can’t make any promises, Joonie,” Y/N sent a wink his way, missing the low growl rumbling through his chest, picturing the dress she had bought for the very occasion and sashaying away. 

“She’s going to do as she pleases, isn’t she,” Namjoon muttered to Jimin, who was eyeing the way her hips swayed as she walked, but the wolf hybrid had a wry smile stretching across his face. 

Y/N took the opportunity of going out for Hoseok’s birthday to pull out all the stops appearance-wise, and she had to admit to herself, she was doing too well at it. Her makeup was dark and sultry, hair done to utter perfection, and the dress. She saw a picture of it online and bought it so fast she thought her computer was going to catch on fire. Taking a look at herself in the full-length mirror, she admired how lethal her figure looked in the short bodycon dress, legs on display, the off-the-shoulder cut of the neckline showing off the choker Namjoon gave her for Christmas. She was in the middle of strapping her heels around her ankles when a knock came on her door tentatively. Y/N guessed it might have been Taehyung, due to the hesitant sound of the knuckles against the wood. 

Heels clicking against the hardwood, she reached the door, taking a deep breath, nervously wondering what Taehyung would think of her outfit– she had never worn something so revealing around the boys and it had her hands shaking on the doorknob. Throwing it open, Taehyung’s sandalwood cologne hit her smack in the face, his carmine eyes nearly bugging out of his head when he saw her. Unable to help himself, his gaze lowered, staring at the way the material of her dress clung to every curve, his lips parting. 

“What’s up, Tae?” Y/N blurted, dazzled by his appearance, his dark curls pushed off of his forehead, a silky white button-down with pearls making up the buttons, and straight-leg slacks. Her eyes lingered on the thin gold chain around his throat, her gift to him from Christmas, too bashful to make eye contact all of a sudden. 

“The… the car, the car’s here,” Taehyung was dazed, eyes glued to her legs, Y/N’s mouth drying up. “That’s what you’re wearing?”

“Uh, yeah, why? You don’t like it?” Y/N felt her face fall, Taehyung’s throat bobbing when he swallowed urgently, shaking his head. 

“N-no, it’s fine,” Taehyung’s strained voice had color pooling in her cheeks, blindly reaching behind her so she could grab her clutch. “I’ll get your coat.”

Taehyung darted away, smoke pretty much coming off of his heels, leaving Y/N stunned. Perhaps she had gone a tad overboard with the sexy dress. That aside, his reaction had hope blooming in her chest; if that was his heated reaction to the way she looked, could it be possible that had at least a semblance of an attraction towards her? Squaring her shoulders at the thought, she marched out into the hall confidently, and when she reached the foyer, most of her boys were hanging out around the stairwell, except for Taehyung, who appeared to be fishing around in the coat closet with stiff posture. 

Similar to how they reacted at the cookout when she came out in her sundress, silence swept over the room with her arrival. Jimin’s face was so red she could probably fry an egg on one of his cheeks. Even usually-composed Yoongi’s eyes had gone round, dropping the sports jacket he was holding. Giving her a once over, licking his lips, Yoongi chuckled softly and shook his head. 

“Ready to go? Where’s Hoseok?” Y/N was hoping she wasn’t reading smug, Seokjin frowning when he poked his head around Jeongguk’s frame, heat in his gaze but disapproval mixing with it. 

“Getting shit from the kitchen,” Jeongguk answered blandly, picking his nails. He tried to be nonchalant, but she caught him looking at her out of the corner of his eye. 

“Y/N, it’s really cold outside,” Seokjin narrowed his eyes at her bare legs, adjusting the collar of his black oxford shirt, a few of the buttons undone. 

“I know, that’s why my arms are covered,” retorted, gesturing to the long sleeves of the dress. “We won’t be outside for long, anyways, and it gets hot in those clubs.”

Seokjin was entirely unconvinced, watching Taehyung emerge from the coat closet, handing Y/N her longest, thickest coat, barely looking at her while she snickered at his selection. Shrugging it on, aware of all of the attention on herself– and for once, she enjoyed it thoroughly. 

“Alright! Got the champagne! Y/N darling, shall we?” Hoseok waltzed in from the kitchen looking all kinds of delicious, in a white suit and a blue silky shirt, a bottle of Moet in one of his hands, using a free one to hook around her elbow and tow her to the front door. “Don’t forget to lock up, wolf!”

Namjoon, waiting by the door, eyeing Y/N’s neck and the choker encircling it, jingled the keys to the house in his fist, and waited for everyone to follow her and Hoseok to the limo waiting outside before he locked up. 

Yoongi made it to her free side with a smirk on his face, Y/N admiring the way he styled his long hair. Hoseok was the first one inside of the limo while Yoongi held Y/N’s hand as she slid in herself, brushing a kiss on the back of it. 

“You look gorgeous,” Yoongi said proudly, sitting beside her, Y/N nudging him in the ribs with her elbow. “Gonna have to keep my eye on you tonight.”

Hoseok had brought their portable speaker, already jacking up the volume on a rap playlist, grinning wickedly as the rest of the hybrids climbed into the limo. Jeongguk had to pay particular attention to his antlers so he wouldn’t knock them against the ceiling, slouching low on the bench he was on. It was hard not to laugh at his grouchiness as he held onto a champagne flute with a fist, though his saving grace were the leather pants he did indeed put on, highlighting his muscular thighs. 

Last one into the limo was Namjoon, cramming himself in between Jeongguk and Seokjin, the latter of which was directly across from Y/N, his expression more feline than ever, Y/N squirming in her seat under the weight of his gaze. To distract herself, she turned to Hoseok, clinking her glass with his, the fox hybrid pinching her cheek happily. 

“Happy birthday Hoseok!” Y/N cheered, wrapping an arm around his shoulders for a brief side-hug, careful to not spill her drink on his crisp white sports jacket when the limo started to pull out of the driveway. 

Leaning into her playfully, Hoseok turned up the speaker even louder, Y/N enjoying watching her hybrids loosen up, champagne in hands, and looking forward to a new experience. With Seokjin looking at her like that, however, she didn’t know if she’d make it through the night without pushing him against a wall. 

Music pulsing from the speakers, Y/N already armed with a cocktail, she once again thought that the hefty price tag on the table she bought was worth it when she sunk into the cushy booth with satisfaction. The club, called “The Grand Boston”, was decorated lavishly, had an enormous bar, and was lit up brilliantly. Besides her own hybrids, several of which were ordering drinks at the bar, Y/N was surprised to see others milling around with their humans, which was relieving– not as many eyes on her and the fact that she had seven of them with her. 

“Wanna order a bottle? They have Casamigos, your favorite,” Y/N spoke loudly over the music to her fox hybrid, who was in the middle of taking a shot, his face screwing up as he shoved a lime between his teeth. 

“Nah, they jack up the prices, we can just get a few rounds of shots,” Hoseok replied after a moment, smirking at Jimin sliding into the booth, tumbler of whiskey in his hand. 

“I mean, we might as well get bottle service, Foxy. It’s your birthday and we have this table,” Y/N rolled her eyes, flagging down someone to order the liquor. 

“Oooh, pulling out all the stops for me?” Hoseok teased, flashing her a stunning smile, motioning for Seokjin to join them when the jaguar hybrid returned from the bar with his cocktail, and due to the warm temperature of the club, he had pulled another button loose on his shirt.

With more of his collar bones exposed, Y/N’s mouth involuntarily watered, and to cover it up she immediately poured herself a shot and downed it expertly. Somehow, she felt bad that she was having such thirsty thoughts about sweet Seokjin. Completely oblivious, he placed his arm around her shoulders, offering her a sip of the Moscow mule, angling the black straw to her lips. Then again, the spark in his eye as her lips wrapped around the straw told a different story, one that had the blood boiling in her veins. 

“Um, the others?” Y/N broke the trance she was in, addressing Jimin. She could see Jeongguk by the bar, forearms leaning against the counter, Namjoon beside him, both of them in deep conversation that probably surrounded their upcoming investigation on Monday. 

“They’re around. Don’t worry, Y/N, they won’t leave without you,” Jimin read her mind, knocking back his drink and watching people head towards the dance floor. 

“Alright. Plan is to get wasted and go dance,” Hoseok began lining up shots, Seokjin snorting beside her. “Don’t laugh at me on my birthday, Jinnie. Here. Cheers!”

Y/N watched, praying she wasn’t being creepy, as Seokjin sprinkled salt on the back of his hand, swiping his tongue over the skin, before he hastily took the shot of tequila with a wince, Y/N hurriedly handing him a lime to suck on. 

After a couple of rounds of shots, Y/N already feeling the liquor loosen her up and ready to dance, Yoongi joined them with his glass of Hennessy, refusing to touch the Casamigos. 

“I can’t do tequila, Foxy. Makes me sick to my fuckin’ stomach,” Yoongi frowned when Hoseok slid the shot glass towards him, Seokjin taking it instead. Jimin, at least, participated, his face getting redder by the minute with all the booze. 

“Come on, let’s dance,” Y/N stood, miraculously stable on her heels, hands extended for someone, anyone, to take them, and at once, Hoseok leapt to his feet, palm sliding into hers, motioning for Seokjin to take her free one. 

Seokjin got up, somehow handling all of the tequila incredibly well, Y/N giggling as her fox and jaguar hybrids began to lead her to the dance floor. 

“I’ll stay here and watch,” Yoongi’s sly expression ticked her off, giving her a once-over from behind his glass. Jimin was off to the bathroom and to refresh his whiskey, Y/N thinking it was likely his last round before he totally blacked out. 

Led by Hoseok, who had long since ditched his sports jacket, they weaved through the crowd, Y/N suddenly remembered Seokjin’s aversion to seas of people. Casting him a worried look over her shoulder, Seokjin mouthed ‘I’m fine’, the grip he had on her left hand tightening. She caught something out of the corner of her eye, an extremely sparkly dress a young woman was wearing. 

Trying to get a better look at the shimmering fabric, she paused– the woman was apparently flirting with someone, someone Y/N recognized immediately even if it was just the back of his head. Taehyung, who she hadn’t seen since they stopped by the coat check, was talking to a random girl, something that Y/N assumed the Kodiak hybrid would be way too shy to do. Mouth hanging open, drunken jealousy surging through her as she realized Taehyung could sense her presence via scent  and didn’t even turn to look at her, his shoulders shaking in laughter as he responded to something the woman said. Again, Seokjin squeezed her hand, spinning the two of them slightly so their backs were to Taehyung, Y/N grateful for Seokjin’s keen perceptivity and consideration. 

Facing Hoseok, who finally found a good place in the center of the club, far enough away from the speakers that would blow their eardrums out, Y/N shook away remaining jealousy and focused on the fox hybrid instead, who was doing some kind of silly dance to get her attention. The little number he was doing was in stark contrast to how sexy he looked, his sleeves rolled up over his elbows, eyes slightly lidded from the shots, ears drooping. 

“Let’s see what you two got,” Hoseok shouted over the music, and Y/N would have been hesitant if it weren’t for the tequila, but she found herself mirroring Hoseok’s swaying movements, a confident smile on his face. “Come on, Jinnie, weren’t you an acrobat? You must have some moves!”

Y/N shuddered when Seokjin’s chest was suddenly pressed to her back, simply holding her hips while she rolled them, her cheeks on fire while Hoseok cackled, clocking the fluster all over Y/N’s face. It was then, she decided fuck it, both presssing her hips backwards into Seokjin and pulling Hoseok to her by the collar of his shirt, winding her arms around his neck. Seokjin grunted deeply into her ear, his lips grazing the shell of it, while all smug attitude was knocked out of Hoseok in a blink. 

“Out of wisecracks? Dance with me,” Y/N challenged, something flashing dangerously in the fox hybrid’s eyes before his hands were on her waist, copying the movements she made, but careful not to collide his hips into hers. 

Ben always used to warn her to stay away from the tequila, as she tended to get frisky with a few shots of it coursing through her system, but she didn’t care that night. Not when Seokjin’s grip on her hips was firm, letting her essentially grind backwards into him, and Hoseok was looking at her differently for the first time, the way he moved graceful and precise. The world seemed to fall away into neon lights, hypnotic music, and the two hybrids that she was sandwiched between, Y/N really letting loose by letting her head loll back onto Seokjin’s chest, eyes slipping shut. She was too tipsy to be embarrassed about her behavior, and judging by the dark purrs from behind her and the mirth returning to her fox hybrid’s eyes, the two of them were freely enjoying themselves as well. 

“Wanna take another shot,” Y/N murmured after a while, pouting when Hoseok pulled away in favor of watching the light show, his tail swishing, though Seokjin still held her to his chest, his nose tucked into the base of her throat. 

“I think you’re good, pretty,” Seokjin replied, squeezing her hips and turning her around, his palms gliding up to cup her waist, the thin material of her dress doing nothing to hide her shape nor the way his touch burned her deliciously. “Don’t want to overdo it now, right?”

Y/N rolled her eyes, leaning up, stamping a kiss on his exposed collarbone in hopes that it would butter him up. His skin was dewy with sweat, Y/N wanting to eat him alive, but she released her hold of his wide shoulders so she could make her way back to the table, and further, the bottle. 

“Y/N,” Seokjin’s voice had a sharpened edge of warning to it, following closely behind, navigating through the tipsy crowd. Fortunately, she didn’t come across Taehyung and that girl, but when she remembered the interaction, it only strengthened her desire to hightail it to the table. 

“Judas priest, kiddo,” Jeongguk was lazily reclined in the booth, his feet kicked up on one of the tables like he owned the joint, eyes roaming over her flushed skin, mussed hair, and the scent of alcohol coming off of her like a bar floor. “That’s not a good idea–”

Before any of the hybrids could get to her, including Yoongi who lurched forward to snatch the shot glass away and Jimin’s noises of alarm, Y/N had already poured the shot down her throat, not even feeling the burn of the liquor, batting Yoongi’s hands away when he tried to take the glass. 

“Alright, sweetheart, that’s enough,” Yoongi scolded, pushing the bottle of tequila towards Jimin, who swiftly tucked it behind him with a worried look. “You’re going to be sick tomorrow.”

“So? I’m celebrating!” Y/N frowned, booping Yoongi’s nose. She wasn’t even slurring, for Christ’s sake, and she could still walk in her heels perfectly. “You’re all being worrywarts, I’m fine.”

“Why don’t you sit for a minute, I’ll have the server bring some snacks around,” Yoongi maneuvered Y/N into the booth, her grumbling the entire time, squirming next to Jeongguk. Seokjin went with Yoongi, both of them moving urgently. 

“Fussy babies,” Y/N muttered, scanning the room for Hoseok, Namjoon, and Taehyung, crossing her legs and massaging her sore ankles. “I can hold my liquor.”

“Sometimes,” Jeongguk replied sarcastically, barely looking up from his phone, his fingertips flying over the keyboard. “It’s almost 2 AM. We should go soon, before the club closes.”

“Aw, but did you even get to dance? How about you, Jimin?” Y/N lamented, Hoseok returning from the dance floor, sweat slicking up his forehead when he pushed his damp hair back, a swagger in his step. 

“Do I look like I dance, kiddo?” Jeongguk scoffed, draining his glass, setting his phone aside. “Time to head out, fox.”

“Yeah, the crowd is dwindling anyways. I’m ready to raid the fridge and pass out,” Hoseok grabbed his jacket that was slung over the booth, Jimin excusing himself to pay the tab and look for Taehyung. 

“We can have some of your birthday cake!” Y/N exclaimed, suddenly less disappointed about going home if it meant she could have something sugary. “Awh, where’s Joon bug? He’ll want some cake too, I wanna tell him!”

“12 ‘o clock, darling,” Hoseok pointed beyond her shoulder, Namjoon trudging back to the booth with his jean jacket pulled around him, Y/N’s coat in his hands. Surprisingly, he seemed like the most sober of the bunch, offering her her coat with purpose. 

“I talked to the driver outside, he’s ready when we are,” Namjoon announced, Y/N struggling to shrug her coat on while sitting down, Jeongguk clicking his tongue and helping her right arm through the sleeve. 

“What about Tae, though?” To her embarrassment, Y/N’s head began to feel like it was floating, that last shot definitely a mistake like Jeongguk had said, as much as she hated to admit it. Her tongue was heavy in her mouth, and she barely reacted when Yoongi dropped a bag of mini pretzels in her lap, stomach turning at the thought of chewing. 

“Already outside, Y/N. Can you walk?” Namjoon made a motion for the rest of the hybrids to start heading towards the door with authority, Seokjin kissing the top of her head before he made sure Hoseok was going in the right direction. 

“Yesss, I can walk, Joonie,” Y/N grouched, hauling herself to her feet, but unfortunately, her knees buckled. Cursing, Namjoon caught her swiftly before she could collapse on the floor, strong arms supporting her weight, Y/N limp. 

“That’s a no, then,” Namjoon sighed, bending his knees, slinging Y/N over his shoulder in one smooth movement. Y/N squealed, scrabbling for a hold on the back of his jacket and staring at the floor, thankfully not getting violently nauseous as her world was turned upside-down and the wolf hybrid started walking. “Thank god I’m here. I hope you didn’t party like this in college, Y/N, it’s dangerous.”

“I’m currently b-breathing, aren’t I, Joon? Put me down, I’m embarrassed,” Y/N whined, whacking his back with her palms. Namjoon, however, was known to be unyielding. He promptly ignored her complaints, her strikes against his muscled back useless and truthfully, pathetic. 

“I don’t know why you insisted on wearing those shoes. Your ankles are swelling,” Namjoon grunted, her heated face meeting some relief in the icy night air, the sounds of drunk clubgoers up and down the sidewalk. “You’re a handful, Y/N.”

“And you’re not, Namjoon?” Y/N squawked, astonished. However, Namjoon chuckled quietly, finally setting her down in front of the waiting limo, one broad palm on her lower back to help keep her upright while climbing in. 

“Never claimed I wasn’t,” Namjoon replied offhand, clambering in behind her, the rest of the boys in various states of intoxication and exhaustion. “Are there sick bags in here?” 

Namjoon was speaking to Yoongi, who was apparently the only one sober enough to have spatial awareness, even Jeongguk nodding off in the far end of the limo, the leopard hybrid waving a paper bag in front of Namjoon’s face. Jimin, Hoseok, and Seokjin were cracking open another bottle of champagne, while Taehyung was busy on his phone, presumably texting; Y/N dreaded to know exactly who. 

“I’m not going to get sick, dad,” Y/N poked Namjoon in the bicep, peeved, the wolf hybrid choking on the sip of water he had taken, his fist pounding on his chest to clear the liquid from his lungs. Not expecting that reaction, Y/N felt laughter bubbling up in her throat, poking him again before setting her sights on Yoongi.

“What’s with that look?” Yoongi asked suspiciously, Y/N biting her lip, clumsily pouncing on him, sitting on one of his thighs and giving him a sloppy smooch on his cheek. “Oh boy. No more Casamigos for you, ever.”

“Angel, my feet hurt,” Y/N’s vision was fuzzy, supported by Yoongi’s arm around her back, the leopard hybrid letting her bury her face in his shirt, breathing in his familiar sweet scent, his tail caressing her bare calves.

Without asking, Yoongi exhaled, gripping one of her ankles gingerly and unfastening the straps around them. Easing each shoe off her foot as carefully as he could, Yoongi placed them in between him and Taehyung, who paused his texting to assess the spectacle. The Kodiak hybrid’s eyes lingered on the way Yoongi was prodding lightly around her swelling ankles to release pressure, but when he caught Y/N staring back at him, he returned to his phone with his tongue in his cheek. 

Petulance took over, so instead of letting Taehyung’s iciness bother her, she focused on Yoongi’s touch, sighing blissfully, his talented hands kneading into her sore muscles, purring softly behind her. She was half asleep when something dawned on her, shooting straight up from Yoongi’s lap with an exclamation, looking around frantically for her clutch. 

“Looking for this?” Namjoon held it up, his eyebrows raised, sucking in his cheeks. 

Making grabby hands for it, Y/N thanked him quietly for keeping an eye on all of her things, before she clumsily maneuvered to the back of the limo where Hoseok was. Jeongguk was still drowsily trying to stay awake, his head bobbing, but Jimin had passed out finally. Hoseok and Seokjin switched to water, luckily, so when she took a seat beside her fox hybrid, he was a touch more sober than he was 15 minutes prior.

“How are you doing, darling?” Hoseok’s face was rounded out in sleep, content all over it.

“I forgot to give you this,” Y/N began digging around in her clutch, Hoseok sitting up a bit straighter and making a strange, fox-like noise in the back of his throat. “Seokjinnie got you something, remember, Jin?”

Seokjin had also apparently forgotten, blinking harshly. Finding the item at the bottom of the clutch, a tiny rectangular box, she opened it, handing Hoseok a silver bracelet, the chain link the exact same as the one Seokjin had on his ring. Seokjin had the adorable idea of getting them something that matched in some way, and Y/N had no problems letting the jaguar hybrid pick it out. 

Hoseok was at a loss, holding the bracelet with his mouth open, Y/N stifling a laugh at his reaction. Seokjin shifted in his seat across from them, amused but also vulnerable. 

“Jinnie, is this like a friendship bracelet?” Hoseok deadpanned, radiant joy coming off of him. 

“Uh-huh. Happy birthday,” Seokjin broke out in a grin, Y/N’s heart warm with how sweet their close friendship was, Hoseok demanding the jaguar hybrid to clasp it around his wrist. “You two mean a lot to me.”

“Aw, Jinnie, you’re like my big brother,” Hoseok cooed, Seokjin rolling his eyes, but Y/N knew how profound those words were to Hoseok. The fox hybrid spent years in many places, never able to put down roots, much less make close friendships. “And you’re my little darling.”

Hoseok grabbed both of them, smushing themselves together for a group hug, Y/N finally releasing a hearty laugh that startled Jimin awake beside her, knowing that the tears slipping down her cheeks were tears of happiness.

After a brutal Sunday of recovering from the tequila binge, Y/N spending most of the day laying on the couch and watching reality TV with greasy pizza, she was well again on Monday, the day of the investigation. She had to drag Jeongguk to work with her that day, Namjoon of course itching to go without complaint. It was nice to have the two of them with her while she stocked inventory, Namjoon able to reach higher shelves and Jeongguk sorting through the Christian medallions in a way that made sense. While those two were more quiet than, say, Hoseok, there was still amiable conversation here and there. Y/N had a feeling Jeongguk, in particular, was gearing up for later that evening, gazing out the shop window every once in a while to stare at the van. 

“Our plan is solid. I’ll handle the cameras, Namjoon is on the audio recording devices, and Y/N, I’m going to give you the EMF detector and communication devices, since you’re adept with sensing energies,” Jeongguk assured her and Namjoon, the sun beginning to go down as the three of them brought equipment into the Sanders’ home. 

The family had left for the hotel that morning, and would be staying there until Y/N and the two hybrids could successfully banish the entity. The house was cold, and eerily quiet, and Y/N was grateful that she had black tourmaline necklaces for the three of them as an added layer of protection. While she was somewhat anxious about the investigation, there was immense comfort in having Namjoon and Jeongguk with her. Namjoon was protective, which became clearer to her by the day, and Jeongguk was nearly fearless. 

“How long do you think the investigation will last?” Y/N questioned, wondering if it would be anything like what she had seen on television. 

“However long it takes for us to get enough evidence,” Jeongguk shrugged, on his knees and setting up a tripod facing the hallway, where Erika mentioned seeing a shadow figure several times. 

“Good thing we brought the Red Bull,” Y/N joked, placing a few clear quartz crystals around the living room, Namjoon on the couch with her laptop booting up the software they’d need for audio recording and reviewing footage. “You’re gonna teach me how to use these devices, right, sweets?”

“Obviously,” Jeongguk snorted, attaching one of the cameras to the tripod. “It’s straightforward though, not many buttons to press. Then you can ask your questions you wrote down. Namjoon will be right beside you, recording audio.”

Jeongguk, dressed in all black, pushed up the sleeves of his sweater, revealing those tattoos that Y/N never fully got a good look at. While he was prickly about explaining everything to Y/N, he did it thoroughly, and it was interesting to watch the elk hybrid drop into total concentration on a particular task. Y/N decided to take a walk through the small house, not sensing much on the first floor other than that odd feeling of being watched through the living room window. It was when she climbed the stairs to the three bedrooms where there was a chill rolling down her spine. 

The master bedroom, where Erika slept– and her son, too, when he had his nightmares, had a sadness, a tense anxious feel to it. Putting selenite on all of the window sills, she stopped when she saw a photo sitting on Erika’s nightstand. It was the young mother, looking vibrant and happy in comparison to how nervous she was when Y/N met her. The young boy, too, was grinning without purplish circles under his eyes. Most noticeably different was the daughter, Julie, who was a few years younger and not wearing the gothic garb she had during their initial consultation. Sighing, she hoped that the family could be at ease again once her and the boys helped them.

Moving down the hall, hands coming up to rub her shivering arms, she peeked into the boy’s bedroom, nearly choking at the heaviness of the energy in there. Y/N refused to go in there without one of her hybrids with her. Nauseous, she tentatively made her way to the final bedroom, Julie’s. 

The room was painted pink, but most of the walls were covered in pop punk posters. As for the energy, it was different from the solid wall of darkness in Tommy’s room, but it still made her feel sick and again, like someone was watching her. Visually sweeping the room as Jeongguk suggested, looking for any occultish items such as a Ouija board, but not actively going through the teenager’s stuff. 

She didn’t see anything out of the ordinary, but she stiffened when an ice-cold draft filled the room, penetrating her body in a way that had her skin crawling. Dread filled her, resentment, and anger. Panicking, turning every which way to see if she could spot something physically manifesting, the thump-thump-thump against the walls returning. Whimpering, she sped out of the room, chest heaving, thundering down the stairs and startling Jeongguk, who was placing special lights around in the hallway. 

Y/N smacked directly into his chest, quaking, clinging to his sweater for dear life and desperate to get rid of that supernatural coldness that pierced through her. Jeongguk grunted, letting her hide from the world in his sweater, his heart hammering steadily beneath her. 

“What the fuck happened, are you okay?” Jeongguk’s hands were hesitant when he patted her on the back, but there was a clear alarm in his voice.

 Namjoon’s clumsy, heavy tread was immediately thudding down the hall with urgency, Y/N releasing Jeongguk with embarrassment. Her reaction to that phenomena wasn’t exactly a great start to their investigation, establishing zero dominance over the entity, but she still couldn’t stop shaking. While Jeongguk was alarmed, Namjoon was calm, hands on her shoulders so he could duck his head and make eye-contact. 

“Take a few deep breaths, Y/N,” Namjoon’s eyebrows were pinched, squeezing her shoulders comfortingly. “That’s it.”

After a couple of lungfuls of air, she was able to stop shaking underneath Namjoon’s palms, the wolf hybrid letting her go as soon as she calmed down. Both of them were waiting expectantly for her to relay what had happened, and Y/N felt like the presence was at the top of the stairs and watching them. 

“I think we should focus on the second floor,” Y/N said weakly, Namjoon’s orange honey eyes shifting from her face to the stairs, his blank expression giving nothing away. If anything, it was nice to have the both of them there, confident and collected. “Especially in the children’s bedrooms. I didn’t go into the boy’s bedroom, the energy was too thick and without one of you–” I was too scared. “Something manifested in the teenager’s room, like an ice-cold draft that ran right through me. Then the knocking on the walls started up again.”

Jeongguk leaned a hip against the banister, making intense eye-contact with Y/N, like he was attempting to soak in every word with grave seriousness. Sucking his lip ring into his mouth, making an animalistic grunt, and with a nod, he agreed. 

“So our key spots. The kid’s bedrooms, the window in the living room, and this hallway,” Jeongguk confirmed. “I’ll go upstairs and set up more equipment. Now that you have more of an idea of what the energy feels like up there, you should write down some more questions to ask later. You’ll be alright, center yourself.”

“Okay,” Y/N agreed, hoping she wasn’t being the weakest link. “You’re going to go up by yourself?”

“Don’t worry about me,” Jeongguk had said that before, but him saying that did absolutely nothing to prevent her from worrying anyway. “Let’s just finish setting up, and we’ll start recording when it’s dark out.”

She followed Namjoon like a lost duckling back into the living room, Y/N sitting beside him on the couch while he continued to boot up his software. Taking a moment, she centered herself, eyes shut, focusing on breathing and her connection to the Earth. 

“Remember why we’re here,” Namjoon said softly when she opened her eyes again, most of her fear and anxiety dissolving after centering. 

“For the family,” Y/N finished for him, Namjoon giving her knee a soft squeeze, his bitten ear flickering. 

“Do the lights really have to be off? Y/N doesn’t have night vision,” Namjoon asked a quarter after midnight, all of his audio equipment prepped and ready, including his tapes on the coffee table– their “base”. 

“I mean, if you want to be able to see anything on these full-spectrum cameras,” Jeongguk replied, promptly switching off the last lamp that offered Y/N vision in the house. “You’re not afraid of the dark, are you kiddo?”

“If you have time to be an ass, you have time to get to work,” Y/N hissed, brushing by him with the device she had just learned how to use in her hand. That particular device, a “Spirit Box”, would fill the room with white noise, and somehow capture voices they couldn’t hear if the spirits responded to Y/N’s questions. 

While she did that in front of a camera set up in front of the living room window, Jeongguk was using his handheld camcorder, taking temperatures around all of the spots in the house. Thankfully, Namjoon would stay with her, helping her make out any sounds or words they could potentially capture. Clearing her throat, she sat on the chair beneath the window, Namjoon just a few feet away on the couch, the low light of the laptop illuminating his face and making his eyes glow. 

“I’m gonna take the temperatures upstairs,” Jeongguk’s voice was far away, probably already halfway to his destination, Y/N exhaling slowly as Namjoon gave her a thumbs-up; he had begun recording. She had already memorized her list of basic questions, so she switched the Spirit Box on, cringing at the gnashing sound echoing around the house. 

“Is there anyone here that wishes to speak with us?” Y/N began, feeling a little foolish, but pushing down the feeling swiftly. All she heard in response was the white noise, unfortunately. 

“What is your name?”

Nothing. 

“How old are you?”

Nothing, again. 

“Why are you here?”

Then, there was a disruption in the static, something garbly coming through, Y/N’s eyes lighting up as Namjoon began typing on the laptop. 

“How many spirits are on this property? Are you alone?”

Growing a little excited, now understanding why Jeongguk was so into these devices, the static was interrupted once more, a frightening but unintelligible response captured through the Spirit Box. 

“Who lives here?”

Before Y/N could get too riled up, the rest of her questions received no response, so she and Namjoon elected to move into the hall, trading places with Jeongguk, who was taking pictures of the window and using thermal imaging on the area. 

It continued like that for about two more hours, repeating the interview with Namjoon multiple times with the Spirit Box and the EMF detector, the wolf hybrid letting her hold his hand when they were in Tommy’s room. The sounds of the voice that did come through in that space were particularly bone-chilling and grating. The last room, Julie’s room, only yielded one response that was reedy and low, Y/N ready to get the fuck out of dodge as soon as the interview concluded. 

Reconvening downstairs, Jeongguk was starting to pack up equipment, and thankfully, he turned on a light or two. He looked charged, like new life was breathed into him. Investigations such as that one must have been his life’s passion, because Y/N hadn’t seen him like that, well, ever. Her and Namjoon were silent as they helped the elk hybrid gather everything up, and while Namjoon seemed calm, she could tell he was on edge due to some of the audio they captured together. 

“Get anything?” Jeongguk pushed the last box of cameras into Namjoon’s van, Y/N wilting with exhaustion and nerves, watching her wolf hybrid lock the front door of the Sanders’ house with stiff shoulders, tape recorder under his arm. “We’ll review everything, but I’m pretty sure I captured some anomalies.”

“We had a few responses. Namjoon said he’d put the audio in a program music producers use to try and clarify what we were able to catch. There is definitely more than one entity we’re working with here,” Y/N ran a hand through her hair tiredly. 

“Hmm, you’re right,” Jeongguk let her get into the van first, Y/N buckling herself into the passenger seat, thanking the sky she had the next day off. It was nearly five in the morning, and her eyes were crossing. “You did well, Y/N.”

“You too, sweets. You were in your element, huh?” 

“I guess,” Jeongguk sobered up, toning down his excitement, Namjoon getting into the driver’s seat heavily, passing a hand over his face. 

“Let’s get out of here, I’m drained,” Namjoon pulled out of the driveway, Y/N’s teeth unclenching when he switched on some folksy music and they got away from the house. 

“You two are going to need to take some baths when we get back, right away. With that salt I gave you, I don’t want the risk of anything clinging to us,” Y/N leaned her head back, hearing Jeongguk still tinkering away with an electronic in the back of the van. 

Namjoon hummed, too tired to respond, but she knew he’d listen to her. Once she explained the importance of making sure they were all properly spiritually cleansed, he hadn’t had a single complaint obeying her requests to take salt baths or enduring Y/N waving rosemary smoke around him. Jeongguk, on the other hand, was a toss up. 

All Y/N knew was that she wasn’t exactly eager to find out what the entities were saying to her. Judging by the nastiness of some of the voices they captured, she doubted it was anything friendly. Namjoon said he’d take care of the audio over the course of the week, and Jeongguk was going to comb through his videos, data, and photos as well. All Y/N had to do was sit with the energies she felt and perhaps come up with some kind of plan for cleansings and banishment. Trying to find the moon in the sky, Y/N counted street lights until they were back at their own home, and there was a collective breath of relief from the three of them when they were safe inside. 

Before she knew it, it was the end of the week, the day she and Seokjin planned their date. Y/N had come up with something special to do with him during the evening, and she knew they weren’t going to be bothered, she made sure of it. With Namjoon and Jeongguk holed up in the van poring over their evidence still; Taehyung, Yoongi, and Hoseok at the rec center for their clubs, and Jimin outside putting the garden beds together on the finally-thawing ground, they were pretty much by themselves. She was in Seokjin’s bedroom, the lamps dimmed low, and her jaguar hybrid was somewhere in the kitchen, claiming he was making something for them to snack on. Y/N didn’t tell Seokjin what her plan was for them, wanting a nice surprise, so as quickly as she could, she dumped the materials she needed on his neatly made bed. 

There was an old white topsheet she found in the depths of one of the linen closets, Y/N shaking it out and tying it to tops of the front two bedposts. The fabric fell, making a large “screen” at the foot of the bed, and with that done in a pinch, she hooked up the mini projector she got on Amazon and stuck it on the shelf behind Seokjin’s headboard. 

A cozy, quiet movie night was something she thought Seokjin would enjoy. Meaning to watch Lord of the Rings with him, she had the boxed CD set ready to go, even if they’d probably only get through one of the movies due to the length. Satisfied, she sped into his bathroom, changing into her pajamas– a pair of cotton shorts and a matching tank top. It was likely she’d end up sleeping next to Seokjin that night, so she decided she might as well get comfortable. She was tossing her clothes in his hamper when the sounds of the jaguar hybrid shuffling into his bedroom filled her ears, Y/N smiling at her reflection in his mirror and going out to meet him. 

Seokjin, with a curious flicker to his ear, was staring at the sheet she hung, setting a tray down with various snacks and drinks, and of course, a few slabs of the bread he baked that morning. Skipping to his side, Seokjin whirled around, cheeks coloring with how little clothing she was wearing. Seokjin wasn’t a fan of the cold, so his room was always boiling with space heaters going, so she wasn’t about to wear flannel pajamas. 

“Pretty, why’d you tie that sheet there?” Seokjin cleared his throat, adjusting his thin tee-shirt by the collar, averting his eyes. 

“So we could watch a movie together, I got a projector online. Do you like the sound of that?” Y/N asked, a touch self consciously, sitting on his bed and looking at the tray he brought up. With a pounding heart, she realized most of the snacks he prepared were her favorites. 

“Yeah, it’s perfect,” Seokjin insisted, knees landing on the bed softly, fluffing his pillows and moving the stuffed alpaca aside so he could sit against the headboard. “What do you wanna watch?”

“Well, all those months ago, I mentioned wanting to watch Lord of the Rings with you. How about that?”

Seokjin, his bright eyes widening, replayed the memory in his head– when he was recovering from his fever, the day Y/N adopted him, she had lent him that book. He was nodding at once, watching Y/N grin and get on all fours, sliding a disc into the projector, adjusting the volume. He didn’t know if she felt how charged the air felt, tucking her hair behind her ear as she navigated the movie’s menu, his eyes skimming over her figure indulgently. The beginning credits began to roll, the projector displaying the title card of the film pretty well, Seokjin realizing that was why Y/N had dimmed the lights so low. 

Y/N got comfortable beside Seokjin at once, curling into his side and tucking herself under his arm, one of hers thrown across his waist. Reminded of a kitten getting cozy in her bed, Seokjin purred, fingertips dancing along her upper arm, the skin like warm silk. 

“I… never asked you this, but when I gave you this book, you seemed emotional. Can I ask you why, honey?” Y/N was thoroughly enjoying Seokjin stroking her arm with reverence, his chin resting on top of her head. 

“Oh, I suppose that was kind of odd to you at the time,” Seokjin replied, focusing more on her than the movie in the background. Movies never really compared to books, anyways. “It’s just something that I remember… a young kid I grew up with telling me about. You know I’m not a big adventurer, but reading about it, seeing it, I’m comfortable with. Nostalgia sometimes gets to me, that’s all.”

“That’s why you’re so sweet,” Y/N hummed, her breath fanning over his neck, Seokjin giggling at her words. “I felt so bad that day, I didn’t wanna make you cry.”

“You didn’t, you just reminded me that sometimes the world is smaller than I think it is,” Seokjin’s touch migrated to her shoulders, lowly hissing at the tightness in the muscles, Y/N wincing when he pressed over them. “Come here.”

Seokjin cupped her waist, spreading his legs carefully, before rolling her over so she was seated between his thighs, back pressed to his chest. Y/N went stiff, the opposite of what he was trying to do, so he gave her a reassuring, chaste kiss to the crown of her head, pressing his thumbs into the tender sides of her neck. Shuddering when Seokjin dug the digits into two knots that have been giving her grief the entire week, she went limp immediately, not knowing where to put her own hands– settling them idly on her lap. 

“You’re tense, let me help you,” Seokjin murmured, Y/N surrounded by his eucalyptus scent, and having him care for her was better than any spa treatment. “You’ve been working too hard, pretty.”

“Uh-uh,” Y/N protested, melting backwards, the sturdiness of his chest actually quite surprising. “Not true– oh.”

Seokjin hit a particularly tender spot, her tight trapezius muscle, and he was seemingly chuckling as he massaged the flesh sensually. He didn’t make a smart retort, even though he could have, but instead he focused on working out every single kink in her neck. 

“How did you get so good at this?” Y/N was choking back moans, at that point, barely paying attention to the movie, her temperature rising in the toasty bedroom. 

“Well, when I was a performer, I’d have to tend to my own knots and strains,” Seokjin responded, sweeping her hair aside so he could press on either side of her upper spine, Y/N involuntarily arching away from him with a strained whine– one that had heat rising to his cheeks, shamefully. “Guess the skill is finally coming in handy.”

“Seokjin,” Y/N breathed, and the jaguar hybrid thought he heard a slight edge of warning to it, like she was accusing him of being cheeky. After so long, he couldn’t help it. 

A few moments went by mostly in silence– apart from the movie’s dialogue and score, and a tiny yelp from Y/N once or twice. Seokjin, even though he couldn’t stand feeling cold, was truthfully getting warm himself, Y/N so pliant in front of him, her hands subconsciously finding purchase on his knees as he worked her back. 

“B-baby, I think I’m g-good, uh–” Y/N’s breathing became labored, heat striking through her as he continued the massage under her shoulder blades. “Oh fuck.”

Apparently a very sore spot, Seokjin dug his fingers into her skin with more intensity, and embarrassingly so, Y/N let out a thin, pleading whine, Seokjin’s spine going rigid at the sound. 

“Does it feel good?” Seokjin asked, his voice becoming siren-like again, moving to the other shoulder blade and eliciting a similar sound from her. 

“W-what do you think?” Y/N was out of oxygen, two seconds away from pinning him to the headboard, Seokjin’s laughter rumbly and deep. “I don’t know if I want you to stop or to–”

Y/N was shamefully turned on at that point. It was hard not to be, she thought, between his proximity and his hands working her into a boneless puddle. Still chuckling, Seokjin removed one of his hands, reaching for the tray on the bed, plucking a strawberry from the bowl and offering it to Y/N, fingers poised before her lips. 

Instead of eating it, Y/N looked over her shoulder, face flushed and pupils blown out, an accusatory expression lighting up her features. 

“You didn’t mention you’re some sort of Casanova,” Y/N mumbled, overwhelmed by that romantic side of her jaguar hybrid, his ears fluttering playfully. Instead of feeding her, Seokjin ate the strawberry himself, the cool juices of the fruit spilling over his chin and down his neck, Y/N’s sight zeroing in on that visual. “Jesus Christ.”

“What’s wrong?” Seokjin teased once he swallowed the fruit, forcibly turning her back around so he could continue the massage, Y/N freezing when he not only laid his palms on her shoulders again, but his lips pressed a kiss to the top of her spine tenderly, his lips soothing her feverish flesh from the cold fruit he ate.

“Are you aware of how gorgeous you are, Seokjin? It’s borderline disturbingly wrong,” Y/N grouched, squeezing his knees, Seokjin freezing behind her before cracking up into hysterics, arms winding around her middle tightly, sponging kisses along her shoulders in between laughter. “You’re literally a doll!”

Despite his laughter, Y/N could feel his heart speeding up with her words, chest still flush with her back, and she debated whether or not to shut the movie off and just straddle him at that point. Suddenly aware that her panties were starting to get a bit damp, Y/N cursed herself inwardly, not believing how little it took to turn her on. She wondered if the jaguar hybrid could smell it, his sleek black tail laying heavily on one of her bare thighs. Boldly, while Seokjin kneaded her flesh again, she traced her fingers over the silky fur of his tail out of curiosity, Seokjin whimpering behind her, movements freezing. 

The atmosphere shifted instantly. She hadn’t gone as far as to touch Yoongi’s tail yet, but with Seokjin’s right in front of her, it was hard to resist stroking through the fur. In consequence, Seokjin’s fingers danced over the straps of her tank top, running his index fingers along the lace. 

“Can I… move these just a bit?” Seokjin fiddled with the material, Y/N nodding straight away, hurrying up the process by sliding one of the straps around her bicep, eager for him to tend to her aching shoulders, craving his touch. With a soft intake of air, Seokjin copied her movements on the other side, one hand gliding over the entirety of her exposed upper back, seemingly feeling for more points of tension. 

Still stroking through the fur of his tail, her other hand gripping his quilt with pale knuckles, Y/N bit down on her lip when Seokjin rolled his knuckles against her tender skin. Betting every last dollar in her bank account that neither of them gave a single shit what was happening in the movie still playing in front of them, Seokjin used one hand to grab the tray of food on the bed and move it to one of his nightstands distractedly, bending his knees so his feet were flat against the quilt and he could better cage Y/N in. 

However, with Seokjin’s movements, Y/N scooching up on the bed to press closer to him, her tank top straps fell to the crooks of her elbows, her eyes shooting wide open as the garment bunched around her waist– and she was not wearing a bra in that moment. 

There was a pause, Seokjin’s broad body crooking over hers from behind, where nothing was audible but sounds from the movie. Seokjin was staring at the entirety of her bare back, also realizing she wasn’t wearing anything under her tank top, but he was unable to help himself by gliding his hands from the small of her waist up to her mid-back. The action was smooth, Y/N’s skin somewhat slick with perspiration, Seokjin’s mouth watering. He always considered himself a man of patience, but there was something primal brewing within him, something that was difficult to control. 

“Y/N,” Seokjin’s voice was but a breeze in the wind, experimentally digging his fingertips into the base of her spine, relishing in the thready moan she offered to him, one of her forearms pressed over her breasts to preserve her modesty– Seokjin could smell both her arousal and bashfulness filling up the room thickly. “Are you alright?’”

“Keep touching me,” was all Y/N responded with, leaning backwards and removing her arm from her chest, Seokjin focusing straight ahead at the movie blindly. 

“How so, pretty girl?” Seokjin groaned, wrecked, his nose tucked into the base of her throat, not moving until she vocalized. 

“All over, anywhere,” Y/N whimpered, gasping when Seokjin’s hands snaked around her middle, skimming over her tummy, the jaguar hybrid’s resolve finally dissolving, his lips latching around the junction of her neck and shoulder. “Honey…”

Sucking her flesh into his mouth sensually, Seokjin felt blood rushing to his crotch, the taste of her skin so addicting, he swore he was high. It was the taste of her, yes, that was causing him to descend into a lust-driven frenzy, but also the scent of her love, the scent of her arousal, that was egging him on. Still, the human side of his brain begged him to see through the fog. 

“You’re sure?”

“Fuck, yes, Jin, please,” Y/N had annoyance dripping in her tone, one of her palms covering his on her abdomen, guiding it up to her sternum. “Love you, and I want you.”

A switch flipped within Seokjin, one he didn’t know existed, and he stroked the naked sides of her waist with hunger, resuming his task of decorating the slope of her neck with love bites, a strangled noise leaving his throat when Y/N shifted her hips backwards; flush to his. 

He was reminded of the previous weekend, Y/N in that dress, grinding into him with carefree abandon– and how he needed to excuse himself to the bathroom before they left to stick his face under the icy tap. He felt perverted, out of control– but a distant, animalistic side of him was saying “she’s the one, the only one” which was enough for him to want to stake his claim. 

Seokjin grasped the material of her tank top pooling around her waist, pulling it over her head with care. Once Y/N was free, she keened at the feeling of Seokjin suckling a bruise beneath her earlobe, his hardness pressing up against her ass, the sensation drenching her underwear thoroughly and anticipation climbing to Everest. 

Silently, Seokjin nipped the shell of her ear with his sharpened teeth, and before Y/N could fully process that, he was cradling her chest, the weight of her tits in his palms having him groaning and pressing his hips against her ass even more firmly. He had never been so turned on in his life, Y/N totally caged in his embrace, wanting and receptive to everything he had to offer her. This, this, was everything he was waiting to feel his entire life, and he could hardly think straight– Y/N semi-consciously whacking the projector, muting the movie miraculously in favor of hearing the noises Seokjin could make. 

Seokjin, caught in a spell, hooked his chin over Y/N’s shoulder, not caring that his back was aching from the prolonged arch, her breasts still cupped in his hands. Experimentally, he pressed them together, finally peering at her exposed chest, his throat rather dry at the sight as he soaked in both her heaving into his grasp, and the marks he had left on the side of her throat and shoulder. Skin lighting up with heat, one of her hands flailed backwards, clawing at Seokjin’s hip– now aware that he was very much completely clothed, all Y/N wanted was his bare skin against hers. 

“Easy, kitten,” Seokjin ground out, her fingernails cutting into his flesh even through the material of his sweatpants, Y/N hardly recognizing his hypnotic voice as it reached her ears centimeters away, and what he called her having her lax in his grip like prey. 

Her tits still in his palms, lips heavy on her neck, Y/N was about to melt into his mattress completely– breath stolen from her lungs when the jaguar hybrid teasingly swiped his thumbs over her nipples, erect with all of the slow teasing, the sensation sharp and having her jolt in the cage– made out of his limbs– he had trapped her in. 

“Tease,” Y/N managed due to the way his forefinger and thumb tweaked the buds, Y/N nearly passing out as he promptly slicked up the fingers of his right hand by sticking them in his mouth. “Jin–”

“Shush,” Seokjin returned, using his dampened digits to roll her right nipple between them, completely entranced. At that point, he felt himself leaking somewhat into his boxers, toying with Y/N’s chest until she was a mess in his lap, peering over her shoulder to see how her body reacted to his touch. “If you let me, I’ll make you feel good. But I want you to listen to me, is that okay?”

Y/N nodded desperately, but it wasn’t enough of a confirmation for Seokjin. 

“Mmm-hmm! Yes, Seokjin, I-I– hnngh,” Y/N yelped when he kneaded the sensitive flesh of her breasts again. 

“Okay then, lean on me,” Seokjin sucked yet another bruise into the side of Y/N’s throat, enjoying working her up. “You– mmph–”

Y/N had turned her head, seeking out his mouth, eagerly slotting her lips against his with desperation. His arms automatically wrapped around her again, one forearm slung low on her writhing hips, the other barred across her chest, letting her kiss him with abandon. She had wanted to kiss him like that for weeks, swiping her tongue along the seam of his mouth, Seokjin’s lips parting slightly and granting her access. A deep, indulgent moan came from her as she tasted him, sweet like the strawberry he just ate, still clawing at his clothed hips when her tongue slid against his. In return, Seokjin hummed, kissing her back just as freely, letting her take control for a moment. Though, while she was distracted, Seokjin began to fiddle with the waistband of her pajama shorts, a grunt tearing through him when she jerked her hips backwards. 

Breaking away from their kiss, Seokjin was transfixed, Y/N attempting to keep her control by going for his neck, even though the twisted position of her body was uncomfortable. Lapping at the sticky trail of strawberry juice along his Adam's apple, Seokjin shuddered at the feeling, her teeth scraping against his throat before she sunk them in, which had his eyes rolling back into his skull. 

Taking matters into her own hands, Y/N managed to wiggle out of her shorts, a hand breaking away from Seokjin’s hips, tossing them carelessly off the bed. The jaguar hybrid, sounding utterly fucked out already, tipped his head back and moaned when her ass collided with his lap again. At that point, with the scent of her wetness becoming so concentrated, Seokjin snapped, growling, dangerously, Y/N blinking up at him at once. 

“Face forward and watch the movie, pretty,” Seokjin ordered, Y/N’s head spinning. If he didn’t want to continue, that was fine, but she was pretty much naked and she wasn’t about to watch Hobbits traipse through the mud like that. However, that wasn’t the case, Seokjin hooking his chin over her kiss-bitten shoulder, fingertips dipping into the waistband of her panties. “Oh. Did you wear these for me?”

Looking down, confused and still driven crazy by lust, Y/N’s mouth dropped open. Subconsciously, she must have picked out the pink pair of panties Seokjin was teasing her with when they were folding laundry, the gusset of the fabric completely soaked. Lolling her head back against his chest, she looked at him pleadingly, the feeling of him tracing her hip bones driving her insane. 

“Aw, poor thing,” Seokjin cooed, kissing her temple with a derisive smirk. “Don’t worry, I’ll take care of you.”

With that, Seokjin stripped her of her panties in a flash, stuffing the garment into the pocket of his sweatpants, Y/N mewling, turned on by the fact that she was completely bare before him, and he hadn’t shed a single article of clothing. Without wasting too much time, his mouth on her neck again, Seokjin grabbed a hold onto her thighs and propped them up, his breath quickening at the fresh wave of her arousal that surrounded him. Again, Y/N grappled for his tail, just about the only thing she could do wrapped up in his arms like that, cunt clenching around nothing when he moaned hollowly, the appendage curling around her wrist. 

Finally, Seokjin ghosted his fingers over where she needed him most, cursing at the wetness that gathered there abundantly, Y/N’s hips bucking over his lap with a cry. Cunt pulsing with his touch, Seokjin bit his lip, parting her dewy folds, the slick sound making Y/N cringe. He didn’t want to tease her too much, she was practically dripping onto his quilt, free hand coming up to pinch a nipple as his index finger made a slow circle around her clit simultaneously. 

The action elicited a great reward. Y/N’s spine arched, crying out his name, more wetness gushing out of her. Cooing again, Seokjin kept circling the sweet spot, loving the sounds she made for him, hardly noticing she was scraping her nails against his sensitive tail. 

“So wet, kitten,” Seokjin purred, slowly working her up, Y/N’s gut tightening at his dulcet tone, hardly here nor there. 

“Feels so good,” Y/N thrashed, stomach flipping over when the movement had his cock pressed right against the seam of her ass. “Ah!” 

Seokjin groaned, ignoring his own pleasure in favor of finding her’s, testing the waters by teasing a fingertip around her fluttering entrance. Hearing her pleas, he sunk the digit into her, whimpering at the way she clamped down on him. Y/N rocked her hips, essentially riding his finger, the visual erotic and making him hiss darkly. 

“That’s it, pretty girl,” Seokjin encouraged, gripping the side of her waist to aid her desperate movements. “Use me.”

Helping her out, he began to snap his wrist against her, curling his finger and pressing against the front of her walls, Y/N swore she could have died, so crammed full of desire for the jaguar hybrid it was driving her insane. 

“M-more, please,” Y/N begged, grinding against his hand, leaking all over him. 

“Spoiled little girl,” Seokjin taunted, but despite the jab, he added another digit into the mix while she rode his fingers, his thumb toying with her clit as she felt herself barreling towards her orgasm. “Gonna need to stretch you out, anyways, kitten.”

Gasping, his dirty words was all she needed, her sudden orgasm taking Seokjin by surprise as she wailed in his arms, walls spasming around his fingers as he continued to fuck them into her. The lewd sounds of her wetness had his ears ringing, wanting to taste the mess she made, but he murmured sweet nothings in her ear as she tore through her orgasm instead. 

Y/N, panting, grasped his wrist to halt his movements, oversensitive but somehow still needy for him, Seokjin releasing his hold on her and allowing her to turn, climbing over his lap to straddle him with a ravenous look on her face. Seokjin simply stared back, smirking, bringing his slicked-up fingers to his mouth, dutifully cleaning them off and trying not to cum in his pants at the taste of her. To his surprise, a startled moan leaving his lips, Y/N rocked her hips over the hardness beneath his sweatpants, her hands tangled in his shirt. 

“Uh, oh, still need more?” Seokjin teased, hands landing on her ass and kneading the flesh, helping her grind against him. “You really are spoiled, aren’t you?”

Y/N had no response but to kiss him, whimpering when his tongue tangled with hers, Y/N sensing that he was slowly beginning to unravel. She wanted nothing more than for him to lose his patience and fuck her senseless, feeling her pussy throbbing over the bulge in his pants. She broke away to mouth down his neck, and when she felt him shiver when she grazed over a particular spot, she sucked a bruise into the flesh, Seokjin’s hips grinding up harshly into her heat. 

“Take this off,” Y/N whined, yanking at his flimsy tee shirt, fed up with being the only one naked. Seokjin obliged, letting her strip the article off of him while they continued to rub against one another, sweat dripping from his hairline. “God, you’re so fucking sexy…”

Y/N gaped at the sight in front of her, not expecting Seokjin to be… well, ripped. She had seen his chest before, when she mended the wound on his side, but she was hardly gawking at his solid abs when she was doing so. Hands instantly shooting out to glide along his skin, his muscles rippling under her touch, the jaguar hybrid was panting while she gyrated her hips on his cock. 

“No, you,” Seokjin managed, smiling at her despite the situation they were in, Y/N kissing over his prominent clavicles tenderly. “Fuck, pretty girl!”

Y/N moved off of his hips, gawking at the wet patch she left over his gray sweatpants with distant humiliation, making brief eye-contact to ask if she could divest the garment from him. He nodded eagerly, so wound up he could think of nothing else but the scent of her, the love in her eyes, and how perfect she was. In one smooth motion, she shucked both his pants and boxers from his body, her eyes going comically wide at what she saw. 

Not only was Seokjin the sweetest man alive, gorgeous, and ripped– he had the biggest dick she ever saw in her life. Truly, he was blessed in all areas, Y/N speechless as she stared at the intimidating length and girth, suddenly understanding why he mentioned needing to stretch him out. 

“Seokjin, you’re huge,” Y/N, again, was clenching around nothing, looking up at him with awe. Seokjin had blush in his cheeks that wasn’t due to his arousal and the temperature of the room, Y/N realizing he was bashful. “I– you want my mouth, my–”

“Come here,” Seokjin cut her off, regaining his ability to take control, hooking her around her waist. “I want you to sit on my cock.”

Stunned, Y/N felt her wetness roll down her thighs, and fuck, she was going to need it. She had no objection to that request, maintaining their eye contact as she reached down, grasping his cock, the jaguar hybrid’s ears flattening against his skull as her thumb smeared precum around his tip. Having mercy on him, and neediness taking over her again, she ran him through her folds, dripping over him, whimpering brokenly when he caught on her entrance. Would he even fit?

“You can take it,” Seokjin read her mind, tucking hair behind her ear and kissing beneath her jaw, the words making heat strike through her. “Go slow.”

Swallowing thickly, she lined him up, exhaling shakily as she sunk down, and despite how turned on she was and the sheer wetness spilling from her, the stretch was enough to knock the wind out of her. Taking over, guiding her by her waist, Seokjin grit his teeth as she took him inch by inch, her chest heaving. It was a tight fit, enough to have Seokjin seeing stars, Y/N’s thighs shaking on either side of him. He was telling her to breathe when she was fully seated in his lap, cock throbbing inside of her as she adjusted to his size, kissing over her face soothingly. 

“Move when you’re ready kitten, okay?” Seokjin himself was a bit starved for oxygen, Y/N cupping his face and pressing a kiss on his lower lip, tongue flicking over the flesh. 

Regaining her ability to function, eyes going round when she looked down– she pressed a hand over her lower abdomen, the slightest bump there, the action having Seokjin hissing. Darkness was in his eyes when her walls fluttered around him, and with that, Y/N gave an experimental roll of her hips, both of them moaning in tandem as he slid out an inch.

“F-fuck, Jin,” Y/N whined, getting a hold on his broad shoulders to ride him properly, lifting herself up only to drop back down harshly, feeling like he was spearing into her guts. 

Entirely overwhelmed, Seokjin leaned forward, wrapping his lips around one of her nipples while she fucked herself on his cock, happy to let her chase her pleasure, to provide it. Y/N’s head was thrown back, entirely gone, Seokjin’s name leaving her lips like a prayer when he stroked a thumb over her clit, bracing her hands on his knees again to switch up the angle, one that gave Seokjin quite a show and had his cock rubbing against her G-spot deliciously. 

“Look at you,” Seokjin awed, his hips beginning to buck up to meet her strokes, taking his cock like a saint. “Fuck. So pretty, so perfect.”

With Seokjin fucking into her like that, his steady circles over her clit, she was gone again with a slam and grind onto his lap, an elastic band snapping within her as she stilled, collapsed against Seokjin’s chest as she felt herself gush. 

“Holy fucking hell,” Seokjin groaned, his lap soaked, Y/N’s pussy clamping down so hard on him his vision was turning white. 

Y/N couldn’t move anymore, throat strained from her cries, convulsing against her. The world was turning as she caught her breath, somehow still aroused, and she found herself on her back, Seokjin sucking a deep bruise into her neck. Still nestled inside of her, throbbing, Y/N wound her arms around the jaguar hybrid, hands sliding into his hair. 

“Fuck me,” Y/N breathed against his lips, and that was all Seokjin needed to release that last scrap of control he had over himself. 

Snapping his hips forward, Y/N’s cunt swollen and sensitive, she wailed, feeling him in her throat. The new position was intimate, Seokjin pretty much laying most of his body weight on top of her, murmuring things in her ear that she could only make out bits and pieces of. 

“Gonna cum soon,” he groaned, driving into her, Y/N sinking her teeth into his shoulder. 

“Cum inside me,” she requested, the discussion about her IUD already out of the way days ago. “P-please.”

“Oh yeah? You’d like that, wouldn’t you?” Seokjin teased, though the request had the predator in him coming alive. “Want me to stuff you full so you can have my cubs?”

Shock flooded through Y/N at that question, not expecting Seokjin to be like that, and shamefully she felt herself clenching around him again. Seokjin must have felt it, because he grunted, hips stuttering. 

“You’d look so beautiful,” Seokjin sighed, Y/N’s eyes rolling back, sliding her fingers over his silky ears. “Fuck, I love you, my pretty girl, my love, gonna give it to you–”

With a final thrust, Seokjin went still, kissing Y/N harshly, heat filling her as he spilled into her cunt, the jaguar hybrid whimpering. Miraculously, the sensation of him cumming so deeply inside of her had a smaller, less intense orgasm shuddering through her, leaving her utterly spent and exhausted. Seokjin himself was breathing like he ran a marathon, Y/N holding him weakly as he pulled himself together. 

“You’re insane,” Y/N accused once she caught her breath, covered in sweat, saliva, and cum, her poor pussy battered and sensitive. “I won’t be able to walk for three days.”

Seokjin giggled, actually giggled, after how devilish he had just behaved, placing an apologetic kiss on her jaw. 

“Was I too rough?” Seokjin became serious, worry etched in his eyebrows. 

“No, you were perfect,” Y/N insisted, cupping the side of his face. “I love you, honey.”

Hiding his face in her neck, he returned the sentiment, both of them content to sit in their mess for a few minutes to hold each other, Seokjin’s tail curling behind him languidly. 

“We watched about five minutes of that movie,” Y/N commented, twirling a lock of his wavy hair around a finger with a snort. “That was a hell of a first date!”

“There’s always next time,” Seokjin replied, finally rolling off of her, Y/N wincing at what they had to clean up. “I’m gonna get some things to clean you up, can you have a few sips of that water for me, pretty?”

Y/N, bonelessly, reached for the forgotten snack platter, greedily gulping the water down her scraped-up throat, watching Seokjin walk to his dresser. With a secret smile, she stared at his ass, munching on a strawberry. He only took a few minutes to gather his items: a few damp cloths, two pairs of his pajamas, and a fresh quilt to replace the one that had unspeakable fluids all over it. 

Lovingly, Seokjin cleaned her up, cooing when she winced at the sensitivity between her legs, doing the same to himself and dressing the two of them in his soft pajamas. Y/N only had to stand for a few seconds while he changed the quilt, pulling it back so they could get in. 

They ended up in the same position they were originally in, Y/N curled into his side, Y/N turning the projector off of mute in an attempt to pick up wherever the movie was, her eyes catching on something sitting on one of the pillows. 

“Oh my god. The alpaca watched us fuck!” Y/N exclaimed, pointing at the plushie, making Seokjin’s squeaky laugh fill the room, Y/N smacking him lightly on his chest. “Why do we keep scandalizing the innocents?”

“Our cross to bear,” Seokjin shrugged, brushing his lips over one of the love bites he left behind.

Holding her close, they chatted about the movie, ate some snacks, and after about an hour, fell asleep intertwined– the projector still rolling on, and rain falling gently outside. 

“I think I’ve figured out the audio,” Namjoon invited Y/N into his room days later, once she untangled herself from Seokjin in the morning and completely rinsed their sins off of her body. “Everything we captured last week.”

Namjoon’s expression was worrying her, his eyebrows pinched, sitting at his desk and chin in his hand. He had been slaving over a digital audio workstation all week, hardly making it to mealtimes, Y/N even hearing him pacing around his room late at night. 

“Is it bad?”

Namjoon gave her a look, one that said everything she needed to know, leaning against his desk. 

“Did Jeongguk listen?” 

“He listened this morning,” Namjoon said carefully, Y/N wondering why he wasn’t present. “Due to what we ended up capturing, he went upstairs to consult his old journal. I haven’t seen him since.”

“Let’s hear it, then,” Y/N bit her lip nervously, not liking his clear reluctance. With a sigh, he pressed on the space bar. 

“What is your name?”

Static.

“How old are you?”

More static.

“Why are you here?”

Listening to her recorded voice had her cringing, but finally, there was a response to the third question. 

“Watching.” The voice was creepy, low, and made her queasy, but what was said had her skin crawling. 

“How many spirits are on this property? Are you alone?”

“Many are here.” 

Y/N glanced at Namjoon, a little confused. Sure, the responses made her uneasy, but they weren’t so bad to warrant how hesitant he looked. 

“Okay, creepy, but expected, right?” She asked, nudging him with her foot. 

“There’s more. I didn’t want to show you, but Jeongguk insisted,” Namjoon said flatly, expression darkening. “Actually, I don’t think you, specifically, should even go back to that house.”

“What? Namjoon, you’re freaking me out. Just show me,” Y/N blinked, Namjoon scrolling on the workstation to a highlighted section. 

“This is when we were in Julie’s room,” Namjoon murmured, pressing play. 

“Why are you here?” Y/N’s voice came through the speakers, Y/N recalling they only got one response in that room. 

“To kill you, whorish witch.”

Taglist; @blancflms @grazysf @sbromp @jaxavance @sunderlight @ot7nem @mageprincess7 @wittyreader @drenix004 @mayla548 @skyys-universe @ddaeng-angmoh @trtlthts @exfolitae @kalala22 @xiusmarshmallow @bangtans-momma @zae007live @paigetj @singukieee @serendididy @lilacdreams-00 @dreamerwasfound @ninjacups @osakis-gf @itwillbealways-d @xthefuckerysquaredx @momowantscats @molshole @goooomz @uarmyhore @lopprhe @oopscoop @xicanacorpse @i-like-anime13 @hemziii @demarie04 @im-sinking-in-mud @talkyoongitome @bangtxnbxunch @primrose2507 @kihyunniesmonbebe @7evensin @lilmxchis @00ihatesnaku @neverthefirstchoice @missyoueverysingleday @cathy-1997 @prybts @doublebunv @milopenne @steadycreationangel @rinkud @minjianhyung

Please do not repost or translate my work. Thank you!

#bts fanfiction #bts fanfic #bts ot7 x reader #hybrid au #bts ot7 x y/n #bts hybrid au #bts fic #bts au #bts hybrid x reader #bts hybrid fanfic #namjoon fanfic #seokjin fanfic #yoongi fanfic #hoseok fanfic #jimin fanfic #taehyung fanfic #jungkook fanfic #bts smut #seokjin x reader #seokjin smut #jin smut

[hoseokshobagi]

† Reborn in Sin ⸸ | Sneak peak | PJM

† Reborn in Sin ⸸ sneak peak

✞PAIRING: demon!jimin x fem!reader

✞ 【SUMMARY】: for years jimin was your constant and loyal companion in the church, a shining example of humility and compassion. but when he was tragically taken from the world before he could experience life, his heart was filled with anger and resentment. and so, in a moment of weakness, he struck a deal with the devil, trading his soul for a second chance at life. but when he returned, he was no longer your kind and devoted boy you once knew.

✞ 『GENRE』: dark ✟ supernatural ✟ fantasy ✟ angst ✟ smut

✞ RATING: 18+ / minors do not interact

✞ WORD COUNT: loading...

✞ [WARNINGS/TAGS] : dead dove, dark, death, manipulation, corruption (kink?), church & religion, blasphemy & desecration, [oral(m) - not with reader, headpusher jimin, face fucking, spit play], dirty talk, humiliation, degradation, dubcon, public fingering, exhibitionism, sexual "nightmares" & hallucinations, mind games, jimin is the worst & the BIGGEST warning!!!!, oral(f), cunt drunk jimin, unprotected sex, rough sex, orgasm denial, edging, overstimulation, unrealistic amount of cum lmao, cum play, betrayal, mind break

✞ NOTE: hi beautiful people!!! this story was written for the @btsfests writing fest. actually this is the first time i publish my writing and omg ahcbdjs i'm so nervous while writing this note. i always wrote for myself and my closest friends but thanks to bts fests and their never ending encouraging words i decided to show off my writing. this little part is the reason why i started writing this whole story and i hope you'll like it just as much as i enjoyed writing every word. :] this demon jimin is the most cunty & selfish character i've written so far so yall better prepare yourselves ajfnsjxnsjs

english is not my native language, but despite that i'll write and communicate in english. please if you see an error in my writing or grammar lmk!! <3

my dearest beta read: @liveyun 🐢♡

COMING SOON

❗this is the darkest fic i've ever written so please read all the warnings before reading❗

The delicate chimes of the church bell echoed softly through the cavernous rafters, casting an unsettling shadow over Jimin’s mind. Like ghostly whispers emanating from the very walls and pillars of the church, the sounds seemed to taunt him. Whispering to him that he no longer belonged in this sacred space.  

He couldn’t believe how he used to devour Father Seokjin’s every word, eagerly drinking up his sermons like it was the finest wine he ever tasted. In this very church, where he had spent countless hours sitting in the pews, Jimin felt like a stranger in the world he once called home.   

He looked to his left and gazed upon the sweet, delicate flower — the very reason why he was there. Innocence shining in your eyes, your eyelashes fluttered like the softest butterfly wings. Sitting next to him with hands clasped tightly together in your lap, you looked as pure as new snow, listening to the mass.  

Oh, how much he forced himself to resist the urge to reach out and ruin you right then and there. To feel the delicate petals of your innocence as they crumpled beneath his fingers. But he was going to do so slowly, savoring every moment of your fall from grace.   

So, he grit his teeth and forced himself to endure the priest’s words and the choir’s music, at least, for a while.   

Despite his best efforts, this place was as dull and lifeless as the stones that made up its walls. He spent half of his life trapped within these confines, he knew every creak of the floorboards, every flicker of light, every word and phrase of the Bible that was engraved in his mind, the product of countless wasted years.  

Jimin raised a hand to his face, tracing each perfect curve of his newly manicured nails, scrutinizing them from every angle. He raised an eyebrow in anticipation, marveling at Hoseok’s handiwork.  

He couldn’t wait to make another deal with the bastard later.  

You noticed his attention was drifting and Jimin’s reverie was broken by a gentle tap on his shoulder, causing his thoughts to come crashing down around him like a house of cards. He turned to see your confused eyes peering up at him, your delicate lips murmuring a soft “pray”.   

He couldn’t help but mentally roll his eyes. Oh, you were so annoying. He was going to make you pay for all the stress and frustration that he had to go through and endure because of you.   

Jimin lowered his head and with a deep breath, closed his eyes, pretending as if he was lost in prayer, his mind far from it. Wandering anywhere but there.  

As you finally turned back to offer your own prayers, he couldn’t resist and raised his eyes, glancing back at you.  

And he was so fucked.   

You were a sight to behold, more divine than the sacred paintings that adorned the walls of this church.  

As your eyes drifted shut, your lashes like feathers of a sleeping bird, delicately brushed the curves of your eyes. The soft radiance of the lights danced upon your face, creating a tender veil of shadows that caressed your skin.   

Your lips moved in silent devotion as you murmured in such sincerity, clutching the Holy Book tightly in your hands. And he swears, he could feel his dick twitch just at the sight.   

You were so breakable, so vulnerable and so fucking beautiful.   

Yeah, he was so fucked. So lost in you.   

Park’s burning desires had been building to a crescendo in the last few days, a boiling point that seemed to threaten to engulf him whole. He felt like his longing for you was an aching fire that was on the verge of exploding. The mere sight of you at the church was a powerful trigger to him, fanning the flames for this fire.   

And he thought it was ridiculous.   

He couldn’t believe how he couldn’t control himself, his body yearning for yours, needing to stain the purity of your grace, to spread his sin all around your soul. To corrupt the sacredness of who you were with the foulness of who he had become.  

He glanced around and took in the sights and sounds of the church, noticing that everyone was enraptured by the mass. Their focus was solely on the priest at the cathedral, their attention directed nowhere else.   

With a subtle smirk playing at the corners of his mouth, he slipped closer to you and your sweet scent filled his nostrils; making him feel intoxicated. He knew exactly what he had to do; a little play won’t hurt anyone.  

Jimin’s touch was like a gentle caress of a summer breeze, soft and tender, caressing your skin like the lightest of kisses. Your eyes flicked open, searching for the source of such unexpected warmth.   

And there he was, with his legs crossed, - his gaze fixed on you with such intensity that always made your cheeks warm for some reason – one arm resting comfortably on his elbow on the church pew, the other continuing to idly play with the soft fabric of your long skirt.   

You never wore anything revealing; preferring modesty over anything else, however this time, you felt utterly exposed as his eyes roamed over your form like that. Jimin always enjoyed this, stripping away your layers one by one, revealing the true you that lay beneath.  

Slowly he drew near, his aura spreading like a thick mist, wrapping around you. The scent of his cologne swirled around as his body pressed against yours, his knee gently nudging yours. His warm breath brushed against your cheeks, like the caress of a dead night.   

"What are you doing?"

"Nothing. Keep praying." You looked at his hand, still playing with your skirt, unsure of what to say. Jimin’s voice was calm and soft, yet, there was something about his dark eyes that made you feel uneasy. Like he was biding his time, planning his next move.   

It clearly made you uncomfortable, but you were too naive to say anything, too afraid to speak your mind, not to mention that you were sure Jimin would never do anything wrong, so you turned back again and closed your eyes to pray.   

But what you didn’t know was that you were already entangled by the snake’s coils; Jimin waited for the moment when you would break. He was so curious, so eager to see just how far you would go, how much you would endure before you finally stepped up and told him to stop.  

Would you wrench his hand away? Would you yell at him? Would you make a scene in the middle of the church? He knew you wouldn’t, knew you were just too gentle and too timid to disrespect your favorite little church.   

And so, he kept pushing, pushing your boundaries and invading your personal space, inch by inch, leaving a trail of gooseflesh in the wake of his touch.  

You shifted uncomfortably in your seat, trying desperately to break free from his touch, but he only tightened his grip, making your heart race with a mixture of fear and uncertainty.  

"Jimin, can you please stop?" Oh, that was it. Your question was hardly above a whisper, as though afraid of you would be heard by those around you. The snake’s grip finally ensnared his delicate, little flower and he had no intention of stopping.  

„Keep it down. You wouldn’t wanna disturb the praying souls now, would you?”   

A devilish smirk played on his lips, eyes like black holes bearing down at you. His voice was like honey dripping from his lips; so soft and alluring. A stark contrast to the real meaning behind his words and actions. He continued to run his hand up your thigh, pushing your long skirt higher and higher until it was bunched around your waist.  

"Jimin, st—" His other hand slithered around from the back of your neck, forcefully covering your mouth, silencing any words that wanted to escape your lips. Whatever you tried to say it came out muffled by his hand, leaving you feeling panicked and completely helpless.   

You grasped at the material like a lifeline, desperate to pull it back down, but Jimin’s arm was like a steel barricade, preventing you from covering yourself. You felt trapped, your body burning with the shame of exposure. 

 "I said keep your mouth shut. We don’t want others to see you like this, do we?"

Your breath caught in your throat, unable to escape as the fear of being discovered and shamed in front of everyone took over. All you could do was fix your gaze on Jimin’s intense, brooding eyes, silently pleading for mercy with your own desperate ones. Ah, so pretty for him.  

As you gazed into the depths of his dark eyes, the windows to his no longer existing a soul, you revealed a darkness that engulfed you, and you knew there was no escape.  

You were at his mercy, and he had none. 

Jimin’s pupils dilated at the sight, your skin was soft and flawless, causing a shiver to run down his spine as he gently touched you. The delicate fabric of your white panties teased him, giving him just a glimpse of what was hidden underneath.   

With a playful twinkle in his eyes, he lazily played with the tiny, little, pink bow adorning the center of your panties. His actions were a clear taunt, a display of the control he had over you and your vulnerabilities.  

It was clear you wanted to push him away, to scold him, yell at him, but he knew the fear of causing a scene in church held you back. You tried to glance around nervously, hoping no one would notice what was happening.   

The world seemed to come to a standstill, the only thing that existed was the fast, thumping beat of your heart as Jimin’s hand slithered closer and closer to the place where it had no business being. You felt trapped, your body frozen, unable to break free as if you were held captive by a coiled serpent;  its grip tightening with each struggle. The sound of your unsteady breaths filled the air, the only thing grounding you in reality, that, and the heat from his touch, because this serpent was crafted from the finest satin. 

„Shh, baby, it’s okay. It’s okay, keep praying so God won’t mind, yeah?”   

His words made you paralyzed, like a spell, breaking you down. Words like those should never have left the lips of the kind and caring Jimin that you thought you knew. Your mind was reeling with shock and pain, struggling to make sense of how someone you had trusted completely could suddenly become a stranger. Jimin’s actions were like a knife to your heart, a stab that pierced through the trust you had placed in him.   

With the grace of a feather dancing on skin, Jimin traced his fingers over your clothed clit, making you tremble beneath his touch. A soft gasp escaped your lips, your eyes widening as you felt the weight of the moment sinking in.  

And he chuckled softly, a low rumble that only you could hear, taking your response as a cue, he increased the pressure. His skilled fingers now applied a firm yet tender touch, coaxing your body to new heights of pleasure, and your body tingled in response, betraying you by a throbbing ache that grew stronger with every touch.  

As the ripples of pleasure swirled within you, you tried to pull back, to resist the sin that was happening in the very place where you sought solace and salvation. The guilt gnawed at your soul, the snake’s venom that seeped into every crevice, tainting the flower’s beauty.   

And yet, Jimin reveled in your pain, basking in the darkness of your suffering as he watched the guilt consume you whole. The venom of your remorse was a feast for his senses; the holy wine, the sweetest elixir to be savored with every devious sip.  

"Look, what do we have in here." He pressed his thumb against the dark spot on your panties, causing you to shiver. For him, the sensations of your wetness seeping through the fabric was like an euphoric rush, the sweet nectar of his delicate flower, intoxicating and irresistible.  

Heat spread across your cheeks, horror and shame washing over you at his words, you shook your head, tried to move, tried to tell him to stop, but you found yourself lost in his eyes, searching for any sign of the person you once knew. But all you saw was darkness, a void that seemed to swallow you whole.  

"Deny it if you want, baby, but aren’t you a nasty girl? You’re fucking soaking."

And it was true. Your body felt like it was betraying you, and you were mortified. He ignited a fire within you that you couldn’t deny. A soft cry slipped from your lips, but you couldn’t bear to face him, knowing that you were powerless in his grasp.  

You were unable to believe what was happening. As someone who had always followed the Catholic faith and held its teachings in high regard, there you were, in this sacred place, allowing something so forbidden to take place.  

But as his fingers slipped under the fabric of your panties, your mind went blank. The back of Jimin’s hand clung to your sticky panties as his fingers found their way down to your folds, the feeling making him shiver. 

„Fuck— you’re so wet, can’t wait to feel you around me.”   

You squeezed your lips together under Jimin’s hand to keep from making any noise, your eyes squeezed shut, tears threatened to spill down your cheeks as his wet fingers continued to rub and spread your folds apart, smearing your sticky arousal all over your cunt.  

„Shh, this won’t make you a sinner baby, it’s okay. You won’t mind just one finger inside, yeah?” His middle finger probed at your entrance, teasing it, making it wetter still, as he slowly pushed in.  

„Y-yeah baby— just one finger?” He teased and removed his finger, making you clench around thin air, and Jimin swears, the feeling made him twitch inside his pants. Teasing you – or himself, it didn’t matter anymore – he plunged back in, tauntingly slow. 

Jimin’s eyes rolled to the back of his skull, his hard dick pressing firmly against his pants, yearning for release. To him this is how true Paradise felt like, the feeling of your silk walls wrapped around his digit.   

He was about to lose it. 

He bottomed his finger out inside you, knuckle deep, until his small 13 tattoo on his wrist met with your lower abdomen. 

But he craved more. Fuck, how much he wanted to slam you against the pew and spread your thighs wide open, stretching your pretty little pussy right out with his dick. And who could blame him with the way your cunt gripped on his one single digit like that, dripping wet and sinfully warm. 

But he couldn’t— not now. And it made him crazy. 

You sank into the pew, your body trembling as he started to move his finger, his other hand still covering your mouth to keep you quiet. Every part of you was on fire, your mind and body in a constant battle between desire and shame. You were supposed to stop him, to push him away, but all you could manage was tremble and it made your eyes water. 

It was a mixture of remorse and the burning desire pounding between your thighs; something you had never experienced before and something you knew you shouldn’t have felt at all in this holy place. And more likely you should’ve never clenched harder around Jimin’s finger when you heard the small shudder in each breath he took. 

"Ahh baby—" The faint, breathy little whimper shattered his voice. "fuck.. you’re so perfect… so f-fucking perfect." 

Your heart pounded in your chest, your breath shallow and ragged, mirroring the rhythm of his finger. With his warm breath tickling your ear, his whispered words were barely audible, but they still managed to send shivers down your spine.  

"Ooh, h-how I wish to see this perfect fucking pussy."   

Jimin couldn’t take his eyes off of you as he watched your face intently, committing every single feature and expression to his memory. The way your brows were furrowed in pleasure, the way you fought to keep your eyes open due to the sensitivity. 

He couldn’t help but admire the way your chest rose and fell with each ragged breath, the way you tried to stifle your moans under his hand, and the way your juices flowed from your aching cunt.  

You were a captivating sight, sinful and alluring, flesh heated and glistening with arousal, and he knew you couldn’t deny it even though you tried. Your trembling body and the slickness on his fingers were evidence of the truth.  

He slowly added a second finger, stretching you open further and moving faster, his fingers stroking your sensitive spot, sending waves of pleasure through you. With every stroke, you felt your body weakening, and your thoughts began to succumb to the corrupting pleasure.  

Despite your protests, your body responded eagerly, arching towards him in a desperate plea for more;  seeking more of the exquisite pleasure he was giving you.  

You never felt so conflicted in your entire life, your mind was a battlefield; torn between your beliefs and the undeniable pleasure that was now coursing through your veins. Every creak of the old wooden pews felt like a judgment, a cruel reminder that you were committing a sin that would send you to the depths of damnation.  

But when Jimin serendipitously grazed your swollen clit with his thumb, your mind went blank. You’d lost it.  

Your hips involuntarily jerked against his hand, unable to contain the overwhelming pleasure. You gritted your teeth, determined to keep your cries of ecstasy at bay, but it was a dead effort as you squirmed and moaned, muffled by his hand covering your mouth.  

"Fuck— Don’t moan like that, you’re getting too loud, keep quiet."  

But you couldn’t. It was as if your head was spinning, unable to focus on anything except the pleasure. The way he slid his fingers in and out of you, his thumb perfectly stimulating your clit, it was too much.  

Despite your efforts, you couldn’t contain the small moans that escaped your lips. The church was now just a blur in the background, the stained glass windows casting kaleidoscopic patterns on the floor.  

"Shit, baby, keep fucking quiet or do you want me to slip those fucking panties off and stuff them in your mouth, hm?" Jimin’s whispered words sent shivers down your spine, making you clasp around his fingers right back in. 

"Y-yeah, you want that baby? My nasty girl, s-so good... so fucking perfect." He moved his fingers faster, his thumb circling deliciously on your clit, building up the pace for your climax, your body crying out for release. And oh, how he reveled in it, savoring every moment, every sensation as his little flower finally opened its petals to him. 

"You’re so close, baby, f-fuck— just let go, let me take you there."  

As Jimin’s fingers brought you closer and closer to the brink, you couldn’t help but give in, feeling all the guilt and shame wash away in the face of the intense pleasure you were feeling.  

„Ooh, fuck— Y-yeah, baby, go on. Come all over my fucking fingers.” 

Just as you were about to reach the peak, a sudden thud broke through the lustful haze. Your tear-filled eyes fluttered open and you glanced up to the top of the church’s gallery, where you saw the organ player, Mr. Min sprawled on the ground at the bottom of the stairs, amidst a sea of fallen notes.  

In that moment, time seemed to stand still as your eyes met his, and you saw the shock and disbelief on his once serene face.  

Your heart plummeted like a falling star, sinking into the depths of your stomach as you realized what you must look like to Mr. Min. Your cheeks burned with the heat of a thousand suns as you met his gaze, his face a canvas of flushed embarrassment, crushing you with shame and guilt. 

For in the eyes of Mr. Min, you were no other, but a sinner caught in the act of sin in the house of the divine. And as the notes of the holy music lay scattered at his feet, you couldn’t help but wonder if they were a reflection of your shattered innocence.  

Mr. Min quickly ascended the stairs to the organ, his emotions were in disarray, a tumultuous blend of arousal and embarrassment. With each step, he tried to push away the image of what he had just seen, but it lingered like a haunting melody in his mind.  

His cheeks burned with shame, but he couldn’t help stealing a glance at you before he reached the top of the stairs, his feline eyes burning you whole.  

Exposed and vulnerable, you were unable to look at the organ player in the eyes anymore. You closed your eyes tight in an attempt to block out the intensity of his gaze. But even with your eyes shut, you could feel his feline eyes looking down at you.  

Your eyes rolled to the back of your head at the image, Jimin’s skillful fingers never faltered to move inside you, your body feeling like it was exploding. A soft whimper escaped your lips, which got silenced by his firm grasp.  

With each second you felt yourself surrendering to the overwhelming ecstasy.  

As you teetered on the edge, ready to fall into the abyss of pleasure, you were suddenly jolted back to reality, finding yourself next to Jimin who was kneeling humbly on the wooden pew of the church, praying.   

With eyes wide open, heated cheeks and heavy breathing you gazed at your own clasped hands on the pew.  

Was this all in your head? How could you have let your mind wander to sinful desires in the sacred walls of the church?   

Jimin’s innocent devotion to his God only amplified your own guilt, making you feel like a fallen angel in the presence of his pure soul.  

Jimin couldn’t help but smirk, he bit the inside of his cheek, but it didn’t help hiding it. He moved his clasped hands toward his mouth to hide the devilish smirk that appeared on his lips. 

For he knew the power he held over you, the power to seduce and corrupt your very being. And with each passing day he was one step closer to claiming your body and soul for his own. 

And as you sat there, lost in a whirlwind of emotions, Jimin continued to pray, his facade of innocence masking the devilish intentions that lurked within. 

#bts scenarios #bts smut #bts fanfic #bts fanfiction #bts imagines #jimin fanfic #jimin scenarios #jimin smut #jimin x reader #park jimin x reader #bts x reader #park jimin fanfic #btsfests #park jimin smut

[minisugakoobies]

Paradise | JJK - Fifteen

Pairing: Jungkook x Reader

Genre: smut, neighbors to lovers (not quite friends but not quite strangers), slow burn, love triangle, Stripper!AU

Rating: M (18+)

Warnings: we finally get a JinKook showdown in the most ridiculous way possible, the tiniest bit of angst, CONFESSIONS!!, followed by post-confession sex, JK hits it raw, OC in lingerie, fingering, oral sex (f receiving), lots of talking about feelings, I'm sorry but this gets a little soft because I love these two

Word Count: 6.3k

Disclaimers: NSFW, obviously I don’t own BTS - they just inspire me

Summary: That sexy man on stage - the one currently giving your friend the lap dance of her LIFE - is your super shy neighbor, Jeon Jungkook?!

A/N: We're back and we're nearing the end! Thank you to everyone who has been waiting patiently for the next chapter - I didn't mean for it to take so long, but, well, life 🤷‍♀️ Anyway, I'm very excited to share this chapter with you finally - I hope you enjoy!

Unbeta’d as usual. Please don’t be a silent reader, I’d love to hear from you!  💕

Previous Chapter ♦️ Paradise Masterlist

Despite his words earlier, Jungkook is in fact one of the first people on the dance floor when it opens. And of course, you’re right there with him. How could you say no when he holds his hand out and smiles at you like that - like nothing else would make him happier right now than you in his arms?

After all the time you’ve spent admiring Jungkook’s moves when he dances for you, it’s a whole new perspective to get to experience them when you’re dancing with him. Part of that difference is due to the deejay keeping it wholesome with the song selections, since Jennie and Yoongi’s family members are the majority of the revelers surrounding you. So there’s a lot less grinding and a lot more distance between the two of you.

You don’t really try to keep up with him - it’s not that you’re a terrible dancer, it’s just that he’s so fucking good. His every movement is so natural, like he’s not even trying. He does show off just a little bit, when Jisoo eggs him on, slipping into a freakishly accurate robot that has a small ring of guests gathering around to cheer him on. The giant grin on his face tells you he’s enjoying the attention just as much as the faint blush on the tips of his ears tells you he’s just a little bashful about it. 

After a few songs, the music finally slows a little, the crowd thinning as only couples are left. Jungkook draws you close, one arm sliding around your back as the other clasps your hand, holding it to his chest. The room around you falls away as he takes the lead, swaying with you around the floor.

“Are you having a good time, jagi?” he murmurs after a moment. 

“I am, Kookie.” Lifting your head from his shoulder, you gaze into his eyes, feeling that familiar warmth overtake you when he returns your smile. “Thanks for coming with me today.”

“Like I’d turn down the chance for free food and drinks,” he teases, laughing when you huff and try to pull away, tightening his grip to keep you locked in place. “What? I’m just being honest.” 

“Ass,” you mutter, but you can’t stop smiling, and neither can he. He lifts his arm, hand pressing lightly on your back to guide you in a spin, then brings you back into his embrace. You spot Rosé across the room, watching you and Jungkook dance, and she politely claps as you shake your head, grinning. 

The beat picks up again, and your friends surround you and Jungkook. Rosé, Jisoo, and Jin all dance together as Lisa introduces Yi-Jeong to the group. Even Jennie and Yoongi join in, and it’s true what Jennie told you yesterday - her man definitely has moves. Everyone’s happy and laughing, and you’re so full of joy you could just burst.

Jin suddenly twirls, facing Jungkook with an intense look on his face. The younger man takes a step back in surprise as Jin starts to rock his body back and forth, like he’s about to bust out a breakdance move. Is he seriously about to - 

“Ooh, dance battle!” Jisoo cups her hands around her mouth, yelling. Your other friends start whooping, forming a circle around Jungkook and Jin. Jisoo pulls you next to her from where you’ve been standing, so you’re not between them anymore. “Get it, Bambi!” 

While the others around you are shouting encouragement, you just gaze silently between the two men, unsure if you should be joining in. Unsure if this is a friendly competition or if the tense vibes you feel radiating between them is something more. From the expressions on their faces, it’s clear that they’re going to do this, so you just sigh, bobbing along to the beat, waiting for the show. 

Jungkook stops gawking at Jin and begins bedrocking, swinging his hands as he faces Jin with a fierce look. Jin glares back, sticking his arms out as he undulates in a rather impressive wave, rolling his long limbs from left to right. 

It’s not until you hear clapping behind you that you realize that more people have joined the circle, crowding in behind you, shouting Jin’s name. Jungkook hears it too, his brow furrowing slightly. It’s clear his competitive nature’s kicked in when he peels his suit jacket off. You hold your hand out for it automatically, feeling a swoop of heat in your stomach as he gives it to you with a wink. 

The tip of his tongue slips out as Jungkook suddenly throws himself towards the ground, landing on one hand like he’s doing a handstand, and then kicks his legs out in a cartwheel kick. He’s so smooth with it, inverting himself like it’s nothing, that you actually gasp.

It’s like he cranked the volume up on the crowd, and someone - Rosé, maybe? - starts chanting Jungkook’s name. You can’t help but add your voice to the mix. 

Jungkook lands back on his feet and motions for Jin to go. Jin also takes his jacket off, jaw clenching firmly. He rolls his body a few times before bouncing into the Roger Rabbit, feet stepping quickly, arms flapping at his side like wings. It’s surprisingly loose and funky, two words you don’t typically associate with Jin. 

Lisa yells, “Go chef!” and the crowd divides itself into two chants. Jin ends his turn with a little flourish, dusting imaginary dirt from his broad shoulders. But you know from Jungkook’s smirk that he’s undaunted, and without a second’s hesitation, he swiftly dives to the floor, launching himself into a windmill.

Your friends explode into cheers, watching Jungkook roll round and round the floor. As he picks up speed, he tucks his arms up onto his stomach, doing the trick with no hands. Then he comes to a stop with a freeze, legs hanging in the air. 

The crowd chants Jungkook’s name only as he rises to his feet. He straightens his tie, then gestures to Jin. Jin rocks for a few beats, a strange look in his eye. 

Then he throws his hands out in front of him, holding one steady while the other mimics winding a reel. 

“Is he - is he fishing for Jungkook?” 

You don’t answer Rosé as there’s no need to. Jin’s clearly doing the fishing pole move. One by one, the voices around you grow quieter. Jungkook blinks at Jin for a few seconds, obviously thrown by this decision.

Then he grins, flapping his hands by his face like fins.

“Oh, wow, they share a brain cell,” Lisa says. “Did not see that coming.” 

Jisoo groans. “Well, this is anticlimactic. I was promised bloodshed.” 

“Who promised you that?” you ask, laughing. Feeling a tiny bit relieved. 

The crowd departs, but the two men keep dancing. Jungkook pretends he’s been hooked, thrashing from side-to-side before dropping to the ground in his signature dolphin kick. Always a performer to the end, you think, as he hops back to his feet, and he and Jin take turns bowing to one another. 

The smile on his face gets wider when Jungkook sees you clapping for him. He reaches for his jacket, and you impulsively press a kiss to his cheek, biting back a laugh as his eyes widen slightly.

“If those are the moves you pull out for a dance-off, I can’t wait to see what you’ve got planned for later,” you whisper. Jungkook’s arm grips your side as he tilts his head to look at you. His touch is warm, but it can’t match the heat in his eyes. 

“Careful what you ask for, jagiya,” he replies, gaze dropping to your mouth so briefly that you almost miss it. “I need some water. Do you want anything?” 

You shake your head, and he disappears towards the tables. As soon as he’s gone, you feel someone brush your arm. 

“Okay, I’ll give it to the kid - he’s got moves,” Jin declares, holding his hand out in an offer to dance. You silently take it, letting him pull you close as the deejay cues up a ballad. 

Jin’s quiet for a few beats, leading you in small circles around the dance floor. It strikes you that this is the first time the two of you have really been face-to-face since yesterday, that weird standoff in the hallway earlier notwithstanding. You haven’t had a chance to talk to him alone since - 

“So what’s up with your boy?” 

You meet Jin’s gaze with a raised eyebrow. “Jungkook? What do you mean?”

Jin shrugs, the movement jostling your hand where it rests on his shoulder. “I mean, he looked like he was ready to throw hands when he introduced himself earlier. Like he was just itching for a fight.” 

“And you’re not?” You snort when he blinks in exaggerated confusion. “Oh, come on, all those snide little comments you were making at the table? Arguing with him about who has it worse? What was that all about?” 

Jin maintains his affronted expression for half a minute longer before he starts to laugh. “Okay, fine, I admit I was just pushing his buttons at dinner. In my defense, he made it too easy!” He laughs harder when you roll your eyes and start to pull away. “Okay, okay, I’m sorry. But I had to do something to cheer myself up. It wasn’t easy for me to sit there and watch the two of you together, to see the way you look at him.” 

Your curiosity tampers down your annoyance for a moment. “How do I look at him?” 

Jin smiles, but it doesn’t reach his eyes. “Like there’s no one else in the world.” 

You glance away, unsure what to say to that. Your gaze flits around the room until it lands on Jungkook, finding him at one of the tables, chatting with Lisa and Yi-jeong. His nose crinkles as he laughs with your friend, tattooed hand coming up to swipe away the hair that falls into his face, and you hear Jin sigh. 

“Yeah, that’s the look,” he says, shaking his head. He shifts his arm from your back, leading you into a gentle spin. “I was honestly surprised at how easy it was to antagonize him. Figured nothing I could do or say would bother him, knowing he won your heart.”

When you don’t respond to that, staring at Jin’s bowtie instead of meeting his eye, he hums. 

“Oh, I see. You haven’t told him yet.” 

Without warning, Jin dips you. You gasp, clutching his bicep to steady yourself.

“Are you having second thoughts?” he murmurs. His hand grips yours tightly, arm cradles your back, keeping you in place while his face hovers a mere breath above yours. 

It’s an intimate pose, the way he holds you now, yet just like yesterday, you feel nothing.

“No. No second thoughts.” You’ve recovered from your momentary shock, voice steady as you reply. “I’m sorry, Jin, but like I told you yesterday, it’s Jungkook I want.” 

Immediately, you’re back on your feet. 

“Yeah, I didn’t think so.” Jin grins a crooked grin. “Had to ask, though.” 

You roll your eyes. “I’m starting to regret this whole ‘let’s be friends’ idea.” 

He ignores your jibe. “Can I ask you a serious question?” 

You take a moment to study his face before answering. All traces of humor have vanished as he waits for your response. Slowly, you nod. 

“What are you waiting for?” 

The rooftop garden glows softly in the night air, lit by tiny lights strung along the trees and flowering plants. Hidden speakers strewn around the open space bring the music from the reception outside, providing a gentle soundtrack for a beautiful summer evening. 

“Where are we going?” Jungkook asks, hand clasped firmly in yours as you lead him out of the reception and across the garden. 

In the corner of the roof, there’s a small nook carved out between two potted cherry blossoms, their branches obscuring the two of you from any of the other guests milling about. Right now, you need a little privacy.

You also need a moment to gather your thoughts. Your stomach’s jumped into your throat at the thought of what you’re about to do, and your anxiousness makes it hard to think straight. It doesn’t help that you’re slightly distracted by the sight in front of you. 

Although the sun’s long since set, the air is still warm. Jungkook’s shed his jacket, has his tie loosened, sleeves rolled to his elbows, hand still in yours as he looks at you expectantly, patiently waiting for you to speak. You can see the moon reflecting in his bright eyes, and for a moment, you’re back in the elevator at your apartment, staring at your handsome neighbor, that shy man with the sweet smile.

It wasn’t that long ago that he was a total stranger. Someone you saw occasionally at the mailboxes, someone who regularly ran away when you tried to talk to him. You didn’t know anything about him back then - what he did, what he liked, what made him laugh. What his kisses felt like. 

It wasn’t that long ago, yet it already feels like a distant memory. One that you never want to return to. Knowing everything you know about him now, feeling everything you feel - you can’t go back. There’s only one thing you need to do now - tell him. 

No reason to wait a second longer. 

Taking a deep breath, you squeeze his hand. “Jungkook, I brought you out here because I wanted to tell you something. I’m… ah, I’m not very good at this kind of thing, but I’m gonna try because I don’t want to drag this out when I don’t need to.” 

Jungkook’s eyebrows twitch slightly, but he doesn’t say anything, so you go on. 

“You know how I went to Jennie’s yesterday? Um, Jin was also there, with Yoongi. He pulled me aside and told me that the job Wendy asked me to interview for is actually his show for Nosh. And then he started talking about the two of us working together and traveling and -”

“Choose me, jagiya.” 

“Huh?” 

His interruption throws you off from the rambly mess you were attempting to say. Jungkook reaches for your other hand, holding both against his chest, and gives you a shaky smile. 

“Choose me, jagi. I know I don’t have a career like Seokjin does, or his money, or - or even a guarantee that I’ll ever have either of those things. I probably can’t promise you most of the things he can.” He pauses to draw a long breath, like he’s trying to slow himself down and not rush over his words, and oh, you want to kiss him so much right now. Even if this isn’t how it’s supposed to go. “But I can promise y-”

“No no!” It’s his turn to look surprised as you raise your hands to his mouth, muffling his speech. “Jungkook, stop! I was trying to tell you that I ended things with Jin yesterday. You don’t have to say another word because it’s over.” 

“Mmt’s omer?” he mumbles against your fingers, eyes widening. 

“Yes, it’s over,” you giggle, uncovering his mouth, and suddenly all of your nervousness floats away on the evening breeze. “Come on, Kookie. Don’t you know? I’ve already chosen. It’s you. It’s always been you.” 

Jungkook continues to stare at you with those big doe eyes as your words slowly sink in, and you can’t help but smile, fondly, so, so fondly, that familiar sensation of warmth surging up from your chest, and you know now that it has a name, that buzz, that elation, that euphoria, and it’s on the tip of your tongue, just waiting for you to breathe it to life. 

So you exhale. 

“I think I’m falling in love with you.” 

For just the slightest of moments - a fraction of a second, a single heartbeat - when he doesn’t do anything, doesn’t so much as blink or breathe, you’re scared you’ve said too much. It’s too soon, too fast, too everything. 

But then he wraps his arms around you, holding you close enough that you can feel his own heart thumping wildly within his chest, and puts your fears to rest with four simple words, whispered softly against your lips.  

“Jagi, I’ve already fallen.” 

He kisses you, soft and slow, every touch so full of tenderness that you could cry. You tangle your fingers in his hair, desperately seeking something to hold onto, to keep you from floating right off the roof. He’s fallen for you. Jungkook’s fallen for you. 

You never knew your heart could hold so much. 

All your nervousness from before has dissipated. Now the only reason your pulse races is the nearness of him.

“Are you in any hurry to get back in there?” he asks, tipping his head towards the party.

You shake your head. 

He smiles. “Good.” 

He takes your hand again, locking his other arm around your back. You lay your head on his shoulder and close your eyes, listening to him sing along lightly with the music drifting across the rooftop. Even when the song changes to something more uptempo, he doesn’t let go, just laces his fingers through yours and continues to sway with you beneath the stars. 

Many songs later, when the two of you finally return to the party, you find that it’s already winding down. Jennie and Yoongi are making their rounds to say goodbye, needing to go home  and pack for their trip to Jeju Island in the morning. 

Jennie grabs your arm and pulls you away from Jungkook, waving the other bridesmaids over. “I’m gonna do it tonight!” 

Jisoo pinches her cheek. “Babe, you’ve already done it. That’s why you’re late, remember?” 

“Ha, ha.” Jennie smacks her hand away. “I mean I’m gonna tell Yoongi I’m pregnant, smartass.” 

“Ah, I’m so excited for you!” Lisa gives her a hug, and then you’re all hugging. 

“Have you all had a good time tonight?” Jennie asks, not waiting for an answer. “This has been the most amazing day! Thank you for everything, I couldn’t have done this without you.” 

“Yes, you could have,” you grin. 

“Okay, true, I could have. But it wouldn’t have been as much fun without you all. I love you so much!” 

“We love you too. Now go celebrate with your husband!” Rosé giggles, emphasizing the last word with an energetic wiggle of her eyebrows. 

“Yeah, get out of here. Some of us have plans tonight but we can’t leave until you do.” Jisoo declares. 

“She makes a good point,” Lisa chimes in, glancing over her shoulder at where Yi-jeong sits alone, clearly waiting. 

“Wow, okay,” Jennie laughs, but she’s flying too high to really be mad. “I’ll see you all in a week!” 

It’s as you turn to walk back to Jungkook that you remember. 

“Oh! Lisa!” 

Your friend glances at you as you back away with a giant grin. 

“Pay Rosé her fifty bucks.” 

“Why are your friends screaming like that?” Jungkook asks when you rejoin him. 

You just smile and press a soft kiss to his cheek. “Ready to get out of here?” 

Riding Jungkook’s motorcycle is a much more pleasant experience tonight than it was on your way home from your first date. The sky is clear above you as Jungkook expertly weaves through traffic, and you’re warm and dry sitting behind him, wearing his suit jacket, arms tight around his waist. You spend most of the ride hugging more than holding on to him. 

Every few blocks, he releases the hand grip to let his palm rest on your thigh for a moment, squeezing gently. You think he means it as a reassuring touch, knowing how shaky you are with the entire concept of motorcycles to begin with, how just the thought of riding one still makes you nervous, but the actual effect he's having on you is far from comforting. It’s driving you insane.

By the time you reach your apartment door, you’re feral with need. You toss Jungkook’s jacket onto the floor and Jungkook lets out a surprised yelp when you tug on his arm as he’s closing the door. He barely has a chance to turn the lock before you’re pulling him down, passionately kissing away his confused noise. 

“B-baby,” he finally manages to stammer out after a few minutes of intense making out, “baby, do you wanna move to the couch?” 

You shake your head. “Need you now.” 

“Yeah?” His eyes are so dark that it makes you shudder when he catches your gaze. “Always so needy for me, huh? Just like the first time?” 

You remember that night, the way he’d fucked you against the hallway wall, both of you too desperate to even make it another ten feet to your bed. That same greedy desire burns through you now. 

Thank god for the slit in your dress. Hitching your leg up, you wrap it around his back, guiding him back down on top of you. 

“Just like that,” your voice trembles, back arching as Junghook’s hand snakes between you, rubbing at you through your dress. “Ahh, fuck, just like that!” 

You grasp at the side zipper on the dress, fingers fumbling too much to yank it down as quickly as you want. Jungkook has to do it for you, helping you sit up long enough to shed the entire gown. 

He sucks in a sharp breath. “Jagi.” 

If you weren’t already dying for him, the expression on his face when he sees you in the lingerie you’re wearing beneath your dress would do it. 

“Does it look better in person?” you ask, running your fingers over your chest, thumbs pressing in slow circles to wake your nipples, feeling them swell beneath the lace. 

With a pained groan, Jungkook starts hurriedly tearing at his suit, throwing the items nearly halfway across the open space of your living room in his urgency, not stopping until he’s completely naked, cock already hardening between his legs. 

“Yeah,” he grunts, biting his lip to let his hands do the talking. They travel over your torso, up across your breasts, squeezing your hands so you grip yourself harder. He laughs at your little gasp, and then he’s swallowing your sounds with his eager mouth, knocking your legs apart with his knee so he can press his body to yours. 

Your own impatience has you hooking your calves the backs of his thighs, bending your knees to urge him nearer. But no matter how close he is to you, it’s not enough, an itch you can’t scratch no matter how much you try. 

“I think this is going to have to come off now,” you frown, tugging at your bodice. You need to feel him, skin-to-skin. 

“Oh, not yet,” Jungkook says, voice near enough to be a growl. “Please, jagi, keep it on a little longer. For me.” He looks at you with such a lustful gaze that you find yourself nodding, immediately caving to his wish. If he wants to fuck you in your lingerie, fine. There will be more time to feel him later. 

There will be more time for everything you want with Jungkook. 

His mouth reconnects with yours. You sigh into him as his fingers find the snaps at the crotch of the teddy. He’s not gentle with them, practically ripping them open, but he’s more delicate as he slides his finger into you, finding you just as wet as always. He plunges two fingers in, and you know he’s trying to take his time and make sure you’re ready, but you’re too impatient for his consideration right now. 

“Come on, Kookie,” you plead, cupping his chin to draw his gaze away from his work, “I’m ready. I need you now.” 

“Shit,” he mutters, clearly reading your frustration. “Are you sure?”

“Yeah. I wanna feel you.” 

He reaches for his pants, which have been flung over the back of the couch, and you stop him.

“No, I mean, I want to feel you.”

Jungkook swallows hard, his Adam’s apple visibly bobbing. “Jesus Christ, jagiya, you’re going to kill me.” He kisses you again, before his expression turns serious. “Can we? I mean, are you on something -” 

Laughing, you grab his face again, pulling him back to you for another kiss. 

“I have an implant. And I haven’t been with anyone since you and I have been…” you trail off, unsure what to call it. Dating? “Not since the last time I was tested.” 

“No one?” He doesn’t say the name, but you know what he’s asking. 

“No one.” You and Seokjin never got that far.

“I haven’t been with anyone either.” Jungkook strokes his thumb along your cheek. “It’s just been you. You’re the only one I want.” 

“Then have me.” With another sigh, you lift your hips, rolling against him. 

Jungkook groans, and you barely have a second to breathe before his lips take yours again. There’s some shifting, you spreading your legs while he’s propping himself up on one elbow and lining himself up with his other hand, and then he’s sinking in, slowly, filling you up hot inch by hot inch, until he’s completely sheathed. 

You got your wish. You can feel all of him. It’s a new sensation, and it’s intense, but you can tell it’s even more so for him. 

“Oh, goddamn, jagi.” Jungkook presses his forehead to yours. His chest heaves as he holds himself completely still. “You’re so - fuck.” 

“Yeah? Is it that good?” 

He nods a little, eyes squeezing shut, and you run your fingers through his hair, trying to impart some comfort. As much as you want him to rail you through the floor right now, you don’t want to rush him anymore. 

“Does it really feel that different?”

Jungkook shakes his head. “It’s not that. That’s part of it - you feel so fucking good, baby - but it’s - it’s…” He huffs out a short breath, shaking his head again. “I don’t know how to say it. It’s everything.” 

And you understand exactly what he means, not by whatever he’s trying and failing to say, but by the look in his eyes. 

“Oh,” is all you can say, feeling your own words slipping away from you, as he starts to move. 

His cock drags slowly, so slowly at first, his head bowing as he concentrates on the feeling of you, the way your cunt seems to suck him back in eagerly, walls clenching when he snaps his hips experimentally. He observes every breath that escapes you, every mewl and whimper, and adjusts his pace, the strength of his thrusts, all the while drowning in his own perception, the tight heat and wetness of your core making his eyes roll back in his head with each pump. 

Neither of you speak after that, but you don’t need to. Your bodies communicate everything you’re feeling, punctuated by the unrestrained noises you both make. Your nails rake down Jungkook’s back as he fucks into you, drawing whine after whine from him, broken cries of desire, of wanting you to hold him, claim him, just as he’s claiming you. Mine, your fingernails declare, inscribing his skin with scratches. Yours, his hips answer in return, powerfully driving into yours, connecting you again and again, faster and faster. 

His hand clutches at the thigh you’ve wrapped around his waist, fingers twisting around the garter straps, and you can tell from his unsteady panting that he’s close. Your own pleasure is nearing the precipice, but you know he’s going to reach his first. Which he confirms with a strangled whimper.

“Jagi, I’m - I’m gonna come,” he grits through his teeth, brow furrowed, like he’s focusing all his energy on not coming right then and there. “‘M sorry, I can’t stop, I can’t - “

“Don’t stop, Kookie, don’t stop!” You don’t care if he finishes first. This isn’t about just sex anymore. All you want is for him to feel as good as he makes you feel, all the time. “Come on, cum inside me. Give me everything, fill me up!” 

“Fuck!” he grunts, moaning your name, and with only a few more thrusts, he follows your command. His hips jerk wildly as he gives in to the burning need beneath his skin and fills you with his hot release. It seems to go on and on, until he’s gasping, sagging against you weakly, too wrung out to hold himself up any longer. “Holy shit.”

You just hum, stroking his sweat-soaked hair, until he finally lifts his head. 

“I’m sorry,” he says. “I got caught up in the moment. Too much going on in my head and - and, fuck, you felt too good.” He gives you a sheepish smile.

You shush his apologies with a laugh, wrapping your arms around him again, urging him to lay down, so his head rests on your chest. “You don’t have to explain. It’s been… it’s been a long time since I’ve felt anything like this.” 

He sighs, moving slightly so he can leave light kisses over your covered chest. “Me too.” His hand trails lazily down your torso, following the swirls in the lace’s pattern. “I’m glad you said what you did. On the roof. I wanted to tell you before how I felt, but I was afraid you’d think I was rushing things.” His voice gets quieter. “It wouldn’t be the first time.” 

There’s a sadness in his tone, a naked vulnerability that makes your heart ache, so you squeeze him a little tighter. You know exactly what he means. 

He raises his head a little, starts kissing his way down your stomach. “Are you still…”

“Am I still what?” You bite your lip as he reaches the apex of your thighs, gently nudging them further apart so he can lie in between. 

Jungkook presses soft kisses to your inner thighs, one side, then the other, before he looks up at you. “Was that enough for you or are you still wanting more? You were so needy earlier, jagiya.” 

Of course you still want more. You don’t think you’ll ever get enough of him. 

“Yeah,” you say, your fingers combing his hair out of his face so there’s nothing hiding him from you, just as there’s nothing hiding you from him, “I want more. Please, Kookie.” 

The smirk that spreads across his lovestruck face sends your heart racing. Your back arches off the floor when he coaxes the first orgasm from you with his tongue, feels like it might snap in half by the time he pulls the second one with his fingers. 

You melt into his embrace afterward, so thoroughly satiated, so utterly content, that you nearly fall asleep. But Jungkook coaxes you off the floor and into the bathroom, to wash his back in the shower before he tenderly scrubs yours, and then into bed, where the last thing you see before closing your eyes is the smile on his face as he whispers good night. 

“What does this one mean?” 

It’s late. Very late, sometime between midnight and early morning, when you should be asleep. You’d awoken in need of some water, slipping out carefully, trying not to wake Jungkook, only to come back to find him up and waiting for you to return to bed. He wasn’t just awake but up up, and you couldn’t resist, climbing directly into his lap for a slow, lazy ride. 

Now, you’re lying together, back pressed to Jungkook’s chest, with his arm draped beneath your breasts, as he gives you a tour of his tattoos. He tells you that most are symbolic, but a few have stories behind them, and you listen raptly to each one. Even though he’s probably tired, he’s indulging you, answering all your questions without so much as a single yawn.

He tilts his head to look at where you’re tapping on a striped snake. “That one? That’s supposed to represent growth. You know, shedding my skin, like a snake.” He flexes his forearm and the snake moves as if undulating on its own. “Do you like snakes?” 

“I like them a lot more than spiders, I can tell you that,” you reply, giggling. 

He laughs, watching silently as your fingers roam over his skin. There’s so much ink covering him, and you’re dying to know about all of it, filled with a buzzing curiosity despite the late hour. 

“What about this one?” Gingerly, you trace over the orange tiger lily etched onto the inside of his forearm, as if afraid that pressing too harshly will cause the petals to crumple. It’s gorgeously vibrant, the glowing color popping vividly against his skin. 

“Ah, that’s my birth flower.” Jungkook laughs a quick laugh. “That one was actually Taehyung’s suggestion. Do you know what the flower is supposed to represent?” 

“Uh-uh.” 

“Self-confidence.” He laughs again, shaking you a little as his chest vibrates. “He said it’d be a good reminder when he’s not around, that I still need to be confident.”

“Taehyung’s a good friend,” you remark, and Jungkook hums in assent. He rubs mindlessly at the flower with his other hand, fingertips bumping against yours. 

“You know, there’s another reason I got this one. A hidden meaning that tiger lilies are meant to express.” 

“Ooh, a hidden meaning?” You tilt your head to peer at him. “And what’s that?” 

Even in the dim light from your bedside lamp, you can see the tips of Jungkook’s ears turning red as he smiles bashfully, his eyes crinkling when he answers. “Please love me.” 

It’s impossible to resist kissing him, kissing that shy bunny smile that you’ve adored all this time, so you don’t even try, cupping his cheeks gently while you brush his lips with yours. When you pull away, his face is flushed, and he laughs, dipping his head in embarrassment even as he whispers, “Keep going.” 

You giggle, and kiss him again, and then stop. “Oh! Wait a minute.” 

Jungkook lets out a small grunt of displeasure when you leave his embrace, but you return quickly, handing him a small frame from your desk. 

“Jagi, you framed this?” He stares through the glass at the tiger lily sketch he’d drawn for you, back when he asked you out on your first date.

“Well, yeah. It was too pretty not to.” 

You take your place between his legs again, his arm automatically sliding around your waist while he gazes at the picture. “But it was just a quick little drawing. It’s not my best work.” 

“So? I think it’s beautiful. And… it’s from you.” You can feel your neck warming as you speak. “I like to keep it on my desk when I’m working. Every time I get annoyed by something, I look at it, and it calms me down.” Your lips quirk in a little smile. “So you can imagine that I look at it a lot,” you say, half-joking, half-not. Because it’s true, you do stare at it a lot. The drawing always brings you peace. Because it reminds you of Jungkook. So fiery and bright, but also so lovely and delicate. 

“Jagi,” Jungkook says again, swallowing thickly. His arm squeezes you closer.

You take the frame from his hand, placing it on the nightstand, before shifting to face him, legs straddling his as you loop your arms around his neck. “Be honest - were you sending me a hidden message with this?” 

His ears are burning red again. “Maybe. Guess it worked.” 

You surge forward, kissing the cheeky smile right off his face. His hands settle on your hips, holding you tightly, as if right now there’s any danger of you leaving. There’s nowhere else you’d rather be, with no one else. 

But you’re also wondering something you’ve been wondering for a while now, and since he’s been so obliging so far, you decide to ask him one more question. “Can I ask you something?”

“Jagi, all you’ve been doing is asking me questions,” Jungkook grins. 

You roll your eyes at his teasing tone. “Yeah, okay, I just mean, can I ask about something that doesn’t have anything to do with your tattoos?” 

He nods. 

“If I hadn’t come to Paradise with my friends that night, would you ever have made a move?”

He clearly wasn’t expecting that question, judging by the look on his face. His eyes fall out of focus as they stare unseeing at you, and you know he’s lost in thought. You give him the time to find his way to an answer, running your fingers through his hair soothingly while you wait.

“I don’t know,” he finally admits. “I’d like to think that yes, I would’ve gotten up the nerve to talk to you. But it might’ve taken a while. Seeing you at Paradise kind of gave me an opening.”

“I think this still would’ve happened,” you tell him, suddenly filled with an unusual amount of confidence, bolstered by his hands on your waist, his eyes locked on yours, “all of this. I think we would’ve ended up just like this.” 

“How do you know that?”

“I would’ve worn you down at the mailboxes,” you grin. “At the rate we were going, it probably would’ve taken a decade, but we’d get there eventually.” 

He laughs, hands locking behind your back as he holds you close. “Or maybe I would’ve shown up at your door one night and danced for you. Maybe that’s what I did in another universe.” 

“I’m sure it worked,” you murmur, leaning closer to his lips. “I think in any universe, we end up like this. We’re just lucky that we got here so fast.” 

“The luckiest,” he agrees, closing the space between you. 

When you finally fall asleep again, you dream of falling through other universes, following the same dark eyes and wicked smirk through each.

If you liked this fic, please consider reblogging! Likes do not help it get seen by other readers. 💕

Masterlist 💜 Find me on AO3 💜 

© 2021-22-23-24 by sunshinerainbowsbts/minisugakoobies. Crossposted to AO3. Please do not copy or repost.

#bts smut #jungkook smut #bts scenarios #bts imagines #bts x reader #jungkook x reader #jungkook x you #jeon jungkook x you #jeon jungkook x reader #jeon jungkook smut #fic: paradise #thebtswritersclub #jungkook fanfic #bts fanfic

[insfiringyou]

Who of the Members likes to get his balls stimulated? Could be anything grip, licking, sucking or dislikes it because it's to uncomfortable or sensitive?

They'd all like it to some extent as we've shown in the fics.

Sucked = Yoongi, Jungkook, Taehyung, Namjoon especially!

Gently held = Jin, Hoseok

A little more firmly held = Jimin

#bts #bts smut #bts preferences #bts rated m #bts rated #bts kinks

[angel-fic-recs]

It Happened Quiet - hobimo

Kim Taehyung x Min Yoongi (Taegi)

Implied/Past Min Yoongi x Jung Hoseok (Sope)/ Implied Jeon Jungkook x Park Jimin (Jikook)

Rated : M

Wordcount : 80k (multi-chaptered)

Genre : Surburban Horror | Mystery AU!

Description :

There’s something in the woods.

“Yoongi.”

Something between the trees.

“Yoongi.”

There’s someone in the woods.

“Yoongi!” 

Angel's review : It's one of these stories that has such an intricate and mysterious plot that you cannot help but continue to read to unravel it. The setting of this fanfiction is top tier : there is a creepy sensation always lingering throughout your read that only stops at the end when suddendly everything makes sense. The reader is as clueless as Yoongi and we find things progressively, step by step, at the same time as this character. I promise it's not dark, graphic and horribly scary like some fanfictions I have recommended before, it's just unsettling and creepy (in a good way) (if that makes sense lol). For those who have watched the Netflix serie "Stranger Things", this will most likely be your new favorite read !

Link : https://archiveofourown.org/works/15070646

Link of the podfic (by singinginmay) (i recommend listening to this podfic, it made me immersed faster in the story) : https://archiveofourown.org/works/26127112

#fanfic rec #taegi #yoonseok #sope #ao3 #rated m #rural cryptid #suburban horror #modern setting #childhood memories #mystery #fantasy element #missing persons #jikook #podfic #wordcount : 60 80k #angel fic recs #multi-chaptered #bts

[btbaker]

Exciting news!!! I have made “Changeling”, the first novel in the Messenger Chronicles available. As an author, I don’t think I’m supposed to have favorites, but this is probably my favorite project I’ve worked on.

Description

Missing teen girls. Pretty routine for Mercy to handle on her own. When she rescues a girl from being a vampire’s food, she is forced to call for backup. Monsters lurk in the shadows, and it is up to her and the ragtag team she’s put together to keep the monsters at bay.

To order a copy, simply click on the link below. It is available in Kindle, Hardcover, and Paperback.

https://www.amazon.com/gp/aw/d/B09Z9T7FF4/ref=tmm_hrd_swatch_0?ie=UTF8&qid=&sr=

#btbaker #bt baker #kindle #Changeling #contemporary women #vampire #paranormal #some horror elements #rated m

[sailoryooons]

Bust | KTH | (m)

☾ Pairing: Heistman!Taehyung x f. Reader

☾ Summary: Seeing a beautiful man in the middle of a bank robbery is unusual. Seeing him again afterward is even more unlikely… and yet not unlucky. 

☾ Word Count: 2,211

☾ Genre: Criminal, Smut, PWP

☾ Rating: 18+ Minors are strictly prohibited from engaging and reading this content. It contains explicit content and any minors discovered reading or engaging with this work will be blocked immediately. 

☾ Warnings: Bank robbery, light depiction of fear/anxiety, mentions of poor financial situations and money-related stress, recreational drinking, ‘good girl’ petname, explicit language, sexually explicit content including oral (f. receiving), biting, spanking, implied body worship kind of, a hint of overstim, bodily fluids and cum-eating. 

☾ Published: Monday, January 15, 2024

☾ A/N: This is an idea I randomly spoke about forever ago in a TikTok DM with @gimmethatagustd and this is strictly written to ruin their entire life tonight. I hope it works idk osifodigjoijg. 

☾ A/N 2: Tonight is number four for my 100 Drabble Challenge and I rolled number 24 for criminals! I hope you enjoy my depraved thoughts of Taehyung in that GOD DAMN SQUID GAME OUTFIT AT PTD. MY MASK KINK DOESN’T MAKE AN APPEARANCE BUT BE FUCKING SURE IT WILL ONE DAY. HE MADE ME INSANE. 

☾ Disclaimer: All members of BTS are faces and name claims for this story. This is entirely a work of fiction and by no means is meant to be a projection, judgment or representation of real-life people. Any scenarios or representations of the people and places mentioned in works are not representative of real-life scenarios.

Main Masterlist ☾ 100 Drabble Masterlist ☾ Ask ☾ Song Inspiration ☾

Sweat beads down your back, the trickle of it slower than the clock ticking above your head. Time seems to slow as you sit on a carpet that hasn’t been steam cleaned since the 80s and push yourself against the wall, eyes glued to the open vault. 

It had happened so fast and yet now, it’s like it can’t be over fast enough. Each second that ticks by feels like it takes a year. You cannot hear the chatter of the men inside the vault, but their harsh whispers raise goosebumps on your skin.

At least they haven’t noticed you. Not that you would do much, anyway. You have no intention of going over to push the alarm by the door, too afraid to alert the armed man who stands just outside the vault room on the other side, and far too underpaid to risk your life for a financial institution. 

For a moment, you wish it were you robbing the damned bank. Maybe you could pay off the student loans on your degree you’re not using and run the heating in your apartment during the winter instead of bundling up in several layers. 

Your momentary lapse of delusion passes as the men rush out of the vault, duffles in hand. They’re all dressed in red, black masks covering their faces with shapes on them. You’re vaguely aware that the costume belongs to some sort of show you saw online, but you can’t place them.

Perhaps you’ll watch it now.

“Hurry up,” one of the men barks toward the vault. There had been three inside, but only two came out. “Grab the last and let’s go. Two minutes left.”

They’re gone in an instant. Your eyes dart back to the vault where you can hear the last person inside. Glancing at the clock, you watch the seconds tick by. 

Ten seconds. Fifteen. Thirty. A minute. 

A man dressed in a red suit, hood pulled over his head comes out of the vault. As he slugs it shut with one arm, the bag on his shoulder droops, spilling the contents inside out onto the floor. Bands of cash fall out, thudding around his feet. He swears loudly and bends over, back slipping more to drop cash on the ground.

In his frustration, he crouches and tips the mask up a fraction, shielding his face from the camera above but not from you, huddled on the floor a few feet away.

Your heart skips. The thief is beautiful. Dark eyes focused on his task, a wide nose that fits perfectly on a symmetrical face with high cheekbones, a sharp jawline, and a pursed mouth. There’s a flush in his face from the heat, the tip of his nose an endearing shade of rose.

As if sensing your gaze, his head snaps up. You cower against the wall, realizing now that you’ve seen his face, you’ve doomed yourself. He stalls completely, gloved hand hovering over the cash, eyes boring into you. He arches a brow as if to ask you a question and you respond by shaking your head. 

The thief gives you a cocky grin, nodding before he finishes picking up the money and tossing it into the bag. He looks at you again, a smirk on full display before he winks and pulls the mask back down. “Good girl,” he purrs. “I like that.” 

Despite the situation, your stomach flips. He stands and rushes out, lingering by the door for a second longer to stare at you through the black mask. You can’t see his face, but you know you’ll never forget it, pretty as an angel, dangerous as a devil. 

When the group is gone, you wait in silence, only the pumping of your heart to keep you company. When the cops come and ply you with questions all you can do is shake your head repeatedly. 

I was too scared. I can’t remember. 

-

I was too scared. I can’t remember. 

It is the same thing you tell investigators for nearly two months. Just when you think they won’t keep asking what the man looked like, they finally drop it, handing over the robbery details to the FBI. They were at least a little less callous, caring a little less about how many questions you answered. 

If you had to guess, your unimpressive financial situation even after the robbery was significant enough that you weren’t involved with the robbery. 

It’s hard not to wish you had been. The straw in your mouth belongs to a drink that is far too expensive for you to not wince and it barely tastes like anything. At this rate, you know you won’t get a buzz. You’d love alcohol to take the edge off of the loud club music or loosen you up a bit, but you’re resigned to being sober for the rest of your friend's birthday. 

Around you is a gaggle of men and women, both people you know and new faces trying to pick up your friends. Anyone trying to hit on you has already decided you’re far too grumpy to waste time on, most of their backs facing you as people shout over the music about working in finance.

You wonder if they also rob banks in their spare time. It makes you grin, thinking fondly about the thief once again. You do that a lot.  

Sipping the drink, you glance at your phone. It’s been an hour since you arrived, but you’re wondering if enough time has reasonably passed to excuse yourself. Tomorrow is one of your few days off and you intend to spend it lounging on the couch watching TV instead of nursing a headache.

Someone slides into the space at the bar next to you. You don’t glance up at them, spinning your skinny cocktail straw absently as you stare at the melted ice of your Long Island iced tea. You hoped that once it melted it would turn into a second drink, but it hasn’t. Cold, bitter water it is, then. 

“Why the long face?” You frown at the vaguely familiar voice and glance up, freezing. 

Mr. Bank Robber looks down at you, cocking his head to the side with a wolfish grin. Your mouth pops open in surprise, leaning back a little as you drink him in. This close, he is far more beautiful than you remember, the edges and shadows of his face like a carefully painted fresco. Michelangelo could hardly be talented enough to capture this. 

“You,” you whisper, his grin spreading further. 

“Have we met?” he leans on the bar, dressed in all black. You eye the three-piece suit and the glinting diamonds in the cuff links. His clothes are far finer than anything anyone else is wearing and when you breathe in sharply, you smell a hint of woody cologne. His dark hair is slicked back and you catch the dainty hoop earrings in his lobes. You like the juxtaposition. 

“You know we have.” He tongues the inside of his cheek, turning his head to order with the bartender. His eyes stray to you, raising a brow. You supply him with your answer, “A long island.”

The bartender nods, momentarily stupefied by the heistman’s beauty before walking over to the POS, tapping the screen with the speed and aggression unique to bartenders. 

“Kind of a shitty club,” he mentions, looking around over the top of your head. Sweat clings to your lower back, your mouth growing dry as you watch colors splash on his face. “Your face is too pretty for a place like this.”

“Is that so?” 

“Mhmm.” The bartender puts the drinks on the counter and the man gives him cash, signaling to keep the change. The bartender raises a brow but says nothing, taking the money as he goes. “What’s your name?”

“You probably already know it.” He cocks his head to the side. “I’m sure you looked me up to see if I was a threat or watched me to see what I’d do.”

“You watch too many heist movies.”

“Maybe I watch just enough.”

He laughs at that and your lips twitch. It’s rich, making his face intimidating as he gives you a wide smile and shakes his head. “Alright, maybe you’re right.”

“Can I know your name?”

“For the right price.”

“My silence was a pretty petty, no?”

He bites his bottom lip, eyes dipping down and back up. You sip your drink, feeling a flush of warmth unfurl in your body, most notably between your legs. “I like you.”

“You have to like me. I know your secret.” 

Leaning forward, he ducks down so that he’s murmuring into your ear, hot breath ghosting your skin and making you tremble. “Want to hear more?” Your eyelids flutter as he waits, skin buzzing at his sudden proximity. You nod, feeling lightheaded. “My name is Taehyung. Want to get out of here?”

-

“Fuck,” Taehyung growls, hands skimming your bare sides. You can’t keep still under his gaze, hips squirming and fingers twisting in the sheets. His mouth is swollen and covered in your spit, his eyes blown as a large hand scrapes down to your thigh where he gives you a good slap. “I knew you were a good girl.”

A moan trips out of your mouth. Your thigh stings where he slapped you but he soothes it with the easy back-and-forth motion of his hand, his fingers digging into your flesh. Taehyung is a man starved, having littered your body with harsh kisses and bites, nearly breaking the skin.

You don’t care. You’re feverish for him, room spinning as you sprawl on his soft sheets in a hotel room that is far nicer than anything you’ve ever been in. You burn up like a star, core raging as Taehyung leans back down, pressing your naked thighs open for him as he sucks the skin of your chest between his teeth.

Everything aches. You want him so bad that you feel a cry come out of your mouth, lips wobbling as he laughs against your skin, sinking lower and lower, mouth loud as he sucks at your skin, tongue brushing over the sting of his teeth. 

“Does my good girl need her pussy eaten?” Taehyung rasps, looking up at you where he kneels between your legs. “Is that why you’re crying, hmm?”

Taehyung looks like something out of a thriller. His eyes are dark and hungry, his shadowed face becoming some sort of demon of lust. He’s what you would imagine a dark god. A bacchanal devil, a creature made for sin. 

All you can do is nod in response, feeling Taehyung’s vicious grip on your thighs as he presses you further, your muscles stretching. The strain feels good, as does the slow drip of your cunt down the curve of your ass mixed with his breath.

“So messy,” he murmurs, leaning forward and blowing cool air on your sticky folds. You squirm, the sensation sending you into overdrive as you twist your head to the side, eyes squeezed shut. He’s barely done a thing and you’re worked up more than you can ever recall. “Pretty.”

The slow, soft press of Taehyung’s tongue through your pussy makes you sag. It’s the relief that you so desperately needed, eyes rolling back as he circles your clit and drags his tongue back down. Taehyung is slow as he eats you out, tongue savoring every drop you can give him.

He taps your thigh, drawing your attention to him. He smirks as his tongue dips into your entrance, dragging back up to swirl around your throbbing bud a few times.

It’s impossible to tear your eyes away once you’re watching. Taehyung keeps his razor-sharp gaze on you, bringing his mouth fully to your cunt as he sucks eagerly. There is a rhythm to the curl of his tongue and the sharp suck of his lips, the wet smack of his ministrations driving you crazy.

“Mmm,” he hums, pressing his face in further. He’s messy with it, his jaw and nose covered in shiny slick. He laughs throatily when your back comes off the bed, thighs shaking. “Such a good pussy, just like I knew it would be.”

It feels too hot in the room. Your breaths are coming in too fast and there’s nothing you can do to catch it, Taehyung working you up to a frenzied, frenetic orgasm. You can feel your heartbeat in your ears, pumping so hard that you think you might need to stop.

And then you break.

Your body seizes as you come, a scream ripping through your mouth as Taehyung slurps hungrily at your mess, spurred by your release. You can’t stop shaking as he dives in, unwilling to stop until you’re babbling, nearly lifeless as the orgasm teeters into overstimulation. 

Only then does Taehyung pull his mouth away, trailing wet, cum-spit kisses on your inner thigh, nipping your thigh here and there. 

“Think you can take more?” he asks, slurring his words against your thigh. “Think you can take my cock.” 

You nod eagerly, hand letting go of the sheets and reaching toward him. “Yes.”

“Mmm good. I’m about to bust.” He bites your knee. “And I don’t mean a bank, this time.” 

#taehyung smut #kim taehyung smut #bts smut #taehyung fic #taehyung fanfic #bts fic #bts fanfic #taehyung x reader #taehyung x you #v smut #bts v

[whatifyoulivelikethat]

trouble, m | jjk

... aka, jeon jungkook’s dick is so good and your pussy is so heavenly that faith in humanity is restored.

pairing(s): jungkook x reader

warnings: rated M (18+) for language; a hookup turned awkward meeting at a goddamn McDonalds of all places; smut (fem reader, hair pulling, heavy making out, m-receiving oral, doggy, penetrative sex, fingering, m-masturbation); non-idol!BTS – ft best friend!Park Jimin being a wingman little shit classic

--

“Oh, I’m in trouble.”

Panic coursed throughout his veins.

“I can’t be here.”

And maybe a little bit of arousal too.

“Jungkook, this is a public place,” Park Jimin corrected him. “Anybody can be at McDonald’s.”

He almost got up from his seat, except he was boxed in a corner of a crowded fast-food restaurant and Jimin shoved the tray full of food right in front of his face. The other side of the table held various shopping bags full of things that Jimin thought his mother would like for the upcoming new year. Why did Jeon Jungkook have to be here? Well, he was the one guy from Busan who happened to be Jimin’s close friend and Jimin’s mother’s favorite friend of her son’s. Therefore, Jungkook obviously had to select something for Jimin to buy just so Jimin could say, Jungkook thought you would look nice in this cream sweater, thus gaining maximum best son points.

Yeah, Jungkook didn’t really get it either, but he was told that he was getting free food out of it.

Didn’t think it was going to be McDonald’s, though.

Also didn’t think that his fuck from last night was going to serendipitously appear, standing in line looking drop-dead gorgeous as she pushed the fur-lined hood of her coat back. Her lush hair spilled out in soft waves over the shoulders of that the black suede long-line stunner, far too much luxury for the city mall. And then there was her face. What god thought it would be funny to allow someone to look that effortlessly pretty bare-faced? Who put such sexy eyes on such a cute face? One glance and one would think, how cute with those dimples and pillowy lips, and then do a double take when the shape of those foxy eyes sunk in, holy shit, fuck me right now. Or, at least Jungkook had thought that. Still thought it, looking at her again in the daylight. Tight white top, heather gray sweatpants that didn’t match the lavishness of the jacket, and easy black-and-white sneakers, clearly everything thrown together to grab some food quickly while being a goddamn snack herself.

Jimin was carefully positioning Jungkook’s meal in front of him – fries, massive sandwich with both a beef patty and fried chicken patty, tall Coca-Cola and all, chatting away, and all Jungkook could do was gawk like an idiot.

Like he said, he was in trouble.

Tomorrow.

The ghost of her hand slid up his chest, caressing his skin while her voice curled by his ear, soft lips kissing down his neck.

I hope your friends ask about me.

The image entering his mind, the way she smiled above him, her skin alight from his mood lamp with specks of red light playfully dancing over her jaw, her fingertips tracing his muscle making his heart race, her soft thighs against his, smooth and sleek and making him insane.

The devil was in the details.

“Hello? Did you space out again?”

Jungkook jumped, startled that Jimin was glaring at him. “What?”

Those small hands stiffly pointed to the food spread before them. “Eat? Come on, it’s busy and we don’t want to take up too much time.”

“R… Right.”

He had about two seconds to take a bite out of his sandwich before Jimin casually asked in between bites of curly fries, “Oh yeah, you ran off last night with that sexy lady. How did that go?”

Jungkook choked.

-

That’s all I am, sex and shallow feelings, tch, what an idiot, acting like it was ever anything else, I don’t need anyone and I won’t need anyone, go ahead and act all high and mighty in front of your friends during the day, we all know you’ll be begging to crawl in my bed at night.

Mind a billion thoughts a minute.

You tilted your head and found yourself not that hungry. Still, some fries and a drink sounded good, so you picked that. Reached into the fur by your chest and pulled out your cardholder, tapping it to pay as you continued scowling in your head, trying not to let it show in the form of resting-bitch-face.

Ten minutes before this moment had been an annoying confrontation. You considered if you could have handled it better.

Or more savagely.

You should have pulled up all those messages you had left on read.

Sigh, but, no, you hadn’t thought of it. Ultimately, it wasn’t worth your time. It would have been a childish move. Why was that anyway? Why was it that you needed to be the “bigger person” and not be petty when some guy got all up in your face about you not wanting a relationship as his supposed friends crowded around in a circle around you two, clearly silently intimidating you? In public! Fuckin’ bum-rushed you on the street as if the showy dramatics would illicit shame or obedience. Yeah, because you were a woman who would just kill to be in a relationship, right? You scoffed internally. ‘Cause it was just so important to be in a relationship, more than, oh, I don’t know, actively not being in one that was definitely, absolutely gonna make you miserable?

Also, he hadn’t even been that good in bed.

“At least I am sex. You couldn’t even be that for a slut with as low standards as me,” was your frigid reply before walking away.

You couldn’t understand it. What was so great about relationships anyway? People only got into them for easy sex. A lotta work for a shitty time. You could get laid without the emotional baggage of another, thank you.

Although, sex probably wasn’t easy for people who acted like little bitches.

Hah.

You thanked the employee and accepted your food, wandering over to the drinks fountain with your paper cup. A basic day of running errands on your off-day now ruined by this bullshit. Nothing a little McDonald’s couldn’t fix though. Something about the nostalgia of hot, simple, cheap fast food made it more delicious. You probably should have gotten a sandwich or something, but you didn’t want to be too full and not want to do your errands after. Fried potatoes it was.

Hey, people called you sex, not the epitome of health.

You notched your finger on the tab and watched the honey-sweetened black ice tea pour out of the nozzle, which was the exact moment your intrusive thoughts popped up.

You avoid making deep relationships so that no one will notice when you die.

Thanks, brain.

Funnily enough, no one had ever said this to you. You would think someone would have noticed by now but, no, this was a revelation you made yourself once you were old enough to understand yourself better, and it came randomly while showering. Hmph. Goddamn showers. You slipped past a lovey-dovey couple to sit by the window counter, plopping down on one of the stools to munch on your fries for a bit. Alone. Some people wanted a lot of people to surround them. A sense of community and togetherness. Some people wanted a chosen few, valuing the quality over quantity. And some people were like you, loners who accepted who you were and that was NSFS – not safe for society – patiently waiting for the one that really understood you.

Or maybe there wasn’t anyone like you and you were just delusional about that.

Anyway, didn’t really matter. This kind of thing simply ended with thinking in circles. Sure, you could dwell on the whole question of existence, the why, but you had determined the more important was the who, the self within, and that wasn’t driven by the why. The who was driven by instinct.

If your instinct was to eat, fuck, sleep, repeat, then so be it.

Oh, and occasional responsibilities, like getting your tires rotated. Hence why you even outside today in the first place.

Hah, what a bother.

You munched on your crispy, hot fries and didn’t bother anyone. You learned not to expect too much out of people. They talked a lotta talk and didn’t walk much walk. I want this, this, and this, you heard a whole lot and nobody did it. A speech was all well and good, just not nearly as half as interesting as doing. And if you didn’t want to do it, you didn’t waste time beating yourself up over it. If that resulted in you only hooking up and avoiding relationships that you didn’t feel like committing to, then at least you weren’t disingenuous or fake.

Yup.

Looking out the window, you watched the people rush past with their shopping bags, linking arms with each other to avoid slipping on the sidewalk. Snow flurries falling down, down. The glass was clean enough that you could see inside the restaurant too. Tables with families and friends sharing simple, cheap fast food and turning it into a collective memory. Laughter and conversation echoed around your silence.

The looking glass showed you two ways.

You didn’t mind it, but it was evident you weren’t part of it too.

Hmmmm.

Your gaze stopped at a pair of guys. One of them was wearing a big black bucket hat. You noticed him because large brown eyes were actively staring back at you. Ogling, even.

What the–

You turned slightly and sat up straight with alarm as Jeon Jungkook stiffened and shifted, scooting closer to the person next to him, sneaking a not-so-subtle glance at you. You continued to look back in stunned confusion.

At goddamn McDonald’s?

Is no place sacred?

It was only less than twenty-four hours ago, but last night felt like another world.

-

Your fingers framing your face.

You licked your lips. Staring into his eyes, everything dark except for the mood lamp he left on. Cycling lights slowly drifted on the ceiling in a colorful haze. It was easy to remember all the shit people liked to say about you when you were alone, she’s so pretty but I hear she’s only into casual sex, what a shame, but you found solace in knowing that they had one fact wrong, because casual sex was for casuals and that was the wrong adjective to describe what you did.

Definitely the incorrect one to describe what transpired between you and Jeon Jungkook last night.

Your hand slipped from your cheek, and you touched his skin, bringing his face close to yours, keeping the whispers only in the air that you shared with those trembling lips.

“You’ve got cute eyes, but I bet you can be sexy when you want to.”

What was wrong with this? What was wrong with your comfort zone being someone else’s hands on your waist, pulling you closer? What was wrong with accepting the surge of power you felt licking the side of his mouth, adding slippery friction to the harshness of the metal rings pierced there, drinking in his moan as you teased him? It was just so annoying caring about all that noise trying to get to you, telling you to tone it down, telling you to stop, and, for what, don’t you have shame, that’s not how women should act, no. What they really meant was that was not how they would act. The consensus was to strive to be the respectable audience, always strive to fit in and be the quiet ones.

You envied their desire for silence.

Because you had to be loud.

You tangled your fingers in his long black hair and pulled his head back, running your tongue over his neck, tasting that skin and the anticipation vibrating in those muscles underneath. Admired the shivers under your body as you rolled into him, nice and slow and agonizing, whispering dirty things to him, things you wanted and none of it safe for work, finally bringing his head back down to nip at those gasping lips, intending on turning them pink and prickling with want, kissing him softly in contrast to the way you tugged at his hair every time he tried to intensify it.

“P-Please…”

His hands on your bare ass, hiking your dress up, digging his fingernails in, trying to keep his breathing even as desperation bled into it.

“You said to show you what I like,” you murmured. “I like teasing you.”

You pressed your body to his so your perfume would cling to his clothes, his bedsheets, his skin.

-

This was going to sound dramatic, but Jungkook was pretty sure last night she saved his life.

Actually.

That sounded very dramatic.

And kind of pathetic, so Jungkook kept that thought to himself, but nevertheless he kept that secret close to his chest, next to his racing heart that couldn’t seem to slow down, especially when her nails raked down his back while her tongue snaked around his, sucking on it lightly compared to the force behind her hands, the contrast between kiss and touch causing unbearable levels of arousal. He hadn’t expected a casual conversation to turn into this. He liked to think he was maybe charming, perhaps suave in some cases, occasionally daring, but he didn’t want anyone to get the wrong idea.

Casual sex could only stay casual if both people got the memo.

And Jungkook knew he didn’t want to get in too deep unless he was sure and the truth was that he wasn’t sure if he was ever going to want someone that much. It was fucking terrifying to be that vulnerable. How could he ever be “sure”? If he failed at his own goals, the only one he was letting down was himself. If his plans didn’t go as planned, well, that sucked but it was okay because it was only himself and he could do something about it. But getting his heart broken by someone else – ugh, what could he do about that? Worse, everything became so complicated when people didn’t say what they meant and didn’t mean what they say. It would be nice to experience the good stuff without the chance of getting his heart broken.

Cut out all that risky business.

It was a bit strange that this situation hadn’t felt like a risk. Of course it was, how was it not risky bringing a woman you barely knew to your apartment with the intent to make out and who knows what else, but, hey, the moment had felt right.

Or maybe it was the gods playing tricks on him.

But, anyway, her tongue wrapping around his balls felt amazing.

She pressed her soft lips to the sensitive skin and sent shivers through his legs as her fingernails dragged down his tense thighs. He hoped they left marks, or at least lingered for a few hours. Looking down, and those sly eyes were gazing back, like they knew exactly the effect they had on him. Sparkling when her name escaped his lips in a pleading whisper, glinting in the low light as her head tipped back and her tongue curled underneath his balls to lick that thin skin behind him, making him gasp and almost fall over, his palm smacking into the wall to hold him up. A jolt of radiating pain shot up his forearm, and then her hot, wet mouth surrounded him and swallowed his cock as deep as it would go.

He wanted to say he had made a sexy moan, but he was ninety-nine percent sure his neighbors were awake, so instead Jungkook whimpered and rested the crown of his head against the wall, feeling his hair stick to his face. Apparently, his embarrassing vocalizations didn’t matter though, because her head started slowly moving back and forth. Her eyes closed, humming steadily in satisfaction. His breath caught in his throat, forgetting all about the pain and instead drowning in the pleasure that rose like scalding steam. Ecstasy shimmered through every blood vessel in his body. Soft lips, swirling tongue, tight throat that closed in around the swollen head and pulsed, pulling him in deeper, and Jungkook could feel it, his cock twitching and getting harder, the insistent softness on the cusp of not enough, and yet so much was happening. Flexing wet muscle under the head every time she backed up, trapped in that warm sleeve, her cheeks sucking inward and drawing him deeper every time her lips pressed into his crotch, her graceful fingers fanning over his thighs and ass, stroking his tingling skin in time with her tongue.

Holy fuck.

Maybe it was dramatic that last night she saved his life by blowing his dick with such incredible skill, but Jungkook was sticking to this drama.

Wasn’t casual sex supposed to be wham, bam, thank you, next. Not, holy shit, my cock is so fucking deep in her throat I can feel her neck muscles flexing, but perhaps he had done some good deeds or this year was going to be extra prosperous in the sex front (it wasn’t a question that came up much among those elderly fortune tellers his mom visited, how odd). It had to be something like that, because how was he supposed to know the friend of a friend was going to be, one, hot, and, two, down to fuck, and, three, actually good at it?

And, four.

Readily manhandle him. But not in a threatening way. In an unafraid-to-say-and-get-what-she-wanted way. The direct, forward assertiveness was sexy as hell, but Jungkook wasn’t going to tell other people that he liked it when a woman took charge. That wasn’t exactly small talk. It didn’t come up naturally. He didn’t even tell the women he had previously slept with. It hadn’t felt like the right atmosphere. And, well, the sex was just okay. He figured he had to be careful in what he said when he wasn’t sure if they were going to be long term.

He had to cover his ass.

Speaking of.

Her fingernails sank into his ass and dragged down harshly as she tilted her head back. His throbbing cock slid down along the back of her throat, sending uncontrollable tremors up his chest and down his legs, pain and pleasure and perfection.

Jungkook slapped a hand over his mouth and let out a muffled half-scream.

She started focusing exclusively on the head, back and forth, running her tongue over it with her plush lips constricting the base, holy shit, and his eyes rolled back in his head, his hand falling, exhale thin and thinning out even more as he was reaching the end. It was too unexpectedly good, fuck, it made the muscles in his back tremble and his blood boil, o-oh, fuck, made his heart race and his calves strain with tension, I’m gonna c-cum, made his scalp tingle and his mind go blank with pleasure and he never thought an orgasm could be this intense unless he was the one getting himself off, but he was wrong, he was so fucking wrong, because he could feel the tightening in his core spiraling a bit too much and he was going to lose his fucking mind.

He gasped and screamed under his breath.

The high hit him like the sudden violent snap of elastic, so sharp that he was winded and able to feel the muscles of upper thighs spasm, shooting a rather impressive amount down her throat, almost regretful he didn’t pull out so that he could see how much it was, but none of that mattered, ensnared in wave after punishing wave of indecent, gratified lust flinching through his shaking, hard muscles as he felt his cum fill her mouth.

She swallowed.

Jungkook almost punched the wall, the oversensitivity almost painful, his hoarse voice on the verge of cracking.

“C… Careful…. P-Please…”

Those eyes flickering up, and she seemed to understand. Gently, pulling back just a little. He almost buckled at the sensation of the sucking lessening, such a good feeling but overwhelming in the afterglow, and then it was cloud-nine bliss, achingly perfect in the way she carefully slid his cock along her tongue, his twitching length gliding in the puddle of saliva and cum, repeatedly, soaring high like the moon, the thick viscosity creating a slick friction that was wicked heaven.

He wanted to say, oh, yeah, I lasted a long time after that.

He did not.

I’m in trouble.

He realized that the second she got on her knees on his bed, raised her ass, and turned her head back to smirk at him. Made direct eye contact as he tried to hide his gulp and put on the condom, keeping his hands low so she didn’t see them quiver. He was staring a bit too much, but she simply reached over and took his right hand, caressing his tattoos, and then he gasped as his fingers touched slippery wetness, looking down, and was he allowed to fall in love with a beautiful pussy at first glance or not allowed? Fuck, she even had a cute asshole. Was that too dirty to think or what?

Jungkook didn’t contemplate it too much as she slid his fingers into her, the soft, firm walls wrapping around him.

“Ready?” she hummed.

“Y- Yeah…”

In hindsight, he could have said much sexier things other than, yeah, but that was the least of his problems. Getting on his knees, sinking in, and he nearly blacked out with how good it felt. A steady controlled pulse surrounding him. Somehow, his cock became even harder, his fingers splaying out over the juicy curve of her ass, deeper, so tight, and it was all her, that cute face smiling back at him with the tip of her tongue tracing her upper lip. Naughty smirk widening, captivating foxy eyes filled with mirth shining in the darkness of his bedroom.

Jungkook didn’t even care.

He was just trying not to bust a nut at this excessive amount of sensuality that he hadn’t been prepared for.

“You look very sexy with your hair over your face like that.”

He hadn’t even noticed the strands of black covering his vision because he had been too busy looking down.

“Your back looks… oh, f-fuck… looks so beautiful…”

She grinned and lowered herself on his sheets to push back against him.

He had stuttered because her pussy had squeezed him in between his words. There wasn’t any time to be eloquent anyway, not with the sudden need surging through him at this improved angle, his grip on her hips tightening and thrusting his hips forward, wincing at how loud that smack was, surely someone outside heard, but there was nothing he could do about it, didn’t want to stop, couldn’t stop, sinking his teeth into his lower lip and trying not to add any additional noise, wanted to slow down but it felt so good when he was so deep, so tight and choking his shaft, the sensitive head of his cock rubbing against her walls and swelling. Even with the condom he felt so much, pressure and power and intensity, placing a palm on her lower back and groaning between clenched teeth, the arc of her ass so obvious and the bounce so visible that he would dream about it, all of it, the slaps of body to body, thrusting hard, rough, his ears tingling with her low, sexy moans, too good, felt too good, and he wanted to last longer but just couldn’t.

Threw his head back and yelled under his rushing exhale, straining to contain his cry in his chest.

Didn’t last much longer with a new condom and in missionary position either. He kept staring at her pretty face and perky tits, feverish desire racing with every slap of hips-to-hips, his hair falling into his eyes, struggling to see her hands clutching his pillows, and then she arched her back to give him a full view of those perfect, tasty-looking, hard nipples. Honestly, he was proud of himself for lasting the ten minutes that he did. Five minutes. Er, at least he hoped he lasted more than five minutes.

He was sweaty and gasping but he asked anyway.

“Sorry, I… Are you upset at me?”

She tilted her head, confused. “For what? That felt amazing.”

His face burned as he mumbled under his breath.

“I… I usually last longer…”

“Oh.” Blink. “Oh!” She grinned at him, and it was so devious that Jungkook realized this must not be the first time she had heard that. “I don’t care about things like that. But, uh…”

Her sex saved his life.

Her next words murdered him on the spot.

“You know, when you came, uh… I’m sure you were trying to be quiet and all that, but you sounded a bit like one of those faraway screams that happen in movies. You know, when someone gets thrown far away mid-battle. A very tiny, aaaaaaa…”

Not the best sex of his life comparing his orgasm noise to the Wilhelm scream.

-

You could admit it.

You shouldn’t have said that.

But also shouldn’t people be told of such things so that they became more self-aware? It took everything in you not to burst out laughing in his presence (although you did laugh a lot when you arrived home). And it wasn’t as if you were going to see him again. For a while, anyway. Definitely not the next day at goddamn McDonald’s.

Right?

Wrong.

You gawked at Jungkook until the other guy with him noticed and started staring at you too. Oh, jeez, it was Park Jimin, another one of the guys who had been there last night at the birthday party. You remembered him and his distinctive, bubbly giggling all night. He had a great voice too, making listening to karaoke actually bearable. He was, however, the kind of guy that wanted to be in the know about everything and everyone.

Aw, shit.

You weren’t ready for another repeat of this morning.

Jimin’s round, discerning eyes recognized you immediately even in your casual clothes and lack of makeup. You snapped your head back to your empty paper packaging. Snatched up your cup, pushing away from the window counter and stepping down, winding over to the drinks machine to top off on tea before sprinting it. Hey, McDonald’s wasn’t that cheap anymore. Inflation was a thing. Better get as much as you could before leaving.

You tossed the oily packaging and your napkin before turning around, immediately nearly colliding with Jeon Jungkook.

“Gah!”

“Oh!”

And he grabbed your waist.

Of course, he did.

Your bare waist, because you were wearing a crop top under your heavy coat.

You kept your drink-holding hand out of the way and gasped into his chin, your other hand landing on his left upper arm and squeezing, suddenly tense all over. It was hard and solid under your grip, twice as tense as you were.

“S-Sorry, Jimin pushed me…”

You vaguely heard Jungkook mumbling but you didn’t have time for this, didn’t have time to be let down again by humanity. Didn’t have time for Jeon Jungkook getting into your face about you fucking and dipping, scolding you about being too blunt, and possibly even directly calling you a bitch. Not that you didn’t deserve it. You just didn’t want to find out that cute-faced, criminally-undercover-sexy, surprisingly-a-very-good-fuck Jeon Jungkook could maybe be a shitty person.

Didn’t want to know.

Better not to know.

“S’okay. Let me get out of your way,” you mumbled back, turning your head away.

“You’re not in my way.”

You heard him say it, didn’t believe it, and yet his hands were still around your waist.

“Actually… Please be in my way.”

You froze.

Snapped your head back and found yourself centimeters from Jeon Jungkook’s face.

Oh, I’m in trouble.

He let go of you, slowly, his touch hovering as if you would make a break for it in the middle of this crowded McDonald’s, as if you would bowl over small children and their Happy Meals to escape, sending plastic toys flying in your wake. But you did no such thing, instead holding your breath, realizing how upset you would be if this was another you’re an insensitive whore moment. The truth was that you didn’t care until you did, or at least until you fully comprehended that you were glad to see Jungkook rather than completely indifferent. Why? He hadn’t said anything special. Just, please make it home safely. You had thought that was weird, please. Brushed it off as him being polite or even maybe trying to entice you with that light touch of submissiveness, anything but the possibility of him actually, honestly, straightforwardly caring about your safety.

You learned to expect people not caring for much except for themselves.

“I… Good afternoon,” you managed to get out, stepping closer as a crowd of kids squashed themselves against the drinks fountain, clambering over each other with their paper cups, yelling about how you snooze, you lose even though there was plenty of soda in a fast-food restaurant.

An adult, presumably a guardian, ran over to tell them to quiet down.

“Y… Yeah…” was Jungkook’s strangled reply, startled at you attempting conversation.

You held your sweet tea and tried to lightly bow, but realized that you could hit him in the chin if you did. You stepped aside to avoid that, and then his hand darted out. Stopping. Suddenly aware of what he was doing, stuck on what to do, looking at you helplessly for instruction. This was some love song or romcom movie shit.

No.

This was a goddamn McDonald’s, not awkward-sexual-tension meeting grounds. You grabbed his hand and pulled him along, spinning to find yourself crammed into the table with a grinning Park Jimin and too many shopping bags.

“Oh, hey. Funny seeing you here.”

Jimin was stifling his giggles.

You immediately let go of Jungkook’s hand, your face frozen and expressionless.

“Ah, Jungkook, can you watch my food?” Was it your imagination or did Park Jimin just bat his eyelashes? “I’m gonna go put the gifts in my car.”

Oh no.

“Stay right there!”

Jungkook looked mortified. “Jimin, wait–”

But he did not wait. Ruffled fluffy black hair, mischievous smile, and a whoosh later, those crinkly paper bags gone like a disappearing act, leaving you and your fuck of last night with a half-eaten sandwich and cold fries.

“I… He… I’m sorry,” Jungkook sputtered, jerking erratically.

You clutched your tea like a liquid social safety net. “Sit down. Children are staring at us.”

Sure enough, a small crowd of curious peepers were climbing the low half-wall and peering at you and Jungkook. They were being plucked off one by one by a pair of exasperated ladies who looked like they desperately needed a nap. As soon as one child was removed, another climbed up to take their place. Inquisitive little bundles in brightly colored jackets, pom-pom beanies, and sipping soda from paper cups. Jungkook whipped his head back, exposing his red ears under his bucket hat for half a second, saw the kids, and sat down beside you, turning his back to them.

Now even bigger peepers were directed at you.

“Uh…”

You cleared your throat. Drank some tea. “Erm.”

“I... I didn’t expect to see you here.”

You almost choked on your chuckle. “Yeah, uh… same.” You ticked your head to the outside, in the general direction Jimin had run off too. “Shopping for new year stuff?”

Jungkook shrugged. “Mostly for Jimin’s family. I usually shop online.” He scrunched his face with a little bit of dismay. “It’s too much on the weekends sometimes.”

“Yeah, I’m the same.”

Your knee touched his.

He looked at you.

Don’t look at me like that. I’m gonna want to kiss you.

“And we’re in the middle of a McDonald’s.”

“What?”

You could see stray strands of black brushing against his cheeks. Could see those starry brown eyes under that big bucket hat, those pink lips parted and that small mole underneath them trembling, something you had noticed last night even in the low light because you had been licking up his neck and watching his open mouth, savoring the way his whine travelled by vibration through your insistent lips from his throat.

“I don’t want to make out with you in front of all these children,” you clarified, letting out a slow, concealed breath. “But if you keep looking at me like that, I’m going to make a bad decision.”

People only get into relationships for shitty sex.

Right?

I want to be around him.

“Um… I think Jimin wanted to get an air fryer and who knows what else… I’m supposed to carry the big stuff,” Jungkook grumbled, sounding like he wanted to abandon his current adventure for a different kind of adventure. Still, he begrudgingly remained a good friend. “But tomorrow…?”

You weren’t sure if he was aware that he was getting closer to you, practically thigh-to-thigh and shoulder-to-shoulder, but then you put your hand on his coat sleeve. He froze up, holding his breath. He smelled good. Fresh and clean, like laundry from the dryer. He was close enough for you to clearly discern his scent.

Close enough for you to remember.

“I need to get my tires rotated,” you finally remembered. “I’ll call you.”

His cheeks flushed pink. “C-Call me?”

“Yeah, give me your number.”

-

She asked for it like it was easy.

Who cares? Jungkook determined, after all, that he was easy. Or at least his hands were hurriedly fumbling with his phone as he blurted out the numbers as calmly as he could, which was probably not that calm, but who cared? Not him and definitely not his dick.

“Thanks. Don’t forget to answer or I’ll feel dumb.”

“Wait, give me your number.”

She paused, glancing at him. Shivers all over when their eyes connected, and he was sure he saw a guarded flicker in those eyes, but then it was let go, her lashes lowering, casting away the unknown reservation that he hoped she could tell him one day. And yet she stayed silent, turning her phone over in her hand.

“I want it,” he breathed.

Her eyes shifted back up. Ghost of a smirk on those lips.

Like she was trying to hold back.

“I’m going to give it to you,” she whispered to him, and he had to lean in, no, wanted to lean in and the scent of her perfume caught him, sweet and smokey, all those memories flashing back, in the dark with fistfuls of his sheets and breathing in, his pillows, his blanket, his clothes, heavenly and arousing. “Just saying I come with a warning label.”

“What kind of warning?” Jungkook found himself asking even though he was desperate to indulge in this risky business.

“I’ll never let your last that long,” she purred with a smug smile. “Don’t give up, okay?”

Jungkook felt his cheeks burn as he typed down the number and kept his retort to himself because Jimin suddenly appeared and the conversation was abruptly over. He jerked his head away quickly as she mouthed a tiny aaaa under her breath, teasing him, and this was a bad decision but he answered the call anyway when it came.

-

What are you doing? You don’t do relationships. People don’t like the way you do things. They’re complicated and full of secrets. They can’t be honest. You’re too honest. It doesn’t work.

Your intrusive thoughts had worked the graveyard shift and were now doing overtime.

They don’t like you.

You weren’t that surprised at these thoughts. You also did the absolute most when fucking and probably not enough outside of fucking. Some would call this karma. You would call it a nuisance. Shut the fuck up, brain. You already knew all this. You knew and you muted all that sound, all that excess noise that warned of tomorrow being ruined, chose to shut it all out until there was nothing but the melody of Jeon Jungkook’s bated breath.

You could listen to your head and let those thoughts fuck everything up.

Or you could place your fingertips on Jungkook’s lower lip and feel his gasp travel through your nerves, feel the way your blood shimmered in your veins and raced faster. Caress that pink curve to stop at his lip rings, tangible, hard and soft juxtaposed. Breathe out, your eye line lifting, up, finding those large dark brown orbs surrounded by wispy black tendrils.

Jungkook wanted you.

That was pretty obvious, especially from his hands trying to slide up your skirt.

He was just waiting for you to start it off.

You could listen to your head or choose to feel and listen to your instincts, dangerous as it was.

I’m in so much trouble, fuck.

You knew it, and yet you leaned in and kissed him anyway. Something about him, the way his eyes instantly closed when you came close, the way he trusted your eyes wouldn’t stay open, the way his lips gave in to your insistence, no, yearned for it, his fingernails sinking into your hips and yanking you close, onto his lap and into his heat, and then it was darkness and tongue and breathing into his mouth, hot and unnerving and addictive.

You hadn’t even noticed you had closed your eyes until you felt your hands sliding into his hair. Barely even perceived how you held your breath when your chest pressed against his, gasping, too many clothes in between and all the anticipation, dancing your nails over his scalp and sucking on his tongue, his melodious moan melding with your heartbeat roaring in your ears.

What is this?

You rolled your hips into his lap and Jungkook groaned, breaking the kiss and tipping his head back, his hardness twitching between your legs, insistently pressing up through his sweatpants as his neck became exposed. And there was nothing you wanted to do but press your lips to that mole on his neck, tasting that tan skin and inhaling his scent, wanting to be covered in it, drenched in it, dancing kisses up his jaw and catching his ear with your teeth, tugging on his hair and rocking your hips back and forth, turning hot friction into hot, damp friction.

“I c-can’t…”

His moan rang in your ears, his fingers pushing up the sides of your panties and driving them into the crevice of your ass, creating a damn thong with too much fabric.

“Can’t t-take it anymore…”

Pulled hard and you gasped, feeling the slinky fabric slip in between your folds, soaked and soaking, strong hips knocking into that dug-in fabric and practically bouncing your pulsing pussy on his rock-hard erection.

You curled your arm around his head and tipped his face to yours, seeing his glassy eyes and open mouth, his shaking breath feathering against your chin, and if Jeon Jungkook was a liar, then he was a damn good one, one of those liars so deep in the lie that it started becoming truth.

He whispered your name in the shared air, between his and your trembling lips.

He’s too desperate to be a liar.

You closed the distance between lips and tangled your tongues in the tango, lifting your hips at the same time, smiling at his whine before silencing it by pulling his hand between your legs, pushing the thin fabric aside, and then the collective sigh. Yours, shivering satisfaction. His, driven desire, fingers exploring and sending shivers through your legs. Wet and slippery and soft. Pressing his face into your neck and then gasping when his soft lips pressed to your throat, light kisses and wanton need, his other hand sliding up your sweater, pushing it up.

I want you.

He slid two fingers into you and moaned into your skin, slow, pressing his touch into your clenching walls, his eyes closed under you. In, out, building pleasure, your hips following, riding his hand, deeper, intense, hard, his tongue licking your collarbone and your lashes fluttered, suddenly overcome by shivers.

“I w-want you…”

He gasped against your throat, almost a whimper, those pleading eyes half-opening. Pulling out slightly and rubbing slow circles that made your hips flinch, his fingertips brushing against your slick clit, and those brown eyes darkened, tipping his head back to watch your face. His fingers on your waist tightening, holding you in place, shifting his fingertips, and you bit back a hiss, locking your knees, staring back into his starstruck eyes that showed you everything he was as he stroked your clit, igniting all your nerves and scorching your skin in passionate flames.

You saw what Jungkook was saying.

He wanted you so bad, not just a little, not just for a couple orgasms, not just for every night but also every day, even every afternoon and every twilight and every dead of night. Every kiss, every touch, every look into the eyes telling you this meant more to him than casual and for some reason it didn’t feel like a burden.

Casual sex could only stay casual if both people got the memo.

Suddenly, you realized neither you nor him were getting the damn memo.

You leaned forward and breathed in his exhale, squeezing his hips with your thighs, harder, yes, so good, fast and harsh and closer, closer, pulsing sensitivity escalating, your fingers tangled into his long black hair, entangled moans slipping out, fuck, yes, I’m close, Jungkook, fuck, and he was good but this was more than skill, more than half-lidded eyes and your hand falling, tracing his jaw, biting back your orgasm until…

Until.

“I could stare at you forever,” you breathed.

Closed your eyes and moaned into his mouth, the high crashing down, leaking all over his fingers and causing his touch to slip, dripping down, everywhere, all over the front of his pants and down your legs, and there was no time to care, dragging Jungkook into kiss after kiss, driven by snaking pleasure coursing through your veins. His wet fingers grasped your thigh, kneading the softness, his whines trapped by kisses, begging for your legs against his naked chest.

How could you refuse him?

You just couldn’t.

-

I’m so fucked.

Truly, madly, deeply fucked.

Past in trouble and actually in danger, danger, you’re seconds away from cumming, clenching his jaw and grinding his teeth so he felt something else, anything, please, clutching fistfuls of his sheets and wondering why the fuck the condom wasn’t reducing any sensation because, holy fuck, his cock was trapped in a hot, slippery, tight sleeve that pulsed around his twitching, hard length every time he descended. He couldn’t think, could barely breathe, could do nothing but follow that carnal instinct to thrust over and over, deep as possible, the angle so good he closed his eyes so they didn’t roll back into his head even though he was hopelessly losing his mind at the sensations of her, so soft, so intense, so good his legs were shaking with tension, the rhythmic smacking obscenely loud, rattling bedframe echoing throughout his bedroom.

“H-Harder,” she gasped breathlessly.

Harder?!

Was she trying to kill him?

She lifted her hips and Jungkook knew he was fucked.

He threw all of his energy into his hips and sunk his teeth into his lower lip, his lip rings hitting his teeth. Metal hitting bone. Screaming in his head and tightening his vocal chords, thankful to see her eyes closing, her head tipping back, low satisfied moan of his name travelling to in his ears and then all that he was keeping together shattered and slammed into him, heat rushing and mind-numbing, euphoric high punching all the air out of his lungs, visceral tension snapping at his hips and now he was pumping the condom full, o-o-oh, fuuuuck, her walls shivering and amplifying the good feeling of sexual intoxication, his vision a blur, only now realizing all the sweat sliding down his back and forehead, his damp hair swinging down over his eyes, and maybe lasting a only a couple minutes but it was a damn good couple of minutes if Jungkook was allowed to say so himself.

He was panting, hardly able to catch his breath.

It wasn’t enough.

Fuck, he was so horny and he was barely recovering from his first orgasm. Didn’t know what came over him. A wave of insanity? Inconsolable craving? Willful sacrifice of his soul to the sex goddess in his bed right now? Dramatic, sure. Casual, no, pushing his palms against the bed, shuddering as he pulled out of that tight warmth, almost regretting it, but then he looked down. At the shiny slickness, his white cum swollen at the end of the condom. He gripped the opening and pulled down, peeling it off with a whine, and Jungkook was pretty sure he was overwhelmingly crazy or overwhelmingly horny or both, because why else would he scoot his knees up and start jacking his spent dick like a madman, whimpering at the sensitivity and the slippery friction and the scene before him – her legs lowering from his shoulders, those curious eyes glinting under him, her soft, bouncy breasts rising and falling rapidly in her heavy breathing, fuck, so sexy, so fucking sexy, faster, tighter, staring at those hard nipples he wanted in his mouth right now, so fucking bad.

He let his eyes flicker up.

Gasping, baring his depravity.

She smirked, her tongue tracing the edge of her upper lip.

“Cum on me, Jungkook.”

Words so simple that they could be said by anyone, but this was different, this was too much intensity, too much irresistible pleasure, too much too sure about this feeling, this moment, this connection, and then her fingertips slid up his hard, tense, trembling thigh, sinking her fingernails in and dragging down, those stings of pain sending him over the edge.

“A-Ah, fuck!”

His eyes rolled back and his hips pitched forward, flinching powerfully and shooting cum over her stomach, up her cleavage, sudden streak of white glistening against her skin, jolts of aching bliss penetrating his quivering muscles. Shared gasp, everything smelling like sex, his bedsheets, his clothes, his skin, mixing with her perfume. Sweet like candy and heavy like lust.

Jungkook wanted to douse himself in it.

Her cum and her perfume.

He pressed the dark, purple-red, swollen head of his twitching cock to her cum-covered stomach and moaned, dragging it across and slipping further and further into blinding oversensitivity, on the edge of too much but he liked it, fuck, he liked it more and more as he saw her sly smirk and foxy eyes sparkle, savoring his reactions. It made him want to give in to this side of him more.

Her hand lifted, fingers curling around his chin, stroking his lower lip with her thumb.

“You’re so sexy, Jungkook. I love the way you look at me.”

Something about the way she said it, making him feel that she really meant it.

No, know that she really meant what she said.

His heart fluttered. Took flight.

No.

Soared.

They really were such simple words, nothing complicated at all, and that was how Jungkook knew.

He was sure.

--

masterpost

#jungkook x reader #bts smut #jungkook x you #jeon jungkook x reader #jeon jungkook x you

[kingofbodyrolls]

Stuck in a Snowstorm (m) | pjm

*Part of 'the winter collection'. Read part two. Part three coming soon!

Summary: You don’t know how you ended up here. Stuck with your mortal enemy, Park Jimin, in you car – in a fucking snowstorm.

Pairing: Jimin x female reader

AU + genres: enemies to lovers, pwp (very little plot – let me be honest, it’s just pure smut). Humor/crack, smut.

Rating: Mature/explicit/R18 - this is mature/explicit content, so minors, please do not interact.

Word count: 6,1K

Disclaimer: I do not own BTS or know them personally and this work of fiction is purely fictional and for entertainment purposes only. The actions and personalities described in the story do not reflect those of BTS— it’s just fiction. Also, if you would kindly read the tags/warnings before reading, that would be lovely: and if you don’t like whatever is described in the tags, just hit return and find something else to read. Thank you 🌸

Warnings (general) + triggers: Jimin is just a mean jerk and reader is a brat 😂 Lots of banter, crack and anger towards each other.

Warnings (explicit): unprotected sex, dirty talk, orgasm denial/delay, hair pulling, oral (female and male receiving), breasts and nipple play. Also, use of a tie 👀

Author’s note: This is actually a story that I planned to write all the way back in 2017 – better late than never, right? 😂 I had only made the plot with some outline, so I basically started from scrap. But it had been stuck in my mind since FOREVER and now I just miss Jimin a shit ton, so I made this. I hope you enjoy it! Also, it shouldn’t be taken too seriously, it’s just smut with minimal plot and don’t question the characters bad actions or some minor plot holes 😂 (Also, I did not proofread this, just because).

Also, merry Christmas / happy holidays – this is my gift to you wonderful people out there 💜

AND are you guys looking forward to Jimin’s ‘Closer than This’ tomorrow???? 💜

If you prefer to read on AO3 you can read it here 😀

“I can’t believe this…” in disbelief, you mutter, your voice tinged with uncertainty, while you desperately activate the windshield wiper, yearning for even a fleeting glimpse through the thick curtain of falling snow.

“I can,” Jimin declares from his spot beside you in the passenger seat. His playful critique follows swiftly, delivered with a pout and a firm voice, as he shakes his head in mock disbelief, “You're a terrible driver.”

“Am not!” you retort defiantly, your voice cutting through the air, even as your unwavering gaze remains fixed on the snowy expanse ahead.

A curtain of thick snow descends, veiling everything in an opaque white shroud. The road ahead is swallowed by the relentless onslaught, turning visibility into an elusive challenge.

Your hands clench the wheel with a vice-like grip, the strain evident as your knuckles whiten under the pressure. The tension in your entire body is so palpable that it hurts to fucking drive.

Exhaustion weighs on you heavily, a relentless burden, yet the realization hits that you're only halfway to your friends' Christmas party. Two more hours loom ahead, a daunting stretch of time spent in the company of Park Jimin, your sworn enemy.

The decision to share a car ride is a mystery even to yourself; perhaps it was a fleeting concern for the planet, a noble intention to save fuel by consolidating into one vehicle. Yet, as the journey unfolds, the real reasons behind your choice become an enigma.

Regret courses through you like a bitter undercurrent as you ponder the altruistic intentions behind considering the planet and the environment. The thought of advising Jimin to take his own car nags at you, a missed opportunity for a peaceful solo drive. In a self-cursing moment, you rue your own kindness.

“Let me drive; I’m a better driver than you anyway.” Jimin declares with casual confidence, his tone carrying an air of nonchalance.

“Fuck off, Jimin!” you hiss, frustration dripping from your words like venom.

You squint against the relentless assault of heavy snow, the world outside morphing into an indistinct blur as visibility dwindles.

Your pace is deliberate, a cautious dance with the road, but after several minutes, you relent, succumbing to the inevitable by slowing down even further.

“Fine!” you declare, seizing the steering wheel in a determined clench, bringing the car to an abrupt halt.

You pivot your gaze towards Jimin, the words cutting through the tension, “You fucking drive then.”

Shifting the car into park, you unclip your seatbelt with a determined click, swing the door open, and brave the biting embrace of the freezing snowstorm outside.

In synchronized movements, Jimin mirrors your actions, and together, you step out into the frigid air. The two of you converge outside, a silent agreement palpable in the crunch of snow beneath your feet, as you navigate around the car, preparing to swap seats.

“If you crash my car, I’ll kill you.” you menace, venom seeping through your words as you stride past him, positioning yourself in front of the vehicle.

He nonchalantly shrugs his shoulders, a smug satisfaction evident in his demeanor, relishing the fact that you've conceded to let him take the wheel.

Jimin confidently eases his plump figure into the driver's seat, and you avert your gaze (definitely not looking!). With a self-assured demeanor, he expertly adjusts the seat to accommodate his frame.

You attempt to thaw your chilled hands under the blast of hot air from the air conditioner, the sour mood hanging heavy around you as you settle into the passenger seat, donning a visible pout.

“Relax, I’m not gonna crash your precious car,” he teases, the playfulness evident in his voice, just before smoothly shifting the car into gear and forging ahead.

In response, a huff escapes your lips, arms instinctively crossing in a silent declaration of your lingering displeasure.

You surrender to a sense of ease as Jimin takes the wheel, his deliberate pace aligning with caution. It's a mutual understanding — in this snow-laden terrain, slow and steady becomes a shared creed for safety.

The once teasing atmosphere now gives way to palpable tension, the air thick with the weight of swirling snow that has intensified. Jimin, too, struggles visibly against the heavier onslaught, the challenge of navigating through the snow turning the car into a place of shared unease.

Your gaze fixates on Jimin, observing as his fingers clench the steering wheel with a tension mirroring your own, and his shoulders stiffen in sync. A chuckle escapes you, unexpectedly audible, as you notice the ironic similarity between his reaction and your earlier demeanor.

“What’s so funny?” Jimin spits, the tension reverberating unmistakably in his voice, each word a note in the symphony of strained emotions.

“Your driving,” you start to chuckle, the amusement laced with a hint of mischief.

“You're not exactly outclassing my skills,” you declare, sinking into the seat with a self-assured smirk, relishing the satisfaction of your own driving prowess.

“You’re a fucking brat, you know that?” he seethes, the words charged with anger, his gaze sharply turning towards you, locking onto your eyes.

Despite Jimin's cautious speed, the car subtly veers, casting doubt on whether you're still on the road or lost in the oblivion of the thick snow. The blinding white landscape offers no clarity, leaving you uncertain and immersed in a disorienting wintry haze.

“I can’t see fucking shit!” he exclaims, abruptly bringing the car to a halt and cutting the engine in an instant, plunging you both into an eerie silence amid the obscured surroundings.

Your gaze locks onto him, urgency etched across your face. “What are you doing? We've got Seokjin's Christmas party in less than an hour!” The frustration in your voice reverberates, a ticking clock amplifying the stakes of the impending deadline.

“It’s not safe to drive in this freaking snowstorm!” he bellows in response, frustration escalating in his voice, punctuated by the sharp flick of the hazard warning lights, signaling the urgency and danger of the situation.

“I just want to get there already. I'd rather not be stuck with you,” you seethe, teeth gritted, a visible huff escaping in a cloud of anger. The tension hangs heavy, fueled by the biting words that linger in the now frosty air.

“Like I'd willingly be stuck with your sour attitude,” he retorts, his gaze sweeping you from head to toe for some inscrutable reason. “I don't even like you,” he declares, the words loaded with an unspoken tension that hangs in the frosty air between you two.

You gape at him, the bitter truth resonating in the air—an unspoken agreement that neither of you harbors any liking for the other. The animosity between you has solidified into a hostile dynamic, despite the shared circle of friends that consistently throws you together, much to your enduring displeasure.

Jimin exudes an infuriating level of cockiness, ceaselessly pushing your buttons and expertly tapping into the art of annoyance until it feels like your nerves are unraveling at his mere presence.

You'd willingly brave the biting cold rather than endure the prospect of an unpredictable future confined with him inside the car. Fate seems to revel in mocking you, as the car rapidly succumbs to the encroaching chill, each passing minute intensifying the unwelcome cold that now permeates the confined space.

You clutch your arms tightly around your body, desperately running your hands up and down in a futile attempt to gather some warmth. A curse slips from your lips as you question your own sanity—why in the world did you take off your jacket for the drive? Now it's trapped in the damn trunk, and the thought of braving the freezing cold to retrieve it is utterly unappealing.

“Cold?” he chuckles, the sound carrying an edge of amusement that only amplifies the chill sinking into your bones.

You nod your head.

“Well, I’m not giving you my jacket,” he states matter-of-factly, cocooning himself in the evident warmth of his puffer jacket. Damn Park Jimin and his infuriating nonchalance, he's truly a master of being a jerk!

“Can't even manage a simple act of kindness,” you mutter with disdain, the words escaping in a sharp hiss, a low and almost grumbling tone, accompanied by a dismissive eye roll.

“What's that?” he asks, a smirk playing on his lips, relishing the snug warmth of his jacket while you shiver in the cold. 

“Fuck you, Park!” you shout directly in his face, your words laced with frustration. Instead of a retort, he just chuckles, the sound taking on a manic edge that lingers in the frosty air, leaving an unsettling resonance to your heated exchange.

An indeterminate amount of time slips away, lost in the relentless snowfall that shows no sign of relenting. Frustration building, you reach for your phone and decide to text Seokjin, realizing that this damn snow isn't planning on letting up anytime soon.

You [15.42]: Stuck in a snowstorm with fucking Park Jimin. I don’t know when we’ll arrive 🙄

Jin [15.48]: Just stay safe 😂

Fuck Seokjin! You’re convinced that he’s somewhere enjoying a good laugh at your misfortune.

A surge of realization hits you like a bolt of inspiration—there's a blanket tucked away in the backseat. Swiftly moving up, you make your way to the center console.

“What’re you doing?” Jimin questions, his curiosity evident in the quirk of his eyebrow as you navigate over the center console, leaving him bewildered by your sudden, mysterious movements.

“There's a blanket back here,” you announce triumphantly, finally laying hands on the sought-after comfort. With a satisfying plop into the seat, you tug the blanket snugly over your cold body, a gesture that transforms the atmosphere within the car from chilly discomfort to a brief oasis of warmth.

After a few contemplative minutes, Jimin breaks the silence with a question that hangs in the air, “Mind if I join you?”

Your mouth falls agape, and your eyes widen in astonishment at his unexpected question. Collecting yourself, you respond with a hint of sarcasm, “You weren't keen on sharing your jacket with me. What makes you think I'd be willing to share my blanket with you?” The tension between you and Jimin escalates with each word, hanging palpably in the cold air.

Without a pause for your response, he defies the silence, navigating over the center console with the same determined crawl you had exhibited moments before. The unspoken tension between you both amplifies, turning the confined space into an arena of silent rivalry.

Seated beside you, he makes a grab for the blanket cocooning your shivering form. Resolute, you refuse to surrender it, your hands engaging in a tug of war with him.

“Share, you brat,” he hisses with a mix of irritation and amusement, his determination evident in the forceful tug at the blanket. 

“No!” you hiss back defiantly, the word laced with a stubborn refusal as you hold your ground.

With a forceful yank, he wrenches the blanket from your grasp, and in the struggle, he ends up with it draped across his lap. The victorious outcome of the skirmish leaves a charged atmosphere between you and Jimin, the warmth of the blanket now a coveted prize in his possession.

A triumphant smirk plays on his lips as he envelops himself in the captured blanket. His eyes lock onto your moping expression before descending further, a mischievous gleam indicating that his victory goes beyond the simple conquest of the blanket. 

“I can totally see your nipples,” he chuckles. 

You glance down, and sure enough, your nipples stand out against the satin material of your dress. Swiftly, you react, pressing your hands over your breasts in a sudden move to conceal their visibility. 

“Why the fuck are you look at my tits?” you yell at him, your frustration audible, but he merely chuckles in response. 

“You must really be freezing, huh?” he observes, and you simply nod in agreement, a silent acknowledgment of the biting cold that permeates the confined space. 

“I can warm you up,” he suggests with a playful wink, both eyes and eyebrows conspiring in unison. The underlying implication of his words hangs in the air, and you instantly grasp the nature of his playful proposition.

“I'm not that desperate, Park,” you scoff with a hint of disgust, the rejection laced with a prideful undertone. In response, he simply chuckles, finding amusement in your candid dismissal.

Following his suggestive remark, an electric charge seems to surge through the atmosphere in the car. Your mind involuntarily races, envisioning the prospect of warming up next to him, his hands tracing every contour of your body,  his di—

Stop. You admonish yourself sternly, a mental command to cease the vivid thoughts involving him. He's your enemy, you remind yourself, emphasizing the intense dislike you harbor for Park Jimin. The internal conflict heightens, the struggle between attraction and animosity weaving a complex web within your mind.

His chuckle resonates beside you, a sound that grates on your nerves. Irritation mounts, and you sharply turn your head towards him, your annoyance evident in the flicker of your gaze. 

“Need help?” he inquires, his gaze suddenly deepening, the darkness in his eyes unveiling a subtle intensity that lingers in the air. 

“With what?” you spit back at him, the confusion evident in your tone. 

“You're grinding against the seat,” he bluntly points out, his gaze fixed on your crotch. You glance down, discovering your unconscious movement against the fabric of the seat. A sudden realization dawns, and an expletive slips from your lips. 

A wave of discomfort washes over you, an intense desire to squirm and disappear into the ground, engulfed by the embarrassment that now saturates the air. The profound sense of shame hangs heavy, making the moment so excruciatingly humiliating.

You inhale sharply, drawing in a breath that seems to shudder through you, and with a deliberate move, you roll your hips once more.

“No…” you murmur, the word escaping with a shaky uncertainty that even your own ears can detect. 

Jimin scoots closer to you, the warmth radiating from his body sending sparks that seem to dance through yours. 

He leans into you, his mouth dangerously close to your ear, and in a breathy whisper, he offers, “I can help you with that.”

His words alone send a jolt through your body, a sudden tightening that ignites a fiery sensation. Damn it. The internal conflict and desire entwine, creating a tumultuous storm within you in the presence of him. It's undeniable—your entire being yearns for the touch you never thought you'd crave. 

His warm hand finds its way to your thigh, and a low moan escapes your lips at the contact. Fuck. 

His hand ventures down to the hem of your dress, grabbing and pulling it back to expose more of your thighs. A shiver runs down your spine as the cold air embraces your newly exposed skin, and a hiss escapes your lips. However, the sensation is quickly replaced by a different kind of warmth as his hand cups your clothed core. A breathless expletive escapes your lips, leaving your mind in a blissful blank state.

Instantly, you feel the warmth of his hand intimately against you, and your head falls back against the seat involuntarily. A soft gasp escapes your lips as you respond to the touch, unable to resist rolling your hips into the sensation.

“You’re needy,” he breathes against your ear, the words carrying a provocative weight that reverberates through you. 

His warm breath sends a cascade of shivers down your spine, clouding your thoughts in a haze of desire. The desire for release intensifies, eclipsing any reservations you may have about seeking it from your mortal enemy. 

“Shut up and just touch me,” you utter in frustration, the words punctuated by the deliberate grind of your hips into his hand, a desperate quest for any kind of friction. You're acutely aware of the desperation seeping through your actions, but at this moment, you don’t give a fuck.

And touch you he does. His fingers begin to rub your clit over the fabric of your panties, and you don't hold back your moans.

Your hips gyrate, a rhythmic dance in pursuit of your impending orgasm. The sensation builds rapidly, a cascade of pleasure on the brink. The question lingers in your mind—why does your body respond so eagerly to his touch?

He tugs your panties to the side, his touch on your clit eliciting a gasp of pleasure from your lips. The warmth of his fingers against your skin amplifies the sensation, and you're already soaked.

“You're so wet already,” he chuckles against your ear, his lips teasingly grazing your skin. The desire to retaliate surges within you, but then, with a sudden and deliberate movement, one of his fingers enters your pussy, stealing your breath away.

He skillfully fingers you with one finger, the motion of his wrist simultaneously stroking against your clit, creating a sensation that's nothing short of delicious. The desire for more intensifies, an insatiable craving building within you.

“More,” you breathe, your voice escaping chapped and laden with a raw, lustful edge. 

Jimin adds one more digit, and you relish in the precision with which he finds your soft spot, hitting it perfectly.

“Are you gonna come on my fingers?” he whispers in your ear, the suggestive question sending an instant jolt through your body, a yearning for more. 

A throaty moan escapes your lips as you willingly spread your legs wider, granting him more space.

He deftly introduces a third finger into you, and you feel yourself losing control, swept away by the overwhelming pleasure. It's already so good—how is he so skilled with his fingers?

The way he skillfully uses his fingers inside you while simultaneously rubbing your clit with his wrist propels you relentlessly toward the precipice of climax. The knot in your stomach tightens, and you're on the verge of that intoxicating release.

“Jimin, fuck. I'm gonna come soon,” you pant, the urgency in your voice underscored by the rhythmic grind of your pussy against his hand. 

He accelerates the pace of his fingers inside you, bringing you to the brink, but just as your body teeters on the edge of release, he abruptly withdraws his fingers and hand altogether.

His fingers and hand vanish, leaving you hanging on the precipice of your orgasm. The abrupt absence intensifies the frustration and desire you feel surge through your body. Fuck!

Your legs tremble beneath you, and a frustrated hiss escapes your lips as you pant for breath.

“You didn't want to share the blanket,” he spews, a self-satisfied smirk playing on his lips as he revels in your evident frustration.

You're on the verge of tears, overwhelmed with anger. The desperate desire for release compounds the emotional turmoil within you. The audacity of him! The frustration boils over, cementing Jimin as nothing short of a fucking jerk in your mind.

“I'm not letting you come unless you beg for it,” he adds in a smug voice, a smirk playing on his lips as he purposefully puts some distance between you. 

You can't believe him. The brink of pleasure was within reach—just a few more rubs and you would have unraveled on his fingers. The yearning is palpable, a frustrating ache that intensifies with each passing moment. 

You growl at him, caught in a heated internal debate about whether to plead with him or not. 

Your pussy clenches around emptiness, a visceral reminder of your desperation.

“Please, Jimin. Please let me come,” you implore, locking eyes with him and turning your body toward him. The desperation in your gaze is palpable. Almost inadvertently, you press your chest closer, your stiff nipples drawing his gaze downward.

He licks his lips teasingly, a wicked glint in his eyes, before seizing your hips and drawing you irresistibly toward him. With a swift yet controlled motion, he manipulates your body, guiding you to lie on the seat. As you settle into the unexpected position, he chuckles at the genuine confusion etched across your face.

“Because you asked so nicely,” he murmurs, his voice dripping with sarcasm, and in a bold move, he shoves your dress up to your stomach. With swift precision, he snatches your panties, sliding them down your legs. “I'll give you what you want.”

He discards your panties with a deliberate flick, his focus unwavering as he plunges down to your throbbing pussy. There's no hesitation; he immediately delves into licking at your folds and clit with a hunger that matches your own. 

Your body instinctively arches off the length of the seat, a wave of pleasure coursing through you. It feels unbelievably good. In the heat of the moment, your hands find his hair, fingers gripping and pulling at the strands, eliciting a guttural groan from him. 

Your muscles tighten, and the echoes of the previous orgasm, forcefully ripped from you, return with an intensity that feels tenfold. Each breath is a furious pant as he continues to lap at your folds, the relentless pleasure building and intertwining with your gasps. 

Then, with a skillful touch, he adds a finger to your clit, rubbing it in tantalizing circles. Your senses heighten, and just as you succumb to the pleasure, he skillfully continues to ravish your entrance with his tongue. 

“Jimin!” you scream his name, a raw and unrestrained cry escaping your lips as you reach the peak of ecstasy on his tongue. Your body tightens, toes curling, and you involuntarily hitch your heels against his legs. In the throes of pleasure, your vision blurs, and you fight for air.

He chuckles, a throaty sound that reverberates in the aftermath of your high. Not giving you a moment to fully come down, he skillfully inserts two of his fingers inside you, drawing a hiss from your lips at the touch—your body rendered oversensitive.

He extends his fingers, proudly displaying them, glistening with your intimate juices. A wicked glint in his eyes, he issues a command, “Clean them.” 

You meet his gaze defiantly, a spark of challenge in your eyes, before obediently rising to carry out his command. Taking hold of his hand, you sensually draw his slick digits into your mouth, swirling your tongue around them like a provocative dance. Your eyes lock onto his, witnessing the raw desire in his gaze as you release his fingers with an audible ‘pop’.

“I hate you,” you declare, breathless, the words carrying a mixture of frustration and desire. His response is a low chuckle, his perceptive gaze catching the teasing glint in your eyes.

He leans back, a provocative smirk playing on his lips, and starts palming himself through his dress pants. Your eyes involuntarily follow the movement of his hands, and a jolt of desire courses through you as you realize he's already rock hard. The unmistakable bulge strains against his pants, a visual testament to the arousal simmering between you two. 

“I can help you with that,” you purr, a sultry promise lingering in your eyes, eager to reciprocate the pleasure.

He chuckles, a mischievous glint in his eyes, and smoothly turns his body to fully face you. With a teasing smirk, he unzips his pants, skillfully pulling down both his trousers and underwear enough to liberate his hardened dick.

His cock springs free, defiantly brushing against the bottom of his loosened tie, a sight that's undeniably tantalizing. Perfectly sculpted, it's veiny and slightly flushed at the tip, mirroring the allure of every inch of him. A surge of conflicting emotions overwhelms you – the hate, the desire, the acknowledgment of his undeniable appeal. You despise how effortlessly good-looking he is, from the tousled blonde locks to those lips you now crave to taste. 

However, your gaze returns to his dick, noting its average size but with a satisfying girth that catches your attention. A subtle hint of anticipation flickers in your eyes, and your tongue instinctively darts out to moisten your lips. 

“Then get to work,” he pants, a breathy command, as he sensually spreads his legs, creating an inviting space for you. 

You descend eagerly, ensuring your mouth is generously coated with saliva before you engulf him, starting with just the tip. 

He hisses the moment your lips meet his dick, his head instinctively colliding with the window behind him, an involuntary exclamation escaping, “Ah, fuck.”

You engulf more of him, your mouth descending entirely, and the sound of his primal moan reverberates in response. You add a sultry hum, a note of satisfaction coursing through you.

You initiate a slow, deliberate pace, skillfully sucking him off, and anything beyond your mouth's capacity, you sensually stroke with your hand. 

His hands seek out your hair, effortlessly capturing the neatly arranged high ponytail that he grasps with a possessive confidence. 

You revel in the subtle tension, accelerating your descent on him with a newfound urgency. Your tongue skillfully traces intricate patterns, dancing across his tip and the sensitive folds of his frenulum.

He moans in ecstasy as you withdraw with a satisfying ‘pop,’ only to treat the head of his throbbing dick like a tempting lollipop, your tongue swirling around it with deliberate sensuality.

As you glance up at him, he appears utterly lost in the moment. His eyes, once vibrant, are now dilated orbs of desire, his parted lips releasing audible breaths. The state of bliss enveloping him transforms his features into a breathtaking display of vulnerability and beauty.

You envelop him once more, relishing the subtle tremor that courses through him, a tangible response to the sensations you're skillfully orchestrating with your lips and tongue.

He yanks you away from him, his voice a raw whisper laden with desire, “I want to fuck you.”

You prop yourself up, captivated by the transformation before you. The usual arrogant Park Jimin is replaced by this vulnerable, needy version, and against your better judgment, a desperate craving for him builds inside you. You ache for him to consume you entirely.

A mischievous smirk plays on your lips as you echo his earlier taunts, “Beg for it,” you challenge, aware of the palpable tension between you, a shared desire pulsating in the charged air.

A low, throaty chuckle escapes him as his fingers glide through the tousled strands of his blonde hair, a mixture of frustration and amusement dancing in his eyes. “You’re really a fucking brat,” he hisses, a smirk playing on his lips.

He sits up, a subtle smirk playing on his lips as he sheds his open jacket, the confined warmth of the car now turning uncomfortably sweltering. You can't help but acknowledge the irony; at least you're not freezing anymore, which, after all, was the primary objective of this unexpected detour, wasn't it?

“Please let me fuck you,” his plea hangs in the air, a desperate echo of your own request, and you can't help but chuckle, slowly crawling closer to him.

“Turn around, let me straddle you. Leaning against the headrest will give us more space,” you suggest, and he shifts in an instant, his arousal evident in the casual sway of his dick with each movement.

Then you confidently straddle him, your hand instinctively reaching for his dick, guiding him to align perfectly with your eager entrance.

Before you lower yourself onto him, you sensually trail his dick through your wetness, relishing in the intimate friction. A moan escapes your lips as you then descend onto his lap in one smooth, sultry motion.

The exquisite stretch sends a shiver down your spine, and he effortlessly glides in, eliciting a breathless ‘Fuck!’ from your lips.

As your hands find their place on his shoulders for support, his eyes, now hooded, follow your every movement as you begin to ride him with a rhythm that echoes the passion pulsing between you.

You pant furiously, your breath hot against his face. The sensation of him inside you is nothing short of heavenly, an electrifying connection that feels as if every contour of him aligns perfectly with every curve of your pussy.

“Ah,” ecstasy courses through you with each fervent bounce on his throbbing length, a harmonious rhythm of pleasure escaping your lips in breathless gasps.

“You’re so tight,” his ragged breaths synchronize with the rhythmic clench of your walls, his hands anchoring to your hips, adding an electrifying intensity to each blissful plunge into your velvet warmth.

Between gasps, you manage to growl, “Fuck. I hate you,” only to be met with his deep, throaty chuckle as he continues the relentless rhythm of his thrusts, each one a tumultuous clash of conflicting desires.

Amidst heavy breaths, he accuses, “I know you're lying,” his words punctuated by the rhythmic tempo of his panting. Undeterred, he leans in for a searing kiss, his lips caressing yours with a softness akin to pillows. Your defenses crumble as you melt into his touch, tongues colliding in a fervent dance that defies the lingering tension.

“Why is it that you feel so damn good?” you gasp, interrupting the kiss only to plunge back into its intoxicating depths. Each moment spent in his embrace feels like a surrender to a passionate whirlwind. His every thrust reverberates through you, sending electrifying shivers down your spine, an exquisite dance of pleasure and desire that you find impossible to resist.

“Perhaps I should prolong your climax, just as you did to me?” you purr with a mischievous smirk playing on your lips, resurrecting the playful brat within you.

He chuckles, his hands leaving the curve of your hips to gracefully undo his tie at his neck. Your gaze fixates on him, observing each deliberate move as he frees himself from the constriction of the tie, all while you continue to ride him with an unabashed hunger.

“You really are a fucking brat,” he mutters, the corners of his lips quirking into a sly smile as he pulls off his tie. “Now, shut up,” he commands, silencing any potential retorts by expertly stuffing the tie into your open, protesting mouth.

You yield to the makeshift gag, sinking your teeth into the fabric, muffling the symphony of your own desperate moans.

A smirk plays on his lips as his hands reclaim your hips, commanding, “Now take it like the fucking brat that you are.”

His movements become a relentless rhythm, thrusting deep inside you. All you can do is cling to his shoulders, swept away by the force of his desire.

Ecstasy courses through you, and you can't help but moan into the fabric of his tie. It feels too damn good to contain.

His voice drips with satisfaction as he senses your walls tightening around him, and a smug grin plays on his lips. “You like that, huh?”

A guttural moan escapes your lips in response, the crescendo of pleasure building, and you sense the impending climax drawing near.

“Fuck yourself on my dick,” his command hangs in the air, thick with desire, as his hands abandon your hips, embarking on a journey down your back. With a swift motion, he unzips your dress, letting it cascade down your shoulders.

Your naked breasts dances to the rhythm of his powerful thrusts, an erotic ballet of passion and desire.

“Fuck. You’re not wearing a bra, just like I thought,” his eyes widen in delighted surprise, a devilish grin playing on his lips. His hands eagerly exploring the contours of your exposed tits.

His words hang in the air, sending a shiver down your spine. “Your tits are beautiful,” he murmurs, his fingers tracing delicate patterns around your stiffened nipples. Your body reacts instinctively, a primal moan escaping through the tie as desire courses through you.

Every grind and movement becomes a challenge as he expertly tweaks and pulls at your nipples, sending waves of pleasure and distraction through your body. You fight to maintain a rhythm, desperately trying to pleasure yourself on his dick amidst the electrifying sensations dancing across your chest.

As your walls clench around him, a whirlwind of sensations floods your body, signaling that the peak of pleasure is just a breath away. Every nerve is on edge, and the anticipation of an imminent climax tingles through you, a storm about to erupt.

As he skillfully massages your tits, he breathlessly teases, “You’re gonna come, aren’t you?” his words send shivers down your spine, intensifying the pleasure that's building within you.

With a fervent nod, you surrender to the sensations, your muffled moans echoing through the tie as pleasure courses through every inch of your being.

As he plunges into you, he urges you with a guttural command, “Cream my cock, brat.” The raw desire in his voice fuels the intensity of your connection, igniting a blaze of passion.

Overwhelmed by desire, his dick finding every exquisite spot within you, you unleash a guttural moan, your pleasure echoing into the fabric of the tie as you climax on his pulsating cock.

Jimin's fingers twist around your hardened nipples, sending electric shocks of ecstasy through your body. A guttural exclamation escapes your lips, muffled by the tie, as pleasure courses through every fiber of your being.

He pounds into you relentlessly, the rhythm building towards an intense climax. His hands firmly grip your hips, fingers digging into your flesh as he desperately seeks his own release.

He reaches the peak of ecstasy, his body shuddering with the force of his release as he spills into the warmth of your pussy.

Heaving for breath, the silence between you two speaks volumes, a shared understanding lingering in the air as you descend from the euphoric heights of your climaxes.

Collapsing onto his chest, you revel in the soothing aftermath, liberated from the restraint of his tie. As his body relaxes within you, the intimacy lingers, a tangible connection forged in the heat of passion.

His lips graze your neck with a gentle touch, igniting a cascade of thoughts about the significance behind this tender gesture.

As laughter fills the air, shattering the lingering tension, your attention shifts to the foggy windows and the oppressive heaviness in the car, making each breath a deliberate act.

As you hastily redress, Jimin slips into his jacket and steps out of the car, retrieving your coat from the trunk. With a gentle handoff, he passes it to you, and you quickly slip into its comforting warmth.

“Thank you,” your gratitude escapes in a hushed whisper, laden with a touch of bewilderment. The encounter, while undeniably electrifying, leaves you grappling with conflicting emotions. It's Park Jimin, your sworn adversary, and the intensity of the shared moment hangs between you, a paradox of pleasure and rivalry.

“You’re welcome,” his response carries a self-assured smirk, echoing the lingering traces of the shared intimacy. As he confidently returns to the driver's seat, you mirror his actions, settling into the passenger's seat, both enveloped in a charged silence that speaks volumes.

The snowfall has eased, no longer as relentless as before. A subtle nostalgia creeps in as you reflect on his desire to keep you warm. The gentle flakes now fall, leaving you yearning for the lingering warmth of his touch.

As he revs the engine to life, a gust of chilly air sweeps through the car, causing you to emit an involuntary grunt. His chuckle fills the cabin, accompanied by a smirk and a teasing wink. “I can warm you up anytime,”

You shoot him a moping gaze, wondering if he has a knack for deciphering your thoughts. Can he sense the magnetic pull, the unspoken attraction that mirrors your own inner turmoil?

You return his smile, a silent agreement resonating between you as he steers the car forward, setting the wheels and unspoken possibilities in motion.

Three hours fashionably late, you finally arrive at Seokjin's Christmas party. The distant hum of music greets you as you step out of the car, signaling that the celebration is already in full swing.

As you rap your knuckles against the door, you steal a glance at Jimin who's busy adjusting his attire. His fingers deftly tighten the knot of his tie, and his pants get a quick, inconspicuous tug into place.

As Seokjin swings the door open, a tantalizing waft of mouthwatering aromas envelops your senses, instantly sparking a smile on your face.

Seokjin's laughter echoes as he playfully accuses, “You fucked Jimin!” and your jaw drops in disbelief to the floor.

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