#thetruthuntoldnet

[oftenderweapons]

Like Crazy | PJM

Pairing: Jimin x reader (nicknamed Princess)

Wordcount: 2.1 k

Genre: fluff, slight angst, light smut, established relationship

Rating: 18+, minors, do not interact

Warnings: unprotected sex, mentions of grinding, mentions of handjob (male receiving). Angst involving military service and taking a break from the relationship.

A/N: To the nonnie who requested this draft -- I'm sorry, but I went off plot with your request, mostly because I can't imagine them being out to the public, but I'll add to this so I can imagine how the *good* fans might react. Also, since I imagined this song interpreted a certain way between them, I don't think this particular take they have in this fic would be recorded and published. I'll reply more pertinently to your ask in a separate post, don't worry. But I wanted you to have *this* fic because I want you to know some stuff that happened in their storyline, and I want you to know how I imagined them interpreting this song together. Sorry again, feel free to send me an ask to shame me LOL

As usual, here's my masterlist and the fic is below the cut.

ILY and enjoy 💜✨

Jimin was moving smoothly in front of you, every muscle of his body hitting every stress and release of the music. He was hypnotic. You could have spent hours watching him move. 

It was only partially a physical experience, and conversely, it was mostly a mental, emotional experience. You could feel him move. 

You mirrored his steps clumsily once the chorus hit. He was cute, giggling, fooling around with you. You touched each other carelessly in some sort of childlike game. And once the second verse came on, he switched. 

He was dancing for you.

His movements turned lustful, lazy. He was touching himself the way you touch him, taking more time in a tempo rubato. Slow paced, sultry, prolonging movements past their beat, letting them melt into spaces they shouldn’t. The choreography you’d seen plenty of times, with its sharp accents and crisp lines, was turning into a breathy harmony of blurred lines, of sultry curves. 

While he seemed frustrated and torn on stage, playful and embarrassed on his several tiktoks, and dark, somehow greedy on the Studio Choom final cut, here before your eyes, he was lusty and indulging. He seemed to really give in to every movement, as if allowing himself to be touched, to be moved, to be seduced by his own hands. 

When his hand moved across his ribs on the second chorus, it looked as if he was really caressing himself. He was giving, and giving, blooming under his own palms. 

You wished you could touch him that way, you’d missed him so much. 

“Oh, sweetheart,” you told him, watching him, and watching. You couldn’t stop tracing every line of him with your eyes. The song was ending, and you wanted more. 

He looked in your eyes as silence finally settled in.

“Come,” he said, reaching to you with his hand and dragging you close to him. He made the song restart. 

He took slow steps as he danced close to you, leading you with a hand around your waist, hooking you close to him. 

“Remember our first dance?” you asked him as he leaned close to your mouth. 

He nodded. “Sometimes I think about it, when I struggle finding myself.” 

Longing was like electricity between your lips and his. “Does it… This song…”

“What about it?” he asked.

“No, later…” you said, avoidant. 

“Okay. Later.” He parted from you just to let you hit the chorus. Staring at each other in the mirror, you noticed his hand, moving from his belt loop to his pelvis, suggestive, an innuendo matched by the lowering of his eyelids, his pupils getting darker. 

You were moving, looking at the mirror, but you weren’t looking at yourself. You were rather making eye contact with him, your bodies getting closer once the second verse started, his solo with the dancer — which had felt so wrong when you looked at it on video — changed entirely once he was dancing with you. His hands were all over you, pushing, pulling, desperate. A hand on your thigh, the other carrying your knee closer to his hip, his waist, your pelvis colliding with his in a way that stole your breath and made your torso snap forward, in his hold. Then, he was pushing you back, making you dip low behind you, lowering you to the ground before his body was climbing over yours in wicked seduction. 

And then he stood, moving on with the choreography, leaving you breathless to pick up after yourself. 

The second chorus had no pretense of sobriety, it was loose and lusty and desperate, your hands moving freely over your body in a way that translated much better in your own vocabulary of desire. 

He could read it effortlessly. 

You ditched the plans for the outro just to keep dancing with each other, going back to that night, when breathing the same air, and feeling each other’s skin and looking at the way your bodies moved together never felt enough. 

Your nose was touching his, his hands were spread over your ribs, your legs were complicatedly tangled together and when the music ended this time, neither of you wanted to start again. 

You were both breathing heavily and both your hands felt criminally free, so you grabbed his face and kissed the hell out of him. 

Neither of you was lying when you met passionately, your mouths devouring each other, wet and hungry, his body, electric and strong against yours pushed you towards the mirror, and you wanted, you wanted him so much. 

Words were failing you as you asked, “Gimmie— Please—”

You didn’t know what you wanted, you didn’t know what to beg for. You were only grateful that he wasn’t mocking you for your desperation; infact, apparently he had this renewed purpose ever since he got you back. Since that night, everything was fair game. 

He ruled over you, and he knew it, and he had no other request but having everything he’d missed so dearly. 

“What did you want to say, earlier?” he asked, panting, his voice angelic, aethereal like he’d been while singing. 

“What?” you asked back, confused, dizzy with excitement and need. 

“Earlier. Don’t act like you don’t remember,” he teased you. 

You bit your lip, your body pinned by his own, and mostly by his gaze. 

“There’s something I wanted to ask you. About this song.”

He nodded. The days without you had been delirious. Like some great lie he’d told himself as an excuse to be afraid to stand by your side, to continue staying by your side. He’d tried to rip the band-aid off before you would do it on him. He was about to enlist, and it felt easier, to let you go instead of keeping the both of you chained to a promise that was going to have more downsides than perks. 

But was it worth it?

He’d just caused the both of you the darkest despair, and then the enlistment had been postponed due to the pandemic. And he’d lost you, over nothing. 

“Go ahead, ask me.”

Your eyes were turned down, to the floor. “Did you write this song about someone you saw while we were off?”

He froze in your arms, then caught your chin. Made you look him in the eye. “No, Princess.”

You nodded. 

He hated himself for making you this insecure. How could he? How could he deserve you, after what he’d put you both through? “It’s about the night we met again.”

You found the courage to hold his gaze. 

“At the club. Our eyes met across the room. I kept celebrating with my friend, but— I didn’t last long.” He kissed your chin. “I went home, by myself.” His hand caressed the length of your thigh, the side of it, down to your knee, and picked it up. He wanted you glued to his body permanently. He thought he’d never spent this much time between your legs before, not sexually, nor romantically, and now he craved it continuously. He wanted to take a day off and just lay the closest he can on top of you. “I went home by myself, and I fantasised about what could have happened. If I had had the nerves and if I hadn’t let go of you. Touching you, being inside you, kissing you. Having you all night long. Being yours still, endlessly.”

You traced the lines of his face. You’d had sex in this room before — his small dance room at home — and it had been hot, but now you just wanted the closeness of his bedroom — your shared bedroom, where you had slept together in the past, and now again, found in each other once more. 

“You sure we’re doing this right?” you asked him, combing his hair back while he kissed his way down your neck. Missing you had helped him appreciate some small details of you more, especially the ones he feared forgetting. Little beauty marks, moles, scars; places where your skin felt softer, places where he could touch you innocently and still cause waves of goosebumps over your entire body. Places where the ruthlessness of your body gave way to luscious forests of pleasures, endless deserts of scorching want, rich oceans of admiration, and devotion, and love. 

He liked you rough and reckless and harsh, and he liked where he could find exceptions to that shark character of yours. “I don’t know what I’m doing. I can’t stop wanting you,” he confessed with a giggle, teasing the waistband of your joggers with his eager fingertips. 

You grabbed him sternly by his own waistband, and started pulling him in, twisting the two of you around as you began to walk backward towards the bedroom. 

“Jimin,” you moaned, almost with a hiccup at the way he stole your breath with tiny nips at your throat. 

“Love,” he moaned back at you, and your knees went weak. “Are you gonna give me the night we could have had?”

You purred and bit at the base of his neck. “One day, I will give you all the nights we missed. But tonight we have just tonight, and I’m gonna make the best of it.”

There was a certain power in love refound. It soared in your veins as you undressed him, and it sang in his heartbeat as he did the same to you. 

It was tender and liquid as his fingers caressed your chest with devotion, his eyes caught as if it was the first time still. 

His hips went wild as your hands reached for him, touching him lovingly, unrushed, precise and skilled. He stopped you with a grip around your wrist, just in time to convince you to grind against him, like that first magical, perfect night, when he’d taken and given, and you’d met him, again and again, flowing inside him just as you allowed him inside you. 

Your bodies seemed to perfectly sing to each other, until you couldn’t stand the distance any longer. 

“Can I? Inside?” he asked, so, so gentle. He touched your face as he asked, cupping your cheek, kissing you deep, deeper, his lips sinfully plush, his teeth a harsh and pleasant contrast. 

“Yes, please,” you replied with a breathy, light tone, your words barely loud enough. 

He let himself kiss you deeper — impossibly so — as he grabbed his sex and placed the tip to your entrance, the movement so smooth as he slipped inside you. 

A guttural gasp caught you, but he smoothed it out with a fond galaxy of kisses spread all over your face and chest. 

“I’m so sorry I let you go,” he confessed, catching you in his arms, holding you as tight as he could. He rolled you over so that he was on top, so he could give you a break from all the effort as you’d been grinding on top of him for a solid ten minutes, and your legs had to be tired. 

He could take over, and he wanted to. He needed to make it up to you. 

“I’m so sorry,” he repeated. 

“I’m sorry I didn’t call you out on your bullshit. I’m sorry I didn’t hold you back.” You wanted to keep talking, but he was working you good, and it was hard to find words that made sense. 

“We’re good now,” he hummed. “You’re good now. Am I good to you?”

“You’re just, so good,” you confirmed, adding to it. “You’re fine. You’re perfect. I missed you. This. Us. Sex with you,” it was like you were an avalanche, coming apart with words first, and then your body, gradually getting sloppy, losing control. 

Your hand moved in between your bodies, to the apex of your slit, teasing the sensitive skin there.

He looked at your hand, at your bodies joining. “I missed it too. I missed your body. God, I missed this so much,” he groaned. “I’m gonna—”

“Go,” you reassured him. 

He went wild and there, you followed, your voice hoarse as you cried out his name, your lips parched from the panting, the gasping over every sensation he caused inside your body. 

Once he collapsed on top of you, you just held him there, letting him catch his breath, soothing him with tender strokes of your hand over his body, over his dirty blond hair.

You let him rest inside you, close to you, and confessed. “You know I love you,” you whispered. 

And after some seconds during which you thought he was already asleep, he replied “I love you, too, you know.” And then he added, “Like crazy.”

It made you chuckle, just barely. You nodded to yourself. “Like crazy.”

If you liked how this fic made you feel, remember to tell the writer -- yeah, we get a huge sugar rush from that 🥹✨

#jimin x reader #jimin fluff #jimin angst #jimin smut #jimin fanfic #jimin x princess #jimin x yn #btswritersclub #52hertz #thetruthuntoldnet

[joheunsaram]

platonically kissing (ksj)

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summary- Seokjin has a strange request and you’re powerless to his pout.

word count- 1.4k

pairing- fwb!Seokjin x Reader

rating- PG-15

genre- fwb2lovers, idiots in love, fluff

warnings- nothing but cuteness overload

a.n.- idk I just had an urge that needed to be fulfilled. also, I missed this couple.

Unedited cause why not.

As always reblogs, asks, and feedback appreciated 💌

-

You could hear the rain outside your window lashing against the glass violently, turning from soothing background noise to distraction as you poured over the stack of exams you had to mark for the weekend. Each essay was worse than the previous and you wondered why your professor even continued to hold a first year seminar in the first place. Fresh high school graduates did not have the maturity to deal with the theories that came with your field, most papers being the same ill informed analysis of BDSM that came from a distracted watching of Fifty Shades of Grey.

Grunting as another person talked about the nonexistent link between childhood sexual trauma and domming, you pulled out your airpods from your drawer, hoping to drown out the raindrops threatening to break your window with the soothing vocals of Taylor Swift. However, that proved to be an even bigger distraction, the catchy lyrics interrupting your reading and making you sing out loud instead.

That’s how Seokjin found you, singing along to a sad ballad, horribly off-tune in front of your laptop with a stack of papers around you. He couldn’t help but smile, his eyes turning into crescents as he tried to calm his heart. He didn’t know why everything you did was so cute lately but he wasn’t complaining. It seemed that throughout your friendship he had discounted all of your moments, moments when you were free and truly yourself. Now, it was became a game for him to sneak up on you when you were least expecting, only so he could relish those moments for a bit. It may be a little creepy but he didn’t think you’d mind, not when you turned to find him watching from the doorway and instead of being embarrassed or stopping, you just waved, continuing your awful runs.

He laughed, coming up to you and placing a kiss on top of your head, depositing the snacks he had dug up from your kitchen on the table. Clapping at his foresight, you reached for the bag of shrimp crackers, opening and taking a sniff, savoring the umami scent before popping a few in your mouth.

“I knew there was a reason I didn’t kick you out after sex,” you teased, between bites as he rolled his eyes. In all honesty, he wouldn’t have left even if you did kick you out, if only just to annoy you and not because lately he really couldn’t get enough of your presence. He had half a mind just to put you in his pocket and move you to his apartment.

“Why are you staring at me?” you mumbled, cheeks ballooned with crackers, and he just laughed, pulling you up by your wrist, an idea blooming in his head.

“Come on!” he called, dragging you through your apartment to the front door, your house slippers clacking loudly on the tiles as you tried to keep up with his speedy long legs. It was when he opened the door that your questions started. Questions that he ignored with a shush and a “Wait for it!” Soon enough, you were at the door of your apartment building the usual view of the street blurred behind the sheets of rain pouring from the skies.

“Seokjin it’s raining!” you exclaimed, digging your heels into the ground, ignoring as he begged you to just listen to him. You didn’t understand why he wanted to go out in the downpour all of a sudden, just the thought of wet clothes sticking to your body had you cringing. You were in your pajamas for fuck’s sake!

“Please! Just once,” he pleaded, bottom lip jutting out and eyes wide, a combination he knew made you weak. It had worked when he used it to convince you to sing a duet with him in the high school talent show. It had worked when he took you fishing just for you to be bored out of your mind for six whole hours. And it worked now.

“Fine. God, you’re so annoying!” you groaned, starting to walk again as Seokjin beamed, raising a fist in the air like he was in some coming of age movie. Rolling your eyes you followed him outside tentatively, the rain already starting to soak you both. Seokjin, on the other hand, seemed as if he didn’t even notice, walking casually down the sidewalk and around the building to the little park at the corner.

It was desolate, not a soul in sight, considering the terrible weather, and once again you were left wondering what mental breakdown your best friend was having to be standing grinning in the rain. He let your hand go when you reached the park, instead opening his arms and looking at the skies with a joyful laugh that made your own smile crack. He looked like a little kid about to jump in puddles behind his parents’ back. You almost felt bad breaking him out of his bubble.

“So you’re just here to frolick?” you smirked, crossing your arms as you looked him up and down. His shirt was plastered to his torso, revealing the spectacular body he often hid behind oversized clothes, and his legs glistened where they peaked from under his shorts. He kind of looked like a drowned rat with how his long hair was stuck to his face and you couldn’t help but laugh how ecstatic he looked despite his appearance.

“Nope,” he answered smugly, pulling you to him till you were chest to chest. “I’m here to kiss you!”

He giggled at the confusion on your face as he cupped your face, fruitlessly trying to move the raindrops scattered across it with his thumbs. Even with the slight chill of the rain, a warmth bloomed in his chest as he stared at you, your eyelashes flicking away the little drops of rain as you blinked up at him.

“I’ve always wanted to kiss in the rain,” he whispered, eyes glued to your lips as he waited for another snarky comment from you. When none came, he leaned down pressing his lips against yours slowly, savoring how the taste of rain mixed with yours, sending his senses fuzzy till he was melting into you.

Seokjin and you didn’t kiss too often yet lately it seemed that the two of you used any excuse to have your lips on each other. Hello kisses, goodbye kisses, good luck on your test kisses, hey that’s a cute cat video kisses, and now rain kisses. The reasoning kept getting flimsier and you knew that you should probably stop. Friends with benefits didn’t kiss, but the reasoning was lost on you when Seokjin’s kisses set your whole body aflame.

Winding your arms around his neck, you stepped on your toes to deepen the kiss, enjoying how he smiled at the gesture, his own arms circling your waist and lifting you up. It was effervescent, the sudden giddiness he felt just from kissing you and he couldn't help but laugh, his forehead against yours as he twirled you around like he was the lead in a cheesy romcom. You told him as such and it only resulted in his laugh getting louder till he was putting you down, kissing you once again between giggles.

“Thanks for helping me get my wish,” he snickered, his hand in yours as he led the two of you back to your building.

You shrugged, oddly less stressed than you had been earlier, the little break helping you look past the infuriating pages of assignments you still had to go through. “That’s what friends are for.”

He rolled his eyes, sticking his tongue out at you as he entered the code to your building, the two of you trailing water behind you. He felt you shiver at the blasting airconditioner in the hallway, opting to wrap his body around your back as he waddled you both to your front door, making you laugh at the absurdity that his equally soaked body would warm you up.

“Shower?” he asked when the two of you were back in your apartment.

“You did all of this for shower sex, didn’t you?” you deadpanned, eyes narrowed at him but he just rolled his eyes again at you before bending at the waist and lifting you over his shoulder making you squeal in surprise.

“Let’s go, little brat!” he exclaimed, smacking your ass once and carrying you to the bathroom.

Perhaps friends with benefits were supposed to have rules, but if this is what it was like without any rules, you were euphoric without them.

-

taglist: @kithtaehyung , @missgeniality, @aroseforyoongi , @awhnamjoon, @codeinebelle , @sugakookitty , @ressjeon , @lavienjin @abyssaeri@raplinesmoon @jcsmae​ @aislinnstanaka @firesighgirl @pb-n-juju@yoon2k

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I hope you enjoyed this! For more fics of mine check out my masterlist

#seokjin x reader #jin x reader #seokjin fluff #jin smut #jin scenario #jin fanfic #bts fanfic #bts x reader #bts scenarios #bts fluff #thebtswritersclub #thetruthuntoldnet #clubzerooclock #52hertz #ficscafe #bangtanbathhouse #purplearmynet #bts jin

[bluewhale52]

By The Pool (M)

Summary: Jungkook has to stay back after practice, thanks to you. But perhaps, staying back isn’t so bad after all. 

Pairing: Coach Seokjin x Liefguard you x water polo player Jungkook

Genre: smut, straight up pwp, non-idol au, university au

Rating: NSFW, explicit

WC: 2.9k

Warning: pwp, threesome (mmf),  fraternising between university staff and students, oral (m & f receiving), fingering, penetrative sex, unprotected sex, daddy kink, soft dom Jin, a bit of cum play

A/N: this story was originally published on my twitter feed back in May 2021, but it was a mess so I’ve been wanting to rewrite it, and now voila! Also, this is straight pwp, I just need to get it out of my system. Enjoy!

Jungkook cannot believe it.

Just a couple hours ago, he got scolded by the lifeguard he has been harboring a crush on since he joined the university’s water polo team. He honestly did not see what the big deal was doing cannonball into the training pool where there was no one but the water polo team. But the screech coming from you was enough to send him hiding behind the older players.

You, of course, told on him to his coach, and as a result, he got extra conditioning sets and had to do all the clean up after practice. Alone. Because Jimin and Taehyung abandoned him, leaving him all by himself in the swimming complex. Jungkook grumbles through his punishment, stomach growling as he packs up the last training equipment in the storage room.

He closes the door and locks it, and is on his way to the staff lounge room to drop off the key to his coach. He is just about to knock when he hears a shout from inside. Not just a shout, but also a series of noises that piques his curiosity. Holding his breath, he presses his ear against the door and blushes immediately.

The shouts- they are not distressed shouts; instead, they are shouts of pleasure. He is in between wanting to peek and running away, but before he can even make a decision, he hears his name being called by his coach, telling him to enter.

Jungkook cannot believe it.

The lifeguard who has given him so much grief earlier is now all pliant before him. Your eyes, that were glaring and shooting him daggers, are now wide and teary. Your shouts, that normally send him all flustered, are now replaced by desperate moans and groans. On all fours, you are no longer the lifeguard he is scared of and has a crush on, you are his fantasy that comes true.

Jungkook is still trying to wrap what is happening around his mind, when his coach asks him.

“Care to join us, Jungkook?”

Jungkook swallows hard. He hears the question, but is unable to answer, for his mind is blank, his heart is racing and his dick, well, his dick is responding very well at the sight of his lifeguard Noona being pounded harshly doggy style by his coach.

You still have your red-yellow lifeguard shirt on, but beyond your waist, you are naked. Your ass cheeks are red and swollen, no doubt from the slaps his coach has been giving you as he drills your cunt.

“Fuck,” Jungkook hisses when a particular hard thrust sends you screaming and jerking forward. His cock is standing at full attention now beneath his speedos.

“Now, aren’t you glad I made you stay back, Kook-ah?” A slap lands on your ass cheek, making you cry and mewl. “ She loves cock, this one. Can’t get enough of mine, so she wants my player’s too.”

Another slap.

“Naughty girl.”

Another slap.

You gasp for breath. “Fuck, Jin, I’m so close.”

“Oh no, you don’t.” Jin slams into you hard and keeps himself inside you. “You only get to cum when Jungkookie says so.”

Jungkook looks at his coach.

“You give him so much shit today, princess, it’s the least you can do.” Jin smacks your ass again, then returns Jungkook’s stare. “All yours, Kook.”

Jin removes himself from you and helps you stand up. Jungkook is breathless, he can see how swollen you are between your legs, and his cock twitches imagining how snug and wet your pussy is.

“How do you want me, baby?” You ask sweetly, while leaning on Jin’s large frame.

Jungkook gulps. “Outside, by the pool.”

Jin bursts out laughing. You scoff. “Are you fucking serious?”

Jungkook shrugs. “You ask, I answer.”

“I asked how, not where you fucking brat,” you mutter under your breath, but you move to the computer to ensure all the CCTV cameras are turned off. “Get a towel, I’m not lying down on that grimy floor.”

Jungkook may be a brat, but he is a gentleman. He runs out to get his towel from his bag, then lays it down by the pool. He lies down on the floor, so you don’t have to. Jin gestures to you to sit on the younger man’s face.

“You’re comfortable, Noona?” He asks as you settle on your knees and lower yourself to his mouth.

You nod. Then you gasp when his hands cups your ass cheeks, pulling you down so his tongue can swipe at your wetness.

“Oh, Jungkook.”

Jungkook moans against your cunt at the way you say his name. You reach back to hold on to his hands over your butt.

“You like that, princess?” Jin leans down to kiss you. You whimper against his plush lips as Jungkook’s tongue parts your folds to get deeper.

“Make her scream, Jungkook.” Jin orders.

Jungkook happily obliges. His wet organ pistons into your hole, juicing you up to leak more of your honey down his mouth. The slurping sounds his mouth makes is so loud, and the smell of your sex fills the air, competing with the chlorine from the pool.

You grind and swirl your hips on his face, trying to get some friction on your sensitive button. He notices what you are seeking to achieve, so he happily moves his focus to your clit. His fingers replace his tongue, two digits pushing into your wet cunt.

He looks up at you, your upper body is still hidden underneath your uniform. His hands leave your ass to push your top up, and he groans when he sees you are not even wearing a bra. He hears Jin chuckles above him.

“She’s naughty like that, going braless so her tits can jiggle and distract me throughout practice. Right, princess?” Jin grabs your hair and yanks your head back roughly.

“Yes, daddy.”

Jungkook mewls- fuck, you have a daddy kink, this is even better than his fantasy. He inserts another finger into you, your loud moans urge him to go faster. He feels your thighs start to shake, so he quickens the pace of his tongue and his fingers.

“Oh Kook, I’m gonna cum, please,” you beg, “Jungkook, please.”

Jungkook wants you to flood his mouth, but he also remembers the way you looked when his coached edged you earlier. So he pushes you away from his mouth and onto his chest. You groan in frustration. “What the fuck!”

“I want to see your face when you cum, Noona.” Jungkook demands. He glances at his coach.

“Come on, Princess,” Jin understands immediately. He pulls you off Jungkook. “Gonna have you cum on my cock while Jungkook watches, hmm?”

You meekly comply. Jungkook moves from the towel to make space for Jin. The coach pulls you, and you squat over him, reverse cowgirl style. You guide Jin’s cock into your dripping hole, gasping and moaning as the head breaches in, followed by his length. Jin lets you bottom out at your own pace, and when he is fully in you, you whine and cry over how deep he has gotten in this position.

“Noona, your top, please.”

Jungkook is desperate to see your breasts. You strip quickly, baring your naked tits for the player. Jungkook gets on his knees before you. His large hands enveloping your chest, his rough palms grazing your hard nipples.

“You have such pretty tits, Noona. Fuck, they’re so nice and round.”

“Yeah, you like them, Jungkook? Ah!” You squeal when Jin slaps your ass.

“Start bouncing, princess.”

“Yes, daddy.”

Your knees start working to get you up and down Jin’s cock, your cunt swallowing the full length until you feel it deep in your lower abdomen. Your walls tighten around his girth, despite already being opened up earlier.

Jungkook continues to knead your breasts, eyes never leaving your face. “Noona, fuck, you’re so sexy.” Jungkook leans in to kiss and lick your neck.

“Fuck, Princess, how are you still so tight?” Jin pants from behind you.

Your moans are getting louder, the tell-tale sign of an orgasm fast approaching. Your knees have tired, so Jin takes over, fucking himself up into you, making your body bounce like a rag doll. You stumble forward and Jungkook catches you to hold you up, your breasts pressed against his hard chest.

Jin plants his feet firmly on the floor and continues to fuck you, determined to have you scream both his and Jungkook’s names. He has denied your orgasms a few times tonight, even before Jungkook joined in, and he is eager to have you finally cum and cum hard on him. He can see past your shoulders, at Jungkook, at how the player is mouthing at your neck and enjoying your succulent tits.

“Daddy,” you tilt your head back to glance at Jin, “I’m so close, I wanna cum, please.”

He digs his fingers deeper into your flesh. “Cum, princess, cum for me.”

He gathers his strength and pumps his cock into you faster and harder, finally burying himself in you when your walls squeeze tight around him accompanied with a cry escaping your mouth.You are cumming then, milking and drenching his shaft at the same time. Jungkook looks wide eyed at you, at how your eyes squeezed shut, at how your brows scrunched up, and at how you scream Jin’s name.

The coach grunts. “Jungkook, shut her up. She’s getting too loud.”

Jungkook quickly pulls his speedo down and positions himself before you so he can slide his cock into your open mouth. Your lips automatically close themselves around him, and Jungkook loses it when your hands grip his thighs for balance. He holds your head so he can fuck your mouth as his coach continues to press and grind himself through your climax.

“That’s it, Princess, suck his cock while you cum on mine.”

You groan around Jungkook as your body shakes and shudders in the aftermath of your orgasm. Jin does not let up his assault on your pussy,  and Jungkook soothes you when he sees a tear roll down your cheek.

You look up at him; your big teary eyes and hollow cheeks become his undoing. Gripping your hair tightly, he holds your head still as he shoots his seed down your throat. He moans and pants your name as you obediently swallows every drop from his cock.

Jungkook removes himself from you, and you gasp loudly for air.

“You okay?” He asks softly. You nod. Jungkook kneels before you so you can rest your body on his again.

“Daddy,” you whine against Jungkook’s neck as the slapping sounds of skin against skin continue. Jin is drilling himself up in you so hard that your body is jerked roughly forward to the player. After a few more thrusts, Jin finally empties himself, filling you up with his seed.

Your body shudders against Jungkook’s, your nails digging into his biceps as Jin comes inside you. The player feels his cock stirring again. The mere thought of his coach’s cum leaking out of your sweet cunt is sending him dizzy. Jin must have seen it on his face, as he pulls out and removes you from Jungkook.

Laying you down on the towel, Jin kisses you gently. “Can you take Jungkook, princess?”

“Yes, Jin, I want to,” you answer weakly, whining when you feel liquid dripping out of you when you spread your legs.

Jin kisses you deeply before he lets his player take over. Jungkook kneels between your legs, eyes fixed on your messy cunt. His cock is hard again, but he knows he will cum the moment he goes inside you, so he delays by pushing Jin’s cum back into your hole.

“Ah, Jungkook, please,” you whine, “wanna feel your cock.”

He ignores your begging, instead he finger fucks you gently while his other hand strokes his cock.

“Jungkook!” Your whining is louder and more desperate. He likes the sound of it. He moves his fingers faster, his coach’s cum and yours all mixed around his fingers.

“Jungkook, please, fuck me with your cock.”

Jin sniggers. Jungkook meets his eyes and smiles wickedly. God, he really likes the way you beg, and he is happy to hold off until you are reduced to a crying mess. But then you lift your legs up, holding them by your thighs, opening and offering yourself to him. Jungkook swears.

“Fuck, Noona,” he whispers, “you’re a sin.”

He slaps your hands away to push your thighs further against your chest, as he enters you in one swift motion. The slick in your cunt allows him to bottom out quickly, sending him and you both moaning.

“Fuck her good, Jungkook. I want to hear her scream your name.” Jin orders his player again, while gently caressing your hair. The contrast of his words and his action makes your pussy clench tightly around the younger man.

Jungkook obeys his coach and immediately goes into action. His hips snapping hard, forcing your cunt open with every stroke. Your hands pathetically try to hold on to his shoulders, as he fucks you almost savagely, encouraged by the sweet cries and moans of his name coming out of your mouth.

It is not long when he feels you starting to tighten. “You’re gonna cum, Noona?” He asks without missing a beat in his pace.

“Yeah, yeah, Kook, oh,” you only manage to answer. Jungkook focuses on your face. Your eyes look glazed and unfocused. He bites his lips to hold himself off until he sees you come.

Jin’s hands sneak between your bodies to tug and pinch your nipples. Your body jerks at the pain. Jungkook’s hips falter. Fuck, he’s so close himself.

“Jungkook, Jungkook,” you keep calling out for him.

“Noona, fuck, cum for me.”

Your body locks up as you finally reach your climax, cunt squeezing his cock so tightly that he cannot hold back anymore. He drops to his elbows and buries his face in your neck as he shoots his seeds inside you, his body jerking and twitching along with you.

The two of you remain in the position- Jungkook on top of you with your legs over his shoulders- as you come down from both your climaxes. The pool, so loud with the lustful sounds of sex minutes ago, is now quiet, except for Jin’s soft whispers of praises to you and Jungkook’s panting. Once he feels your heart beat returning to normal, he removes himself from you and gently puts your legs back on the towel, then sits back to watch you in your afterglow. Your body is laxed and your eyes are closed, and Jungkook falls a little bit more in love- and in lust- with you.

The three of you stay motionless for a while more, and Jin is the first to break the silence. “Come on, Princess, let’s have a shower, hmm?”

You mumble a sleepy yes as the coach lifts you into his arms and carries you into the staff lounge. After ensuring you are fine and well in the female’s change room, he and Jungkook go into the male’s to clean themselves.

Jungkook is embarrassed, as he showers and puts his clothes on next to his coach. Jin has been quiet since he left you in the women’s room, and the younger man is nervous.

“Say what you want to say, Kook-ah.”

Jungkook clears his throat. “Uh, are you and Noona dating?”

Jin nods. “Going on six months. And you will not breathe a single word about this to anyone, including Jimin and Taehyung.”

Jungkook blushes.

“We are keeping it quiet until she graduates,” Jin continues, “just one more month.”

Jungkook nods. He understands; though technically Jin is not your supervisor, he is an employee of the university and you are still a student. You and Jin are not breaking any rules, but if words go out, it can still be looked upon unfavorably.

“Yeah coach, don’t worry, your secret is safe with me. It’ll be great once Noona graduates, right? No more ‘fraternizing’.” Jungkook uses his hands to add air quotes to the last word.

“Well, about that,” Jin rubs his chin, “we may need to continue ‘fraternizing’ a bit more.”

“What do you mean?”

“I have a very strong feeling tonight is not a one off.”

Jungkook gulps nervously. “Oh?”

“It’s up to you, I know she has a soft spot for you, and this,” Jin gestures to himself and Jungkook, “has been in her mind for a while. I don’t like sharing but I have to admit I enjoyed watching her with you. So, you know where to find us if you ever want to do it again.”

Jungkook hoists his bag on his shoulder, his mind going a hundred miles a minute but he is unable to process what he has just heard. His coach looks at him and smirks.

“Can you like, punch me, Coach?”

“I’m already toeing the line, and I’m definitely not breaking the rule by assaulting my player!”

The two men stop when they hear a knocking on the door.

“Are you two done yet? I still need to close up! And I’m hungry!” You shout from the other side of the change room.

“I don’t understand why she needs to knock when- ah, come on Kook-ah, before she whoops our asses.”

Jungkook smiles and follows his coach out. He smiles even wider when he sees you. You merely raise an eyebrow and nag him to move quickly.

Yeah, Jungkook cannot believe it.

Do you enjoy reading this fic? If you do, please reblog! Reblogging will bring my fic to a wider audience :)

Published on tumblr on 270122. Crossposted to my AO3. 

#btscreatorscorner #thebtswritersclub #thetruthuntoldnet #seokjin smut #jungkook smut #seokjin x you #jungkook x you #jinkook x you #bts smut

[missgeniality]

Opaline Moon (m)

“The Moon can never breathe, but it can take our breath away with the beauty of its cold, arid orb.” - Munia Khan

➺ Banner: @hobiandsprite​ 💕

➺ Pairing: Seokjin x Female Reader

➺ Trope: Friends to Lovers, Idol!AU

➺ Genre: Angst, Smut, Fluff

➺ Rating: 18+

➺ Word Count: 11.2k

➺ Summary: You are ingrained to love Jin, right upto the blood that courses through your veins. Confessing, however, is a whole other game. So it’s a good thing you’re bad at keeping your hands to yourself, because happenstance can handle the rest. 

➺ Warnings: talks about dance floor fucking, making out in the bar bathroom, fingering, pussy slapping, passing out drunk, daydreams about thigh riding, reader masturbates, they make out A LOT, neck kissing, a hickey, nipple play, some biting, cum eating (kind of, you’ll see), blowjob, protected sex!, reader and jin are corny, the hurt is real but the sex is real-er

➺ Author’s Note: My lovely, lovely moots - @taegularities​, @kithtaehyung​ and @baepsaetan​, thank you so much for betaing this and hyping it up, your comments made this fic a hundred times better! As I mentioned on the teaser, this fic took a lot out of me, but I thoroughly enjoyed writing the angst and will write more whenever the story aligns! I hope you enjoy reading this as much as I did writing, and I hope this lovable Jin reaches your heart! (ngl, in usual fashion, I will come back and edit it again, so if you see a spelling mistake, your eyes are lying to you) Do let me know what you think, your asks and comments make my day!

This is the second part of my Dress Down series, find more at it’s masterlist!

ɴᴀᴠɪɢᴀᴛɪᴏɴ | ᴍᴀꜱᴛᴇʀʟɪꜱᴛ

Sweltering heat. Blaring traffic. Little to no sleep. Through all things wrong, one man’s thoughts wrapped around you like a cooling breeze, a shield to protect you from the vicissitudes of reality, to draw you back into all of him. Unfortunately, your reality may never see that day come to light.

Kim Seokjin.

Kim Seokjin, the man who cooked you up a greasy break-up meal at three in the morning with not a sight of discomfort, putting your needs above all.

Kim Seokjin, whose puns make you roll your eyes heavenward, half awed at how he manages to pull one out of his collection at a moment's notice, and half irked by the untimely laugh it brings out of you.

Kim Seokjin, the man who will never be yours, and you have no one to blame but yourself. 

One could argue that the miscommunication that had caused this present condition was two-way. If you had stopped him, corrected him, let him know the truth… you wouldn’t have to resort to the extreme measures you’re currently entangled in. One would also say, you are trying to redeem your mistake by trying too hard. Surely, everyone and their mothers could see through your ruse. 

This is the fourth time you’re visiting Jin for his BE shoot - a shoot taking place two hours away from the city, disguised under various layers of secrecy to prevent any leakage of the album concept, or Jin in general. Of course, you had been made privy to such exclusive information, because you and Jin were ‘best friends’. 

Best. Friends.

Nothing more, nothing less.

Best friends. The term you coined for (and forced upon) the bond you had. The bond that was too close to sprouting into something new, something fresh, something that was filled with glimmering allure and dragged you in like quicksand. But also, it reeked of commitment, of shadows, of newness that you hadn’t felt in the longest time, and fear of already being far too deep in without even taking the first step. 

The loud thrum of some internet kid’s new hit pulses through the air of the club as bundles of couples occupy the dance floor, laughing and gyrating to a song that, in your opinion, most definitely does not suit gyrating. But with enough of the weekend happy hours intake combined with hormone-riddled minds, one could very well throw it back to a church choir. 

You weave through the drunken bodies, trying not to spill the precariously held three drinks in your hands, making your way to your inner circle, the only people to blame for dragging you to this slosh-fest.

“Y/N!” 

Somehow Hoseok’s voice can echo across the club, but you didn’t even need his addressal because Jin’s laughter is loud enough to navigate anyone to your table. Seeing you struggle with the glasses (and mostly the crowd, with some of them living their exhibitionist dreams), Hoseok gets up to assist you.

“I swear, if I see one more couple pretending to be dancing as they rub one off of each other’s thighs, the black market will have my eyes.”

“Oh yeah?” Jin’s breathy voice interjects your black-market dreams, still bursting in short laughs from whatever sent him rolling before your arrival. “Why don’t you go join them?”

“And whose thigh is she taking, yours?” Yeji snorts out, one hand holding her nebula blue drink, the other wrapped around Hoseok, urging him to come closer. Jin’s features scrunch into a cringe, and you’re thankful for the dim lighting because the disappointment in your features does not reach them.

“The only action these leather pants are getting is in the damned laundromat,” he points to his shiny trousers, “some jerk dropped his drink on it.”

“You could be the first person to give some chick an orgasm and a yeast infection.” Hoseok giddily adds, his fifth shot clearly making a mess of his brain cells. 

Jin claps and gets up to move away from the group. “Better than a pregnancy!” he yells, before zigzagging through the crowd, possibly to the restroom. He is on his third cocktail, and you’d think cocktails are lighter drinks. But in this bar, their taps just seem to flow with tequila, and it is very evident in the way Jin is currently walking.

His absence hits you harder than you think, but it might be the alcohol talking. Jin has always been the mood-maker of the group, the one who brings everyone together. Of late though, his magnetic persona has been an irritant in your life. Any outing you two take, any chance you have to come clean about the burgeoning crush you have on him, is effectively disrupted by one of his posse. And today, Hoseok and Yeji took that trophy. 

“Earth to Y/N. Has the cocktail finally broken you?”

You flutter your eyes in a manic fashion, to disperse the daydream you were indulging yourself in, and bring your attention back to the couple calling for you. Surprisingly, they have stood up, Yeji emptying the last of her neon drink. 

“What happened?”

“We are going to the club nearby, they have better stuff. And that’s code for ‘they actually add water to the drink and the surround sound doesn’t shatter your ear drum’.’” 

She isn’t wrong. The cocktails and music here are a 19-year-old frat party dream, not something the working class can digest. But you’re tired at this point, and don’t want to be smothered by someone else’s love life when your own is down the dumps.

“You guys carry on! I’ll tell Jin where you are and he’ll meet you there!”

You watch as Hoseok and Yeji lead each other to the exit, hands circling their partner’s waist. They giggle on and on, about nothing and everything, and it only hardens the emptiness you feel inside you. 

Why can’t you gather the balls to spit your feelings out? What could possibly go wrong? Yes, you may lose one of your closest friends, but is this friendship really worth the agony? The bitterness you feel when you see any couple enjoying themselves? The anger you harbor whenever Jin tells you about his dates? The heartache, when he hugs you and tells you that you’re the best thing that’s happened to him… as a friend? Is it? Your plastered brain tells you to not make any rash decisions, so you don’t, instead choosing to get up and search for your best friend. 

The corridor leading to the washrooms is dimly lit, throwing a merlot filter over your eyesight, making you squint in search of your friend. You being shitfaced does not help, and while relishing in your floating wooziness, you see Jin come out, and feelings you’ve held at bay for so long slither through your currently porous defenses. 

He has always been good-looking. He himself has said so a dozen times.

But wow.

His hair lays messily atop his beautiful face, unkempt, like a breeze of beauty swept across his mighty looks and displaced every strand, causing disarray, but even the disarray only frames his superior looks and adds to its potent charm. The black, patchy sweater hanging loose off his broad shoulders makes you feel things you shouldn’t feel as a friend. That stupid gut of yours is currently screaming, yelling for all hands on deck, trying to block all the feelings from gushing in and sending you into overdrive.

By the time you can gather yourself to stop from giving in to those dangerous thoughts, Jin has crossed the distance between you, coming close, too close. Chocolate-brown eyes peer into your soul, searching for whichever fantasy you chose to lose yourself in. His eyes flit down to notice your rumpled dress that has found its way a couple of inches above its designated spot. His gaze returns to yours, but not without a newfound hardness, an almost steely glaze over the kindness that you usually find in the chocolate pools, accentuated under the garnet lighting. 

“Hey, umm…” You beg for a reprieve, from your thoughts, from your filthy mind, from the way he is eyeing your cleavage, or just for the burning between your legs. You’re about to make some serious mistakes, you can feel it down to your bone.

You’re far too overdressed. 

You knew it when you were in the process of getting dressed, but right now, you feel it much more - you look like a shiny disco ball orbiting amidst the plethora of loose tees, leggings and flannels. Everything screams comfort, because the amount of work they’re putting into this begs for it. 

The strappy lace sundress you wear is extremely out of place, the halter-neck tie behind your neck fastened a little looser than necessary, giving your breasts the exposure they deserve, a nice valley view. Your dress skirt, adorned with pretty frills and dainty flowers, cut across your thigh to frame your petite hips. You are one floppy sun hat away from an extravagant Greek cruise - and in the moment you wish you had one to hide your face in shame. 

You’re just out here, trying to escape the zone. 

“Oh, would you look at the time, it’s tits out Tuesday already?”

Your eyes roll before Sanghoon even finishes his sentence, because you wouldn’t expect anything else from him. On the team of the set design, he is carrying a whole drapery worth of plush, mauve curtains, struggling with the slipping fabric. But apparently not struggling enough to stop him from getting his nose into your business, it seems.

“Literally not even a time you just mentioned. Can’t get one thing right.” You can’t stop yourself from stretching a hand out to feel the curtain fabric, the satiny sheets begging to be touched. Before you can though, Sanghoon moves away, not allowing you to shift the focus of the conversation.

“Don’t steer away from the facts. Your tits.”

“That’s the fact?”

“They’re out.” He bucks up, trying to point with the hand stuffed underneath all the cloth. “That’s the fact.”

“Ugh, can’t a girl dress up once in a while?” The pointed attention makes you uncomfortable, because everything he’s insinuating is true. With every passing staff member, you count a new shade of grey, interspersed with occasional blacks and greens, a stark contrast to your floral overtones. Amidst the thousand footsteps taken in your vicinity, only yours are pointed heels, echoing across the studio with every clack. But you’re a stubborn one, refusing to give in to his totally valid argument. “I just woke up early.”

“Girl.” Like light through frosted glass, he sees through your bullshit, but only partially. “You put an alarm to dress up? I have nightmares of the boss brandishing her whip and telling me to get into position, and even that doesn’t wake me up.” 

“Have you ever considered… not announcing your kinks to everyone and their sisters?”

“Ehh,” he simply shrugs, “nothing is new when you’ve serenaded your boss drunk in a karaoke bar and still managed to keep your job. Wait. Is that highlighter?”

“Stop staring into my tits!” You can’t believe you got caught, but also, who can you blame? After testing this outfit out from the crack of dawn, you decided your cleavage needed some extra help. Three YouTube tutorials and one TikTok lady - who make it look far easier than it is - down, the contouring brought out the swell of your breasts, and against the light fabric of your dress, it does look too good to be true.

Memories of that night in the bar come in billows and waves, of how enamored Jin was with the way your boobs looked at that time. Even under the dingy lighting, in the cramped space, under heavily inebriated scrutiny, you couldn’t miss the flicker of heat in his gaze every time it passed your chest. 

One thing led to another, and it was a cascade none of you could stop. The heat of attraction between you two does not help your wandering mind, and the fever drowns the knowledge that what you’re feeling is, beyond a shadow of a doubt, crossing some lines that can never be mended back again. With the proximity, his musky scent invades whatever defenses you were trying to patch, piercing through all your inhibitions and you pull him into you, claiming his lips to be yours. 

With his wobbly knees and your wobbly heels, you somehow find your way to the washroom - mostly he does, you give in halfway to wrap your legs around his lean waist, his sturdy legs balancing your weight on them as your back hits the wall, and his lips tear down your walls. 

“You look so fucking sexy today,” between bated breaths and indulgent sighs you confess, “just driving me nuts.” Letting your hands drag along his abdomen, feeling the ups and downs of his abs, you attempt to rid him of the sweater that’s been on your hit list all night. But to your dismay, your endeavor is blocked, when Jin gathers your wrists in his palm, turning you around to bend you over on the countertop, the smooth marble chill hitting your braless chest, perking your nipples under the cold. 

“And you?” Jin bends to give your earlobe a languid lick, progressing very slow, a complete contrast to the movement of his hips as he ruts against your ass, your already short dress bunching up with every move. “You think it’s smart to have your tits torment me like this?” Grabbing a handful from behind, he tests the weight of each fleshy mound, and by now you are certain your perked nubs can pierce his palm. 

His free hand, not yet torturing you, decides to get in on the action and disappears under the counter, swiftly crossing the bunched fabric of your dress, gaining easy access to your pussy. The cold touch of his pads sears against the heat of your core, finding your pleasure button and languidly fiddling with it, with no intention to cross you over the brink in sight. The only pleasure you can indulge in is the reflection of him abusing your nipples, pinching and tugging them down, whispering filthy words into your ear as he takes in your fucked out countenance. 

You feel lacking, weak hands balancing your dizzy self, finding purchase to keep you upright - but you’re both drunk on alcohol and hypnotized by his beauty to do much more than stare at his mirrored counterpart. “For fuck’s sake, kiss me.” 

How he understood your slurred words, you don’t know, but you are glad he did. In a moment you’ve been displaced, the hurried motion sending your neurons into a flurry. Once your back meets the hard marble, and your eyes have the privilege to see his, you pull him in closer, the force enough to hold you against the wall while your legs wrap around his lean waist. 

Originally not a fan of drunken misadventures, that side of yours is strangely mute to the going current onslaught. Well, you don’t have much breath left to say anything, because Jin is efficiently stealing it all, his teeth clashing with yours as you engage in the messiest kiss ever known to mankind (or at least, to you). He changes pace often, dragging his tongue leisurely against your lower lip, conveying tacit words, just to switch it up with a sharp bite and reel you in. 

One corner of your senses can feel his fingers messing around your cunt, and playing with the wetness your thong can barely contain. It makes you shudder, the damage that his fingers can cause solely circling around your hole. 

“Fuck me.” 

In your drunken stupor, you don’t know if the words leave you right, but you get confirmation when his long fingers finally penetrate your cunt, giving your walls something to clench on - although nothing could possibly compare to what you imagine you can get from his dick.

“God, you feel that grip,” he grunts, with two of his fingers in you, and Jin’s smile is the most sinister you’ve ever seen. “I think we should take this home,” is what his lips utter, but his fingers delve deeper, searching for the spot that crumbles you. The base of his palm grinds against your throbbing clit, and you are forced to bite down on this sweater, lest an embarrassingly loud moan escapes you and cues outsiders into your filthy doings. 

“Now,” you half-hiss, half-growl as you grab the cusp of his legs to feel his half-hard erection grow under the pressure of your hand. Your palm sliters up just to go down again, this time without the blockade of his pants, but you are stopped short of success when Jin’s fingers slip out of you to give you a sharp swat. 

“Stubborn, aren’t we? Can’t fucking wait,” he whispers into your ear, and as he envelops your lobe with his cushiony lips, he continues, “I don’t want to hurt you.”

No, no, no. 

Your brain rejects logic, chews and spits it out before any of the rationale seeps into you. You have wanted this for far too long. The need inside you for a meaningful relationship materializes in the form of recklessness, desperately looking for surface-level relief for the moment. A night of sewing sutures to your battle-worn heart, stitches that may come off at the slightest strain - but right now, that will do. 

“Please, Jin,” your tantalizing tone riles up his cock again, eagerly waiting for your next words, “can’t you feel me dripping? Come on, I can take you.”

“Fuck, hear that wetness.” He lets his palm slap against your sopping entrance, not stopping with one. With every slap, droplets of your arousal splash out, the insides of your thighs coated in the sticky sweetness, but your body is an endless reservoir producing plentiful more for Jin to play with. “Have you been sitting with this all this time?”

Two long fingers invade your channel again, leaving you with no response other than a gasp. They scissor incessantly, preparing you for what could be the railing of your lifetime. One curl inside and his fingertips hit the spot he was looking for, making you warp your body to take the pleasure coursing through your veins. His tongue seems to mimic the actions, looping around your earlobe as he sucks it inside, both ends of your body engulfed in all the attention he could provide. 

Your cunt is weeping against the assault of this man’s hands, tears of your cum flowing down your legs with every pump of his arm. You are getting there, the sweet swell of release inching closer and closer.

But something doesn’t feel right.

The tightness in your belly, that is to a point caused by Jin, is harboring other sensations that are not entirely pleasant. Maybe you’re anxious about the happenings. Maybe you haven’t had a good orgasm in a while and have just forgotten how this thing works.

Or maybe, the bar should have the water tap actually give out water.

Either your eyes close, or your brain does, but suddenly all you can see is darkness.

 Again, you are just trying to escape the zone.

“Step under those studio lights,” pointing at the too-bright stage lights being set up at the moment, Sanghoon continues, breaking your daydream, “I bet you could signal to aliens with the booby-reflection. Call them to Netflix and chill.”

“In about five seconds, my heel will be puncturing your eye. Don’t say I didn’t warn you!” 

Sanghoon’s drivel was cut short, and so were your murder plans, with his entry. “Oh look, he’s on set. Gotta go!” 

It’s like the lights, earlier threatening to burn away your skin, dim down in reverence of the glow of his face. The twinkle of his eyes when they meet yours. The shine of his smile when he throws you one. The vibrance of his tone when he calls out your name. Everything he does now threatens to burn you whole and it’s a wonder you’re not scalding, but the singe hurts you deep inside.

“Y/N! How do I look?” It’s a bathrobe. Like satin, or silk. Fucking hell, your brain could explode with the adjectives coming up, a whole chunk of them very much inappropriate to utter out in the current scene. Your arms want to rise, engulf him into you, and you have to physically halt the muscles from doing anything stupid. Brain, quick! Say something snarky and spicy, as best friends do!

“What’s the theme, unicorn puke?” The safest way to deflect is to attack. So you do just that. “You look like you dressed out of Hannah Montana’s closet. Which if it's true, I really need to see it. There’s a top that I’ve been eyeing for decades!”

“Don’t say decades.” Jin’s eyes crinkle in humor. “Makes me feel so old. Your dress is pretty cool too!” 

Cool.

You find out how difficult life can be when you count every single minute of yours. So far, you have counted 4,310 minutes. That is two days, twenty-three hours, and fifty minutes. Ten more minutes and it will be three whole days since you and Jin spoke. 

Yet again, you can’t blame him. When you came to the next day, you were in your bed, clad in the same shimmering silver bodycon that you had donned last night. The same one that had been privy to the colorful deeds you had committed in what was a dreary, colorless setting. 

One ibuProfen and ginger ale, downed with some severe recollections of the previous night, and you had been ready to throw it all up again. 

I don’t want to hurt you.

Words couldn’t describe what you were going through, and numbers weren’t invented to count the endless thoughts racing in your brain. You don’t know what is more upsetting. The fact that you actually had a chance to open your heart and you totally let your pussy think instead? Or that he was the one coherent enough to stop you from getting too far, and you let your desperation get the best of you? Everything about that night was wrong. And all the wrongs lie on your side. 

I don’t want to hurt you.

In the moment, it was physical, he had to have meant that. But there was a tremor in his voice, you can remember clear as day, a slightly shaken side of him had emerged through the intoxication, and the words he had breathed were not shallow. There was a gravity to them, that you’d stupidly ignored in the heat of the moment.

And now, here you are. Counting up till the last minute, after which you can effectively call the friendship ruined. Stirring your tea mindlessly, you try to focus on the show on TV, the variety show comedy not striking the usual funny bones that they could 4,311 minutes ago. 

The programmed ding of your phone bursts your thought bubble, a sound you have missed the past 72 hours. The ring you dedicated to Jin, that always had you running to receive because anything he sends brightens your day. But unlike those happier times, this ring has your gut fall into a pit of despair, struggling to choose between dispersing the suspense or remaining blissfully unaware of the damage you caused.

Jin: Free tmrw? We could grab coffee Jin: And talk

Talk. How? You barely remember what went down, save for fleeting moments that you recollected with great difficulty. Your fingers type back, trying to mimic the nonchalance in his text, that is very much absent in your actual demeanor.

Y/N: Sure. Paik’s at 1? Jin: Yup. See ya

Three texts, zero laughs. Of course, you’re not expecting him to land his jokes in this situation, even someone as talented as he can’t flip this tension. You’re just going to have to wait for tomorrow, when he decides whether you have a place in his life or not. 

The painstakingly worn outfit, accessorizing the whole look, the straps of your heels digging into your toes, the specks of makeup dust lying stale on your collar bones, the shine faints at that word. Cool. A perfectly normal phrase for a normal friendship. You are left maimed, while he absent-mindedly tends to the rope of his robe, blissfully unaware of the cyclonic emotions churning inside you. All you can possibly do is gulp it down. 

He runs his hands through his hair, beautiful locks coming out of place, and from one corner of the set, a groan of anguish emerges. 

“Oppa! Don’t play with your hair and face.” A masked lady runs forward waving combs that look like artillery, “We just got done setting it!”

Some finger guns, a happy apology, and some silly jokes later, all the stylists merrily round up to undo his doing, and Jin signals to you to catch up later. And as he walks away, the strings tugging at your heart reappear, as they do every time you come to meet him.

You have a masochistic streak in you, putting yourself through this every day, when he had made it clear, that you two never stood a chance. 

As if things aren’t already difficult, he looks like a dream. 

Soft, snowy skin gleaming like it has personal lighting wherever it goes, you get flashes of the rarely witnessed sweat on his skin, from the ferocity of last night. He’s blowing away the foam of his cappuccino, and tiny bubbles float into the air before falling flat on the table, like an animated shine that follows him along. God has His favorites, and God makes sure all the lighting in the world is perfect for these favorites. 

In no hurry, you wait at the counter to get your latte. After receiving it though, you can’t linger any longer and drag yourself to the table of doom.

“Hey.”

If the rasp in your voice is evident, he doesn’t show any recognition on his face. But you’ve learned to never trust an acting major. 

“Hi. How are you doing?”

Inadvertently, a snicker escapes your lips. “Are you interviewing me for a job?” you joke, trying to disperse the heavy air, filled with unspoken words. “If so, at least know that I’m very expensive.”

The familiar windshield wiper laugh does not greet you. Dead silence does. The half-smirk he painfully gives you is heavy, and the furrowed brows haven’t an inkling of joy. It shoots daggers in your heart, to know that you are the reason for this jolly man’s despondency. 

“Listen, I don’t think we should skirt around the issue too much. It happened, these things happen. You think Hoseok and Yeji didn’t have sex before making it official?”

His matter-of-fact nature isn’t new to you. Jin has always been a very practical man. Regardless of his inane sense of humor, his logical point of view has always been flawless. 

But right now, at this very moment, logic isn’t what you are looking for. You are looking for answers, but as far withdrawn from logic as possible, to take the edge off of the tension-laden air that surrounds your table.

“Yeah, but even… unofficially… we aren’t a thing, right?” 

Your abrupt question takes Jin unaware, almond eyes widening, like a toddler caught in an act. 

“No, no! Of course not! I would never!” 

His confession slips out with an ease that hurts you, digs deep to carve out the part of you that dreamt of anything more. Your eyes fall to your knees to avoid his perceptive gaze, the sting clear as the sky on a summer day. 

You force a smile and continue. “Then there’s no issue. Anyway,” you gulp your coffee down, burning your throat, but it's a distraction from the burning inside, “I need to get to work. Anything else?”

He’s still searching you, for what, you can’t possibly fathom. From the looks of it, he should be happy with this homeostasis; he doesn’t even know what this means for you. To still stay suspended in limbo, not being able to move up or down, to continue having thorns digging into your beating soul as you watch him like nothing bothers your already frail feelings. Scene by scene, you can visualize the future, him distancing himself from you as he finds the one he calls his, with you left in the shadows. Your knees tremble in fear of the impending future.

Seeing you in a tizzy, he calls out, the voice too loud for the cafe and your mind’s prison cage. 

“We’re still best friends, right?” If you knew better, you’d say his expression is that of sadness, of regret. But your judgment is clouded with your own bothers, and you interpret it as a look of pity. Like a lovesick puppy, kicked to the streets, with nowhere to call home. 

“Yeah! Always.” You give it as much enthusiasm as you can muster. 

Best friends.

Ropes wind around your heart, tugging and causing the deep ache that sets in as you walk back into your dreary building. Each string pulls you into a different dimension where you could move on, where you could be okay with the setting you had just agreed to. Where you would keep up your end of the promise and truly remain friends with him.

But no matter how strong the tug, your heart never yields, never lets go of the castle of dreams you built, staying steadfast in its own misery, choosing to hope, choosing to live the life of unrequited love.

“And that’s a wrap! Good job everyone!”

Applause and hurrays echo across the set to bring you back to the present. The shoot has officially concluded, which means it's time for your most favorite and least favorite part of the day - Jin and you doing best friend things, like grabbing lunch, gossiping about obnoxious coworkers, threatening to disembowel each other (in Mortal Kombat, of course) and other friendly activities. 

Ever so respectful, Jin takes his time thanking every member of the set, regardless of whether they moved a cushion or held the reflector screen for hours. All the women gush over his beauty, reminding him of how, even amidst the glowing ornaments, his face was the brightest. His responses vary, from quiet little giggles, to complimenting the crew for making it happen, to straight up owning his charisma like a boss. That’s your man. 

Well, not quite. Not one bit.

After exhausting the handshakes and hugs to be received, Jin walks to you, hands pushing his robe back to give it a cape like effect. You’re just glad that the man’s child persona still stays with him, no matter the situation.  He guides you to his green room, cracking his bones on the way, (very sexily, might you add).

“Holding a pose for that long gives me cramps! You’d think dancing breaks my back, and you’d be wrong.”

You’re desperately avoiding looking at his fingers, and keep your eyes below them - shoot! His ceaseless stretching gives you a glimpse under his shirt - it is dragging your memories back to the last time you saw them, and you’d rather not. It is hurting you in more ways than one. 

Eye contact is your safest bet. Looking up, you give him a lopsided grin. “Your grandfatherly days are approaching, Jinnie.” 

“Hey!” 

The rest of the conversation was less speaking, more yelling and chasing after each other to the green room, Jin taking mock-offence at your jab at his age, and his fingers reaching out to flick your forehead in retort. In your noisy, messy fashion, you both finally enter the room, dim gold light bulbs and shiny mirrors meeting your huffing self. 

One hand on your knee, you hold on to Jin’s arm with your other, gasping for breath. 

“Your grandmotherly days are already here, Y/N,” he snorts, and earns a kick on the shin, but that doesn’t stop him from bursting into snickers.

“Wow, why does one man need 4 mirrors?” You gape at his current green room, mouth wide open. It looks better than your entire apartment, with the counter carrying top-of-the-line makeup products. Only the best for this man. “So you can admire yourself from 4 different angles?”

Jin has disappeared into one of the inner rooms, but you can hear him snort at your comment. “Come on, I’m not that conceited. When the whole crew shoots together, the extra mirrors help.” The last part of that sentence is muffled, and that cues you into an important fact. 

Jin is currently changing into something more comfortable.

A process that includes him getting naked.

Well maybe he doesn’t get fully naked, top on, top off, bottom on, bottom of-

Still. You’re sweating like a whore in church. 

And things only get tougher when he finally comes out. 

The ocean blue sweater he dons is tucked in. Who tucks in sweaters? Kim Seokjin. Why does he tuck sweaters? Oh, because he’s got an amazing waistline that he should most definitely show off, and the heat between your thighs becoming increasingly potent is a testament to that. You pretend to adjust your heels, giving the right expressions to show you’re in pain, but in actuality you are bringing your legs closer to get you some relief, just any relief. 

Ripped jeans too. You get a peek of the thighs you were denied access to the night of the fuckening. Ridged and beautiful, not a speck in sight to mar his perfection. You are glad the facial expressions for pain and pleasure are not far apart, because your thighs, albeit very lacking, are helping the imagery in your head. Just Jin, seated on one of these leather chairs, and you straddling his thigh, clit aching against the strands of the rips in his denim, the fabric soaking up the wetness, with every push forwa-

“Now that you mention it, I do look dashing.”

And there goes that dream. 

You pinch his cheeks in adoration, the vulgarity of your thoughts getting whitewashed by his silliness and blooming heart-shaped flowers in their stance. You feel your own pinch in you, wondering if this scene would be the same had you blurted your feelings out that day at the cafe.

It's times like these when you remind yourself why you choose to quieten that side. This dynamic cannot reincarnate in any other form. Any imbalance to this equilibrium could cause a serious case of best-friends-turn-awkward-acquaintances, and you don’t know if that’ll hurt you more than you currently do. You don’t plan on finding out.

But on God, he tests that resolution every single day.

Jin doesn’t even hint that he knows of the turmoil blasting behind your eyes. He nonchalantly fixes his hair, gives you a one-over as you are mentally undressing him, nonchalantly as well. Then he moves to grab his cologne, and two spurts disintegrates all the whitewashing and takes you back into the obscenities you were unfolding. 

“So I’ll just go over the shoot photos, and then we can leave! You’re cool waiting here?”

“Hmmn, yeah!” You don’t let your mouth run any longer, fearing what might slip out. 

He gives you a wide, innocent smile. “Great! See you in a bit.” Poor guy. If only he knew how debase plans you were conjuring just from the aroma of his cologne. 

It is musky, like cedar or pine, perfectly suiting him. It is the same scent you remember inhaling, face stuffed in his sweater when he was fingering you to the tenth circle of hell. As he walks away, the fragrance diminishes, save for the slightest hint of lingering. You search for the source, and find the culprit strewn across the sofa.

The outfit Jin wore for the shoot held remnants of the perfume, and when you bring the shirt close and take a long, deep whiff, you transport yourself to the land of your dreams. You relish the fever smell of his cologne, mixed with his own natural scent, deciding that this is what you wish to smell like every waking morning.

Your longing for him has crossed way beyond physical boundaries. You longed for his love, longed for his attention. Longed to be the one that brings the light to his face. From morning rays to the darkness of the night, you wanted to experience it all by his side. To be his lone star, shining bright beside the moon. 

Your hands are moving without your control, disrobing you of your thirst trap of a dress and putting on Jin’s shirt instead. One look at the mirror and you let out a silent groan - it fits you just right. Just enough to cover your ass cheeks, loose enough to let the air conditioning hit your heated pussy. While well-fitting shirts have never been the cornerstone of a successful relationship, your delusional mind takes whatever wins it gets.

Adding layers to your pipe dream, you don the robe that gave you a tough time throughout the shoot. When you press the tails of the robe to your cheek, the softness of the material is soothing. Soft, like Jin’s eyes, like his hugs, like his smile. Like him.

Leaning against the counter, you steady yourself, mind split in titillation. Your fingers find their own path, drawing circles on your breasts over his shirt, imagining Jin’s long fingers in place. While teasing your nipple to pointed peaks, you slip your other hand under your panties, trying very hard to mimic his digits, twiddling your clit between your fingers. Alas, the effect isn’t achievable, because Jin seems to know how to play you better than yourself. 

The scent is getting stronger, without any provoking, and it is doing wonders for your immersion. You let out a loud moan when your fingers press inside, and you’re just glad no one can witness this.

“Y-Y/N?”

Fuck.

You are pulled away from your dreamland that was so impenetrable that you didn’t hear Jin step into the room. All the blood gushing to your nether regions has made a U-turn to flood your brain to think of a plausible explanation for this position. Instead it makes you giddy, and when you try to stand you wobble in your heels, to be rescued by what you think is a very scandalized Jin. 

Time stands still when your eyes meet, and what you see are blown out pupils trembling, many questions fluttering between you two. Jin crosses a tenth of the distance between you, lips flutter as they try to make a decision - do they want to part and give way to the voice of question? The voice of reason? The voice that will break this hush, burst this bubble where he has the one chance to give in to his longing?

You bring your lips closer, and cause immense disquiet in his dome, the way of his heart gathering speed against rationale. Your eyes dance between matching his gaze and finding his lips, every fraction of an inch you cross sending tremors through you. You can feel the shockwaves traverse through your body, making a pitstop at your lips, tingling them awake. They move downwards, passing your heart, beating it wildly against its cage, and then to the pit of your stomach to tighten in anticipation; finally reaching the tip of your toes, where you stand right now, a nanoscopic distance between you. Each one of you is afraid to cross the bridge, unaware of the other’s desires. 

Finally, Jin acqueises and meets you on your side. 

Atomic explosions ring through your head, clearing out every single thought that is not about Jin’s lips on yours. The ropes that held your heart from beating to the tune of your want, they’ve loosened their knots to give you the leeway to love freely. As your lips exchange positions, his teeth lightly drag across your plush petal, and it brings back the most important part of that night that you couldn’t recollect - the one where his lips sang wordless songs of adoration against yours. Blind as a bat, you were.

You dig your fingers into his hair, not minding your residual arousal coating his locks, and you feel his hands doing the same to you. With your eyes closed, you feel a rough edge to his cushiony soft lips, but Jin fixes that mistake - one stray strand of hair trapped in the middle of your indulgence - he pulls it away to give you all of the kiss. The hand tucked in your tresses pushes in, silently demanding more access, and you’re nothing but ready to give it.  

His tongue sneaks in to play a game with yours - when you seek it, it goes into hiding, finding perfect pleasure in soft, sweet kisses, but when you stay, it comes back in, awakening your tongue to deepen again. Everything he is doing is too much and not enough in one go, and you whine into his mouth in desperation, seeking some well-earned relief after months of holding back.

Amidst the flurry of your lips, your back hits the vanity countertop, and Jin pushes away everything on top to make space for you, not caring what expensive item flies down the counter to accommodate your ass.

As if you’ve made up for the months of holding back, the softness of the kisses erodes, teeth coming into play more and more, reminiscent of the night that went by in a blur. He swallows every mewl you give in return, blissed out beyond repair, your neediness making his cock strain against the denim. 

His hand snakes down, spreading his fingers to get a hold of your back to push you towards him, covering any gap that dared to intervene. Now unworried about the shoot, your hands have effectively ruined his perfectly placed locks and messed them up to resemble the craze he let you spin in.

Before he can glide his tongue back in, you break the kiss, lest you lose yourself in it to the point where you forget to breathe. With attached foreheads, you take deep drags of air, letting the oxygen flow to your brain before you make some ill-advised, unclarified decisions.

“I- I was jus-”

“Shhh. Wait,” he breathes out, wanting to take a second and fully savor the moment. You nod in return, making his head move along with yours.

After sufficient air fills his lungs, Jin starts. “Y/N, we should stop.”

Last time this had happened, you had tried to force your way through his barrier, without giving his feelings a second of consideration. So this time, you don’t repeat your mistakes. “Tell me why.”

“Because, I don’t know what you’re looking for, but I’m way deeper in this than you think.”

“Jin, I-”

“Let me finish.” He stops you before you can explain how much you reflect his emotions, possibly more. He doesn’t seem to want to listen now. “Let me finish, or else I’ll chicken out, for the millionth time.”

You’re dumbfounded. Millionth time? When was the first? Acting majors, by God. 

“I love you, Y/N.”

No, now you are dumbfounded. Your hands, holding his precious locks, drop down in shock, at sheer disbelief that all this time, he has been ready and waiting to return you the favor. Jin though, misinterprets it as a look of disdain. 

“I-I know I do, and I’m sorry that I do. I know you don’t feel the same way. You can hate me all you want, but this is the truth.”

“And yes,” he continues, refusing to halt for even half a second, afraid that the courage he mustered to confess would dissipate the moment he does, “I’m attracted to you, and I don’t know what went down here --” flicking his wrist to mention your (his) outfit, “--but I’m looking, okay? And I’m hard as fuck. But that’s not all there is to it.”

“I need all of you.” He takes an audible gulp, trying to stymy his emotions from overpowering him. “I want to take you out, I want to hold you hand, I want to bring you to all the places I love. I want to introduce you to people, not as my best friend, but so much more than that. It hurts me,” bringing his hand to his chest, he emphasizes the point of pain by clutching over his heart, “hurts to call you that because I’m lying through my fucking teeth.”

You break eye contact, because there are tears smarting your eyes at his heartfelt revelation. You can’t believe the idiot that you have been all this while. The man of your dreams stands in front of you, baring his soul, and you can’t even do him the decency of telling him what you felt yourself before jumping his bones.

And you love him, too. Maybe you haven’t said so, even to yourself, but you’ve known all this while.

You love him.

“If you are just looking for a fuck, or want any sort of a ‘benefits’ situation, we should stop. I can’t lie to myself anymore.”

“Jin, my God,” you half-sigh, half-laugh, feeling a burden lift off of you after months of pining.

“You don’t have to pacify me, it’s okay, I’ll be fine.” Even in this moment, he is looking out for you. His lips are curved upward to show you that he’s okay, but his pupils are shaky and restless, not in sync with his smile. You hope your next words can fix that for him.

“Pacify you? Hate you?” You shoot him an incredulous look, one you will explain to him very soon. “You are a much better person than I am, Jinnie. For months now, I’ve loved you, but even at this point, I didn’t stop to tell you.” The guilt of letting your hormones cloud your judgement for the second time lays heavily on your conscience. “I’m sorry for not making this clear earlier, but let me now. I love you, Kim Seokjin. I have for way too long. I want you, I need you. You have me, in every possible way.”

It feels unparalleled to get that off your chest. The leaden weight of your emotions immediately disappears - or the fact that it's shared, makes it much, much lighter. But then you look at Jin, and he still seems to have not put two and two together. You patiently wait for him to process all the information. 

When he finally recoups, he yells, “What?!”

You let out a loud guffaw, the first one with no inhibitions in the longest time. “What?”

“Why didn’t you say anything that day at the cafe?!” 

“You said you’d never date me, asshole!” You punch his chest softly, before slipping your hands behind him and pulling him closer. “I might not look like it, but I have some dignity.”

“I said that?” Jin brings one hand to pinch his nose in annoyance. “What an idiot. I think I was just inverting everything to make sure I don’t accidentally slip up.”

You lift your head to meet his eyes again, letting him see the tears you were hiding. You find a couple in his eyes, too. But the smile on your face is genuine, and that is all that matters. “I was blind too, so don’t beat yourself up about it.” 

Flitting your eyes down to find the contour of his cock against his jeans, you ask him innocently, “How about we make up for lost time?”

“Fuck, yes, please.” And with that, your lips are engulfed again.

When you have all your guards down, the kiss tastes sweeter than before. Mere moments ago, while thoroughly enjoying the kiss, a sense of reticence had clouded your pleasure, holding you back from luxuriating in the headiness. A series of what-ifs had plagued your subconscious without your realization, but with all that cleared, you wholly submit to the kiss, emptying your mind until nothing but his name remains.

“Fuck, Y/N,” Jin gasps out, when you bite into his pillowy lower lip, “I thought you looked the prettiest in the dress earlier but,” after pulling away, he drinks your current attire in, “you look the most beautiful in this.”

You snicker. “Even more than World Wide Handsome?”

His eyes bore into yours, no hint of the joking lilt he always carries in them. 

“So much more.”

Your hands find their place amidst his shaggy hair again, and you lodge his face into your neck - a command Jin acquiesces to with great pleasure. After a long, wet lick to your collarbone, he lays feather-soft kisses on the trail he left, starting from your shoulder and working inward, until he brushes against the back of your ear. You grasp at his sweater, because his lips feel so good. Your breaths are short, sucking in every time he allows your skin the luxury of a soft peck.  Once he lays a kiss on your forehead, he brings his gaze down to one of the main reasons that causes his cock to stir.

“Fuck, look at your nipples under my shirt.”

Gazing down, you can see the two pointed peaks that caught Jin’s eyes. 

“That tends to happen when I’m thinking of you.” 

He twists a nipple over the shirt, hardening it further, and you throw your head back in the satisfying pain. “Yeah, I remember.”

You are unraveling every second, the ache swishing amongst the bliss his fingers are bringing in you. He’s switched over to drawing circles around your nipple, until he snaps and tugs your shirt up, finally revealing the palmfulls of flesh awaiting his hands. 

“Ah that night, I didn’t get to do this. Take this off.” But then, he makes you put on his robe again. You throw him a questioning look, to which he responds with a sheepish smile, “Just so, you know… you don’t feel cold… or something.”

“Just say you like me in your clothes and move on.”

“I love you in my clothes,” he admits in a heartbeat, his expression that of anguish, “can we move on?”

“God, gladly.”

Unexpectedly, he bites the side of your boob - not hard at all, but feeling his teeth against your skin sends your head reeling backward. Your involuntary response is to wrap your legs around his waist, grinding your core against him. His teeth continue to nip you lightly across the expanse of your breasts, the trail of saliva he leaves cooling parts of your flushed body. Finally, finally, he latches onto your left nipple and gives it a long, pleasurable suck.

“Ahh, Jin - you’re too - God damn it - you’re too good at this.” 

Without stopping the onslaught he is unleashing on your breasts, his fingers begin to move - but soon, they stop, hesitation rippling off of their tips. His pace falters, and his mind is fighting on the next course of action.

“Can I-”

“Finish what you started that night?” you complete for him, already prepared with your answer. “Yes, please.”

All forms of uncertainty shoot out of his touch, and he confidently trudges forward. Playing with the band of your panties, he gives you a well-intended chuckle, murmuring, “As far as I remember, I was so good you passed out.”

“Boy,” You groan, intended in jest, but his teeth slide against your jaw and it mostly comes out more wanton than jovial, “let me see you have tequila for dinner and remember much the next day.”

“Fair fair,” he gives in, shifting to buss the valley of your cleavage, feeling your heart thud against your ribs holding it in place. “Well today,” he starts without moving his face, his nimble fingers moving past the barrier of your underwear, pressing two fingertips directly on your clit, and hissing like it's him at the receiving end, “I’ll give you enough to remember.”

You pull his sweater off and chuck it away, not wanting to be reminded of any blockades that kept you apart, and your hands roam the expanse of his back remembering the touch of his skin from the night at the bar. His body isn’t new to you, but the circumstances make it feel different. 

Finally, his fingers find their way inside you. 

Yes, this. This was what was missing from your drunken tryst. With your heads in place, your ardor intensifies, and you move his lips back to yours needing to release your animalistic desire into his mouth. Pleasure surges through both of you as you threaten to swallow him whole.

You can feel him being more present, and considering the merciless finger-fucking you had earned that night, this is taking it to a whole other degree. 

The night at the bar, his fingers did their best to ravish you, but now, Jin is paying attention, close attention to the way you respond. Every muscle movement is recorded in him as you struggle to accommodate three of his lengthy digits. Leaning close, he gives your peaked nipple the lightest feather lick - the suddenness sends shockwaves through you as he continues to tweeze the other, talented pianist hands performing his musical piece on both ends of you.

His fingers pump into you with determination, finding new depths to explore that he missed out on, and with a curl of his pointer, you blank out, screaming in the orgasm that is washing over you. Every skincell of your body feels the quiver of lust spreading, your cunt squeezing for an eternity, milking the orgasm out to the extent that you can. 

When you look down, your metaphorical orgasmic flood manifestes as a deluge of your arousal leaking on the table. And when you look back up, you can see the salacious ideas making their rounds in Jin’s head as he looks at the inundation you released. 

Hurried hands still convulsing from the intensity of your orgasm, you undo his belt, followed by his jeans and finally - getting the pleasure you were heartlessly denied of - his cock is out, in all its glory, twitching as the cool air hits its naked skin. Jin’s plans don’t go hand in hand with yours though.

“Are we just - holy fucking shit - just, umm, leave that to waste?” he lustfully looks down to your leaking core, and someway, through your hold on his dick, he tries to steer you into his plans.

“I don’t know about that,” you cheekily reply. You have the right idea to satisfy both of you, and get down to the task.

With the flat of your palm, you swipe across the droplets of cum you released, gathering them to transfer them onto his thick length. Jin thrusts into your hand, the wetness jolting him into attention, and he places an arm on your shoulder to steady himself. 

“You’re going to taste yourself?” he asks as you continue your vacillating motion, twisting at the base of his head with the wetness you graciously provided yourself. You give him a nonchalant look, something he is trying to do to you as well. 

“Who said I’m gonna suck you off?”

His look changes, and the one you get in return is cocky, arrogant, downright rude if you were honest. You expected him to play on with your banter, but one raised eyebrow and the lazy smirk he gives, to what he probably thinks is a joke - Zeus could land on earth and not be able to stop you from gobbling his meat. 

Your mouth is filled with his dick even before your knees hit the ground. Jin staggers back, but your suction on his dick is funnily strong enough to pull him back before falling.  You switch positions, having him balance himself against the counter, all while you refuse to leave his cock out. His giggle of endearment has you pouting, but it swells your heart and makes you want to give more, more of anything and everything. With your renewed vigor, you push yourself in until his pubes tickle your nose, and his tip tickles your throat. 

“Your-”, “I-”, “uhh-” 

Every new sentence Jin starts crumbles to your actions. You furrow your brows both in concentration on your blowing skills and trying to decode what he is trying to say. 

Jin takes a large gulp, adamant on making this one a coherent sentence. “You know, I used to imagine this, and in my dreams I used to be very sexy and suave, talking my way throug-oof-” You run your tongue over the tip of his leaking dick, emphasizing the point he is coming to, “Now I can’t even complete sentences here.”

“You being you is super sexy in itself.” And you curve your tongue to match the arch of his cock, letting the incoming saliva pool on it before letting it run down his shaft, dripping down from his balls. Strings of his precum connect to your lips, and you swipe your tongue through them, relishing the salty goodness before going back in for more. 

“Y/N, shit, did you just moan?”

How couldn’t you? The fact that he is horny for you, so much so that rivulets of precum don’t stop drizzling down your throat, has you preening. You hum your assent in response, not willing to let go even for a moment, but Jin pulls you off before you can get a chokehold on the base of his cock again. 

“Never had a woman moan while sucking me off. It’s sexy as fuck,” Jin breathes into your lips as he dives in for a kiss.

Your chest is heaving, catching the breaths you lost when you were down. “Then why’d you stop me?”

“Are you kidding me? I was about to lose it right there.”

“Jinnie, come on,” you break the fragmentary kiss you were sharing, looking into his glassy eyes, “let me feel you come on my tongue.” To emphasize your conviction, you lick his lips, persuading him of the sinful deeds your tongue is capable of doing if he’d just let you.

“Oh man, stop. What’s worse than busting a nut in your mouth? Busting it while you’re kissing me. Making me feel like a teenager.” You erupt into a loud laugh, soon followed by Jin as well. It is so him to joke about this. 

“And babe,” all hints of embarrassment vanishing from his tone, “I’m only going to come inside you.”

“Fuck, fuck, yes. You got a condom on you?”

“Yeah, let me grab my wallet.” The instant he moves away, you feel naked, shivering from the comfort stolen away from you. But then you hear Jin grumble, “I hope I don’t have the bacon-flavored one.” And the absurdity of it all puts you at ease again.

“Ew, stop, even you can’t make that sexy. My lady boner is dying.”

He envelops you again, and you can feel the laughter echoing in his lungs before making it out to your ears. He brings your attention to the familiar rustle of foil wrapper. “Thankfully, we got chocolate.”

“Mmmh, gotta love chocolate.”

You take the condom out of his hands, and roll it onto his stiff length, flattered that he’s holding his erection for so long. 

“Okay, stick it in me!” And you smack your ass in readiness, and a very flabbergasted Jin breaks out chortling.

“Y/N, stop being my best friend for like, five minutes!” His brows are furrowed in pretense exasperation, but you can see his lips holding back a genuine smile through the grimace, just happy that your dynamics haven’t changed the slightest, even though everything else has shifted.

“Okay okay,” you try and suppress your own laughter, before continuing, “how do you want me, baby?”

“Bend over on the vanity. And keep your eyes on the mirror.” And as you move into position, his palms grab your ass and squeeze it hard, feeling your glutes push back against his grip, and he pushes you forward till you're on the tips of your toes. You watch him through the mirror, watch him admire the way your ass curves over the table edge, how your toes struggle to keep you up, and how the dimples of your back are deepened by the arch, peeking under the bunched up robe tails, just waiting for him.

“Jin.” Your hushed whisper puts him in action.

Pushing the head in is anguish and relief at the same time. His bulbous head stretches your entrance; even with your preparation, you feel it sting. The searing gets better and better with every inch slipping in, and when he finally lodges inside, you let out a heavy breath, still panting and keeping yourself from screaming bloody murder in pleasure. Jin bends forward to paint the back of your neck, sucking the flesh till the circular bruise comes to surface. 

“Can you- can you-fuck, no, wait-” Your brain is at war with itself, battling between adjusting to his girth and having him pump you into adjustment. 

You can feel Jin’s snicker from behind you, and he finally makes the decision for you. “I’ll wait, I have things to do here,” he says before playing around the patch of skin, spreading from the base of your hair to the expanse of your back, his teasing licks relaxing your walls and accommodating his girth. The pain is almost gone, expect for the lingering ache that only helps you.

“You can move now, babe.”

“Okay, okay.” Your words snap him out of the painter’s dream he was in, and he twitches inside you. Something about the ease at which you both have adopted nicknames for each other softens his heart and hardens his cock. 

Pulling out till only the head rests inside, Jin himself struggles against the third degree grip your pussy has on him. As he is thrusting inside again, your walls tense up, making it harder and harder for him to hold back. 

“Y/N, sweetie, relax. I got you.”

“Jin, I’m-” You have tears running down your eyes, the pleasure and unsurmountable happiness rolling out in fat hot drops. “Fuck me harder. I won’t last.”

“Shit. Okay, hold on then.”

To what? Is what you’re going to ask before Jin unleashes his carnality onto you. Your breasts, dripping in sweat and saliva, are plastered to the countertop, which in itself is jiggling to the beat of Jin’s thrusts. His dick is curving inside to hit you repeatedly, and you have to gather the satin fabric to wipe your eyes to keep your gaze fixed on him. 

He looks majestic. Forehead embellished with beads of sweat, his hair coiffed up, lips sanguine red after your vicious kisses - you swipe your tongue along your own lips to find them battered in response. His honey chest is heaving with every push, and a particular one hits you just right. 

You let out a guttural groan, and Jin takes note of it immediately. 

“Up,” he commands, and loops an arm under your belly to you pull you up and closer and now every thrust hits deeper into that spot he has found in you, your back connected to his chest as the two of you move in tandem; this is the most together you’ve ever felt with anyone. This moment is to be etched in your memories forever.

You scream into your fist to muffle the sounds, the edge of the table digging into your hip bone as you feel yourself getting closer to the brink. One swipe to the clit is all you have left to bring you to your release. 

And from some telepathic force, or from the clutch your pussy has on him, Jin beats you to it. His fingers come down and carefully find your swollen nub, pinching it between his fingers. If he thought you’d shown him your hardest clench, he was wrong, because right now your dam has broken, and the iron-clad grip you give his cock sends him reeling, too.

You are gushing on his dick, the rubber dripping with your wetness. Jin too releases into the condom in stuttered gasps, his thrusts becoming shorter and shallower as he comes down from his high. 

Petal-like kisses fall on your back as the two of you regain your breaths. The mirror that served you two well is covered in a fog of hot breath and perspiration, blearing your vision of yourself, but somehow, it sparkles with Jin’s reflection. His nobility-esque visuals use the haze as a valance for his appearance, framing them to make him look like you’re among the clouds. And in some way, you actually are.

“Ah, let me go.” You jiggle your shoulders back to make the man above you move. “Fuck, can you check if my spine is in place? I think you dislodged it.”

“Shut up and come hug me, I’ll squeeze it back in place.”

Now this is something you could get used to.

As he ties and throws away the used condom, you flip over to face him and fall back into his embrace, broad shoulders promising to protect you, making you feel safe in his care. Jin on the other hand is simply ecstatic to feel you on him, feeling your thumping heart beat for him, after months of pining and pondering whether anything would become of the seed of your tumultuous friendship. Now, it has blossomed to a garden of prospect and promise, every petal of every flower here reading a new opportunity to tell you how much he adores you, cherishes you, treasures you. How much he loves you.  An opportunity he doesn’t wait to use. 

“I love you.”

The pink tinge of your cheeks either comes from the sex, or from his comment, but either way, he is glad its from him. 

“I love you too, Jin. So, so very much.”

If your heart could leap out of your chest, it would do so, to find its way to his and fuse into one. But for now, your entwined bodies give you all you want. 

You hear Jin stifle a laugh, and pull back in question. He points to something odd on the countertop.

“What is that?”

The cream white surface of the table, that was maligned by your ignoble deeds, now sports two glistening, wheatish semi circles that look very similar to the sizes of one person who was splayed on top of it just moments ago. 

“Is that…” Jin is trying to contort his lips and halt the looming snicker, and he brings his eyes down to your chest (trying not to get hard again), “Did you have makeup on your chest?”

“Shut up.” All you can do is fall closer into his arms, hopefully masking the tint of embarrassment highlighting the apples of your cheeks. “I wanted to make them look extra good for you.”

He’s given up on holding back, the full-bellied laugh that resonated from him echoing across the room. But it dwindles down fast, coming to small chuckles of tenderness, and he slips his digits beneath your chin to have you meet his gaze.

“They always look good,” he whispers, his admittance setting your chest aflame, “trust me, I’d know.”

Taglist 💛:  @little7bitchh​, @afangirllikeme-blog​, @h34rt1lly, @marpotterhead​

Thank you so much for making it to the end! I hope you enjoyed the fic, my ask box is always open for your lovely opinions. To read more of my work, find my main masterlist here. :)

#btswritingcafe #bts #bangtansorciere #kim seokjin fanfic #bts fanfic #jin fanfic #kim seokjin angst #bts smut #kim seokjin smut #seokjin smut #jin smut #bangtanedu #thetruthuntoldnet #bangtaninn #thebtswritersclub #btsgoldnet #kim seokjin fluff #seokjin fluff #jin fluff #bts jin smut #bts jin fluff #bts jin angst #seokjin angst #bts angst #jin x reader #seokjin x reader #bts x reader #jin angst #bts fanfiction #ficswithluv

[written-in-flowers]

Over Steaks and Wine

Pairing: Jin x Jungkook

Genre: Smut, Angst/ Rating: M 

Word Count: 18k

Summary: Jungkook joined ‘Jin’s Kitchen’ to future his culinary career. He never expected to develop feelings for his boss, Kim Seokjin. 

Disclaimer: These works are completely fictitious and for entertainment purposes only. They are not meant to reflect or label the members of BTS in any way. The events within never took place. Thank you

Warning/Tags: cannibalism, mentions of cannibalism, mentions of murder, mentions torture, graphic depictions of violence, blood kink, anal sex, oral sex, rimming, exhibitionism, public sex, public blow jobs, boss/employee relationship, 

A/N: Wanted to thank @voiceswithoutlips for once again beta reading this fic for me. you’re a gem <3 and @erotikkook for doing the header!! Love you loads too <3

This is also for my bingo square “Jin x Jungkook” for the @bangtanwritingbingo​ event! ​

AO3 / Masterlist

***

"Hi, welcome to Jin's Kitchen. How may I help you?"

Jungkook gazed around nervously as he walked up to the podium. The host, a bespectacled man in black, gave him a dimpled smile. His eyes lit up, recognizing him. 

"Jungkook!" Namjoon beamed brightly. "What’s up? You’re here for your interview?”

“Yeah,” he nodded. “Jimin told me to just come up front and ask for Jin?”

“Jin’s the owner, and he likes to handle the interviews himself.” He leaned over the podium to him, “He told you what he might ask you, right? You’re gonna be working in the kitchen, and Jin doesn’t let just anybody in there.”

“He told me he’d ask me to make something for him, so I picked my best dish to make.” 

“Hm, that might work. I mean, I’ve eaten your food before, but Jin is like...the fucking Gordon Ramsay of this world. He’s picky, he’s critical, and he can be a bit blunt sometimes.” He then added, “If he completely tears your dish apart, don’t take it personally. This place has a reputation, and Jin takes it very, very seriously.” 

Namjoon called for someone nearby, and Jimin appeared. In a crisp white shirt, a black tie and pants, Jungkook noted the small apron around his tiny waist. He kept his dark hair around his face prettily, a sweet smile bringing up the corners of his eyes. 

“Jungkookie!” he called, taking a moment to hug him. “You’re here on time. I told him you would be.” He looked him over, “And dressed to impress, huh?”

Jungkook had chosen a black shirt and pants, hoping to God it’d be enough. “I thought I’d go with something simple. My uncle always dressed in plain clothes in the kitchen back home, so I thought all cooks wore this...do they not? Should I change?” 

Jimin chuckled, “Oh please, no. Jin doesn’t care about that stuff; as long as you cook well, I’m sure you can show up in a chicken suit and he won’t say anything.”

“Eh, he might say something about the feathers,” joked Namjoon, checking through the reservation list on his tablet. “Anyways, you guys know where he is. I’d hurry if I were you. It’s Saturday.” 

Jungkook nodded his thanks, and followed Jimin into the restaurant. Crimson wallpaper decorated with vines of black flowers went around the room, matching the dark carpeting under his feet. The tables covered with fine white cloth were topped by floral and candle centerpieces; the lights above gave the room a warm glow. The customers were well-dressed, and the china looked expensive. Compared to this, his uncle’s restaurant seemed like a dingy diner. He turned to one side of the room where a stage was set up. A band played a jazzy tune while a handsome, young man in a sparkling jacket crooned into his microphone. He followed Jimin past the crowded bar to the kitchen doors. 

The world changed once he stepped into the kitchen. Behind the pass, Jungkook saw a team of cooks at work. He saw one man working on the meat station, flipping steaks and chopping up cooked beef. Another woman mixed white pieces of flesh in a marinade, then set it aside to start working on another dish with another woman. Fire, steam, and voices filled the large kitchen. Waiters and waitresses came up to the pass, checking the tickets, picking up the finished plates and then leaving to go back to the dining area. Jungkook suddenly felt alive. The sense of urgency filled him, looking at it all from the other side. He’d been inside kitchens for as long as he could remember; he had never felt more at home than in a kitchen. 

this place is huge,” Jungkook said to Jimin, seeing a man stir a red sauce in a pot. “And he runs this whole place?”

“Yup. He’s the best. Now, where is he?” He looked through the pass for a moment, then said, “Ah, over there.”

Jimin pointed out a man in a white chef’s jacket, whisking eggs in a bowl at a nearby station. Full lips pursed in concentration, his round eyes focused on the task in front of him. It was almost as if he was alone in this kitchen; not surrounded by his employees. Jungkook awed at his concentration. He poured the eggs into another bowl, then picked up a slice of beef from a tray nearby. Breaded steak, perhaps? Beef wellington? Jungkook was dying to know. He’d seen the dishes they served on their menu, and they all looked gourmet. His uncle had told him nobody liked that “fancy-schmancy” food anymore; they liked the good ol’ comfort foods, but according to Jimin, that wasn’t true. Seeing Jin working now, moving so quickly and deftly, he saw why people came to Jin’s Kitchen. 

“Yoongi!” Jimin called out instead. 

A short man with a black undercut glared at Jimin, seemingly annoyed at being disturbed. He was working with a piece of steak and some other fancy ingredients. “What is it?” he asked. 

“Our new cook is here,” he beamed at him, gesturing to Jungkook who waved shyly. 

The cook, Yoongi, scanned him over once. Wiping his hands on a cloth, he came over to them. “You’re Jungkook then?” he questioned. 

“Yes, I am.”

“Hm,” he examined him again, then said, “You look fit. You sure you’re not a donor?” he smirked with a snort. 

Jungkook’s cheeks turned hot, “No, sir.” 

“Yoongi, don’t tease him.” Jimin balled up a paper to toss his way. “Can Jin talk now?”

Yoongi turned around to see Jin now rolling the beef in dough, “I’ll see. He’s in his zone right now. Wait here.” 

“I have to head back to my tables,” Jimin told Jungkook as the other left. “Good luck.”

He gave the younger a quick hug, then walked back into the dining room. Jungkook watched Yoongi approach the head chef. He’d been tying up the dough around the slab of meat when Yoongi started talking. It took a few calls of his name before Jin finally turned to the other. He began putting the rolled up meat into a pan, listening to Yoongi as he worked. Finally, handing them to someone else, he turned to where Jungkook stood. Like Yoongi, he observed him for a second from afar. He asked Yoongi something; the shorter man nodded and Jin returned it curtly. He finally walked over, wiping flour from his hands. 

“So, you showed up on time,” he said. “That’s a good sign. As you can see, we’re very busy.” 

“Yeah, I noticed,” Jungkook replied. “It’s Saturday night and people wanna go out to eat.”

“They certainly do.” He finished wiping down his hands, then continued, “Namjoon and Jimin tell me you’re a good cook.”

“I like to-”

“-But we don’t serve your typical run-of-the-mill, roadside bar food,” he cut in. “We serve only the finest dishes here. Our meat is cut fresh daily and everything is made from scratch. You won’t find any microwaves or cut corners here, understand?” A loud ruckus came from behind him, “Walk with me.” 

“Yes, sir.” He followed Jin to the soup station where the sound came from. The woman manning the station cursed again as her stew began boiling once again. “Irene, Irene, Irene,” the head chef called to her, quickly crossing the distance, “you have it too high.” He turned her flames down, “I told you a ‘low simmer’! A ‘low simmer’, woman!”

“Sorry, chef,” she apologized, bowing

He sighed, grabbing a spoon to taste the stew, then nodded. “Still good. Make it better.”

“Yes, Chef.” 

He let her carry on and then moved to the ‘poultry’ station. “Since you worked in a restaurant kitchen, I’m going to assume you know your basics, yes?” he asked, watching the man slice chunks of white meat into smaller pieces. 

“Yes,” Jungkook responded, watching alongside him. 

“Do you have any actual training?” Jin tasted the soy sauce mixture next to the man, and gave his approval. “Culinary school? Private lessons? Anything credible?”

“I did go to a culinary school for four years,” the younger answered. “I’ve worked at my uncle’s restaurant, but I did work at a local place in town for more experience. I put it on my res-”

“-Donny! Donny, what the hell…” Jin marched over to the other side of the poultry station. He picked up a piece of meat, “What is this?”

“It’s-It’s the stuffed chicken, Chef,” the wiry man stammered. 

“How can you stuff chicken when it's not fully cooked?” he cut open one slab, showing the pure red meat inside. “It’s red inside still. How long did you cook this?”

“Ten minutes, Chef.”

“No, no, no,” Jin groaned. “If you want to turn it into chicken, you tenderize, boil for fifteen minutes, then marinate it in the chicken stock!” He picked out another piece, cutting and tasting a piece. “Ugh,” he frowned, “it still tastes like pork. What will the customer say when they order chicken and get regular pork flavor instead?”

“I’m so sorry, Chef,” Donny bowed his head like Irene had. “I must’ve miscounted the minutes.”

“Obviously. Put it back in the stock for another ten.”

“Yes, Chef.” 

Jin rolled his eyes and looked back to Jungkook, “So, local experience? What type?”

“Bar and grill,” he answered. “But, but, it was pretty similar to your food.”

He scoffed, “I doubt that highly.” Jin turned, walking around the kitchen again. He came by Yoongi, who had taken over his Wellington, and patted his shoulder. 

“Well, we didn’t just serve it as meat,” Jungkook continued. “We turned it into chicken, pork, and the thinner slices could taste like fish if we left them in long enough.”

“Really? Fish?” he paused, looking at Jungkook. “Interesting. Is meat the only thing you can cook?”

“No, sir,” he shook his head. “I can make desserts, soups, salads, and other courses if you’re looking for that.” 

Jin stopped to observe a pair of women rolling out dough, then stuffing ground 'pork' inside them to make dumplings. “Perfect,” he smiled at them both, nodding to let them continue. “And you’ve worked around this food before?”

“Yes, of course.” 

“Never animals?”

“No,” he shook his head. “My family...well...it’s just not something we did.” 

Jin turned to him again with surprise in his eyes. “Is that so? It was the same with my family. We’d been doing it for centuries, so why stop now, right?”

“Right.” 

Jungkook did not like telling people about what his family sold for a living. Mostly because they could be arrested for it, but his grandmother told him it was best kept a secret instead. However, when he heard about Jin’s Kitchen through Jimin, he saw it as his chance to hone his skills. Jungkook stood by the meat station again while Jin consulted the 

. He saw a raw strip of steak sitting nearby about to be put on the grill. He noticed the little bit of fat around the edges and in the meat itself. Jin looked away from the cook to Jungkook. 

“What can you tell me about this piece?” he asked him. “Just from looking at it, what can you tell me about the person?”

He paused to study the steak, then said, “For one thing, they worked out often. There’s hardly any fat on this bit, so they must have done a lot of ab workouts and cardio.” 

“Mhm, and?”

He grabbed a fork to poke through the muscle. “They were about 20 to 25 years old,” he guessed, “Since the meat is still good.”

“Why is that good?”

“Muscle begins to deteriorate after thirty,” he said. “I mean, you can still harvest them up until maybe forty or fifty, but that depends on the health of the donor. I actually learned it’s easier to turn the flesh when it’s not so young. I mean, you want it good, but it absorbed better when it’s not as thick.” 

Jin listened intently, then put the meat on the grill. He then said, “Good so far. How’d you harvest yours? Donors?”

Jungkook hesitated, and it did not go unnoticed by Jin. “Hm, I see.” 

He worried this hurt his chances. He wanted to tell him that it made the dish taste better. His uncle used to get the bodies from the morgue in town after he convinced the families they’d been cremated. When he grew up, Jungkook realized how bland the meat came out when the corpse began decomposing. He brought up the suggestion of getting their supplies fresh, quick and for free.

The travelers that drove past their roadside diner in the middle of nowhere. 

“Now, here’s the trial portion of your interview,” Jin said when they left the grill. “I’m going to give you one hour to make an entree dish of your choosing. If Yoongi and I like it, you take the next step. If we hate it, you can hit the bricks, alright?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Good. Feel free to use our stores for whatever you need. One hour, Jungkook. It starts now.”

“Yes, sir. Thank you, sir.”

Jin turned on his heel and headed back into the busy kitchen. Jungkook set to work right away, heading into the freezer where the meat was kept. 

Jin’s Kitchen was the most luxurious, five-star cannibal restaurant in the country. If one searched around on the dark web, they’d find the website where a menu could be found. The location wasn’t listed, of course. Jimin told him the only way to get a reservation was through a reference or an interview process. They’d be given a special card that they showed to Namjoon, the assistant manager, at the entrance. Jin’s Kitchen stood out from other restaurants because of its gourmet menu. It had variety, flavor and a uniqueness that people liked. Jungkook knew if he wanted to impress Jin and Yoongi, he’d need to match their level of expertise. 

Jungkook started by seasoning a strip steak. He’d spent ages working on  this particular dish for the interview. He needed it to be perfect. Not a single person got in his way, scolded him for using their station, or taking up space. It seemed that they all knew he was being interviewed. However, it was not their eyes he worried about. It was Jin and Yoongi’s eyes, he felt them on him as he worked. The nerves almost clouded his judgement when mixing the coating for the steak, but he managed to maintain his focus. He had cursed himself when he had nearly burned the au gratin potatoes, but he managed to redo them to perfection. Yoongi smirked at him when he accidentally dropped the salt shaker into his pan, shaking his head before going back to his

 By the time Jin came back to Jungkook’s counter, he’d finished plating his dish. 

The head and deputy chefs stood on the other side of his counter. People around them continued working, but they did look over at the trio. Yoongi kept his eyes on the nervous Jungkook while Jin examined the dish. 

“Tell me what you got here,” he said. 

“I have strip steak with au gratin potatoes and honey-garlic roasted carrots.”

“-Basic,” Yoongi rolled his eyes. 

“Yoongi…” Jin warned, “Keep going. Classic strip steak,” he took a fork and knife nearby, “Medium?” 

“Medium, sir, yes.” 

Jin cut through it to show the hot pink center, poking the fork through its slightly firmer texture. He took a bite, chewing it thoroughly. For a moment, Jungkook imagined him spitting it out and scolding him. He was sure he was going to be kicked to the curb. However, Jin nodded, “Nicely done. This is cooked to perfection. Did you rub coffee grounds in this?” He pushed the plate to Yoongi, who took a bite. “I can tell from the bitterness up against the heartiness of the meat.” He watched Yoongi chew the meat, “What do you think?”

“It’s good, yeah,” he agreed. “Coffee grounds were an interesting choice.” 

Jin tried the potatoes. He complimented the crispy tops of the creamed potatoes. “Not too cooked or undercooked,” he asked, “Did you use parmesan cheese?”

“A bit, yes.” 

“Hm, good. It balances it nicely.”

“Thank you.” 

He liked the carrots too. “You didn’t overdo it,” Jin complimented, “with the honey garlic. It’s got that nice glaze on it too. Roasted veggies always go good with coffee rubbed steaks. Yoongi?” 

Yoongi tried it next. “You certainly know your meat,” the deputy chef said. “I would’ve picked something a bit more show-stopping, but this is good for a start.” 

For the first time, he saw Jin grin at him. It brought up his cheeks, and lifted his eyes. “I’m very impressed, Jungkook. For a moment, I thought we were gonna have to give you the boot, but you really turned it around. It’s such a simple dish, but you made it 

He took one more look at it, then continued, “I’d like to see how well you do with our other dishes. You’re hired.”

“I am?” All the nervousness in his body drained out at the words. 

“You’re experienced,” he said, “You have great talent. You know your meat; you have experience turning it too, so I’d love to see what you do with that in the future. But most importantly, you show a lot of passion for what you do. I see heart and care when I look at this plate. That’s something I take into consideration when I pick my chefs. You’ll start off in basic grill with Yoongi, then I’ll put you in other stations.”

“Oh my gosh,” Jungkook smiled. “Thank you so much, Chef. I won’t let you down. I promise!”

“I’ll hold you to that,” Jin grinned. “You can start tomorrow night. Feel free to order anything; it’s on the house.”

“O-okay. Yes, thank you again. Really.” 

He gave another nod, then left back to a nearby station. Yoongi stayed in front of him, arms crossed. “You’ll be on meat duty with me,” he said, “Which means I’m not going to hold your hand the whole shift.”

“I don’t expect you to, Chef.” 

“If you do need help, I’ll be glad to, but I expect you to know what you’re doing. Especially after you cooked this,” he took another bite from the steak. “I rarely take second bites, so I expect a lot of great things from you.” 

“I’ll do my best.”

“Good. Now get going. Tell Jimin we’re feeding you tonight. You should see what you’re going to be working with here.” 

“I got the job!” Jungkook cheered, hugging him. “I got the job! I got the job!” 

Yoongi left him standing in front of his half-finished plate. He never felt so accomplished in his life. He’d heard so many great things about Jin’s cooking, so to have such high praise from him sounded almost unreal. He excused himself from the kitchen and went back into the dining area. Still busy as ever, he spotted Jimin by the bar waiting on drinks. The bartender, a slim man in a satin vest and white button down rolled to his elbows, was mixing cocktails while they talked. Jimin caught sight of him walking over and smiled.

“Yay!” Jimin smiled brightly, hugging him tightly. “I’m so happy for you. Now we can work together again!” 

“Ahem,” the bartender coughed, eyeing Jungkook with a flirtatious glance. “Who’s your friend, Jimin?”

“Oh, this is Jungkook,” Jimin introduced him, “Jungkook, this is Hoseok.”

“Nice to meet you,” Jungkook nodded. 

“And you,” he rested his arms on the bar top and leaned forward, “You managed to impress Jin enough to get a job here. Nice. Congrats.” 

“Thanks.” 

“Free dinner then?” asked Jimin, grabbing a nearby menu. 

Jungkook grabbed the menu as Hoseok said, “If he likes you enough, he sometimes makes what you pick personally. You know, so then you can see how it’s supposed to look and taste.” 

How in the hell had he ended up hiring him? He was sloppy, neglectful, distracted, indifferent, and all around not a good cook. He’d chosen Donny at first because they needed a porter, someone who could clean and prep the ingredients for them. Donny had then dazzled Yoongi with a “family dish”, and had gotten himself promoted to an actual chef. He had started off well at first, but his work ethic declined drastically. Apparently, being a chef of a five-star restaurant got to his head. The rest of the staff had constantly complained about Donny’s poor work and his expectation of others to do things for him. That was the reason he had been so neglectful with the chicken. Jin knew it wasn’t real chicken; it was human flesh boiled in concentrated chicken stock. Still, he had expected perfection. He had tempted Jin’s chopping hand when he showed indifference to the chef’s instructions. In front of Jungkook, Donny had blurted out an apology, but behind his back he’d said something else. 

“I hope he liked me enough then.” 

******

The words had stayed in his mind even after Jungkook’s trial. He had refused to let the backhanded insult interrupt his judgement over the new cook. Jin had watched the skinny man from the afar. He had stood at the poultry station, stuffing pieces of mozzarella into a cutlet of flesh. He’d thought of keeping Donny until Jungkook was properly trained for their kitchen, but Jungkook’s handling and knowledge had put him at ease. He had a feeling he could throw the young chef into the depths, and he’d swim excellently. Jungkook had shown the passion that Donny pretended to have. He’d surprised Jin with the coffee-ground rub. Most people stick to simple dishes, but Jungkook had thought outside the box and Jin liked that. 

“Jin,” Jimin came to the pass where Jin stood, “Here’s Jungkook’s order.”

Jin took the slip of paper, and read it. He laughed out loud, “Chef’s choice, huh?”

Jimin smiled, “He wanted to see your favorite.” 

Jin couldn’t tell if the man was flirting with him or really sucking up to him. He enjoyed the refreshing change. “I think I know what I’ll make him.” 

From his resume, Jungkook was used to bar and grill types of food. Jin wanted to stray from that. Something inside him wanted to teach the younger new techniques and flavors. Picking up short ribs from the cooler, he grabbed barley and mushrooms on his way back. Jin had always made nearly everything from scratch; he hated pre-made foods. That’s why he bothered with Jackson’s business: he liked his meat fresh from the source, rather than the decaying, dead meat other restaurants bought. Yes, it was “evil”, but he’d have his food no other way. His father had taught him that much. 

“Chef?” a small voice called to him as he sliced mushrooms. He turned to see Irene standing with worry on her face. 

“What’s up?” Jin asked, turning back to his work. He needed each piece perfectly cut. 

“Please, Jin, don’t be mad, but…” she hesitated. 

Jin looked over his shoulder. “But what?”

“Someone left out a batch of flank steaks, and now they’re spoiled.”

Jin glared, but not at poor Irene. At Donny. “Who was the last person to use the flanks?”

“The person you’re looking at. He said he needed them to turn into chicken.”

“You don’t use flank for chicken,” he growled to himself. “It’s too good of a meat for that. Motherfu-” he put down the knife he’d been using, “I’ll talk to him later. We have some more in the freezer.”

Irene tried concealing her smile, “Yes, Chef.”

Jin went back to making Jungkook’s meal. He chose buttermilk-sage rolls to go alongside the meat stew. He had baked them to perfection, a golden hard outside and soft inside. As he handed Jimin the plate, another person came up to him. 

“Jin,” he recognized the outright annoyance on Yoongi’s face. His sous chef was clearly trying to hold back his frustration in front of the others, but it slowly crept out in his words. “We need to do something about Donny. He’s not at his station and not paying attention to the chicken. It would’ve boiled over if I had not come along.”

“Did you talk to him?” he crossed his arms over his broad chest. 

“I did,” he replied. “I did several times, you know that. The guy honestly does not give a fuck about anything. How did we end up making him a chef?”

“Because he tricked his way to the top,” Jin seethed. “He’s making me look stupid. I pick only the best, and here I promoted a complete idiot. Did you know he spoiled the flank steaks? Yeah, he left them out in the open outside the fridge and Irene found them.” 

The rage bubbling in his stomach slowly rose to his chest. He wanted to march right to Donny, slit his throat and drag him downstairs. Then again, what was really stopping him? “I think I know how to make up for those flank steaks,” he smirked at Yoongi. “You take charge for a while. I got some things to work out downstairs.”

Yoongi smiled at him, “Yes, Chef.” 

Jin walked over to Donny, putting a hand on his shoulder. “Can I talk to you for a second?”

“Sure, Chef.” 

He led Donny through a back door that opened to a flight of stairs leading downwards. Jin’s Kitchen’s wine cellar was one of the finest in Jin’s eyes. Several different bottles of wine sat on racks along the walls and aisles in the room. Jin took him to the back of the room, and stood by a dark corner beside a rack of red wine. 

“Donny, you’ve been with us for a while now,” he said. “You...you work hard and for that you deserve a reward.” 

“Really?”

“Really.”

He looked at Jin, and moved to speak, but stopped when the wall behind Jin opened up. “This is where we keep the good stuff,” he grinned at him, letting him go through the passage first. 

A draft of cold air came through the staircase once the door closed behind them. Jin looked him over as they walked to the slaughterhouse entrance. Donny might be a bit skinny, but everyone had muscle on them. Perhaps he’d use him for chicken sandwiches or bacon wrapped scallops. Jin thought of the possibilities, opening the door into the restaurant’s personal slaughterhouse. Donny’s jaw dropped seeing the cages lining the sides of the concrete room. The fluorescent lights gave the room a greyish color, which is what Jin had wanted. In the cages, if Donny looked closely enough, he’d see them. Jackson Wang, being a human trafficker, often brought him groups of people for inspection. Jin only took the best looking ones. 

“What the fuck…” Donny whipped his head to Jin, “Is this what you do?”

“You know what kind of place we are, Donny,” he said, stepping over to a cutting table nearby. By the steel slab, he hung several types of knives. He picked up the sharpest one. “I make sure everyone knows we serve human flesh so they’re not surprised if they find out.” 

“I just thought you were taking, like, dead bodies or something!” he said in disbelief, “Not actually killing people! This shit is crazy! You’re a fucking psychopath!”

“No, no, no, my dear Donny,” Jin smiled at him. “I’m a man of taste and style. You are a lazy, ungrateful bastard with no sense of proper work ethic. First,” he stepped to him, “you embarrassed me in front of our new employee with your incompetence. Second, you continued embarrassing me by being an all-around useless chef. Third, you ruin my good steaks because you’re neglectful and stupid.” 

Donny glared hard at him, “Fuck you, you fucking fairy!”

“And you use such inappropriate, hateful language too. I just can’t tolerate your behavior anymore,” he moved further to Donny, getting a foot in front of him. He stared down into Donny’s eyes. He sensed the fear crouching inside them behind his toughness. “I’m sorry, Donny, but I’m gonna have to let you go.” 

“Hey, hey, what do you-”

In a single slash, the sharp blade cut through Donny’s neck. Blood leaked from the deep gash and into his shirt collar. Thankfully, Jin managed to only get droplets on his clothes. Not that it mattered to him. He watched Donny fall to the floor at his feet. He twitched around for a few seconds, gurgling and clutching at his bleeding neck, before finally becoming still. Jin chuckled at his pathetic body. 

Jin wiped off the blood from the knife and set it aside. He turned to a cage where a young woman sat crouched in a corner wearing nothing but her bra and underwear. Jin only gave her a wide grin and chuckled. They always looked so pathetic in this state. He grabbed both of Donny’s legs and dragged him to the plastic tarp at the end of the hallway. The whimpers of those in the cages satisfied him.

****

Then, he hung Donny on one of the meat hooks and started carving. He’d planned on letting Donny go once Jungkook had settled in, but not everything goes according to plan. He could take over poultry for tonight. A part of him felt even more aggravated because he had wanted Jungkook's thoughts on the dish. He had always enjoyed seeing people eat his food, whether they knew what they were eating or not. He imagined Jungkook taking that first bite and melting. Jin did not know Jungkook, and he could be completely wrong about him. Yet, watching him work tonight, he sensed the artist inside the boy. Even if he was not fully experienced, he seemed eager to learn from how he observed and listened to Jin. He’d worked so steadily with precision and care on his dish. It was as if he were a painter working on his canvas. Jin was anticipating seeing Jungkook perform again. 

Jungkook took to the kitchen like a fish to water. Walking in the next night, Yoongi handed him his chef’s jacket and bid him to follow. He could tell from how people moved out of his way that they somewhat feared the pale cook. Jungkook didn’t blame them. 

Yoongi showed him all the parts of the meat station, their dry pantry, their freezer and cooler. He explained how the night’s meat is prepared fresh early in the morning, and kept in the cold until lunch and dinner. Since he had proper training, Yoongi expected him to learn quickly, and Jungkook did. 

Gourmet dishes were very different from the barbeque he was used to cooking, but not so different at the same time. Yoongi kept him on cleaning and plating duty mostly; Jungkook realized that the chef wanted to see how he did when given the artistry portion of the job. 

“That looks beautiful!” Jimin commented when Jungkook passed a dish over to him. Two chuck pieces drizzled with brown sauce sat with chive-sour cream mashed potatoes on top. He’d placed some of the vegetables against the side for an asymmetrical style. “Simple but lovely.” 

“I guess.”

“Eh, well,” he looked over his shoulder to see Yoongi pulling steak out of a bowl of sauce, “He’s kinda tough, but I guess he has to be like that.”

Jimin peered around and then asked, “How’s it going tonight? Yoongi isn’t being too hard on you, right?”

“He must like you then,” he said, taking two plates to put on a large tray. “He usually berates new people at every turn.” He then gasped softly, “Gotta go. Jin’s coming.” 

He scurried away with his plates and Jungkook quickly returned to the new dishes in front of him. Yoongi had placed a few photos of what the dishes were meant to resemble, so he’d worked off of that. Fixing stuffed tomatoes on a plate, he squirted their special pesto sauce around them in decorative, lace-like patterns. He’d decided they needed more parmesan on top when Jin appeared next to him. 

“The stuffed tomatoes,” Jin said, “Very nice work, Jungkook. I’d put you on meat duty though.”

“Yoongi wanted me to learn your plating style,” he replied. “I told him I’ve never done it all fancy like this, so he wanted me to try it out.” He then asked, “What do you think?”

“What do I think?” He examined the plate by turning it around. He met Jungkook’s eyes and for a moment, he thought he’d be scolded. “Well done,” he said, “You got it down to a science. However, I’d recommend not so much cheese next time. They already put some in the mixture, and then it comes out too cheesy.”

“Right,” he nodded. “I’ll keep that in mind, Chef. Thank you.” 

“You like to learn, and I like that,” Jin complimented, patting his shoulder. “Keep it up.”

Jungkook blushed at the compliment. It felt nice, getting praise from someone as renowned as Jin. The question came out before he could stop himself, “How’d you get good enough to have a restaurant?” 

Jin paused at the question, then said, “I practiced. I listened. I learned. I studied hard. It sounds boring and difficult, but if you really push yourself, you get good results. Do you want to own a restaurant someday?”

“Maybe. I’ve never really thought about it before.” He added some basil leaves to a chicken pasta dish, “I just know I love cooking. It’s all I’ve ever seen myself doing since I was small.” 

“I get that. It was the same with me.” Jin stood next to him and took up a dessert dish, stuffed cannolis. Drizzling chocolate on them, he said, “My dad ran a restaurant, but it wasn't to this scale.” He snorted, “He never told anyone about the meat. He said it was a family secret.”

“You grew up around this too then? You mentioned it last night, I think.”

“I did,” he nodded. They put the dishes on the pass, and Jin rang the bell for pick-up. “My grandfather said his grandfather started it during the war. Food was really scarce at the time, and their crops kept on dying. So, when soldiers ended up scaring off the game and taking what was left for themselves, he, um...did something about it.”

“People or the soldiers?”

“Whoever he could find,” he said. “He started off with corpses of people who’d died of hunger or were shot by the soldiers. Then he started actually killing them himself,” he passed Jungkook a meat plate while he took up the other two. “He said there’s nothing better than meat fresh from the bone. My grandfather told me a story of how his father killed a soldier and sold him in meat stews to the other soldiers. My great-grandmother used their fat for candles; my great-aunt took their clothes apart and made new ones for them to wear.” He finished plating alongside Jungkook, “You’d be surprised how many uses you can get out of a human body. Not only eating, but for supplies and goods to sell.” 

“My grandmother had a lamp made from human skin.” He did not know why he said it, but it came out anyway. His eyes widened when he realized it, looking over at Jin. 

However, the chef only smiled. “Mine had a soup bowl made from a skull. My great-grandmother sculpted it, and gave it to her as a wedding gift. I have it in my house now. I mean, I don’t use it because it’s so fragile and old, but it’s a family heirloom, so I kept it.” He grabbed three more plates that they worked on together. “Don’t use so much pesto sauce,” he instructed, “Be a little more light handed with it. Yeah, like that.” He continued their conversation, “So, was it always you and your uncle?”

“And my grandmother. My father’s still in prison and my mother died when I was young,” he passed Jimin the first plate. "So she took me into her home when my dad was arrested."

“What is he locked up for, if you don’t mind me asking?”

Jungkook hesitated. They had already gotten this far into the conversation. “Murder…”

Jin looked over at him when he finished his plates. “I see...for food or fun?”

“I think both?” he answered. “My grandmother said he was never right in the head. I learned about the cooking from my uncle and grandmother, but my father took me to his slaughterhouse.” 

His father had laughed when he had seen the tent in Jungkook's pants.

Jungkook tried not to think about it, but it still sent chills through him. It was before he had moved in with his grandmother and uncle. He'd lived on a farm with his father until he was ten-years-old. It had always been just the two of them in those days. There weren't many animals besides the cows and chickens, but his father mainly kept them for eggs and milk. Jungkook remembered very little about the farm, to be honest. He'd been so young when it all  happened that he could only recall tidbits. As he sliced lemon pieces to decorate a pie, he remembered the woman and his father dragging her into their barn. He remembered her screams as she pleaded for her life; the way she had kicked and struggled had seemed to arouse his father. Jungkook only got involved after his father caught him watching through a crack in the barn. 

“You have slaughterhouse experience then?” Jin asked.

“Yeah, I do.” 

Jin seemed to make a note of it, but continued working. Jungkook wondered if he’d ruined his chances of ever moving up in this restaurant. Decorating the pie with lemon slices, he remembered when he had first suggested to his uncle that they should use fresh meat. This young couple had just arrived at their restaurant, and Jungkook couldn’t help noticing the man’s stature. Lean with unblemished, healthy skin, his body was made for a few good steaks. He had told his uncle that he’d handle everything when it came to the killing. His grandmother had backed up the decision by saying the dogs would be safe now. After some convincing, his uncle had finally caved in by the prospect of saving money. He was convinced even further when he had been served a slice of the traveler in a pot roast. 

The rest of his shift had gone by smoothly. Yoongi had brought him back over to the meat station and began showing him how they prepared each dish. Unlike Jin, Yoongi seemed to have something to say about everything: “don’t put so much salt” “you cooked this too long” “you should’ve tenderized this more” “you cook this WITH the peppers and onions”. Jungkook took it more as criticism rather than a personal attack. Yoongi at least appreciated that much. 

“Nice to see Jin didn’t hire another cry baby,” said the chef as he chopped steak in a mixture of peppers and onions. “Then again,” he smirked, “It’s only your first day.”

“Don’t challenge me, Chef,” Jungkook joked. “I’d hate to embarrass you in front of the entire staff.”

Yoongi snorted, “I’d like to see you try, pretty boy.” 

“I was wondering something, though…”

“Yes?”

“Do you use a box to grab stuff from the shelf or a step stool?” he smiled mischievously. 

“Oh ha-ha, a short joke, how original,” he rolled his eyes. “I wish I had a quarter…”

“What?”

“So I can see if it fits in that honker you call a nose.”

“Oooh, a big nose joke,” he scoffed before laughing. 

“I know, I know, not very funny...but seriously,” he said, “What can you smell with that? Blood types? Fat percentage?”

They laughed together again as the dish finished cooking. The people around them watched the pair continue teasing one another the rest of the night. When closing time came, Jungkook helped clean up all the utensils and instruments they’d used. As he finished reorganizing the spices and herbs, he noticed Jin and Yoongi go into the wine cellar. He had guessed the pair deserved a nice bottle of wine after work. He thought of doing the same with Jimin and Namjoon tonight. He could use it after their busy night. Finishing up his task, he said goodnight to the other cooks. He walked back into the dining room where he caught the couple by the bar. Namjoon sat on a stool while Jimin stood between his legs. He recognized the flirtatious smiles they shared, whispering and giving brief kisses. Jungkook decided he’d rather not interrupt their moment, and sat at the bar where Hoseok was talking to the lounge singer. 

The handsome singer turned his head to see Jungkook and grinned. “Ah, you’re the new cook,” he greeted, “I’m Taehyung."

“Nice to meet you,” Jungkook replied. “I heard you singing when I came in. You’re very good.”

“Thanks,” Taehyung chuckled. “Hoseok seems to be the only person who disagrees.”

“I don’t disagree,” the bartender replied. “Somebody’s gotta deflate that head of yours sometimes. You know, to keep you humble.” 

"I am humble. But, I also know that Jin wouldn’t have hired me if I sucked.” He turned to Jungkook and said, “So, how was it, working with Yoongi?”

"It was...educational. He isn't so bad."

"If you're on his good side," Hoseok smirked, "Like Tae over here."

"Shut up," Taehyung mumbled, flicking balled up straw paper at him. He looked at Jungkook, "Come sit with us, have a drink. It was busy tonight."

****

“I suppose I should take Donny off our payroll?” 

Yoongi was standing next to Jin by the drain, hands on his hips and looking at the body hanging off the hook. The older picked up one of the shoulder pieces, placed it on a length of cellophane to wrap. He’d let the man drain overnight, now he had time to wrap the pieces. 

Jin chuckled, “I’d hope so. Dead men don’t take paychecks.” 

He started wrapping the shoulder chunk while Yoongi cut into the body hanging over the drain. The pair worked on Donny for a while, cutting pieces of him to put into the freezer. Jin wrapped up stacks of back ribs as a certain young chef came to mind. 

Jin supposed being in a wealthier family had given him options Jungkook couldn’t afford. He thought of how well the man had plated the food tonight, while Jin had gone around the dining room checking on his customers and introducing himself to first time patrons. 

Jungkook’s background wasn’t much different from his own, he had realized. His father had never been caught, but he showed Jin everything he knew about the slaughtering business. His dad had taught him the best cuts of a person, what they can be used for, and how to cook them properly. He had said younger people are more tender, and healthier people have tighter muscles. He had been the one who introduced Jin to trafficking business through an old college friend. 

“How did Jungkook do tonight?” he asked Yoongi as he flayed muscles from the bones. 

“He exceeded my expectations for sure."

Jin took that as high praise, since Yoongi had always been a worse critic than him when evaluating new employees. Tossing bones in a nearby trash can, he breached the subject, “He has slaughter experience too.” 

Yoongi began skinning an arm in slow strokes, taking flesh off inch by inch, “And?”

“And we could use an extra hand down here. He’s got the muscles to handle these things,” he nodded to the door where the cells were. “And he could help us pack these in the freezer.” 

Yoongi looked over to him and scrunched his brows, “You know we shouldn’t do that. We agreed that it was for the best to keep this between the two of us. It isn’t a good idea to bring in someone we don’t know. Remember San?”

He did remember San. A handsome man with angular features, he’d joined the kitchen staff a few months ago. He’d shown the same enthusiasm as Jungkook, and also shared slaughterhouse experience. Because of this, Jin had felt fine bringing him into their operation. Things had gone smoothly for a while before he started noticing that the women were tampered with. Jin recalled the damage to the muscles and organs when he cut them open. Drugs. Their lower halves torn and dripping with cum told him what he needed to know. Considering he and Yoongi preferred men, he confronted San.

 The man had reasoned that he was only having a bit of fun; the drugs made the women more compliant. Jin told him the drugs ruined their insides if given too much each time. He’d fired San, who then attempted to go to the police about his operation and restaurant. 

Thankfully, some money stuffed in their pockets made the police look the other way. Especially when he made San his next House Special. 

“I don’t mean that we tell him this very moment,” he said. “I meant, if we ever need an extra hand in the future, Jungkook would be a good candidate. A lot of the people here might cook the meat, but they can’t handle actually harvesting it. He’s gotten it fresh from the source.” 

“Has he?” Yoongi raised an eyebrow. “He doesn’t seem the type.”

Jin grinned, “Neither do we.” 

Jin thought about it some more as they worked. He rarely came across people who’d admit to having any kind of experience. He’s sure the younger man hadn't intended to say it outloud, but his excitement had gotten the better of him. Jin decided to wait for a few more months before asking. Jungkook was still new and needed to learn their kitchen and dishes more before being promoted to anything higher. He’d make a final decision later on down the road. 

Jin and Yoongi worked well into the early morning, then they closed up and parted ways. He had a feeling Jungkook wouldn’t be like San. Jin had sensed his passion for the food. Did he enjoy killing? Perhaps. He had met people who did. Did he enjoy cooking and serving the perfect dish? Yes, and Jin liked that about him. 

He had a good feeling about Jungkook. 

Jin slowly became his favorite part of the job. He liked watching the head chef breeze his way through the kitchen. He'd occasionally glance over to see Jin stir frying meat or expertly chopping on a cutting board. He was always precise and focused. Jungkook could only wish to have such skills. He also admired Jin as a head chef as well. He wanted to make sure his kitchen ran smoothly and provided the best service. It was not uncommon to see him disappointed or scolding someone for presenting low-quality dishes. Jungkook did everything he could to give him nothing but good results. He liked the proud, impressed smile Jin gave whenever Jimin came back with a compliment for Jungkook. His insides warmed up when Jin approved of a technique he’d used or if he saw Jungkook putting his teachings into practice. 

****

Jungkook listened to Yoongi when he taught him kitchen tips and tricks. He watched the older chef smoke and roast meat in the smoker outside. He paid attention to any detail Yoongi or Jin pointed out to him. If Jungkook’s dish was less than immaculate, Yoongi made him do it all over again. Despite the busy hours and Yoongi’s criticism, he enjoyed the restaurant. It felt good being in a proper kitchen again, working with the food he’d handled his whole life. Seeing customers enjoy his dishes brought on a pride that he cherished. 

And yes, Jin was very handsome. 

Jungkook had met good looking people in his life, but not like Jin. As the weeks went by, he began noticing Jin’s very wide shoulders even more; especially when Yoongi joked about putting a spice shelf on them. He noticed how his torso slimmed down to a tiny waist and went in proportion with the rest of him. He kept himself well-dressed and clean all the time, which was a big change from the truckers and farmers he used to come across back home. Jungkook remembered seeing him in a suit, fresh and neat, talking to the customers. He'd never recalled a simple outfit that made his heart flutter so easily.

“You do know he’s our boss, right?” Jimin whispered to him before his shift at the bar. Jungkook had been watching Jin through the window pass. Concentrated on plating, it was like watching an artist paint or a poet write. Jungkook found it hard to look away. 

“Huh? What?”

“I don’t blame you. Jin’s really good looking.” They watched him together, “You’re not the first employee to get all heart-eyes over him.”

“I’m not getting ‘heart-eyes’. I just like watching him work. I can learn a lot from someone like him.”

“Mm-hm,” he said, “Sure. You like watching him 

“I do. He’s very good at what he does, and...and he’s interesting to watch. You can really tell he loves what he does.” 

“You should go for it."

The question made Jungkook turn his head away from Jin. "What? No way. He's our boss like you just said."

"Yeah, and Namjoon is technically my boss and I am dating him." He picked up a tray of cocktails Hoseok passed and said, "It doesn't hurt to put yourself out there. You've been here a while now, so it's not like you're jumping into anything crazy."

"It's not like that," said Jungkook. "I admire him as a cook; that's all there is."

"But you can admire his chef skills while also admiring how he looks good in any light," teased Jimin. "Anyways, I gotta go give these to Mr. Kwon before he flips his table."

"Mr. Kwon?"

"That dude over there."

Jungkook looked to the corner he pointed to, and saw a thin man with cherry red hair coiffed and slicked back. Wealth was written all over him and a sense of cockiness went over his smile. He talked with a well dressed woman at his booth, nibbling on a piece of bread as he listened to her. 

"VIP, I'm guessing?" asked Jungkook. He'd begun recognizing the pattern in all of Jin's special, long-time patrons: rich, snobby and entitled. 

"Absolutely. Mr. Kwon Jiyong, another rich man with peculiar tastes. He's been coming here for years now. If we all play our cards right, he tips the entire staff big time. He's always bringing all his rich friends, which drums up business for Jin." He held the tray in his hands. He paused, then said, "If you want to impress Jin, work on one of Kwon's dishes. If the guy likes what you made, Jin will hear about it.”

“Fair enough,” said the waiter. “Just keep it in mind if you ever want Jin’s attention.”

“He’ll also hear about it if it’s complete crap,” he said. “Jin or Yoongi will want to make the dishes themselves. I can’t afford to mess up anywhere in that kitchen.” It was true. He’d only just started catching up on bills and payments he needed to make. The restaurant paid him well, and he knew if he did even better, he’d get a raise. “I gotta clock in,” he said, sliding off the stool, “I don’t want Yoongi to chew my head off.”

Jungkook nodded and left the bar. He spotted the pass and saw Jin leave. He must’ve caught wind of Jiyong being in the dining room, and wanted a head start. He knew that’s what he’d do in that position. Jungkook walked into the busy kitchen where a few people greeted him. He walked up to Yoongi, who stood by the meat station chopping green onions. 

“Yoongi, I’m-”

“-Chicken duty tonight,” he interrupted. “You know what to do.”

“Yes, Chef.” 

“-Jin! Kwon’s order is in!” 

He went over to the poultry station where he saw Irene pulling strips of whitened meat out of the pot. Not completely cooked, Jungkook knew he could finish cooking it however he wanted. He took up one slip of paper asking for the garlic-ginger chicken dish. Taking it from the marinade bags in the cooler, he began cooking the slices on the stove. It smelled faintly of actual chicken, though he knew that was the stock Jin soaked the meat in. He found Jin’s process of giving the flesh a chicken flavor interesting. He’d worked in places where they did it before, but they never got the science down. Once he had finished cooking, he sliced the chicken into fine slivers. Irene delicately placed a bed of steamed rice in the center. Jungkook hoped whoever ate it enjoyed it. 

Jungkook turned to see Jin take up an order slip from someone at the pass. Jin’s brow furrowed reading down the list. Then he turned to the kitchen behind him:

“Kwon Jiyong’s table!” he said to them. “I need another garlic-ginger chicken, two new york strips, one filet mignon with balsamic glaze, and 2 rosemary braised shanks!” 

Jimin’s suggestion came across his mind. He admitted that the idea of Jin smiling proudly at him gave him butterflies. He pictured the head chef coming over to him, hands behind his back, as he congratulated Jungkook on his dish. He’d suggest that they share a bottle of wine to celebrate. They’d get into deep conversation about themselves and their passions. Then, it’ll happen in a quick moment. One minute, he’ll be looking into Jin’s brown eyes and next he’ll be tasting wine on those plush lips. He’d grown fond of the strict chef over the past few months, he’d confess. He wanted to be noticed in a bigger way. He left his station and reached the pass where 

 ticket sat on the counter. Jungkook read the scribbled order, then glanced at where his bosses stood. 

Jin stood beside Yoongi, preparing flank steaks for cooking while the other crushed some ingredients with a bowl and pestle. They talked in low voices as they worked. Jungkook guessed Kwon ordered one of the steaks. He shouldn’t bother. It wasn’t his position or station tonight. He should go prepare another garlic-ginger and hope that sufficed. But a nagging voice inside him said he should start on the filet mignon. 

So he did. 

Too absorbed in their own work, nobody said anything as Jungkook prepared the balsamic glaze that’d go on top. He’d told Irene that Yoongi ordered him to change stations for Kwon’s order, and the woman believed him. Jungkook made sure every element of the dish came out to perfection. If he wanted Jin’s attention, he’d need to make a sleazy rich guy happy. Excitement and dread mingled inside his stomach as he grilled the steak. This can end either wonderfully or 

 When he finished the dish, he put it on the pass. 

“Jungkook? What table is that for?” Jin’s voice came in a hard tone, and Jungkook felt every nerve in his body freeze. 

“For, um...It’s for, um, uh, Mr. Kwon’s table?” he responded in a small voice. “I-I-I...He sounded like he had a big order, so I thought I’d help out.” 

“And who told you that you could?” he asked, fists on hips. “You were told to be on poultry tonight. You’re still training there, and I’d prefer you’d stick to your training than trying to impress Kwon Jiyong.”

“I saw nobody was working on the filet, and you know I know my steaks, so…” he felt foolish now. Jin wanted him to focus on himself, not impressing a VIP guest. “You’re right...I’m sorry, Jin. I should’ve let someone else handle it.” 

“You should have,” he nodded. “You should have asked me if you really wanted to help. What if I’d already put someone on it?” 

Jungkook paused, looking at him. Another thing he had not thought of when he started, but he noticed that nobody else was working on the steak. “Did you?”

Jin sized him up, crossed his arms, and shrugged, “Must’ve slipped my mind.” 

They shared a stare. Jungkook knew at once why Jin did not give the assignment to anyone else. He nodded, and said, “I’m sorry I did not ask you, Chef. You’re right, I should have.” 

“You better hope Kwon likes it. Get back to your station.” 

“Yes, Chef.” 

He worked with nerves weighing him down. Jin must’ve known he’d take the chance. He didn’t know whether to feel proud or to be worried. He finished a few more meals before he heard Jimin's voice. 

"Jin, Kwon wants to meet the chef that made his meal."

Jungkook froze by the boiling pot. He turned to Jin, who stood looking at Jimin. He then met Jungkook's eyes, bidding him to come along with a head nod. He handed off his work to Irene, then headed towards Jin. He already imagined all the harsh criticism he would hear from the man. He saw himself losing his job because he thought he could do this. As he walked through the restaurant, he kept his eyes on the booth where Kwon Jiyong sat. He'd hoped Jin might give him some instruction on how to act with him, but he said nothing. They approached Kwon's table where the man finally noticed him. 

 "Ah, Jin!" he beamed brightly, "I knew it was you who cooked this! It is marvelous!"

"Sorry, Jiyong, but it wasn't me who made your meal tonight," Jin shook his hand, "It was one of my newer cooks." He gestured over to Jungkook, "This is Jungkook. Jungkook, this is Kwon Jiyong, one of our VIP members."

Jiyong's eyes scanned over him with a faint smirk on his lips. He was truly handsome up close. The people around him seemed eager for his attention, especially the woman beside him. However, having Jungkook in front of him, he no longer took any interest in her. He grinned at Jungkook, "Well don't you have the face of an angel? How old are you? "

"Twenty-three, sir," answered Jungkook. 

"You're still in culinary school?"

"I graduated last year, sir."

"A bit fresh from the academy, no?" Jiyong asked Jin.

"I overlooked that when I tasted his interview dish. He has tons of experience backing him up," answered Jin. "He has a lot of raw talent and passion that I admire."

"It definitely shows in his food," said Jiyong. "Everything was cooked exactly how I wanted it. How did you know I liked my steak medium? Jin here dropped some secrets to impress me?" 

"Lucky guess?" Jungkook suggested. "Most people who order it order medium-rare or medium, so I went with medium."

"A very lucky guess," grinned Jiyong.  "The food was delicious," he looked Jungkook up and down again, "I look forward to eating more of it in the

"

Jungkook blushed under the attention, "Thank you, Mr. Kwon."

"Please, call me Jiyong,” he extended his arm and they shook hands. “Jin, I want Jungkook as my cook from now on.” 

“Of course, Jiyong,” said Jin, forcing a smile on his face. “I’ll tell Eric.” 

“I’ll let you two get back to work,” he said, dismissing them and picking up his drink. “I’ll see you around, Jungkook.”

“Yes, sir,” Jungkook bowed. “It was nice meeting you.”

“And very nice meeting you,” Jiyong winked, and Jungkook tried hiding his red cheeks. 

Jin said his goodbye, and steered Jungkook from the table. He did not know what it was, but he sensed the distaste in Jin when they reached the kitchen. His boss turned around to face him once the doors shut. 

“Seems Kwon really likes you,” he said. “I hope you know that means he’ll expect nothing short of spectacular whenever he shows up.”

“I assumed as much from how much everyone freaks out when he's around.”

“It doesn’t seem like it right now, but he can put a lot of pressure on you. Especially because you’re…” 

“I’m what?”

“Well, you know,” he did not meet Jungkook’s eyes as he said, “His type. Um, you know, young, good looking, and...and yeah. Kwon likes pretty faces, so he’ll probably keep wanting to see you as well as have you cook for him.” 

Jungkook smiled at him. Did Jin find him attractive 

He liked it. “I’d hoped that he’d like my cooking more than my looks.”

“I mean, I’m sure he liked that too. If he didn’t, he would’ve said so.” He straightened himself up, “I’m only saying, you should be a bit wary of him.” 

“I will, Chef.” 

He found himself wishing Jin looked at him like Jiyong had done. Yes, Jiyong was handsome, but Jin surpassed him by miles. 

"You did well though," said Jin, breaking through his thoughts. "And I'm proud of you."

"Really?" He asked, smiling widely. 

"Yes, you did well and made Jiyong happy. That's what I expect from my cooks. Well done."

"Thank you, Chef."

"Let's get back to work then."

He took one more look at Jin, then started back to his station. The butterflies in his stomach fluttered the rest of his shift. 

****

Jiyong continued coming by and asking for Jungkook after meals...and Jin hated it. He hated how the wealthy man charmed and flirted with the young chef. He hated the way he smiled and stared at him. Jin wished he could ban him solely for the reason that seeing Jungkook sitting beside Jiyong after shifts pinched his nerves. Jiyong wasn't even that interesting. He had as much depth to him as a kiddie pool. He didn’t even admire the true art of their work. He'd started eating human flesh out of trend, not because he 

 it. Jin could always tell a true enthusiast from the curious. He knew Jungkook truly liked their food. He didn’t even need to disguise it. 

"Jungkook, what are you doing?" he asked him one night after closing. 

He'd been grabbing a merlot to take home when he caught the young man in the kitchen. On his plate sat a steaming steak with potatoes, and beside him a beer bottle. 

"Oh sorry, Jin," said the younger. "I, um, found the last of the tenderloins in the back so I thought I'd take it to be done with it."

"You didn't season it?" he asked, coming closer to see the steak in their basic house seasoning. 

"Um, uh, not in our usual fancy way, if that's what you mean," he answered. "I don't know if it's only me, but sometimes I feel using chicken or beef stock ruins the original flavor. I like to enjoy it as it is once in a while, you know?"

"Here," he grabbed two measuring cups and he set down the wine. "You won't be spoiling my tenderloins with meager beers. A nice merlot is what it needs." He poured them each a cup and then they clinked them together before drinking. "I know exactly what you mean," he said, taking a seat. "My dad said it was good to have it as is. He didn't really like me disguising it the way I do here, but it'd be far too bland if I served all the food like this." 

"It does help people transition into it, I suppose. Honestly, people scoff at it, but we're no different than animals." He took another bite from his steak. He savoured it. Jin could see it and he enjoyed the feeling. "A lot of my uncle's regular customers thought they were eating actual pork and beef."

"It's mind over matter at work. People here think if they ignore what this really is, they can swallow it better." He took a drink of his wine, taking in before swallowing. "I know for a fact some of the others around here only applied because of how much they get paid. I rarely meet people who truly have a passion for what we do here."

"Same," he washed his food down with the wine. "When Jimin told me what you really serve, I needed to see it for myself. Most cannibal restaurants are little dingy clubs, not gorgeous five-star places like this. The things you do with human meat are incredible. I've seen people try changing the flavors before, but you really nailed it. How'd you pull it off?" 

"It took a lot of trial and error, to be honest, and help from Yoongi. He's just as much responsible for this place as I am. He grew up in a similar environment to us, and he understands the real reason we continue this lifestyle. "

"He's passionate...like you," he said. 

Jin swore he spotted pink in Jungkook's cheeks. "So, you and Jiyong," he said carefully, "Anything going on there?"

Jungkook looked up from his plate and laughed, "Seriously, Jin?" 

"What? He comes around here a lot and I've seen how you get around him."

"I get the way anyone would when someone like Jiyong gives you attention. Yeah, it's nice to have a hot guy like him flirt with me, but he's not really my type."

This news made Jin’s heart skip a beat. "He's rich. He's young and handsome. So many people would kill to be you."

"Yeah, he's rich and all that, but he's so…" he stifled a laugh, "Obnoxious. He's always name dropping and telling me he bought this condo building here or how he was on the cover of some posh magazine. I don't really care about things like that." 

"You don't? Most people would love to meet someone who can give them the world on a silver platter. Jiyong could do that for you. "

"Eh, I 

really need a lot, " he shrugged, chewing another piece of steak. He finished it off and set the plate aside, wiping his mouth, he said, "I'm happy with my apartment and doing what I love. I don't need designer clothes or a penthouse downtown. I'm happy with what I have here."

Jin chuckled, "You really are a simple farm boy, huh? Not that there's any shame in that. I grew up in a similar place. We lived outside town so we didn't have any nosey neighbors around. It's harder to get meat if you have Debra from down the block peering through her blinds all the time. "

"Sometimes neighbors don't matter. My dad got caught because one of the girls escaped from the barn." He paused once he realized what he'd said. "Um, uh, I mean-" 

He raised a hand to stop him, "No judgement here. I told you my family had a similar practice, remember?" a thought then came to him, "Did you carry on that tradition when you moved in with your uncle?" 

Jungkook studied him for a moment, then said, "I did. My uncle wasn't a fan of it, but the stuff came out so much more tender when we bypassed the morgue and went straight for the source. Decayed flesh doesn't have the same kind of kick even after it's cooked. You can control their weight and tenderness while you still could if you do it the old fashioned way." 

He considered these words, watching Jungkook finish off his wine. He noticed the passion sparkling in his eyes when he talked about their trade. Jin would not admit it but he'd looked into Jungkook once he started working for him. He did it as part of the standard hiring process. He found out who Jungkook's father was and what he'd done to his victims. He imagined it'd been shocking witnessing that as a child, but that did not seem to deter Jungkook from his appetite. He recalled seeing his own father "tenderize" a man in front of him as part of a cooking lesson. He'd given Jin the instruments and instructed him from afar. Jin recalled how aroused he'd become by the blood and screams; he shuddered thinking of how his blade sliced cleanly through the flesh, the pain his victim must've felt at his actions. He remembered the pleasure heightening when he finally tasted the fruits of his labor. He never told anyone what he'd done later on in his bedroom. 

 would normally ask Yoongi ahead of time, but Jin knew the other chef would approve. He'd become fond of Jungkook, whether he admitted it out loud or not. "If I showed you something, would you promise to keep it to yourself? A lot of people might be disturbed if they knew."

"You mean where you and Yoongi get your meat fresh?" he asked, smirking at Jin's surprised expression. "I can tell from the taste alone. When you've spent long enough eating decaying flesh, you can tell the difference. Also, I've started noticing you and Yoongi going to the back every Monday and Thursday. Full grown bodies last a few days if you chop enough of them."

Were he not his boss, Jin would've kissed him then. "I knew you were smart. Come on, Yoongi is down there now."

"Do you think he'll be okay with it?"

"I think so. He likes you and it's less heavy lifting on his part."

He led Jungkook to the cellar and through the passageway. Painful screams echoed in the descending staircase. It sent shivers down Jin's spine. He imagined what mischief Yoongi must be up to that it'd cause such a ruckus. He reached the holding cells where the captives pushed themselves as far from the bars as they could. 

"Wow," sighed Jungkook. He stopped by the first cell, where a young woman tried avoiding eye contact. "You keep your slaughterhouse underneath the restaurant?" 

"We do. It's easier to transport and carve them up down here rather than somewhere else. Nobody else knows about this besides Yoongi and I."

"What if one of them tries to escape?" Jin heard the concern in his voice. 

Jin came to his side, putting a hand on his shoulder, "They don't. The main doors and cells have automated locks, and there aren't any windows in here. Only Yoongi or I can open them." He looked into the cage where the half naked girl stood, "We buy them from a trafficker in town. When you think about it, we're doing them a favor." 

"Favor?"

"

 my guy didn't sell them to us, he'd be selling them into sex trafficking rings." Jin bent down to meet the woman's eyes, "And I don't know if this is just me, but I'd rather die once than die a thousand times as my dignity is slowly stripped away. Being made into a fine gourmet dish sounds better than becoming somebody's fuck hole...don't you think so, sweetheart?"

He began explaining their process as Jungkook observed the cages. For a moment, Jin saw disappointment cross the younger's face when he said they did not torture here. Clean killings make sure they get as much undamaged flesh as possible. He supposed the man enjoyed playing with his food before eating it. Jin bit his bottom lip imagining the scene. 

"Eat goddamnit!" Yoongi's voice broke through their conversation. They caught Yoongi at the end of the aisle, poking a cattle prod into a cell. 

"I said 'eat'!" Yoongi growled, pushing the electric rod between the bars. "Eat it or I'll make you!"

"Yoongi," Jin interrupted his threats, "What's going on?"

"This little fucker won't eat! We need him to bulk up or otherwise there's no point in keeping- woah, what is 

doing here?"

"I thought perhaps Jungkook could join us in the slaughterhouse? He pretty much figured it out on his own, so there's no point keeping him out of things. He has some experience in this too."

Yoongi sized him up for a moment, then handed him the 

. "Get him to eat."

Jungkook hesitantly took the cattle prod and held it lightly. Jin was worried for a moment that he'd made a mistake. Perhaps Jungkook was more accustomed to being a watcher. He was considering  taking the prod before Jungkook shoved it between the bars. Jin didn't say anything as Jungkook shocked him over and over. The thin man gasped and shuddered along the floor after each shock. He eventually looked at the bowl Jungkook pushed his way. Still, their captive continued protesting, calling them every name in the book and spitting at them. Jungkook only poked him more, the electricity sparking against his bare skin each time. The delight in Jungkook's eyes appeared almost childlike as he poked the man again. He threatened to keep going, in such a low tone, if the man didn’t listen to them. He giggled when he shocked the prisoner on his way towards the bowl. He smiled over at Yoongi and Jin when the man began timidly eating, his hand shaking as he spooned it into his mouth. 

"Good boy," smiled Jungkook. He handed Yoongi the rod, then said, "How'd I 

?"

Yoongi took the rod from him and said, "Alright. Just alright."

He put the rod away while Jin explained the slaughterhouse rules and protocols. Should another employee find out about it, they'd be expected to take care of that employee. It was important they kept it a secret, something Jungkook knew how to do well. By the time they got to work, Jin knew he'd made the right decision. 

****

Jungkook liked working in the slaughterhouse. It reminded him of the times he would accompany his father, who showed him everything he knew about carving flesh from bones. He went down to the underground area with Yoongi and Jin twice a week. On Mondays, he helped Yoongi pick out choice meats from the cages, then they'd flay, debone, wrap and store them for the restaurant. 

Thursday, he stood with Jin as he picked from the trafficker's selection. The trafficker, a man named Jackson, brought six to eight people for Jin to examine. Jungkook particularly liked this night. Not because he was allowed to rough up or torture them mildly with the cattle prod, but because he got to spend the night with Jin. He enjoyed being in his boss's company the most. He felt honored Jin trusted him enough to help with such important work; he did whatever he could to make sure Jin was pleased. Sadly, he knew nothing would come from this. Despite the daydreams of them confessing feelings over a worktable or Jin asking him on a date, they still were boss and employee. It'd be wrong. 

Then again, their entire operation was considered wrong. 

So, he stuck to Jiyong, who still flirted and admired him from time to time. Jungkook slowly became weary of the billionaire and his boasting, but he knew outright rejecting him might not end well. Jimin told him Jiyong will eventually get bored of him and move onto someone else, so he waited for that. He focused on his 

 instead of worrying what Jin thought of Jiyong being all over him. 

It’d amused him at first when his boss thought there’d been something there, but then he thought about it more. Jin seemed most bothered whenever Jiyong asked to see Jungkook; he found out the man had even flat out refused on one of their busier nights. Namjoon said it was very unlike Jin to deny a customer, especially a VIP, of anything they wanted. Jungkook wondered why that might be, and that little glimmer of hope made its way into his heart. But, of course, that was only a suspicion. But a nice one. 

“How come you’re not working in the kitchen this Saturday?” Jimin asked in the breakroom a month later. “You always work Saturday and that’s The Showcase night. We’re gonna be packed, so the tips should be good.”

Jungkook looked at the posted schedule, seeing the Saturday slot filled in with ‘Show’ instead. Above it was the word ‘Showcase’. Jungkook learned from Yoongi what that word meant for Jin’s Kitchen when he first started working there. Once a month, the restaurant held a special event for guests which involved them voting on the fate of whichever poor soul Jin bought from Jackson. It could be anything from simple whipping to live dismemberment. Jungkook often missed the main events because he’d be in the kitchen for most of it. The entire staff earned extra that night from the tips and guest’s participation fees. If he’s off that night, he won’t be getting anything and he thought of the overdue electric bill on his table back home. 

“

?” Jungkook stood at the door of Jin’s office, seeing his boss typing out paperwork, “How come I’m not working this Saturday? I always do.”

“You are working,” he said, “I just didn’t put you on a station this week. I thought you might enjoy helping out with the show instead.” He gave a small grin, the kind that puffs the tops of his cheeks, and said, “Eric can’t help this time, and I couldn’t think of anyone who’d enjoy working on it more than you. You’ll still get paid and get whatever tips the staff splits amongst themselves.” He then said, “If you’d rather work in the kitchen that night, then it’s fine. I can put someone-”

“-No, no, no,” he cut in quickly. “I’d love to help with the show! I didn’t sign up for it though.”

To be honest, he hesitated signing up for the crew because of the man in front of him. He worried what might happen if he watched this gorgeous man work on a live person. Jungkook already pictured him shirtless, bloody with a knife in his hand. He pictured those muscles rising and falling in each breath; he imagined Jin pushing him onto the work table, nearly tearing off his clothes as he railed him. He worried signing up for The Showcase put him within touching distance of the person Jin was deep inside. 

“What would I be doing?” he asked. 

“We’d figure it out on that day,” he said. “You can either work backstage, assist or perform. Taehyung’s the MC, as you know, so that position is always taken.”

“Will you be performing that night?” Jin normally didn’t, since someone must run the kitchen, but the question came out before he stopped himself.  

“I will actually,” he smiled. “Yoongi will be taking care of the kitchen that night, and it’s been so long since I did anything for my own event. Hey,” he said, having a sudden thought, “why don’t you assist me? That way I can show you how everything works before you do your own performance.”

The offer surprised him. “You want to actually work with me?”

“Well, Jungkook,” laughed Jin, “I work with you in our slaughterhouse so I see what you’re capable of. I think you’d be great for The Showcase.” 

“Um, uh, yeah. I’d love to help you with the, um, you know, the show.” 

Seeing Jin smile at him again made his heart flutter. Jin’s ability to turn him into a puddle of mush in seconds was deadly. Jungkook thanked Jin for the opportunity, then started his shift. He thought of all the possibilities of the show. 

already felt close to Jin because of the slaughterhouse, but now he could work closely with him on something non-work related. Jin might keep the two separate, but Jungkook noticed it. He noticed the glee in his eyes when he broke bones or sliced up flesh. Jin liked hurting them just as much as he did, and it intrigued him. He imagined all the things Jin could teach him outside of cooking. He couldn’t wait for the night. 

****

He had never felt so nervous. He’d been on stage before, of course, but he still felt those knots in his stomach. Jungkook imagined all the ways he could mess up: he could forget a cue or his mind could draw a blank and he’d stumble over himself. He might mistake a butcher knife for a serrated one. So many simple things could turn out horribly. He was already worried what might happen once Jin started his show. 

It was fine when he was home alone with no eyes on him, but he’d be in front of a crowd of people. He knew he’d die of embarrassment if people saw the erection he'd get in his pants. It certainly didn’t help how handsome Jin looked tonight. Dressed in a black long sleeved button down, Jungkook drooled over how it framed his torso, showing off his broad shoulders. The slacks he wore pinched at his slim waist and went down his long legs. Jungkook tried not to notice as he helped Taehyung set up the stage. 

moved the band off stage tonight so there’d be more room for the main space. They had hung all sorts of torture devices and instruments on the walls erected around the background. A pane of glass separated the stage from the audience so nobody could suddenly interrupt the performances. On the sides of the stage were monitors showing the center for those who were farther away from the stage. He gulped thinking about being seen on those. Jungkook helped put up lights and fix things onto the walls. He heard Jin direct people from behind him; he knew his boss wanted everything absolutely perfect. He had planned on helping with that. Images of Jin’s bloody hands gripping his naked body flashed before him when he hung up a knife. He thought of how easily Jin made people bleed; the way he broke them through their minds before breaking their bodies. It aroused him. 

The show started with Taehyung, in a floral shirt under a peach colored suit, brightly welcoming the guests. Jungkook stood beside Jin off stage as they watched the headliner crack jokes and warm them up. He tried relaxing through Taehyung’s opening, but his nerves didn’t let him relax. 

"Just breathe," a voice said behind him. Jimin appeared, holding his tray, and grinning. "You're going to do great."

“You think so?” 

“I know so,” he said, patting his shoulder. “Jin wouldn’t have asked you if he didn’t think you’d do well.” 

He supposed Jimin was 

. Jin had seen him working in the slaughterhouse downstairs, which gave him a clear idea of what he was capable of . But, did he know what it did to Jungkook?

Hoseok went up first. Backstage workers dressed in black wheeled in a young woman in a risque school girl costume. The gag in her mouth muffled her cries and she tried wriggling out of the straps keeping her to the gurney. Hoseok smiled at the crowd in front of him, who hooted and hollered at the woman’s appearance. Taehyung, from the side of the stage, spoke into his microphone again. 

“Our first performance of the night is none other than our dear bartender, Hoseok,” he gestured to Hoseok in his surgeon’s outfit, “Who will be performing some very, very, very important surgery. Please, ladies and gentlemen, take out your tablets and vote on the fate of this fine specimen.”

Jungkook saw the guests pick out small tablets on the tables and begin scrolling and punching in votes. On a screen nearby, it showed the top 10 methods of death and torture they could pick from. Jungkook’s excitement doubled seeing the most gruesome ones reaching the top. He saw the fear in the girl’s eyes, her desperation climbing the longer the guests voted. Finally, a dinging sound went around the room and voting closed. 

“Oh ho ho,” Taehyung smiled, chuckling with the crowd, “Looks like we have some cruel people in here tonight! I love it! You all voted for ‘Face Off’! Hoseok,” he looked at the man on stage, “You know what to do.”

And the words riled up the audience. People cheered as Hoseok picked up a small scalpel, a wicked smile on his face. Some patrons turned their faces once he pressed his blade on her forehead, blood slowly coming down her face and her piercing scream coming through the speakers. Jungkook swallowed as he watched. Hoseok carefully flayed the girl’s face off; he occasionally cooed when she screamed particularly loud, but laughed right after. Jungkook saw her skin slowly coming from her muscle; he wondered what it felt like doing the work. He imagined the light pressure Hoseok must use. He thought of doing it himself one day, getting right up and close with his victim. When Hoseok held up the flayed face up to the crowd, they applauded him. However, they weren’t done. 

“We got a few perverts in attendance tonight,” grinned Taehyung, carefully listening to the earpiece he wore. “Hoseok, they wanna see this busty beauty flattened out a little.”

It was something to behold. He fidgeted in place as he watched Hoseok rip her shirt open. Jin turned to Jungkook, “You okay?”

“Um, yes,” he nodded. “Just nervous about how we’ll do. What do you think people will pick?”

“Depends on who we get,” he 

. “A lot of people like amputations and disembowelment, but that’s so…”

“Quick?”

Jin met his eyes. They sparkled in the half light of the backstage wing. How can one person be so beautiful? Jungkook worried about the reaction he’ll have being so close while Jin worked. “Yes, exactly,” he finally answered. “I prefer slow and steady. You have a whole human body in front of you. Why be so hasty, right?”

“Right.”

Hoseok’s surgery segment ended with his victim missing parts, bloody and completely still. Yoongi told him they sliced off whatever meat was left, then incinerated the rest. Irene came up next with a scrawny, pale man screaming at the top of his lungs. He sat strapped to the chair as Irene followed the patron's votes to the letter. While watching, Jungkook envisioned him and Jin working together. He saw himself running bloody fingertips over Jin’s toned, smooth skin; the contrast between the dark blood and Jin’s light skin looked entrancing in his mind. He swallowed thickly thinking of him and Jin sharing bits of their victim’s flesh. He would kill to see what those full lips looked like wrapped around his own; his mouth watered at what Jin might taste like in return. A breath hitched in his throat when someone came up behind him. 

“Are you positive you’re okay?” Jin’s hushed voice filled his ear; hot breath crept over his neck and gave him goosebumps. “You seem a bit flustered.”

“I...I’m fine. I swear,” he nodded. “I can still go on. Don’t worry. I won’t-won’t mess up or anything.”

“I’m confident you won’t,” he said. A hand came up to his waist, giving a light squeeze that made his blood pump hard. “I’m only worried about myself.”

“About yourself? What do you mean?”

“I’m worried I might not be fully focused on our performance,” he said, “Because I’ll be too busy thinking of you instead.”

“Jin…”

“I know I’m your boss and you’re my employee, but,” he buried his face into the crook of Jungkook’s neck, but didn’t kiss the skin there, “I can’t help it. You’re so depraved, demented and disturbed like me. I’ve never felt so connected to one person before. I can share my darkest secrets with you and know that you won’t judge. You enjoy them. You relish in the work; not only cooking but the carving. You like slicing and flaying and killing. You like hurting them and you like watching them be hurt.” He went back up to his ear, “Please tell me you feel that too?”

“I’ve never told anyone about my dad before,” Jungkook said. “Not even Jimin. The night you showed me the slaughterhouse, I...I felt comfortable. I felt comfortable talking about the work. I used to worry you might think I’m crazy or something, but now, I see you don’t. You understand.” He squeaked when the hand on his waist went between his thigh and hip. He could feel the fingertips brushing right to the space above his cock. It pumped more blood to his center. “Jin…”

“I want to make love to you on stage,” he growled in his ear. “I want to feel completely, utterly, and truly close to you. I know it’s sudden and if you’re not comfortable with that-”

“-No,” Jungkook intervened. “I want you to make me yours. All that formal dating stuff can happen later.” He put Jin’s hand on his crotch completely, “I want you to fill me up and make me cum everywhere.”

“Oh fuck yes…” Jin exhaled, turning Jungkook’s face to meet him. 

Their lips came together hungrily. Jungkook came to life in his arms. He had never felt this way for someone. The hole left by his father and countless lovers suddenly felt full. Nobody understood his way of life like Jin. He wanted to share everything with him. He wanted Jin to know he trusted him and that he can be trusted in return. He needed Jin. He deepened the kiss, tasting the wine Jin had drunk before the show, and wanted more. He turned towards Jin, hands on his broad shoulders as they kissed. 

“Soft or hard?” Jin asked between kisses. “Oral? Anal? I’ll do whatever you like. Just let me have you right now.”

“All of it,” he answered. “Make love to me. Fuck me. Do whatever you want.”

“Be careful what you wish for, angel,” he muttered, a smirk forming as they kissed. 

“-And now,” Taehyung’s voice broke between them, “For the final performance of the night! You’ve watched flayings. You’ve seen amputations. You’ve watched Irene make a frat boy chug acid!" The audience laughed when he paused, "But, my friends, you have yet to see a true artist! A master of torture! A demented genius! The man you know and love who feeds all your greedy, sick mouths!” he laughed at their reaction to his words. “I want you to put your hands together for our beloved head chef, Kim Seokjin!” The applause rose at the name, cheering and whistling. “He’s being accompanied tonight by our all-star chef, Jeon Jungkook!” 

Forced apart, the pair went through the double doors onto the stage. Due to the stage’s height and the set-up, he knew not many people would see the bulges growing in their pants. Jungkook’s cheeks flushed from the sudden heat between him and Jin; he craved more of it, but they had people to entertain. Jin brought Jungkook forward and they bowed to the roaring applause. 

“How are you doing tonight?” Jin asked the crowd. When they answered strongly, he smiled, “I hope you all have been enjoying our delightful show this evening, but, trust me...you haven’t seen anything yet.” He smirked over at Jungkook, who smiled widely at him. “Bring out our final star of the evening!”

Backstage hands wheeled in a short, stocky man. The man lifted his head from his shoulder, eyes heavy as he looked ahead of him. They’d fitted him into a simple shirt and sweatpants. Clearly, Jin did not need a gimmick to impress his audience. Jungkook stood to the side as the voting started. However, Jin had other ideas. 

“I’m not done,” he whispered, pecking Jungkook’s lips. The crowd wolf-whistled and called out seeing the two men share another kiss. “I said I’d fuck you and I meant it.” As the stage hands brought the man into the center of the stage, Jin carefully unbuttoned Jungkook’s shirt. Leaving the last button above his belt done, he slid his hands through the sides. “So hard,” he murmured, “You must work out often.”

“I do.”

“Delicious.” 

Jungkook did the same thing back, tossing Jin’s tie aside and running his hands inside his shirt. Jin moaned softly when a thumb found his hardening nipple. He gently tugged and sucked on Jungkook’s bottom lip as he untucked the shirt. Jin turned him to face the audience, who seemed more focused on Jungkook’s exposed torso than their tablets. Jungkook shut his eyes, feeling Jin’s mouth kiss up and down his neck. He started rubbing Jungkook's nipples to send sparks down his body. Jungkook could not get enough pleasure. When the stage hands coughed, Jin broke away from Jungkook. 

“You can’t get us all hot and bothered like that and stop!” called out Taehyung. “What a pair of teases you are!” he faked a pout, crossing his arms as he did so. 

“Start the vote,” Jin told Taehyung, who obliged them. 

He pressed his hardon into Jungkook, who pushed right back into him. They continued kissing while the guests voted on the man’s fate. He hoped it was a good one. He whimpered once Jin unbuckled his pants and sunk a hand inside. Not taking hold, he merely rubbed lightly over his length. Jungkook reached behind to do the same, feeling the outline of Jin's cock there. They only stopped when Taehyung called out the result. 

“I can feel the love in this restaurant tonight,” said Taehyung. “Our guests have spoken and our final act of the night is ‘Free Play’!” 

“Perfect,” smiled Jin. “What turns you on the most?” 

“You,” he whispered back. 

Jin laughed, “What method, angel?”

Jungkook chose a pipe, which Jin used expertly. They'd chained the man to the ceiling so he dangled around like a worm on a hook. He looked so helpless, sobbing and begging them to stop. Jungkook rubbed himself seeing the thick rod hit each appendage and split the skin open. He saw the hunger in Jin’s eyes as blood and bone began showing through. The pain must’ve woken their victim from his sleepy state, since he began groaning and crying out in each hit. Jin hit the vital areas he’d normally saw through when preparing the week’s supply. Jin then handed him the pipe. Jungkook swung at his torso like a pinata. He saw bruises forming where the skin didn’t break, and shuddered. Each hit was followed by a crack and a moan. The arousal inside him grew seeing the body sway and slowly succumb to the beating. He loved breaking them. It made him feel powerful in those brief minutes. It felt even better with Jin beside him.

However, he eventually grew tired, saying that the meat was tenderized enough, and stagehands took the man back to the table. Jungkook came to the table and immediately latched onto Jin at the side. He kissed Jin's long neck, leaving small hickies here and there, while he undid the man’s pants. He saw the hardness poking into the zipper and he wanted to see more. Jin, in the meantime, began working on their drowsy victim. He pressed a flaying knife to the shoulder, slowly working it off with steady hands. 

“

 chuck is good for pot roasts,” he said breathily. “We can share it tonight, if you like.” 

“Hm, pot roasts take a while,” Jungkook replied, putting his hand in Jin’s pants and stroking him lightly. Jin facing the body, it was hard to fully stroke him this way, but Jungkook liked that. “Yoongi prepared some spicy herb marinade for tomorrow.” 

“Strip steaks with noodles and kimchi?”

“Perfect,” he smiled, kissing Jin again. “But right now, I want something else.”

He tugged Jin’s pants to his thighs so his cock came free of his boxers. The audience called out vulgar comments seeing the pulsing muscle in Jungkook’s hand. He rubbed the leaking tip slowly as Jin finished breaking the last of the bone from the live body. Their victim’s howls of pain drowned out Jin’s deep groan. Jungkook could not resist. He wiped his hand onto the bloody table, then went back to stroking, using the blood as a lubricant for now. Jin coated his fingers in the sticky substance before sliding them into Jungkook's mouth. The guests could see everything due to the cameras on stage. They could see Jungkook slowly suck Jin’s bloody fingers; they could see his own cock pushing in his pants. 

“How about we take him out, huh?” Jin asked in a moan, licking leftover blood from his lips in their kiss. “I want to see all of you.”

Jungkook let go and Jin pulled down his pants. “Oh goodness,” he moaned, wrapping a hand around the shaft, “Look how nice it is. Not too long or thick. You’re fucking throbbing in my hand…” Jin kissed him hungrily, “I can’t wait to see what it looks like when cum is shooting out of it.” He then wiped blood from the body and started stroking him back. They both stood beside the dying body, locked in a passionate kiss as they felt each other. 

“Check out that ass too!” someone in the crowd said. 

“Let’s not forget that,” Jin told Jungkook, who whined as their pleasure mounted higher. “Ass is the best part, isn’t it? Especially this one.”

Jungkook nipped Jin’s neck, moaning when one hand started kneading his ass cheeks. Jin put more blood on his fingers and slid them over his entrance. “Jin…” he moaned, giving Jin’s cock a light squeeze, “Jin, oh my god, like that. Just like that.” He kissed him hard, tongues sliding over lips as they kissed. “Keep working. I like watching.”

Jin turned away, but Jungkook didn’t stop touching him. Both of them facing their victim again, who was barely holding on, Jin started in on the chest chuck pieces, which involved more skinning and separating bones. He stopped rubbing Jungkook’s ass hole and raging cock, but Jungkook could still feel the impression they left behind. Jungkook groaned in time with their victim’s cries; he made sure Jin heard them in his ear. The audience occasionally told Jin to pay attention to his aroused, needy boyfriend, and he did. He’d grab, squeeze and slap Jungkook’s firm ass; he’d spread his cheeks so they saw Jungkook’s tight hole. He’d hold Jungkook close to him, kissing slowly, as he slipped two fingers into him. Jungkook loved how those digits felt inside him; they gently stretched and filled him. Whenever Jin got close to the prostate inside, he’d retract and go back to working. Jungkook wanted his attention all to himself. 

He  sank to his knees, sliding underneath the table, and slid Jin’s tip in his mouth. Anyone sitting up front would be able to see him, which is what Jin wanted. A mixture of precum and metallic blood touched his tongue, and he swallowed eagerly. Jin stopped working, hands on the table as Jungkook rolled his tongue around the pulsating bulb. Smooth on his tongue, he had no trouble taking in each inch until it hit the back of his throat. Some people shouted they wanted a suck next, to which Jin responded:

“You’d end up in a stew!” 

He held Jin in his mouth and sucked tenderly, satisfied by Jin’s low groans. Jin ceased working, put a hand in Jungkook’s hair and pushed him closer to the base. Jungkook held onto his thighs as he focused on relaxing his throat. It felt good. It felt so good. Finally, his fantasies were coming true. He began bobbing his head up and down at a steady pace that awed Jin. Jungkook kept his eyes on Jin as he pleasured him; he wanted him to know how much he enjoyed this. When Jin brought him out from under the table, he gave Jungkook the opportunity to work on the body. He started splitting the rib cage when Jin knelt behind him. Jungkook jumped a bit when he felt Jin spread his bottom and lick between his cheeks. Jungkook’s surprised moan amused the audience in front of him. He could hardly concentrate on sawing the bones as Jin’s tongue rolled around his hole; he nearly stopped when he felt the tip prod him. His balls ached to be emptied, and Jin sensed this. He squeezed Jungkook’s base hard to keep it held back, then licked and teased his ass more. Swiping up blood on his fingers, Jin pushed them back inside and pumped slowly. 

“Jin…” he breathed, hunched over and gripping his butcher knife tightly, “Jin, fucking hell, you’re gonna make me...make me cum, oh my god.”

“Not yet, angel,” Jin said, planting kisses on each buttock. “Not yet. I haven’t fucked you properly.” 

He started pumping his fingers faster and deeper; he started stroking Jungkook in a way that drove him insane. “Keep working,” Jin told him, holding his fingers far inside Jungkook. “You’re not done. The organs are gonna spill out.” 

Jungkook withdrew the lungs and the heart into a metal dish by the table with shaky hands. He nearly dropped one when Jin’s fingers quickened their pace. Whenever Jungkook pushed into them, he’d stop and tell him to focus on work. The meat would go bad if he left it that way, he’d tell him. Jungkook’s knees trembled once Jin wiggled his fingers on his prostate. He thought he might burst right then if Jin did not stop. 

“Uh oh,” Taehyung said, trying to keep himself composed, “I think someone’s about to bust a nut right over that good meat.”

“I don’t think so,” Jin kissed up Jungkook’s crack to the small of his back, “Jungkook wouldn’t cum without being allowed. Right, angel?” 

“I...I-I-I, um ,uh, um, fuck...Jin, I can’t…”

“Yes, you can,” he cooed, withdrawing his fingers and standing up. “For me? Pretty please?”

“O-Okay.” 

“Good boy.” 

Jungkook’s hands ended up in the nearly hollowed carcass in front of them. Their victim had died ages ago, pale and lifeless on the bloody table. His fingers slid over the squishy muscles and flesh inside. The thick smell of blood filled his nose, but his senses nearly blocked them out. The desire built in the bottom of his groin. Jin pushed him forward and spread his legs with his thigh. He closed his eyes as Jin rubbed himself over his wet entrance. 

“Such a needy boy,” Jin chuckled seeing Jungkook push himself into the shaft for the tiniest bit of friction. “Isn’t he a needy boy, everyone?” the crowd agreed in cheers. “A dirty, needy, precious baby boy,” he bent to Jungkook’s ear and kissed the outer ridge, “You wanna be fucked now?” 

“Yes,” he whimpered. 

“I can’t hear you, angel. Do you want me to fuck you now?” 

“Yes.”

He dug himself to Jungkook, rutting his hips so that tip brushed on his hole, “Louder. Let them hear you.” 

“Yes! Yes, please! Please Jin, fuck me! Fuck me, fuck me, fuck me, please!” 

Something wet and cold spilled down his crack, then Jin spread it around. Carefully, Jin shoved himself into him. Jungkook smiled softly, feeling himself adjusting to Jin’s length. The eroticism of the moment; the sensual, passionate movements Jin made, felt almost unreal. He stayed still as Jin took him slowly. He kept himself close to Jungkook, muttering sweet words in his ear as they made love. Having Jin deep inside him brought them closer together. They felt like two flaps of skin finally knitting back together; they were two broken bones reconnecting after a clean break. Jungkook pushed his hips to Jin’s quicker, and Jin understood the message. Jin grunted in each thrust; the obscene, slapping sounds of their bodies coming together overtook the small stage. They completely forgot the people watching and shouting suggestions at them. 

“You feel so damn good,” Jin moaned to him, wiping blood over Jungkook’s’ mouth before sticking his fingers inside. Jungkook sucked off the blood and moaned around his fingers. “I wanna fuck you all night...people here or not…”

Jungkook stopped sucking, “And I have no complaints.”

Jin flipped him over on the table. Jungkook felt the blood seeping into the back of his shirt as he leaned on the body. His hand immediately gripped his cock and he stroked while Jin went back inside. The desperation to finish became too deep. He coated himself in thick blood and stroked rapidly. Jin matched the pace, holding Jungkook’s thighs up as he pounded him. Dipping his hand into the body under them, Jin smeared more blood on each of Jungkook’s nipples. The slippery substance made it easier to harden them, but it was Jin’s mouth that amplified his arousal. He licked all the blood from Jungkook’s chest before putting it on his neck and jaw. Jungkook began doing the same: he rubbed it over Jin’s shoulder before sucking it from his skin. To do something so erotic, so intimiate, made them feel closer than before. 

“Please let me cum, Jin,” he huffed in Jin’s ear, “Please let me cum. I can’t hold it anymore.”

“Yes, you can, angel,” he said, kissing and sucking blood from his neck. “You’re taking it so well. You’re doing such a good job. Just hold it a bit longer, okay?”

They continued kissing passionately, living in their blissful moment. Jungkook looked at the enthralled crowd. He noticed a few couples had given into their primal urges as well. One couple cleared off their table and fucked like animals on the table cloth. Another woman bounced in her partner’s lap, her head back in ecstasy. Jimin and Namjoon clearly weren’t immune to it either; he caught them disappearing behind a curtain at the last minute. Taehyung, cock in his hand, watched Jin and Jungkook. Then he caught sight of Jiyong at his usual table. 

“Look how horny you make people,” Jin said, kissing underneath his earlobe. “I bet he wishes he was me right now.”

Jungkook turned to him. Cheeks and neck flushed pink from heat and blood, lips swollen from hungry kisses, and eyes full of desire, Jungkook never saw someone so gorgeous in his life. He pulled Jin to him and they kissed. Their fingers intertwined together as Jin bottomed up into him a few more times. 

“Make him wish he was,” Jin said on his lips. “Make him wish he was making you cum.” 

He let go immediately. Jungkook arched back into the body, blood matting into his hair, as his orgasm exploded. Hot streams sprayed over his exposed, sticky stomach and chest; it hit on his chin, which Jin licked up right away. Every muscle in his body stiffened and contorted to the pleasure inside him. His climax guided his body around, and brought on a never ending flow of moans for Jin to hear. Jin’s shaking arms tried keeping him up over Jungkook, but he then stood straight and pulled himself out. Jungkook kept his mouth open as Jin jerked his wet cock over him. Only a shot or two made it, yet he savored it the way he did the blood and meat under them. Jin trembled and shuddered in each stroke, but he never kept his eyes off Jungkook. Their peaks came down together; the both of them relaxed from the tightness in their muscles. Anyone not in throws of passion clapped and whistled at them. 

“Did we just start a new thing?” Jungkook gave a breathy laugh. 

“Perhaps,” said Jin, kissing him. “I don’t mind if you don’t.”

“I don’t...as long as I can have you to myself after.”

“Of course,” he smiled and pecked his lips. 

He suddenly took in the stickiness of it all. Thank God the slaughterhouse had water hoses. When he finally slid off the table, the tiredness hit him. He looked forward to the steak and noodles Jin had promised, and getting to look at him even more. 

****

Jin’s Kitchen is still one of the best cannibal restaurants in the world. Serving the finest of choice meats, it has wowed critics and flesh-eaters everywhere. Being headed by the renowned chef, Kim Seokjin, the dishes at Jin’s Kitchen are unique, tender and astounding. However, this infamous chef has been  eclipsed by one another incredible cook: his own boyfriend and business partner, Jeon Jungkook. A true master of meats, the young chef could turn any slab of flesh into a work of art. Of course, the artistic duo remained humble. Serving their guests the best dishes is their mission and cooking is their passion. 

‘We love doing what we do,’ said Jeon, ‘And we love doing it together.’ 

You can still catch the chefs working at Jin’s Kitchen every night. Stop by for a plate and a good show.’ 

#thebtswritersclub #bangtanarmynet #kwritersworldnet #thetruthuntoldnet #bangtanfairygarden #bangtanidx #bts #jeon jungkook #kim seokjin #jungkook smut #bts smut #bts jungkook #bts jin #jinkook #jinkook smut #jin x jungkook #jungkook x jin #btswritingbingo

[oftenderweapons]

Down the Rabbit Hole | KNJ

Pairing: Namjoon x reader (Mia)

Wordcount: 11.5k

Genre: smut, bdsm!au, strangers to… fwb? !au

Rating: 18+ Minors, please do not read or interact.

Synopsis: Mia has always been an observer at The Rabbit Hole, mostly because she felt a bit too cautious about getting her hands dirty. But once curiosity starts nipping at her she starts wondering, what would it be like to actually try all the things she’s been studying? Well, someone is willing to help her through it.

Warnings: obviously, BDSM themes, procede with caution. Negotiation of a BDSM scene, pleasure dom!Joon, sub!reader, brat!reader, camgirl!reader, mentions of sex work, voyeurism, exhibitionism, strip tease (sort of), making out, masturbation (mutual m.), unprotected oral sex (male and female receiving), cumplay, unprotected vaginal sex, overstimulation, post sex blues (dom drop). General emotional vulnerability, beware. Also, watch out for Jeonggukie HEHE (*collar and leash enter the convo*)

Thanking @joheunsaram and @nervous-moon for always tolerating my emotional sh!t lol 💖

Here you can find my masterlist!

Enjoy ✨💜

It wasn’t your first time at the Rabbit Hole, but it wasn’t like you’d been there that often. You’d been an observer, but always a shy one, always hidden behind a strategically placed one-way glass: the people performing behind it knew they had an audience, but maybe weren’t that comfortable with it being too overt. Or maybe it was meant for people who liked the idea of watching without being watched in return. 

Now you were standing in the middle of the foyer, filling in your papers for the first time beyond that “voyeurism only” box. 

Your hands were sweaty and you kept nervously pushing your hair back as you tried to understand whether any of the boxes you were ticking could actually be pleasant to you. 

Your entire paper was a list of “maybe”, with the only exceptions being those related to voyeurism and exhibitionism. You knew you liked being watched, but you weren’t yet comfortable about performing in front of real people. 

You twirled a lock of your hair between your fingers, going back and forth over it. 

Orgasm control?

Orgasm denial? 

Overstimulation? 

You frowned. What if what you’d tried by yourself wasn’t half as pleasant with someone else in the equation?

Your perplexities grew until you just crossed all the maybes left and slipped the papers into the box. 

As you went back to the garden you grabbed a flûte of champagne and found a comfortable corner to stand in. You looked around, a few eyes meeting yours and nodding in acknowledgement. 

You nodded in return, always polite. You tried not to think if they’d ever seen you — without knowing, of course. 

You recognised a couple faces from a few scenes you’d watched, smiling at a bubbly brunette man with a heart shaped grin. 

He bowed his head at you before winking. 

You shook your head and looked away. Kim Taehyung, you mused, remembering how he’d been a voyeur together with you during one scene. 

Two men followed him, one on an elegant leash, the other wearing a leather corset that cinched his waist and left his chest bare. 

You met both their gazes and bowed your head, the pet averting his eyes and his owner tugging at the leash gently, pulling him to a stop. 

They walked towards you and you noticed the pet’s silver bell hanging from his collar. You also noticed how insanely pretty he looked. 

“Good evening, miss,” the dark haired man said. “Such a shame to see someone left all alone over here.”

Your smile was a little tight. “Oh, it’s fine. I was just going through a quick assessment of the crowd.” You shrugged and tried not to let all your embarrassment and discomfort show. “It’s my first time being an active participant tonight, so I’m having a bit of cold feet.” Your giggle showed perfectly how nervous you were. 

The pet looked at his owner for a quick second, apparently waiting for permission to speak. The man gave him a curt nod and the smaller, angelic-looking creature spoke. His voice was the most soothing sound you ever heard. “It’s perfectly normal to be nervous. I’m sure you’ll be assigned to someone who can diligently care for you.” The smile he offered his partner showed just how much trust ran between them. “I was assigned to Jeongguk months ago and the match was tailored to my needs so thoroughly that all the nerves melted away once I was with him.”

Jeongguk smiled at his partner with the most gentle gleam in his eyes. “It’s because it feels natural to take care of you. You make it too easy, my love.” He skimmed his lover’s cheek with the back of his hand and the pet closed his eyes and leaned in in gratitude. 

You softened at the exchange, hoping that just like them you’d be eased into a caring person’s arms. You hoped they had all the abilities to slither in your mind and untangle all the years of doubts and uncertainties and curiosities. You hoped for firm hands and tender guidance, for open-mindedness and intelligence — in its most etymological sense, that of being able to read inside things. 

“Anyway, I’m sure you’ll be assigned to someone patient and trained to work with newbies,” Jeongguk’s smile reminded you of hot chocolate and marshmallows. 

“I hope so. I would feel so disappointed if I ruined someone’s night.” You averted your gaze as you overtly spoke your sharpest fear.

“There’s no chance of that happening. Anyone would feel honoured to have you in their bed, or wherever you enjoy your endeavours best.” Jeongguk’s tentative innuendo made your insides flutter a little as heat pleasantly crept to your cheeks. 

“Trust me, I’ll do anything in my power to please them.” Your eyes were steady as you stated your intent with surety. That was the only thing you were one hundred percent adamant about. 

“And that is why you’ll be fine,” Jeongguk reassured you, bowing a little as he noticed the so-called master of the revels come out of his rooms. “I believe the time for doubts is over, miss. We’re getting started.”

The silver bell announced the assignments being completed. You inhaled and exhaled deeply, nodding at the two men before you. “I guess so. Enjoy your debauchery, dears.”

“You as well, darling,” the blonde replied, his face so soft and perfect, his eyes so sultry and sweet at the same time. 

Jeongguk looked at his partner before tugging at the leash suggestively. “Let’s go, kitty.”

And they left. 

You had to wait a couple minutes before your number was called and you were informed about your room. Nervous didn’t even begin to cover how you felt as you knocked at the door, waiting expectantly. 

Nobody answered for a very long minute. 

You grew even more tense as you knocked harder — maybe they hadn’t heard?

A few steps came from the opposite side of the door and it opened. “Yes?” 

You were frozen there. 

And the man in front of you froze too. He blinked rapidly twice. “Hello.”

“Hi, I’m Mia, I think I was assigned to you.”

“Mia, yes. Hello.” He smiled and dammit, a dimple appeared at his cheek. “I’m Namjoon. Lovely to meet you.” He stretched his hand forward and you stared at it for a couple — very rapid — heartbeats. Then you caught his palm in yours. 

His hand was warm, just a little bit sweaty — which was reassuring because he had to be nervous too, after all — and his grip was solid but not aggressive or painful. 

It was just perfectly tight. He seemed steady and reliable. The fact that his attire also gave him a grown-up, mature look contributed to you smiling at him shyly as you said, “Likewise.”

He let go of your hand and took a step aside, his body language inviting you in the room as he spread his arm and drew a half circle before him. “Sorry if I made you wait, I was reading your papers.”

His face looked relaxed as he got comfortable on a chaise far from the feet of the bed. 

“I’m having a cup of tea, would you like me to order some for you, something to drink?” His stare was aimed at you, waiting for your reply. 

“No, I’m fine, thank you.” You sat at the chair matching his on the opposite side of a low table. 

He put down the paper and took hold of his mug. “Would you like some time to read my paper or would you rather we get to know each other in a… chattier, more spontaneous way?”

You were caught just slightly off guard by his proposition, so you needed a few seconds to catch up. “Uhm, I don’t know, it’s my first time.” God, you felt so dumb.

“That’s okay, sweetheart.” He chuckled warmly before he startled. “Oh, are you okay with that nickname?”

Your chest felt a shy heat climb to the surface. “It’s lovely.”

You watched a fraction of tension leave his body. “Excellent. Would you like me to take the lead? I sort of assumed you’d prefer so.” He sucked his lips, probably referring to you being on the less dominant side — or so you thought you were.

“Sure. I’m pretty much exploring, therefore I think it would be more efficient if we headed where you’re more interested to go.”

He nodded in acknowledgement, staring straight ahead before he made eye contact with you and you felt the gaze of a professional inquirer starting to rummage through your cues, both physical and verbal. “Well… You mentioned having several experiences as a voyeur. What brought you to enter the games as a participant?”

He observed your fingers as you fiddled with them on your lap. 

“I’ve seen many, many things in the last few months. They look nice on other people, but I’m wondering whether they would work on me.” You shrugged with one shoulder. “I guess I’m a quintessentially curious being.”

He nodded appreciatively. “I’m certain this trait of yours will be greatly rewarded throughout your life.” The way his eyes were once more piercing through your face got you on edge again. You felt electric. “And why explore now, why here?”

Your embarrassed giggle gave away too much for you to lie or omit and save some crumbs of dignity. “I’ve never had someone I was free to experiment with. None of my previous partners made me feel safe enough for me to… unravel, I guess. And here I feel like I’m doing things for myself, rather than for the other person — or people. Also, the fact that we’re matched because the other person has similar interests to our own makes it more… I don’t know. It makes me feel like I don’t have to be the person my partner has imagined me to be.”

Namjoon nodded again, looked away and stayed silent as he had one more sip of tea. You could tell he was thinking, but the silence made you nervous anyway. What if he thought you were strange, or difficult or messed up or—

“Expectations can sadly form a cage that makes us uncomfortable even around those who should make us the most at ease.” He arched an eyebrow and pointed his sharp gaze on your eyes. “And before we start forming cages ourselves, I guess I must tell you something, Mia.”

Your eyebrows arched in surprise. “Sure.”

“I believe I’ve seen you before.” He blinked slowly. “I’m quite the voyeur myself,” he said, shifting in the chair to make himself more comfortable. The shift in position also managed to make him look bigger and more authoritative in the process. “Please, correct me if I’m mistaken, but is it possible that you own a channel for adult content called White Lies?”

You froze. There had been a couple stares that made you wonder whether you’d ever been recognised, but you rarely showing your face on your videos and always wearing a mask when there could be slip-ups had to have protected you in most occasions. Still… “How did you…?”

When you didn’t finish your question and let the silence linger, Namjoon realised you were going to let it hang like that. So he stepped in. “Your voice and the moles on the side of your neck.” He hesitated. “The shape of your lips, too.”

You knew your entire body and to be glowing with heat. “I’m so sorry.”

“No, I’m the sorry one.” He stood up. “I’m genuinely appalled I put you in this position. You can leave, if you’d like. Or I can. Whatever suits you best.” He took several steps away from you, making sure he wasn’t even possibly remotely invading your personal space. 

“It’s… Why would you leave?” You asked, perplexed. 

“You seemed uncomfortable and I realised that some people might prefer these kinds of affairs to stay unspoken. I know nothing of you and your preferences and I should have approached the matter more tactfully.”

You shook your head. You had managed to make the sweet man before you panic and you felt so uncomfortable with yourself. You huffed out a stressed breath and tried to explain how you were feeling. “That’s… That’s not… I don’t really care about that, Namjoon. It’s just that it’s the first time someone has addressed the topic with me. If I’ve ever been recognised, no one ever confronted me about it.” You stood and took a step toward him, showing through your body language that he needn’t be so formal around you. 

“It’s the first time I’m one hundred percent sure the person in front of me had watched me—” you searched for the right wording, “engage in sexual acts.”

His eyes met yours fugaciously. It was brief and shameful. “I wanted you to know this. I felt like the field was uneven. Like you were fighting up from downhill while I sat on top of the hill.”

You found the analogy amusing, but you left that for later. “Then thank you for evening the field.” Your smile was kind, hopefully reassuring. “You watch my content?”

He nodded, arching an eyebrow and sucking his cheek. “I do.”

“And you’re here,” you mused, scrutinising his frame. He looked solid, large, well-built. And he oozed a specific brand of charisma that must have made plenty of people swoon around him, eager to throw themselves at him.

“As you said, it’s not easy to deal with expectations.” His eyes held something sardonically ironic, but also charmingly dark. “I quite project the Prince Charming, but I reckon my tastes greatly differ.”

Your eyebrows arched upwards. You were immensely interested, but firstly you replied, “You’ve seen what I do. It’s not something my partners would have been expecting either.” You cocked your head to the side, now being your turn to ask questions. “Now I’m curious, what is it that your tastes request?”

His eyes skated down your curves. “Plenty of things you’ve shown enjoying.”

“Which entails…?”

“Which entails watching someone put on a show for me. Lingerie. Lap dances. Jewel toys. A thoroughly tailor-made eye candy with the brain of a nympho. Someone willing to explore. Someone playfully obedient. Someone who can discuss the history of visual design while a vibrator is making them cum non stop — yes, that one is a personal favourite, Doll.”

You licked your lips and undid the first button of your dress. 

Namjoon stared at the small triangle of skin that emerged, then he focused on your face again. 

“Did we ever interact through video?”

“No.” His reply was brief but not rude, probably cut short by the fact that one more button had come undone. 

“That’s a shame.” You didn’t know what you were doing. It’s not like you usually were  the initiator. “I believe we would have had plenty of fun together. I’m eager to please and it seems like you’re pleased by unspeakably erotic acts.”

“If only you knew, Mia.” He followed the movements of your hands with hawk eyes as you moved to the third button. 

He stepped forward harshly and caught your hands. “I believe that’s my job, Doll.”

You licked your lips, suddenly void of moisture. “Then you should see to it getting done.” His hands weren’t clammy this time, they were steady and inescapable. 

“Are you sure, Mia?”

“Never been surer.” And it was true. He had seen you behind closed doors. He had read your papers, he’d been considerate and he’d been open. Maybe you were the worst judge of character, but from his looks and the twenty minutes or so you had spent together, you were sure you wouldn’t regret baring yourself to him. 

He undid one more button, the lace of your bra starting to emerge.

“Do you like what you usually do for the camera?” He asked, looking at the row of buttons in a way that made it easier for you to speak. 

“There are some things I like more.”

“I want to know all of them.” And once more his intense gaze was pinning your own. “Tell me.”

“I liked the thing you mentioned earlier, with the vibrator.”

“You do have a bunch of videos like that.” He lowered himself, kneeling before you as he reached the buttons on your pelvis. “What else?”

You shook your head, one more button coming undone, Namjoon focused on the tiny bead before he realised you had been silent for too long. He angled his face towards you, scrutinising your visage. “Am I making you uncomfortable?” 

You shook your head and smiled sweetly, endeared by the way he was so careful with you. “Not at all.” You felt your lips curl into a pout. “It's just that… I guess I know what I like when I'm alone, but with another person, a man… I'm not experienced enough.” 

His fingers trembled slightly as he undid the button before your navel. He hesitantly let his digits trace the shape of your waist, his touch so light it caused goosebumps to erupt on your skin, making you shudder. 

He removed his hands quickly, but you caught his wrists and brought his hands back to your waistline, this time making his palms fully connect with your body. 

“How much experience do you have, precisely?” His voice was so delicate, so quiet, and so deep. 

You wanted to feel it against your neck. You also wished your dress was already on the floor, you wished his hands were bare on your bare skin, but the viscose was still opposing a smooth barrier between the two of you. 

“I did some foreplay once, when I was in college.” You shrugged. “And then I dated mostly girls. I'm not… Let's say it's been a while since I've interacted with a penis in real life, and then again, I only touched one, maybe three times, that's all.”

Namjoon inhaled and held his breath. “That's all? Are you sure?” He asked, realising how it sounded only once he read the look on your face. “God, that sounded rude. It just feels bizarre that someone… That what you did— What you do… With White Lies… And then you don't—” He rose to his feet, eager to have this conversation face to face. 

“I'm not celibate, Namjoon. I'm familiar with silicone and glass dicks, it's just that the flesh ones attached to human beings are usually too confusing. Too many emotions, sensations, too much subtext. Intimacy is complex, and I focus on it too much to enjoy the sex. Not to mention it usually sucks to find a good personality, an open mind and an understanding soul attached to the dick.” 

He arched an eyebrow and nodded to himself. His palms shifted to the small of your back. “It makes sense.” He lifted his hands off, leaving only the fingertips of his middle fingers tracing patterns so light it almost felt like you were imagining them. “So you know what you like by yourself, but you wouldn't know what you enjoy with a man, since you've never tried anything, except from what you did three times in college — which is around five years ago, if I'm assuming correctly.”

“Four,” you corrected him. “But yes, you're correct.”

“What did you do? Did you like it?” 

“Uhm… A couple handjobs, maybe a blowjob, sort of. It was all very… I was too focused on trying to do it right to understand whether I was enjoying it.” You took a step closer to him, Namjoon inhaling sharply as you did so, taking in your perfume. 

You did so too, his cologne invading your senses. It smelled clean and light, just right. “I just want to try everything I cannot do by myself. I want to know how different a real dick feels, I want to feel how it's really like to be fucked by a man. I want to feel a man orgasm in my hands, if it feels as powerful as it seems when you watch it happen. I want to trace my nails against a man's strong torso while I ride his dick. I want to feel hands that are not my own gripping my boobs, grabbing my ass, sinking into my thighs.”

His eyes burned into yours. “You want to feel a real dick, you say,” he mused. “Can do.” And he lowered himself once more to his knees. 

You expected a different reaction and he seemed to read the confusion on your face.  

“Patience, Doll. I'll give it to you, just not yet. There's no fun in skipping bases.” You would have defined his expression as gluttonous as he pulled you closer and pressed his lips to your stomach. 

Tentatively, he pressed his wrists to the small of your back, slowly lowering his hands to touch the upper curve of your glutes. “You can stop me at any time, Doll. I'll slow down and check in on you at 'yellow', stop at 'red'.” 

“I know how it works, don't worry,” you spoke calmly, reassuring him. 

“Good.” His hands moved back to your front, finally addressing the last few buttons left. 

The first uncovered the waistband of your panties, the following one exposed the lace-clad skin of your mound to his warm breath, which trembled softly as Namjoon exhaled. 

He looked up at you, his lips agape, then traced the little bow on the front of your panties with the tip of his nose, his mouth skimming skin that no one had touched in so long. 

“I bet you can't touch yourself like this, mh?” He murmured, his tone so dark and lush it felt like diving in molten chocolate. “I bet you're too impatient to touch yourself like this.” He undid another button while his face still lingered one breath away from your navel. “Feel it, Doll.”

And suddenly your dress was open, agape on your lingerie-clad figure. 

“Focus on it,” he teased. 

His hands landed like butterflies on the side of your knees, below the hem of your dress, then traced your calves, all the way to your ankles. “As lovely as you look in these heels, I don't think you're gonna need them in a long while, Mia. You need to go anywhere, you'll do so in my arms. Lean on me, sweetheart,” he invited you kindly, with a type of surety that didn't make you doubt his intentions. He was okay with you doing so, and that's why he had told you to do it. You were fine with it. 

Your hand landed on his shoulder and that was it: your entire being was pervaded by the utter power he exuded. He felt as solid as he seemed. 

You lifted your foot to help him take off your shoe, then you did the same with the other side. 

His hand went back to your knee, his eye studying it until he traced a little scar there with his thumb. He kissed it next. “What happened there, sweetheart?” 

You wiggled your toes, suddenly nervous at the way he was seducing you with little touches and the kind of attention you'd never received before. It was like he was learning you. In maybe forty minutes he had done a better job at understanding you than most people in your everyday life. 

“I fell while ice skating. Back in high school.”

He kissed it again, this time more sensually, his lips softer and wetter. “It must have been a nasty cut for it to leave such a scar.” 

“It was.” You reached for his hair, touching it lightly, almost scared to startle him. 

He looked up at you. 

You smiled at him and his face lit up in what looked like wonder before he smiled back at you. 

“Come here,” you instructed him, tracing the slopes of his shoulders on the way to his neck, your fingers touching his nape, pulling up a little as a cue. 

Instead he just closed his eyes and sighed. “I like my neck being touched,” he said, letting the muscles relax as his head tipped back, exposing the glorious column of his throat. 

You studied it with your eyes before feeling it with the tips of your thumbs. “So convenient that it looks so sexy.” He purred at the compliment and you felt the sound vibrate beneath your digits. “And it feels pretty amazing that you're kneeling, but if you come up here I could kiss your neck and that sounds even more amazing in my humble opinion.”

He opened his eyes lazily, smiled and stood slowly. “It's nice having a neck to kiss, mh?” 

“It's nice having someone to kiss it, mh?” You teased in return. 

His little chuckle made your inside flutters, especially as now he was towering over you and his hands were once more resting on your butt. “I can't see why you're still talking and not kissing.” He argued back cockily. 

You stretched to your tiptoes and managed to reach his collarbone.

And then you felt it. He arched his hips forward, his pelvis suddenly pressed against your belly. It stole your breath. 

He had to be damn hung if you could feel his erection so blatantly against you. “You wanted to feel a real dick, right?” His voice rumbled so close to your ear. 

“Yeah… Yes, I did. I do.” Words weren't easy to find. You were stuttering, distracted, your mind so frail. 

He cackled, half mocking, half pleased. His hands shamelessly pressed you further into him, cupping your ass harshly needily. “I remember a request for your butt to be grabbed, or something along that line. Do you like it harder?” 

There was only one hard thing you could possibly be focusing on. 

Actually two, since breathing wasn't exactly an easy task either at the moment. 

“You're hard enough, I guess.” 

“I could go harder,” he said, lowering his mouth to your ear. “But let's focus on your butt and the grabbing for now. Am I too rough, Mia?” 

“No,” you exhaled. “You're just perfect.” And it was bloody true. 

“Excellent.” He took half a minuscule step back, giving your backside a final squeeze before he removed the tension altogether, his hands just resting there. “I think it's my turn to be undressed. What do you say, Doll?” 

You licked your lips, realising you were both tiptoeing around the way your mouth and his felt like magnets, gravitating closer and closer to each other, feeling that dangerous, numbing pull that made it too easy to forget you were technically strangers. 

Your hands found the button at his collar and you gave him a little reprieve by focusing on his shirt rather than on his face — or on the undeniable, unforgettable bulge below his belt. 

On your tiptoes, you kissed the sliver of newly uncovered skin. It was hesitant, and you didn’t know if it affected him just as much as his kisses had affected you. His hum however was an effective cue, and you repeated the gesture as the following button came undone, all the way down until the garment rested open on his torso and you could slip your hand inside the lapels to touch his sturdy abdomen. 

It had a little give against your hands, but it was undeniable the muscles underneath were trained and strong, even though they rested under a layer of soft flesh.

You were ready to push the shirt off when he stopped you and offered his cuff. “Undo this one, please.”

You frowned but undid the button there too, looking into his eyes as he offered the other wrist. One more button undone. 

“Any more buttons to undo?”

He turned his back to you and walked to his chaise. “Don’t give me sass, Mia.” And he sat. Rolled up his sleeves — the left one first, the right one second. 

Good lord, his forearms were corded in muscles. 

He caught you gawking and chuckled at you, shaking his head. “Come stand in front of me, sweetheart.”

You tried to bring some moisture to your mouth, following his request and finding yourself once more under his meticulous scrutiny. 

He let his torso fill the back of the chair, almost flaring as he grabbed his cup of tea and took a sip. He looked so… large, just large. Massive. And you knew he wasn’t all that muscular or tall or bulky compared to some of the guys you had seen, but his demeanour managed to make up for what he lacked — if he could ever be considered lacking, that is — in sheer confidence. It was true dominance, the one that comes from knowledge and honed skills and talent. Nature had gifted him prodigally and he’d worked on his gift diligently. 

So when he said, “Put on a pretty show for me, sweetheart”, it came natural for you to drop your dress to the floor and stand before him in your sage coloured lingerie.

“I love the colour, Mia. It compliments you deliciously.”

You felt heat creep to your cheeks and at the same time spread to your inner thighs. “Thank you.”

“My pleasure, sweetheart.” He grinned. “You have no idea how much.”

You licked your lips and stared at his lap. “I guess I do.”

If you weren’t a grown up woman with an extended porn library, you would have dropped your panties at the smirk he threw you. 

“Be patient, doll.” He put down his cup and leaned with his elbows to his knees, his chin propped on his laced fingers. “Show me how much it pleases you, then.”

Was that… Was it…?

He noticed your confusion and cocked his head to the side. “Did I say something wrong? Was I inappropriate?”

You shook your head, eager to reassure him he was being fine — by far the finest experience you’d had ever, actually. “No, I was just confused. I don’t know what you’re expecting, that’s all.” 

He stared transfixed at the sweet smile on your face, blinked at it as if you were an unsolvable equation. “I’m not expecting anything, Mia.” He rubbed his eyes with his thumb and index before pinching the bridge of his nose. He exhaled and relaxed once more against the chair. 

Had you stressed him? God, you were being impossible. Men came here to bring their basest fantasies to reality while you were being a vanilla little prude and he was paying all that money to deal with nothing but a disappointment. He just wanted to unwind and yet you were making him frown and get blue balls. 

Your arms furled before you, your body suddenly too exposed. 

“Mia,” he called, watching your forearm cover your chest, your wrist resting protectively over your lap. “Oh, god, Mia.” He shook his head. 

“I’m sorry.”

“No, sweetheart. Come here, please.” He stretched his arms forward and you took an hesitant step toward him. “Come, doll. Sit on my lap, would you like that?”

You thought about it, blinking repeatedly, biting your lip in an expression which must have recalled something of a scolded puppy. “I’m sorry I’m disappointing you,” you said, your voice betraying all your insecurities.

“You aren’t, doll.” His voice was so calm and tender. “I’m trying to play your game, here, Mia. I want to make you comfortable, I want to watch you do everything you like.” He shook his head. “I just realised I have no idea about it, I’m biased by what I watched on your channel. I want to be your fantasy, Mia, but I have no idea what you would like that to be.”

You realised that, at that point, sitting on his lap was as soothing to you as it was to him, so you walked the last step to him and got comfortable in his arms. “I don’t think I have a fantasy either. I just focus on the camera half the time. The other half I watch myself and ask if I’m similar enough to what men want to see.”

“Fuck it, doll. That sounds awful, Mia.” His arms wrapped around you. “What about your own pleasure, sweetheart? What about what you want?”

You shook your head and frowned. “I guess I’ve never thought about it, really. It doesn’t feel like a priority.”

“Well, we’ll make it the priority tonight.” Namjoon cupped your cheek and pressed his forehead to yours. “That’s my priority, now.”

“But what about your fantasies?”

He smiled and shook his head, his nose rubbing against yours in the process. “I guess we’ll have to postpone that to our next encounter, what do you think? Would you like it so, sweetheart?”

Next encounter? “You haven’t done anything with me and you already want to see me again? What if we don’t click or… I don’t know, maybe you don’t like me?”

“I wouldn’t have undressed you if I didn’t like you, Mia.” His thumb rubbed your cheek in comfort. “And the last hour or so would have never happened, doll.”

You were caught off guard entirely. “My pleasure this time, your pleasure next time, you were saying.” You tried to bring your brain to recap. 

“Yes sweetheart, but if you don’t want a next time—”

“I do,” you clarified abruptly. “As long as it works, for both of us, this time.” You nodded, trying to form an overall thought of the entire situation. 

His eyes were diving into yours. “I’ve got you, Mia. My kink is giving pleasure to my partner until they can’t stand it anymore.”

You stilled at his admission. 

“When I saw your papers all I saw in those 'maybes' was how many ways I could try to make you come undone until tears streamed down your face and your body was so exhausted it needed me to pamper it back into functioning.” He licked his lips and swallowed, trying to control himself, apparently. “When I tell you to put up a show for me, doll, I’m trying to bring you to your most familiar scenario. I’m trying to enjoy you feeling yourself.”

Where did this man come from? How did the universe, and society shape such a treat to womankind? 

Your face formed a helpless expression as you found no possible answer. You just leaned forward and placed your lips against his cheek. “Thank you so much.”

He looked at you as you leaned back, his hand still holding your face. “No biggie, doll. But please, don’t ever cover up in front of me. It broke my heart to see you close off.”

You pouted your lips and nodded. “I won’t.”

“Good.” He simply stared at you in silence and you could feel a faint bond form between the two of you.

“Can I please put on a show for you now?” You asked in a voice so tiny you doubted it had actually come from you.

He eyed you suspiciously, as if assessing your well-being. “Is that what pleases you, doll?”

“Yes.” 

“Then that’s what we’re doing, lovely.” His hand steadied you on your feet and you took some steps back, reaching the feet of the bed and climbing it, plopping your ass down on the balls of your feet as your arm reached back, to the clasp of your bra. 

You felt the pressure ease as you snapped it open and slipped it off. 

You allowed yourself a quick glance at Namjoon, finding him once more leaning forward, studying your every move. 

You grinned and threw your bra at him. 

His dark chuckle made your insides feel like uncorked champagne. 

You rose to your knees and let your hands trace the back of your thighs before grabbing your ass, kneading it slowly and thoroughly before you gave it a playful slap that made him hiss and groan. 

“That sounded pretty good on you, mh?” You teased him. 

“The noise was amazing. And that jiggle… Looks exquisite, doll.”

“Don’t you wanna feel it under your hands?”

He tutted. “Later.” He waited for half a second. What were you going to do? Were you going to touch yourself? He hoped so. He was aching for you to do so.

You turned around and this time you weren’t afraid to bare yourself to him. Your boobs looked tender and full even three feet away from where you were sitting, Namjoon praying he would someday get to sink his face between them. 

“What do you want to do now?” You asked him, your hands cupping your breasts, your thumbs massaging your nipples, a chill crossing the room and causing them to peak almost painfully. 

“Watch you.”

“You can watch me while you spank me, you know.” Your eyes twinkled. “But maybe you don’t want to.”

“I want to, doll.” He wanted you to command yourself, but at this point he assumed from your requests you needed to be directed. And before acting on his assumption, he asked, “Do you need me to tell you what to do, Mia? Do you need guidance, sweetheart?”

No hesitation. “Please,” you replied as soon as the question left his lips. 

“I’ll leave you room to act around my requests, okay? I don’t want you to feel forced into things that make you uncomfortable, yes?” His tone would have been patronising if it weren’t for the way he empowered you constantly, leaving you ins and outs of things.

“Okay. And I’ll tell you if anything makes me uncomfortable, if that makes you more at ease.”

“You’re such a sweetheart. Thank you, doll.” His grin was thankful and playful at the same time. “Would you like to touch yourself for me, Mia? Make yourself come for me?”

You nodded. That you could do, that you would do. That you knew you could manage. “In which position?”

He shook his head with an incredulous smile. “Whichever you like best, lovely.”

“Can I look at you while I do it?”

“I really hope you do, baby.”

God, his voice was like honey and you were a restless busy bee trying to get as much as you could. “Panties off?”

“You want them off, they’re off, doll. Anything you like. I’m here to watch, everything is up to you.”

So you grabbed some pillows, fluffed them up in the middle of the bed, then laid down, your torso propped on the pillow, your legs bent as you lifted your hips and slipped off your panties. And spread your legs. 

Namjoons felt ravenous “Closer, doll.”

You bent your legs further and brought your ass closer to the edge of the bed. “Like this?”

You heard the chair scrape against the floor, but he didn’t come too close, some respectable two feet left between the two of you. 

You looked into his eyes as you brought your middle and ring finger to your mouth and soaked them in your saliva. And then moved them to your folds. 

You immediately realised the extra lubrication was useful but unnecessary. You were soaked. 

“Is it wet, Mia?”

You grinned. “Dripping.”

“Would you taste yourself for me, pet?” His saccharine smile made him undeniable. 

You sunk your digits inside your hole, stretched yourself and purred — just for his hearing pleasure — before extracting your fingers, teasing your clitoris with sadistic intent, making him wait, and then bringing your hand to your mouth, delivering a kitten lick to the moisture coating your fingertips. 

“Fucking sin you are, Mia,” he groaned, palming his crotch as he fixed his erection inside his pants. 

“Can you believe it? I’m the sweetest,” you provoked him with a coquettish look. 

He bit his lip. “Never doubted it, doll.”

“Am I making you hard?” You asked, a bit needy.

“You’re hitting all the right spots, sweetheart. You don’t realise the effect you have on people, Mia. The effect you have on me.” His hands rubbed his thighs as he tried to focus, but your fingers were drawing torturous circles on your core and the fact that your pussy was perfectly shaved and he could see how pink it was, how wet, the fact that he could hear the sound of it squelching as it welcomed your fingers — just two girly, lithe fingers, a ridicule comparison to his dick… 

He was pretty sure the world could end and his only regret was not meeting you sooner enough to have a taste of you — and maybe fuck you for at least five years or so.

“Can I come?” The question came naturally, like it always did whenever you live streamed for your audience. But this time the audience was just one person, who happened to be very sure about the answer. 

“Of course you can, anytime you want for however many times you fancy, doll.” He forced himself to lean back, only because the pressure gathered at his lap was hurting him. He needed more room. 

“Can I ask for a… an encouragement, so to say? Visual aid…”

Namjoon’s eyes darted to yours like arrows. “Anything.”

“Your shirt. Off.”

He grinned. “That’s easy.” And off it went. And then, there was his chest, all of it. And there were his hands touching it, rubbing it, stroking it. There were his fingers wrapping around the base of his neck as you got louder, as your hips started rocking back and forth, as they lifted off the mattress and suddenly you were riding your high, eager, hungry, desperate, calling his name just once. 

“Yes, baby. It’s me. It’s all for me,” he growled possessively, his eyes never leaving your wrecked body while his hand headed south and cupped his crotch, his own hips rocking against his hand as suddenly he couldn’t postpone his release anymore. “You look so beautiful, Mia. You’re an erotic epiphany, doll. A fucking revelation.”And he said it with such wonder in his voice you wanted to give him more, you wanted to give him everything. You wanted to show him everything you could and would do for him. 

With your fingers still inside you, you rose to your knees, feeling your breast starting to bounce as you moved your digits to your clitoris and started working your hips in tandem to the rhythm of your hand. You sat on your heels and spread your thighs as far as they could go before you lightly tapped your breast with your free hand. “Touch yourself, Namjoon. I want to see you jerk yourself off. I want to see how easy you come while watching me.”

With his shirt off it was even easier to notice his breathing catch in his throat before he drew out a shuddering exhale. “Sure?”

“Yes.” And as a further eye candy you wrapped your forearm around your chest to squish up your breasts, their plumpness emphasised just as their wiggling. “I want to see your dick, Namjoon. And I know it’s big, which makes me even more needy.”

“It’s regular sized,” he said, trying to defend himself sheepishly. 

“I don’t wanna fight about the size of your dick, just take it out and let me see it.”

He arched his eyebrows. “Pretty demanding, don’t you think?”

“Pick your poison, handsome,” you replied sassily. 

He looked pleasantly surprised but he didn’t complain as he quickly undid his belt, his button and the zipper, pushing his hand inside his underwear and helping his erection out of its restraints. 

It was thick. That was the first thing you thought. So thick it would probably take you four fingers to get ready for that. Probably fucking yourself with a dildo first and then ambitiously try to take him was the only way for it to work.

“How the hell do you fuck with that?” You asked, slowing down as you watched him move his hand on himself. 

He shrugged. “Plenty of lube, plenty of patience, and plenty of foreplay. Nothing I would complain about, but I would prefer having a smaller one.”

It was so… The length was manageable, but the width… Dammit, you could see the veins pulsating from two feet away. 

He frowned at the dryness of his hand and tucked himself back in quickly as he stood up. 

“No, why!” You cried, watching him walk to the bedside drawer and fish out a bottle. He showed it to you. “Oh. Sorry, that’s okay,” you commented, trying not to show how much the sight of him had been a delight to you. 

Once back to the comfort of his chair, he unwrapped himself again and poured some lube on his palm, closing the bottle and putting it down before warming the liquid by rubbing his hands together. 

You didn’t know where to look as his palms went separate ways, one landing on his chest, the other wrapping around the tip of his erection. 

You moaned at the sight: his chest bare and now glistening with lubrication, his fingers wrapped around his throat, rubbing there, his hips starting to push into his hands as he fucked his fist slowly, intentfully, and his head thrown back as he growled in pleasure, the sound so raw it made your toes curl.

Once he managed enough self control to re-establish eye contact with you, you were both so feral with pleasure that each movement caused the other to one up their game, in a ceaseless attempt to overdo each other. 

You crumbled first, your palm propping yourself up on the mattress as you snapped forward, fucking yourself with three fingers, your thumb attempting to stay on your clit for however long you managed. 

And his name came out of your lips like a litany of gasps and sighs, desperate to finally feel him below you, to feel how a real man can fuck you.

“Mia,” he called, his voice sounding breathier, more urgent. His chest looked so powerful as it followed his respiration, expanding majestically and deflating slowly. “I’m close.”

You shook your head. “Don’t.”

His eyes went wide.

“I haven’t made a man come in years. Not with my hands, not with my mouth.” You stared at him, hell-bent on experiencing the very thing that had convinced you to go from voyeur to actual participant. “It’s mine.”

Namjoon felt the words tug at his stomach, ten million butterflies soaring through his overcrowded lungs. He removed his hands entirely — the message was clear: it wasn’t his orgasm to conjure, his body wasn’t his to touch. It was yours now. 

You crawled off the bed and covered the two steps dividing you before you settled between his conveniently spread thighs. Stretching to the table, you grabbed the lube, covered both your hands in it and wrapped them confidently around his shaft, half an inch impeding your fingertips from meeting around the circumference of him. 

“This is gonna feel so good inside me,” you mused, not even looking at Namjoon as he prepared for his soul to leave his body. 

It happened way faster than he had expected, especially as you didn’t start pumping him with both your fists like he had anticipated, but you wrapped your mouth around the tip and started bobbing your head in tandem with your hands. 

“Holy fucking shit, Mia.” He gripped the sides of the chair to keep himself from grabbing your hair and possibly causing you to gag on him or panic. “What are you… shit!”

Your tongue toyed with his frenulum and the happy look on your face as you slapped his leaking tip to the flat of your tongue made him snap his head back, his hips jerking up. 

You were high on power. It had taken maybe ten seconds for handsome, polished, smooth Namjoon to swear three times and forget the Oxford dictionary he had probably installed in his brain. Well-spoken, well-dressed and well-educated, he was now a babbling, sweaty, dripping mess crying for your mouth, for his pleasure, for relief. You offered it to him selflessly. 

Not caring about his messy hands, you found his wrist and led one to your head. “Gently,” you requested, and as he found the strength to meet your eyes, he caressed your hair, not trusting himself to linger too long and dig his fingers into your locks, cup the back of your head and just… thrust in. 

Once you went all out with a swirling tongue, with drenched palms and fingers, combining squeezing and sliding and twisting, he lasted maybe a minute. Words left his mind and all he did was call your name, or sigh, or moan, or growl when you pressed the tip of your tongue to the slit of his tip. 

“Gonna cum,” he growled in warning, but you just kept going, until he was filling your mouth with his release. 

Nobody had ever come in your mouth before and your eyes shot open, the sensation bizarre but not unpleasant. And he tasted… It tasted interesting. A bit sour and salty, but not outright bad.

You slipped him out of your mouth and before you could swallow you noticed he was still dripping and a solitary droplet had landed on your breast. 

You stared at it, curious and amused, looking up at Namjoon to see if he was as fascinated as you were with it. 

His gaze met yours with a blissful smile, but once he noticed you avert your eyes, once he saw what you were seeing and your stares met again, both of your expressions turned ravenous. 

His excitement encouraged you to open your mouth and show him the reward for your hard work, his orgasm pooling on your tongue. 

“Mia, sweetheart,” he rasped.

Your eyes stayed fixed on his as you selected three fingers from your hand and stuck them in your mouth, scooping up as much of his release as you could. And then your attention shifted downwards following your digits as you smeared Namjoon’s semen over your breast, tracing a line all the way down to your sodden, oversensitive folds.

Namjoon breathed through his mouth before he managed to say, “Bloody hell, you’re perfect”, then proceeded to bend down and smash his mouth to yours. 

There was never a pretence of a kiss. It was making out from the start — though probably mouth-fucking would have been a more accurate word choice. 

His tongue twined with yours, with swirls and thrusts and dives. It felt like sparring with swords. You both breathed through your noses as you kept kissing, his hands grabbing you by the back of your legs as he picked you up and managed to set you astride his thighs. Once your chest was glued to his, your fingers burrowed deep into his hair and your arms crossed behind his neck, he fixed his grip and pulled himself to his feet, carrying you in the process. 

“I’m gonna fuck you so filthy, Mia.” He kissed your neck, nibbling on it before adding, “I knew you would be the fuck of my life, but this… This is insane. You’re gonna drive me insane, sweetheart.” He placed you in the middle of the bed and removed his trousers and underwear. 

You awaited him with spread legs, waiting to be covered by his scorching flesh, by the weight of his body. Instead, he crawled and licked your chest, his tongue tracing the path your fingers had drawn with his orgasm, making a detour only to suck your nipple in his mouth, which was open so wide he managed to swallow a portion of your breast too. And once he started pumping it in his mouth… Well, your legs wrapped around his waist, your arms around his head and you feared for his well-being as you realised you had to be neutralised for him to ever be released from you. Both your and his pelvises were grinding against anything they could find, looking for friction.

“If you ever mark yourself with my cum again, I’m gonna have to make you mine permanently, sweetheart.”

The thought made you shudder in pleasure. The idea of belonging to someone… It felt great, even though you should remember Namjoon was still mostly a stranger to you. He could be a horrible person, really. 

But it was hard to believe when every small gesture gave away so much of the amazing, considerate, empathetic human being he had to be. 

You caressed his head as he dedicated himself to your other nipple, your nails purring against the skin of his shoulder-blades in a way that made him hum deliciously against your suckled flesh. 

“Are you gonna make me beg to have you inside me?”

“There are other items before that one on the list.”

You chuckled and arched your chest off the bed as you commented, “There’s a list? Next time I would appreciate it being forwarded to me via email, possibly two to four working days in advance, so I can formally approve it.”

Namjoon gloated at the thought of a next time. “Next time I’m gonna stuff your mouth with your panties so I don’t have to deal with your sass.”

“Come on, the sass makes up for half the fun.”

He bit your breast — not harshly, but enough for it to sting. “You know, if you pulled another blowjob like that one, you could convince me to keep your mouth always free and available.”

He crawled further down, peppering little bites and hickeys down your stomach and navel, until he concluded the path your fingers had traced all the way to your clit. “Now let’s see if I can stop you bitching around like this.”

And he went all out. Right on your sensitive, overstimulated clitoris.

His tongue was all over the place, his cheeks sucking at your labia, at every bit of skin that could flush and blush and flutter, until your whole being was melting and another orgasm possessed you so viciously Namjoon had to hold you down to keep you from thrashing around and potentially hurting him. 

Truth was that him not stopping after the third caused the fourth one to be triggered mere seconds after the previous one, your legs wrapping around his head and squeezing him almost painfully. 

He moaned, pressing his hips to the mattress, grinding against it, until he was pleased by the fact that he was hardening again. 

He could do so much to you, and yet, he just wanted his face covered in your cum, his dick covered in your cum, all of him marked in something yours. 

“Mia, sweetheart…” He cooed, his fingers deep inside you while he took his time to rest his tongue, which was about to cramp.

“You're so good at this. Why are you so good at this,” you rambled, lost, your eyes shut tight, your heels digging in the mattress as your hips buckled up, almost hitting his chin. 

“Mia, easy,” he said, his tone just barely chastising, most surely amused. 

“I can't anymore…” you whined, your knees shutting together. 

Namjoon managed to slither away from you, kissing your leg, your navel, your hands after he caught them in his own, untangling them from his hair and bringing your palms to his lips. “Breathe, Mia.”

You forced your lungs to go from shallow gasps to full, round inhales. 

“Just like that, sweetheart.” His smile was reassuring and calm, but you couldn’t focus, not with the wetness covering his chin, with the way he grinned like a drunken predator. 

You cupped his jaw and pulled him up to you, parting your legs so he could nestle in between them. And as he tried to descend with his face on yours, you blocked him, looking into his eyes intently as you licked the slickness covering his chin and lips. 

His mouth opened and he released a heavy, hot exhale. It was erotic to say the least. As was the following grin. “You want to taste everything, don’t you, Mia?” His dimples, the lopsided smile, the knowing look in his eyes, and that hungry gleam in his irises were completely overpowering your will. 

He was darkly wild, ready to pounce, willing to push and keep pushing until he got you as filthy as he could, until he saw every particle of your body go from untainted to downright unredeemable. 

He stole the taste of you from your tongue with a searing kiss — or rather, with reckless licks of his own tongue into your mouth. His saliva dripped all over your lips and he sucked at them, wrapping his plush mouth against your bottom lip, then against the tip of your tongue, suctioning at the skin, so slippery and hot and tender. All that flesh, and your hot breath spilling from your open mouth and right against his nose. He could feel you the way one does with the smell of lush, humid soil in a torrid summer. He could experience you, with closed eyes, unseeing, and feeling, feeling it all. 

The smooth, supple skin of your thighs against his, the cushiony feel of your breasts under his chest, the tickling touch of your hair against his arm. 

“Mia…” he sighed, his eyes opening slowly as your hand found his wrist and led his stained fingers to your mouth. “Oh, Mia.”

He just shook his head, longing clawing at his lineaments as his digits rested on your tongue, your lips curled around them as you sucked them, twirling your tongue until nothing was left of your taste. 

“I like this a lot,” you confessed breathlessly. “I didn’t know I wanted this. And now I need it so much, Namjoon.”

He was painfully hard and he could only blame you. “Take it, then. Take everything, Mia.”

Your hand slid down his side, till it reached the small of his back. “Everything?” You asked. 

He nodded, hazed, eyes glossy and unseeing as he ground against your hip. “Everything, Mia.” 

You cupped his ass, gripping it with both hands, sinking your nails just a fraction past gently, bathing in the feel of his raspy breath against your throat. 

“Devil,” he hissed before grinding square against your core, heat against heat, your slickness easing the friction. 

Your hand ventured to his front and gripped his erection, pointing it to your entrance. 

His eyes looked glassy when he muttered, “Hold on.” 

It took you a second to process and then you stopped right there, suddenly petrified. “Are you sure of this, Mia?” His voice was strained and dark and he had to blink four times to focus. 

You frowned and smiled at him, as if to say 'silly boy'. “Of course!?” 

“I find enthusiastic, explicit spoken consent extremely sexy.” He kissed your neck, tipping his hips back before stroking himself inside your fist. “I find it delicious when someone eagerly consents to their own undoing.” 

You let your fingers slither into the hair at his nape before you tugged at it, forcing him to move back and look you in the eye. “Then please, Namjoon. Undo me. You've made me wait so much that now I don't just want it. I need it.” Your eyes softened with a plea. “Please, ruin me.” 

“You're perfect,” he whispered before he kissed you, using your mouth to muffle his groan as he slid inside you. 

“Fuck, this is heaven,” he gasped. 

“Wait till I…” and you completed your sentence with the flat of your tongue against his hypersensitive neck. 

The way he bucked in made you set your legs wider apart and arch into him. “I’m gonna die in this cunt, Mia. Fuck, I’ve never dared to dream this, doll.” He stretched his neck to give you better access. “I’m going to go feral on you, Mia. You might need your safewords, doll. Please use them if you need them, okay? I would never mean to hurt you.” He thrusted in again and dammit, you squealed. He was so deep inside, and so thick. Everytime he pulled out, a burning feeling made you shut your eyes and fist the sheets. But when he moved back in… 

Your eyes rolled back in pleasure. “It’s okay. I can take it. I’m a good girl,” you reassured him — or maybe yourself.

“Of course you are, Mia. You’re the filthiest, most perfect woman I’ve ever pleased. You’re a sex wonderland, doll.” He grunted and wrapped his arms around you. “Pull your knees to your chest, it’s gonna help you take it better.” He kissed your brow. “Don’t force yourself, okay?”

You nodded and shuddered when he licked his thumb and helped his hand down between your bodies. 

“Like this?” He asked, his plump digit tracing circles over your sensitive nub. 

“Like that,” you exhaled, your insides clenching in agreement.

“Like that,” he rumbled, feeling you tighten around him, and growing wetter at the same time. It was exactly what he needed. 

“Can you put your legs on my shoulders, doll?” 

God, he was so hot, so sweaty on top of you. He looked glorious in the dimly golden lights of the room. You followed his advice and found yourself spread for him, aroused, breathless and at his mercy. 

Once you arched up, trying to conjunct your mouth with his, he obliged you, helping you cover the sound that left your throat once you finally tipped over the edge. 

You were falling, no safety net except for Namjoon’s large body. 

He felt like a boulder.

You curled up against him and trusted him to lead you through your high — which he did, impeccably. 

“Mia, sweetheart,” he cooed once your eyes opened for him. His smile was obliterating. “There she is,” he said fondly and proudly at the same time. “Do you think you can give me a last one, doll? Just one, for me.” He kissed the side of your head. “Would you like to, sweetheart?”

And heavens, you would never deny him, not when he was melting inside you and you could have it all, really have it all. “I want to feel you cum inside me. I want it dripping down my cunt. I want to feel it, hot, all over my sex. Is it as hot as it looks? Is it as wild as it seems?”

Namjoon tipped his head back, clenching his jaw before he aggressively plunged forward. “Keep talking, Mia.”

You licked your lips. “How does it feel for you? Is it wet enough? Tight enough?”

“It’s tighter now,” he said through gritted teeth. “And it’s soaking wet, love. It’s like swimming, so smooth. Perfect.”

“Are you going to ruin me for everyone else? Will you mark me up?” You were batting your eyelashes, eyes chasing the droplets of sweat glistening across his chest. His wide, strong, bulky chest. 

“I’m gonna fucking own you, Mia,” he snarled. “You wanna be covered in my cum, love?”

You nodded eagerly before tipping your head down and wrapping your lips around his neck, sucking viciously. You let your lips smack as you released his skin. “I want it all. Wreck me.”

“Wreck you?” He chuckled coarsely. “How, Mia?” He was breathless and so hot, both in temperature and in attitude. 

“However you want. I want to get dirty just for you.” Your fingers gripped his hair, tipping his head just so you could mark the other side of his neck. “I don’t care about anyone else. I want to make every deranged dream of yours come true.” Your nails ground into his shoulder and he moaned in pleasure. 

“You want to get dirty? Just for me?”

“I’ve been good my whole life.” You shook your head. “I’ve never done this with anyone. Not this wild. Not this needy.”

He grinned and sunk his knees in the mattress, sliding his hands below you and cupping your ass. “Spread them wide for me, love.”

You let your legs stretch to your sides and dropped them as low as they would go, Namjoon rising to his hands, arching his back and hitting all the right angles. “Touch yourself, Mia. Let me see those sinful fingers of yours.”

He grinned as you followed his command. “Dirty little animal. Is this wild enough for you, Mia?”

“Harder,” you snapped without mercy. 

And he obeyed, looking at you as your gaze moved down, staring at where your bodies joined so crudely and yet so magically at the same time. 

And with this sight of you when he spoke next, he didn't hold back. “You like getting wild for this dick, mh?” His sardonic expression made it even better. “You will only get dirty for it. I will get you through so much pleasure I will drill your body into getting wet on the mere sight of me, doll.” He lowered his face to yours. “I’ll teach you how to give me every ounce of pleasure you own. And you’ll get used to leaning on me after I’m done with you. You’ll love it so much you won’t do it by yourself anymore.” Every sentence was slow, full of intent, gasps and pants punctuating them. “You’ll prefer my touch over your own.” He pressed his forehead to yours, gently brushing his nose to yours. “And you won’t cum unless I’m there to hold you afterwards. What do you say, Mia?”

You shook your head, looking for the words. To be owned. Possessed, like that. “I—” you gasped. “I want it,” you managed to utter with great effort. 

That’s when Namjoon let himself go. 

It was feral, harsh, unforgiving hard thrusts into you and out of you, almost out, then deep inside until you couldn’t take it anymore and abandoned yourself to him. You sank into your orgasm, caught in the tide, eyes closed and Namjoon’s mouth desperately searching for yours until he could roar your name in peace, the sound muffled under some semblance of control thanks to your lips against his. 

It took minutes for either of you to speak. 

“I came inside…” he whispered, almost in disbelief. “You wanted me outs—”

“It’s perfect, stay where you are.” You wound your arms tight around him. “Don't go anywhere. Stay here.” You wrapped your legs around his waist. “Right here.”

“Sorry I got possessive, I didn’t mean those things. I might have overdone it, we barely know each other.” He was already tormenting himself, he knew he had ruined it. Saying that stuff to a stranger… You had to think he was an obsessive maniac.

You simply kissed his head. “It was a bit strong, yes. But it was also very hot. You were very hot. Everything was.”

“Also the degrading part, the corruption kink, the—”

“All of it.” One more kiss to his hair. “Don’t trip, Namjoon.”

“I must have overstepped. I’m sure I—”

You tutted and held him, grabbing his face and making him look at you, not without him trying to resist you for a bunch of seconds. “Why are you overthinking this?” You asked.

“Because this is the part where everyone gets out of bed and wraps themselves in a towel and asks for space.” He shakes his head. “Sorry, those are my traumas, not you.”

You nodded, “True. But it’s also my duty to make sure your traumas are taken care of, just like you took care of mine.”

He stiffened in your arms. 

“What is it, handsome?” 

He looked insecure. “I just didn’t expect this. It feels nice.”

“I’m not taking this from you. You can relax here.” You smiled sweetly, reassuringly. “I’m staying here. This is your safe place, Namjoon.”

You didn’t expect Namjoon to drop so quickly and drastically afterwards, but apparently he was sensitive like that. And it made you even more eager to keep him close. The pleasure, the open minded experimenting, the touching, the kissing, the fucking, it was all topped by a vulnerable man wrecking you first, and then melting like balm on your soul, pulling the two of you together by sharing delicate, soft moments of bare intimacy. 

He was offering you his most vulnerable side and you just held it and toughened yourself to a shield for him. 

“You should clean up,” he tried to argue.

“In a minute, once you’re feeling better.” You rubbed circles into his back. 

“I’m the one supposed to give you aftercare.” His tone was dull, disappointed. 

You rolled your eyes. “We’re giving each other aftercare,” you argued back. 

He pulled out, not without you protesting. “Then allow me,” he spoke tentatively against your ear.

Within a minute he was back with a wet towel. “Let me clean you up,” he murmured gently. 

You parted your legs slightly, a bit shy now, but he kissed the inside of your knee and that made you confident enough to spread further, Namjoon getting enough space to clean you up properly. He abandoned the rag on the floor and grabbed the blankets from a pile on a drawer. “Would you like some cuddles?”

You assumed he needed them more than you did, but you didn’t care. You just smiled and gestured for him to scorch over. And he smiled. And he climbed in, close to you, pulling your head onto his chest. 

“Do you like this?” You asked.

He grinned as he looked at you. “I really, really do. Thank you.”

“You pleased me, I please you, Namjoon. It’s easy like that,” you said, flicking his nose.

And there, again. Dimples.

“Now relax, Joon. I’ve got you.”

Please, like, comment or reblog to keep a writer encouraged 🥰🤣💜✨

#Namjoon x reader #namjoon smut #namjoon x y/n #namjoon scenario #kim namjoon x reader #thetruthuntoldnet #thebtswritersclub #houseofddaeng #bangtansorciere #52 hertz #bangtan smut #kim namjoon smut

[joheunsaram]

platonically horny (ksj)

check out the platonic collection masterlist

Summary- Who knew doing a simple online quiz with your best friend would lead to the best sex of your life?

word count -  6.9k 🥴

pairing- bff!Seokjin x Reader

rating- R

genre- smut, fluff, pwp, bff2bfwb

warnings- as always brattamer!seokjin, brat!reader, spanking, squirting, pussy slapping, face slapping, rough, messy sex, fingering, oral (f receiving), edging, overstimulation, light breathplay, hickeys, masturbation (m), protected sex, aftercare, both reader and seokjin just wanna have fun, seokjin is really bad at jokes, mentions of jungkook throwing a rave for absolutely no reason 🥴

a.n- this is what happens when im procrastinating my series at 3am and seokjin finally lets his chest out lol. also ngl this was born from all the love you guys have shown this couple. im so happy you love them as much as i do! also lol i know the title is terrible don’t sue me. HAHAHA.

A big warm thank you to @eatjeanjin for beta reading 💕 to @hobiandspritefor hyping me up and to @ressjeon for starring as jk’s gf once again

This is my submission for @bangtansorciere writing game to the lighthouse        hosted by @inkedtae  AU Type: High Seas (uni/college), Theme: Slice of Life, Kinks: spanking, squirting, pain kink, size kink, dirty talk, overstimulation, cum play, masturbation

As always feedback appreciated, a reblog and a like goes a far way. Send me an ask! 💌

-

You giggled as you entered your apartment with Seokjin in tow. He rushed you in as he heard your next door neighbour unlock his door. You hated Mr. Yun, he was always creeping around, trying to find gossip. 

“Hurry up!” Seokjin exclaimed, pushing you and inadvertently tripping you inside the door. With the amount of alcohol running through both of your veins, Seokjin followed suit, barely shutting the door before collapsing on top of you. The two of you groaned, promptly bursting out into cackles. His loud squeaky laugh was echoing through your little foyer. 

Seokjin rolled off you, helping you up after he stood. As tradition, you made your way to the kitchen. You pulled a pot from the cabinet, pouring in some water from the sink and placing it on the stove. Seokjin, meanwhile, grabbed two packs of spicy ramen, ripping them open for easy access. He poured some water for the two of you as you waited for the water to start boiling. 

“That was so fun!” You gushed, jumping onto the kitchen counter that was next to the stove, swinging your legs. “I can’t believe Jungkook managed to book a jumping castle!”

“You know him. When the man says he wants a rave, he gets a rave!” Seokjin laughed, placing the noodles into the water that was now boiling enough. 

“I still can’t believe people dressed up for that,” you said, thinking back to the partygoers dressed in various neon and glow in the dark skimpy outfits. You’re pretty sure Jimin had just dyed some briefs into the electric blue he was donning. “I can’t believe Jungkook and Yannie wore matching harnesses!”

“Hey do not kink shame! If Jungkook wants to be taken along on a leash by his girlfriend, that is his prerogative!” Seokjin scolded, stirring the noodles, his serious demeanour making you snort.

“Ooo Seokjinnie! Are you secretly into pet play?” you joked, giggling at the way he scrunched his face at you. He grabbed a pot holder and placed the pot full of steaming ramen on the counter next to where you sat. Your chopsticks were already digging in the moment he settled the pot down.

“You’ll never know,” he replied with a wink, slurping his noodles, prompting you to do the same lest he inhaled the whole serving.

“Oh! You know what?” you asked, almost choking on the extra hot noodles before reaching for your phone. “Joon sent me this test the other day. Let’s do it!”

You excitedly pulled up the link, messaging it to Seokjin who pulled out his phone to skim his screen. His eyes widened and he started choking on the large bite he had just taken, coughing violently. You hopped off the counter to hand him a glass of water. He smiled in gratitude before taking a few swigs, finally calming down.

“Sorry,” he said, clearing his throat before speaking. “A BDSM test? You wanna do a BDSM test?”

“Yeah,” you chuckled. “What’s the big deal Seokjinnie, you afraid I’ll find out you’re totally vanilla?”

“Have you met me?” he asked, incredulously. “I’m too hot to be vanilla,” he finished his sentence with a flair, as if it was the most ridiculous concept conceived. You laughed at his antics before getting back to your previous seat and clicking on the website.

“Come on! It’ll be fun!” 

Easily convinced as always, Seokjin followed you, opening up the test. The two of you were quiet for the next ten minutes. The only noises heard were of the two of you still eating, and Mr. Yun’s loud coughing through the walls. You laughed as the results pulled up, unsurprised at the analysis.

“Okay, switch,” Seokjin said, easily taking your phone as you took his. “99% brat,” he snorted. “So fucking predictable.”

You blinked a few times looking at his results. 100% brat tamer, 100% rigger, 95% dominant, 84% sadist. You were shocked. You had known Seokjin for over nine years, and over that time you had had many conversations, about life, death, love, sex, but nothing could’ve prepared you for his results. You weren’t kidding earlier. With how many romantic comedies Seokjin watched, and how his ideal date was cooking a candlelit dinner, you couldn’t believe that you had to scroll to the bottom of the list to find vanilla - 22%.

“You were supposed to be honest!” you protested, holding up his phone.

“What do you mean? I was honest!” he proclaimed, perplexed.

“Please Seokjin. Brat tamer? Rigger? Sadist?!” you laughed, wiping an invisible tear from your eye. “You literally cried when we watched the video about that bird stealing nests!”

“That bird was so mean!” he whined, remembering the way the bigger bird had broken all the eggs to steal the canary’s nest. “And just because I’m in touch with my emotions, doesn’t mean I can’t be a good dom. In fact, I think that makes me a better dom,” he added proudly, cheeks puffing up with a pleased smile.

“Yeah sure, I believe you,” you snorted in response, rolling your eyes and reaching to grab your phone back. Seokjin pulled it away, narrowing his eyes at you. He couldn’t believe your audacity. For someone with a 95% submissive score, you sure didn’t act like it, but he supposed that's where the brat came in. He couldn’t lie, whenever you got this way he had an innate response to put you in your place. He couldn’t help it, you were always trying to rile him up with your impromptu roasts and ill-timed smacks to his shoulder. Perhaps now was the time to act on his secret fantasies.

“I can always prove it to you,” he threatened. His voice dropped to a lower octave as he moved between your legs, placing both hands on the counter next to you. He chuckled at the way your eyes widened, resembling Bambi caught in headlights. He also noticed the way you slightly leaned in, hands resting on your lap, making yourself a little smaller before you caught yourself, inflating your chest in bravado.

“Did you just lower your voice on purpose?” you asked with a smirk. You were hoping he couldn’t tell how your heart started beating faster at the proximity - how your face was slowly heating up.

“And you liked it, didn’t you, baby?” Seokjin said, maintaining the same deadly tone, as he lifted your chin, looking down his nose at you. You felt like you were running out of breath, your stomach coiling at his intense gaze. When did Seokjin get so hot?

When you didn’t answer, his thumb slowly moved upwards, lightly tracing your lip. He pulled it down, breaking eye contact for a quick second to watch himself pull your bottom lip lower, letting it go slowly so it made a little pop. Seokjin felt himself harden a little at the slightly glazed look in your eyes, smirking smugly.

“I asked you a question,” he said, eyes searching yours. He moved his other hand to your thigh rubbing it up and down over the black leather skirt you were wearing, the barrier making you feel but a ghost of his touch. “Be a good girl, and answer for me, will you?”

You felt your mouth grow dry, thighs clamping shut in reflex to the way your pussy clenched around nothing at his words. “Yes,” you answered, a shiver going through you because of the prideful look on his face. His hand that was on your chin traced down your body, caressing your shoulder and arms, his thumb barely scraping the side of your chest before it met your thigh. He moved both his hands over your legs, squeezing at the flesh slightly as he leaned in closer, his lips inches away from yours.

“Good job, baby,” he whispered, a little whine escaping your throat at the praise. He squeezed your thighs again, a lot firmer than before, and you felt electricity zap through you. And then he was moving away, picking up the empty ramen pot and putting it in the sink as he usually did.

“Oh man did you see Namjoon’s weird ‘tribal’ paint thing? I swear he’s going to get cancelled for that shit, no matter how many times he insists that he did his research,” Seokjin commented casually while sipping his water, as if he hadn’t just ruined your panties with a few gentle touches and some choice words. He was giving you whiplash. You had been best friends with Seokjin for years but you had never wanted to jump his bones. That is, till now.

He giggled at your shocked expression, covering his mouth with his hand while his large shoulders shaking in glee. The oddly cute manner broke you out of your daze, as you scowled at him. He had the audacity to send you a flying kiss.

“That was so fucking rude,” you said, crossing your arms, eyes narrowed at your best friend.

“Don’t doubt me next time then,” he shrugged, before leaning close to you again. “Because next time I might punish you for it,” he added, lightly tapping your cheek with a grin.

“Stop making me horny!” you whined, smacking him on the shoulder. He winced at the action, frowning at you and rubbing the spot dramatically. He mimicked you, making his voice high pitched and nasal. You raised your hand to reprimand him again, but before you could reach him, his hand was around your wrist, stopping all movement.

“Then stop being a fucking brat,” he answered simply. Seokjin couldn’t help egging you on - you were infuriating, and absolutely sexy while being so. You were one of his closest friends. The two of you were so comfortable that he was sure that even if the two of you did fuck your brains out, it wouldn’t ruin anything. You’d probably high-five after and grab some breakfast at the diner as usual. You were such great friends that he was sure even the sex would feel platonic, playful.

“Why don’t you make me?” you asked, with a fake saccharine smile and a bat of your eyelashes.

“Don’t ask for things you can’t handle, Y/N,” he said, tightening his grip around your wrist. You had never seen this side of Seokjin, but you couldn’t complain. You hadn’t gotten laid in a year thanks to being busy with the first year of your PhD. You were tired of studying human sexuality in theory and ready to put it to practice. Sleeping with Seokjin didn’t seem like a big deal. You didn’t understand why books and television made sleeping with your friends such a big deal. You were there for each other through every emotion, from stress to happiness to sadness, why couldn’t horny be part of that list?

“Seems like you’re all talk,” you taunted with an exaggerated pout, cooing at him in an attempt to rile him up. An attempt that was successful as the words had barely left your mouth before he was yanking you from the wrist and draping you over his shoulder in one quick motion. You yelped at the action, a little disoriented with how your head was now upside down as he fireman-carried you to your bedroom.

With a roughness you didn’t think he possessed he dropped you on the bed, relishing the little grunt you made as you bounced on the surface. With hands running up your legs, he pushed them open and climbed on top of you until his nose was brushing yours. You could feel his weight pinning you down and it made you delirious. He chuckled at your flustered state.

“Traffic light system?” he asked, placing a chaste kiss on your cheek. The kiss was not any different from the ones he gives you thrice a year - one on your birthday, one on his, and one on Christmas, a present usually preceding each interaction.

“Green for go, yellow for slow and red for stop,” you replied, kissing his cheek the same way he had kissed yours. He smiled at that, stroking your scalp in praise.

“Smart girl,” he whispered before finally placing his lips on yours. 

Throughout your friendship, the two of you had competed over everything - who would do better in a test, who would finish a mile race first, who would get a higher rank in League of Legends. And every time Seokjin had beaten you, much to your dismay. So it didn’t surprise you that Seokjin kissed better than you too. He kissed with an ease that made your blood run warm, his plush lips sucking on yours, his tongue coaxing its way next to yours. He easily pulled needy whines from you, a hand cupping your breast as he kneaded it in a way that made you heady.

“You okay to go all the way? You sure?” Seokjin asked when he broke the kiss, breathing heavily, his lower lip resting against yours.

“All the way?” you snorted, your hand travelling to his ass before pinching it, watching him scowl. “What are you? Fifteen?”

“I’ll show you fifteen,” he grunted, lifting himself off you and abruptly pulling you up. You had barely registered sitting up before he had you on his lap, skirt pulled to your waist revealing your round bottom to him. He pulled at the waistband of your red panties, letting the elastic snap back against you in a satisfying ping. You faked a yawn at that, missing the way his jaw tightened at your antics.

Before you knew it, his palm was coming down on your ass, loud and hard. You hadn’t anticipated the force he would put behind the first spank. A sharp pain rushed through your behind, accelerating the endorphins flowing through you. You yelped at the impact, hands closing into fists around your bedsheets.

“Count. Count till you fucking learn your manners,” Seokjin demanded harshly, before landing another loud smack on your other cheek, painting it a matching red.

“Two!” you gritted out, you ass lifting in the air for some relief.

“Colour?” Seokjin asked, noticing the strain in your voice as he soothed the skin.

“Green,” you sighed out, preening at the soft touch.

“That’s my girl,” he commented, gleefully patting your butt. That was before he was landing another spank that took your breath away. He kept the same intensity throughout, making you soak your panties as your eyes watered. By the tenth time, you were panting and he took a little break to get rid of your panties, the obstruction no longer pleasing to his eye now that your ass was as red as the material.

“Five more, baby,” he said much too calmly in contrast to the hard dick pressing into your stomach. You squirmed in his lap, and he adjusted you closer to him, leaving his left forearm on your lower back to keep you still. He landed five more spanks, each one harder than the next, giving you no breaks.  It felt as if your ass was on your fire, your heart pounding in your chest.

“F-fifteen,” you sputtered, tears now fully cascading down your face, leaving tracks of mascara and glitter eyeliner in their wake. He bent down, kissing your reddened cheeks, letting his tongue soothe you as you mewled.

Using the back of your shirt, he pulled you up, barely giving you time to catch your bearings before crashing his lips to yours, his tongue meeting yours with a hunger neither of you thought you possessed. You easily straddled him and climbed on his lap with your hands around his neck. You wanted to kiss him forever, chasing his lips when he moved away.

He clicked his tongue while looking down on his right palm that was now a bright red. Settling into his lap, your stomach somersaulted at the look of disappointment on his face. It was cold and unforgiving, and you felt yourself get wetter.

“You couldn’t be respectful. Now look what you did to my hand,” he scolded, showing you his reddened palm. The chill in his voice and the fire in his eyes made you melt, wanting to do anything to earn his praises again.

“Sorry, I’ll be good,” you whispered, holding his hand in both of yours and kissing it. You traced your lips over his fingers, leaving little pecks all over his palm, and he sighed in satisfaction, lightly scratching your scalp.

“Mhmm… about time,” Seokjin teased, warming your heart. You looked up at him with a wide smile, one that he matched. He cupped your face, thumbs wiping the mascara from your face, and he kissed you gently, a stark contrast to the earlier fervour. “Gonna keep being good?” he asked, grinning at how you eagerly nodded.

With that he lowered you on the bed, hovering over you as he rid you of your clothes, slowly peeling them off like you were a present he was eager to unwrap. You traced your hands over his arms as he leaned down to kiss you, causing a shiver to run up his spine. Fuck, you were beautiful and he couldn’t believe how compatible you were sexually. He supposed it made sense, the two of you were in tune with everything else so why not sex as well?

“So... any hard limits?” he asked, kissing down your jaw to your neck, nipping the skin deliciously. He sounded casual while you were having trouble putting together your scrambling thoughts. You moaned as he repeated his question, pulling your nipple in retaliation.  

“Hmmm… I don’t know,” you said breathlessly as he continued kissing down your body, taking his time to turn you on. He was still dressed in the ridiculously large white hoodie he had decided to wear to Jungkook’s impromptu rave. “Watersports, scat, baby shit,” you moaned as his teeth sank into the soft flesh of your inner thigh, the pain ebbing deliciously into pleasure. “I hate blindfolds and latex,” you added.

He hummed against your thigh, his tongue moving to lick gently at your clit, the brief touch making you jerk your legs and arch your back. He chuckled at that, sitting up and running his hands up your legs. He used his thumbs to part your folds, enjoying the way they glistened, making his mouth water. 

“So overstimulation, edging okay?” he asked while his fingers finally started to rub circles on your clit but were still moving much too slowly. You keened in response, nodding vigorously, and he smirked. You whined when he moved away, lying on his side next to you, hand propping up his head, while the other returned to your pussy. He leaned into you, nipping at your earlobe. “And what if I wanted to choke you? Slap that pretty face red?”

He punctuated the end of his question with two of his fingers diving straight into you, setting a fast pace right from the get go. You could hear the squelching noises of his palm slapping against your clit, adding to the inferno brewing inside you, and you couldn’t help your hands from holding on to his forearm. When he pulled his fingers out to land a hard slap on your clit, you realized you never answered his question. You mewled a “yes please” which earned you the privilege of his fingers yet again.

While you writhed next to him, eyes closed in pleasure, Seokjin pretended to be bored and was even yawning at times to annoy you. However, he was actually losing his mind. Before tonight, he had never really thought of you this way, barring a few pesky dreams, but now he didn’t know why he never did. Lying naked with your makeup ruined, agreeing to let him spank you and choke you, it was like Seokjin’s favourite porno came to life. He could feel you starting to tighten around his fingers, so he moved his free hand to your head, tilting it towards him, and sighing in disappointment when he saw your eyes squeeze shut.

“Look at me,” he commanded, pleased to see your watery eyes on him. He schooled his expression to a stern one. “You do not cum without my permission,” he warned. “Believe me when I say if you disobey me again, Y/N, you will not be able to sit for a week.”

His harsh tone set you on edge. With each stroke of his fingers, you felt yourself getting closer and closer. You were just on the precipice but regardless of your masochistic tendencies, those fifteen spanks had been hard and you didn’t want anymore. You wanted to be good.

“Please slow down,” you said in between pants. “Gonna cum if you don’t stop, please,” you whimpered and Seokjin rolled his eyes. 

He removed his fingers, earning a needy whine from you as your orgasm faded - a whine that he muffled by shoving his fingers drenched in your arousal right into your mouth. His dick twitched at the way you sucked on his fingers, almost getting uncomfortably hard under his jeans. 

Pulling his fingers out, he crashed his lips on yours. His tongue was eager to taste you while his mind was whirring with other ways to torture you. He really wished this wasn’t the only time because there were too many things he wanted to try with you, too many ways he wanted to ruin you. He broke the kiss staring at you hungrily. Wasting no more time, he stood up, tossing his sweater and jeans off.

Your mouth watered from watching Seokjin standing in just his tight boxer briefs. Sitting up, you trailed your hands down his abs - something you were surprised to find he’d been hiding. 

Another reason why you were getting whiplash - Seokjin was always modest in the way he dressed. The last time you saw him without his shirt was when you went to the beach over a year ago. It seemed like he’s been working out, and you couldn’t help leaning over and tracing the ridges of his abdomen with your tongue, moving lower to where his light treasure trail led you to the tent in his black boxers. 

Judging by his earlier control tendencies, you were surprised he was giving you free reign. You looked up at him, keeping eye contact as you pulled his boxers down. He raised an eyebrow, winking at you, before placing his hand gently in your hair, coaxing you to look down. If you were surprised by his hidden abs, nothing could’ve prepared you for his dick. It was larger than any you had seen. It seemed that tonight was a night of surprises. 

You felt your mouth water at the sight of his erection, precum leaking generously. Without thinking any further, you were opening your mouth, ready to taste him. But the grip in your hair tightened, pulling you back till not even your outstretched tongue could reach him.

“Not so fast,” he said, his other hand stroking himself, just out of your reach. “You get to just watch.”

You whined in disappointment as he stroked himself, moving his large hand from base to tip slowly. He caressed the head, squeezing it. You could hear him moaning, but you couldn’t take your eyes off his dick. Was it weird that you found it beautiful? You could imagine the way it would stretch you and it made you squeeze your thighs together, aching for relief.

“Please, let me taste,” you begged, but Seokjin just chuckled, breathing out a “no”, but not before slapping you in the face with his cock. You closed your eyes at the feeling, relishing it. 

Seokjin could feel his balls tightening, getting closer to release as he increased his speed. However, it was the pleased, almost ecstatic smile on your face when he slapped it with his dick yet again that put him over the edge. With a loud moan, he pulled your head back, ordering you to keep your mouth open as he came all over your face. He had initially planned to aim only in your mouth, but the sudden orgasm made him miss, staining your face and your chest. While he was coming down from his high, you swallowed his mess, enjoying the bitter salty taste. 

“Fuck, you’re so hot,” Seokjin groaned, his hand collecting his cum from your face and depositing it in your mouth. You eagerly lapped it up, and he didn’t hesitate kissing you once again. His hand was rubbing the cum that landed on your chest into your skin. You moaned at the desperate movement of his lips, almost begging for him to do more, before he was breaking your kiss and flipping you around on all fours. 

As soon as your hips were in the air, his lips were on your clit, sucking at the bundle of nerves with such vigour that you almost forgot how to breathe. He was like a man on a mission, his fingers fucking into you as his tongue flicked at your clit. You fisted the bedsheets, losing all semblance of reality as pleasure flowed through you, the coil in your stomach tightening at his actions.

“Please let me cum,” you whined. “Please Jinnie, please!”

You were howling at this point, your toes curling and legs shaking in an effort to hold back the orgasm barrelling towards you. You thought he was going to edge you again when his lips left your pussy, but they were only gone for a second as he gave you permission to cum before latching back on. With his expert lips and fast fingers, it took you barely a few seconds before you were cumming, face buried in the sheets, and body spasming under his hold.

He didn’t stop though, keeping the same unrelenting pace. You whined, tears escaping your eyes as you tried to move away from him. With a hard spank on your ass and an arm under your hips he brought you closer, refusing to let you escape.

He could feel you tightening around his fingers, clenching around him rhythmically, and by the way your hips started moving towards him instead of away, he knew you were close yet again. 

“Cum,” he demanded, and that’s all it took for you to lose yourself to the pleasure again, and he moaned as a gush of liquid escaped you, staining the sheets and his face. He let you relax this time, kissing your bruised ass, and up your spine, till he was lying on top of you. Nuzzling into you, he held your hand, whispering praises, as you came down from your high. 

“You’re mean,” you whined, turning your head towards him, and he kissed you with a little laugh.

“And you’re amazing,” he praised, finally rolling off you and onto the bed on his back. The two of you had matching smiles as your breathing normalized. He traced his fingers down your spine, eyes fixated on your ass that was still red from his earlier spanking. He couldn’t resist pressing his fingers in, watching as the skin lost colour at his touch only to bloom red again as he let go, and you moaned, back arching at the feel.

“Why haven’t we done this before?” you mused, turning onto your side and he pulled you closer, kissing you again as if magnetized. All these years you could’ve been having great sex with your best friend and you missed out all because of some stupid societal rule that fucking your friend would ruin your friendship - hell, you were sure this would nothing but strengthen it.

“Don’t know how you resisted me for so long, to be honest,” Seokjin joked, laughing at the deadpan expression you gave him. “You okay, though?”

“Not really,” you replied, a frown on your face, and Seokjin felt his heart drop with worry swimming his mind. The scores said you were a masochist, but perhaps he should’ve discussed everything before, talked through a scene like he had done with his previous partners. He was so swept up in the moment and the two of you knew each other so well that he didn’t think it through. He could feel the guilt rise through him the more he looked at your dishevelled state. Did he go too far?

“I’m so sorry,” he whispered, pulling you closer, hugging you against his chest, lust forgotten. You could feel his heart pounding and decided to drop the act.

“I’m not okay cause you haven’t fucked me yet,” you said with a smirk, laughing when you saw his shocked face as he pulled your head away from him to look at you once again.

“Are you fucking insane?” he yelled, eyes wide. “Do not fucking joke about that! I had a heart attack! I thought I hurt you or something! That is so irresponsible! I swear to god, Y/N, if you ever make me this worried again I’m gonna kill you! You have no idea how-”

You decided to end his rant with a press of your lips against his while climbing on top of him. Although he still had the lecture ready to go, he molded his lips with yours, letting his tongue taste you once again, and moaning when you started to grind your wet folds against his dick.

“You’re still hard though, so what does that really say about you?” you asked, batting your eyelashes at him as you rested your head on your forearms crossed upon his chest, continuing to languidly roll your hips against him. 

“You are such a fucking brat,” he huffed, hands firm on your waist. His breath hitched when you started kissing his neck, licking at the sensitive spot right above his Adam’s apple, your teeth digging in, leaving your mark. You continued your ministrations, licking and biting the skin till you reached his earlobe.

“And what are you gonna do about it, Seokjinnie?”

And that challenge was all it took to get Seokjin back into his headspace. Grunting at your sugary tone, he flipped you over so he was once again in charge. His large hand came to rest on your throat. Although he didn’t put any pressure, your heart kick-started, feeling a rush of fresh arousal going through you because of the menacing look in his eye. He leaned in, licking a stripe up your face, to lightly bite at the apple of your cheek.

“Gonna fuck you stupid, of course,” he said with a grin, lightly tapping your cheek. “Condoms?”

You had barely directed him to your top drawer when he was pulling out a foil package and rolling the rubber on to his dick. He made a show of it, of course, slowly stroking himself as you stared at him. Standing at the foot of the bed, he smiled sweetly, instructing you to open your legs and pin your knees to your chest. He didn’t do anything after, just watched how you dripped for him. If any other partner made you do such a thing, you would've felt self conscious, but with Seokjin you felt safe. The man had seen you at your literal worst, and presenting yourself to him like this felt oddly comfortable.

Getting impatient you huffed, looking for a reaction from him other than his wide eyes watching you while he bit his lip. You snaked a hand between your legs, gathering your arousal, and you started to rub your clit slowly, relishing the way his eyes started to narrow and lips curled into a firm line. You sighed, letting the slow pleasure move through your sensitive bud.

“Since you’re too busy staring, you can-” 

The words had barely left your mouth when he was upon you, a hand gripping your hair and the other on your throat, his fingers pressing against your arteries in a way that made you a little hazy. The pressure was light but the intent was there, amplified by the way he glared at you.

“Stupid, stupid girl,” he sneered, his nostrils flaring in anger. “I thought I fucking told you to behave.”

He expected you to apologize, but when you giggled in response, it made him furious. Every instinct in his body wanted to punish you till you were sobbing on his dick. You could see him seething, and you knew that you should probably start behaving but you couldn’t help sticking your tongue out at him. 

At his last straw, Seokjin pulled you back by your hair, tilting your head upwards to land a harsh slap on your face, making you whimper at the impact. You could feel tears pricking your eyes, but your attention was diverted by the sudden rush of endorphins making you delirious. 

Seokjin stared at you, afraid he might have gone too far in his lust-driven haze. However, instead of calling for a safeword, or even reprimanding him, you laughed. Bubbles of laughter escaping your throat uncontrollably as you grinded on his thigh between your legs.

“More! More Jinnie! More,” you demanded, sounding a little unhinged and Seokjin couldn’t believe how every single time you just kept bringing his fantasies to life. He never thought he could ever get away with the deranged shit his brain taunted him with, but like always you seemed to be on the same page. 

Shaking his head, he slapped you once again before he gripped your jaw, kissing you in a flurry of teeth and tongues as he lined himself up to your entrance. You followed his earlier instructions, holding your thighs as you spread yourself wider. You clenched as his tip entered you, his girth already starting to stretch you, but you didn’t care, you wanted him to impale you.

However, he had other plans. He teased you with shallow thrusts that had you mewling his name and begging for his cock. He started slowly, feeling the way your warm walls parted for his cock, as if they were made to take him, gripping him and making him lose his patience. 

“Please… Please more,” you begged, eyes shut in pleasure that seemed to be building but going nowhere. “Please Jinnie… need you,” you hiccuped

“Fuck,” Seokjin grunted, feeling your walls flutter around him. “I got you, baby. Don’t worry,” he promised before starting to pick up the pace, his hips thrusting into you relentlessly. 

His hands were on your tits, gripping the skin tight enough to bruise as he pounded into you, and you could feel the coil in your core tighten. You had never cum just from penetration before but the way his dick filled you up, hitting every part of you, made you lose yourself in him. You didn’t even know if you were begging for him to let you cum or if you were babbling incoherently. All you knew was that you needed him to give you permission so you could let yourself go, muscles tightened to their limit.

“Cum, baby. Cum all over my cock,” Seokjin gritted out, and you blanked, your mind floating to the heavens as you let go. You couldn’t hear anything other than the blood rushing through your ears, feeling as if you were underwater, pleasure coursing through your body in little tingles from your scalp to your toes. Pleasure that soon turned into pain as Seokjin refused to slow down, railing into you, the volume of your wails only second to the wet thrusts echoing through your room. You really hoped you were not going to get a noise complaint.

Seokjin seemed to be enjoying it, basking in your cries as he moaned at how you milked him, getting tighter with each push of his hips. He knew he was close to exploding, but he wanted to make you cum another time, and so with his thumb rubbing circles on your clit and his other hand travelling to your throat to block your air supply. He gave it his all.

“One more, Y/N. Be a good fucking girl for once and cum for me,” he demanded, and in your haze you couldn’t help but follow his command, your orgasm rushing through you faster than the last, making you spasm under his hold, your legs shaking as they stretched out with a jolt, your hands clutching onto his shoulders, fingernails digging into his skin. He let go of your throat, and the sudden rush of oxygen only prolonged the orgasm, leaving you a sobbing mess.

“Good baby,” Seokjin said breathlessly, his own orgasm following quickly after, and he emptied himself in the condom, trying to quieten the primal part of his brain that demanded his cum inside you instead. He collapsed on to you, kissing up your chest to your face, where he wiped your tears clumsily, too sated and comfortable to want to pull out yet. You hugged him close, and the two of you laid there for a moment, trying to wrap your heads around the best orgasms the two of you had ever had.

With a groan and a pat to your head, Seokjin finally rolled off you, grunting like an old man as he stood to throw the condom away. You applauded him for his energy. Or more likely, you wanted to applaud him for his energy but in your boneless state just ended up lifting your hands a few inches above the bed and landing them back. Seokjin laughed at your attempt, lying back next to you to cuddle with you. He pulled you to his chest, letting you cling to him like a koala.

“Fuck dude, you’re wild,” you commented, earning a cackle from your best friend.

“I can’t believe you let me slap you,” Seokjin teased, his hand caressing your reddened cheek to soothe it.

“I can’t believe how good it felt!” you gushed, the two of you giggling. You had never felt so satisfied in your life. What a great way to break your dry spell! “What do you like for aftercare?” you asked, leaning up to kiss his nose as he slowly scratched your scalp.

“No one’s ever asked me that,” he said, his heart warming. He wondered why he hadn’t thought about that before. He supposed it was because he never felt comfortable enough with someone to go to this extent or to even warrant aftercare of his own. He squeezed you tighter around him in silent gratitude. “Hm… I don’t know… this is probably the most hardcore I’ve been if I’m being honest.”

“Me too,” you replied before standing up. Your limbs were still sore but strong enough to carry your weight now. He whined as you left, not wanting to let go of you, crossing his arms with a pout as you grabbed his sweater from the floor.

You left your room to clean yourself up and to grab a couple of water bottles and a handful of Hershey’s kisses. When you returned Seokjin was in his boxers, putting on new sheets on your bed.

“Here,” you said, handing him the bottle, before sitting back on your bed, wincing at the pain. Seokjin frowned, leaving quickly to grab the first aid kit from your bathroom. He urged for you to lie on your stomach while he gently applied the gel to your ass. Now that the adrenaline from earlier had dissipated, he felt bad for how hard he went. 

You noticed how his hand slowed down, and turning to see the frown on his face and spaced out expression, only confirmed your speculation. “Eat this, you’re dropping,” you said, handing him the chocolates.

“I’m not dropping, I feel bad,” he argued, but followed your instructions anyway and decided not to remark on how good the sugary treat felt. 

“Don’t feel bad, we’re both freaks,” you said as you sat up, sitting on your knees to ensure your medicated butt didn’t land on the sheets. Seokjin couldn’t help but laugh at your comment, leaning in to place a chaste kiss on your lips.

“So you had fun right?” Seokjin asked, still needing reassurance.

“The most fun,” you said enthusiastically. “Next time, let’s try the flogger I have!”

Seokjin blinked at you, telling himself it was too soon to go for round two, before engulfing you in a hug. “You really are amazing, you know that,” he gushed.

“Pleased to be your BFWB too!”

“BFWB?” Seokjin asked, confused. “Big fat weeb boobs?”

You couldn’t help but laugh at the all too serious expression on his face. “Best friends with benefits, you weirdo. Seokjin, what the fuck are big fat weeb boobs?”

“You know, like anime titties. You kinda have them,” he said matter-of-factly, as if he didn’t just make up the acronym on the spot. You smacked his shoulder in mirth, lying against the fresh sheets and pulling him down with you to cuddle against him. He moved lower, nuzzling his face between your ‘kinda anime titties’ before sighing contently. That was until a thought came to his head.

“Oh shit this means I can just fuck you instead of listening to you complain about your thesis supervisor again,” he exclaimed, earning himself another smack on the head. 

“Shut up! You love my complaints,” you answered with your eyes closed, already halfway asleep.

“I sure as hell don’t! No one wants to listen to how Dr. Bang asked you to revise your citations for the seven hundredth time,” he said while grinning and getting ready for another argument. Instead of all that, you just patted his head and ran your fingers through his hair in a way that made him sleepy and content.

“Sleep. It’s like 3am,” you muttered, and Seokjin rose to kiss your sternum before placing his head back on your chest and leaving for dreamland.

Who knew all he had to do to get the best sex of his life was do a stupid online test?

-

taglist: @bangtanhome , @kithtaehyung, @jimilter lter​, @cheesecakes-randomshitz​, @aroseforyoongi​, @awhnamjoon​, @codeinebelle​ 

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[carnationdoe]

Min Yoongi x reader | Single Parent | Fluff | PG | wc: 1100

For this year's Secret Valentien project by @btscreatorscorner​  I was assigned the lovely @sunshinerainbowsbts so hereby I present my gift to you, Sunny (Even if its a little late). 

Beta read by @rkivian​ and @mapleglasses27

| MASTERLIST |​

The sun had truly shown itself from its better side today, having peeked through the clouds ever since the early morning hours and warming the chilled winter air. Maybe it too understood the importance of this day. Well, the importance it held for some.

And even though this  was easily  the day your boutique made most of its earnings, you could not help but dread  the day. In itself, the day was hectic at best, but the days up to it were just as chaotic because of all the preparations you had to do. It was also the reason why you were currently running on minimal amounts of sleep.

Fortunately for you, the amount of customers seemed to be decreasing ever so slowly, making it possible for you to finally take a small break. Your tired legs almost buckled under you as you leaned against the counter, eyes darting around the shop.

Finally alone.

“What a day…” you sighed, closing your eyes only for them to shoot open in shock when you suddenly heard the all too familiar sound of the chime on top of the door, warning you that someone had entered the shop. You straightened your back and looked over at the door, but there was no one there.

Maybe, your mind was playing tricks on you? It would not be the first time nor would it be the last time it had done so. But that thought was shot down when your ears picked up on footsteps coming toward you. The steps were hesitant and came to a sudden stop, you held your breath; Fear striking.

Seconds passed before you heard a whimper, immediately you jumped up from the chair and rushed toward the sound. Your eyes darted around, trying to locate the source of the noise. However, it seemed that the source itself had other plans because as you stepped around the counter, something or rather someone tugged at your pant leg.

Chubby fingers clung to the fabric of your pants, their snotty little nose buried in your leg and big doe and teary eyes looking up at you like you held the answers to the world.

“A-app-” The child hiccupped, pressing themself even further onto you.

Without even thinking, you had swiped the child up into your arms and started to comfort them. “Shhh, I am right here,” you murmured, your voice soothing and soft while caressing their hair to provide the comfort they so desperately needed.

As the sobs subsided, the child pulled back and looked at you. Finally, you took the time to look over the child; A mop of dark hair paired with big doe eyes, a cute little button nose sprinkled with freckles and chubby cheeks that matched the chubby legs and arms every child that age should have. They wore a beige dress with small hearts on.

A beautiful little girl.

“Hey there pretty little lady”

The girl let out a squeak and pressed her head into your chest again. You could not help but giggle. A few seconds went by before she peaked up at you from her ‘hiding’ spot.

“Appa.. no appa,” she stuttered, falling over her words in her attempt to communicate with you. You nodded your head knowingly, understanding what she tried to tell you. Your eyes flicked over to the shop windows, but were only met with the darkness from outside.

A sigh passed your lips; this was going to be difficult.

“Would you like some chocolate milk?” you asked, already moving toward the machine as the girl started nodding her head rapidly. Another giggle passed your lips at how cute she looked, her hair tossing around her head and a little pout on her lips.

You settled the girl on the counter and gave her a cup. She wrapped both of her hands around it, moving it up toward her lips before taking a big sip. When she moved the cup away, she let out an ‘ah!” while smacking her lips.

“Does the pretty little lady have a name?”

“Yejun” She answered proudly, puffing out her chest.

“Hello Yejun” you said and introduced yourself, offering your hand to her with a smile. She took your hand into her much smaller one and gave it a light squeeze before going back to sipping on her chocolate milk.

Yejun seemed much more at ease with her chocolate milk in hand even though her father was still missing. Luckily enough it was not long before your eyes caught sight of a frantic looking man outside of the shop windows. The two of you locked eyes for only a split second before his eyes flicked to the child in front of you.

“Yejun! Thank God!” The man ripped open the door and ran toward Yejun, who was making grabby hands toward the man while crying “appa”.

He frantically pulled Yejun into his arms and held her against him tightly for a few moments, before sitting her down on the counter again: “Are you okay?” he was fidgeting over her, feeling and searching for anything that might not have been there before their sudden separation.

Fortunately, he found nothing.

He heaved a sigh of relief and planted a kiss on her forehead, then he turned around to face you.

“Thank you so much for finding Yejun!” He thanked you before beginning to ramble about how she had suddenly disappeared from one moment to another.

You could not help but notice that Yejun’s dad was just as handsome as she was cute. She had inherited his dark hair and cute button nose, but what really made your knees bent was the gummy smile he showed as he looked at his child.

“I understand. Children are hard work, but Yejun has been nothing but an angel,” you assured the man with a gentle touch on his arm.

His eyes lightened up when you complimented his child, chest filling with pride that even in such a highly emotional situation his little girl had been polite.  

“Still..-” He started but stopped when Yejun tugged at his shirt, the man bending down toward her and she whispered something into his ear. He let out a soft ‘ah’ before straightening himself up.

This time when he looked at you, you could not help but notice the light glint he had in his dark eyes.

“Can Yejun and I invite you out for a cup of coffee?” He asked confidently. However, the sudden confidence seemed to diminish as fast as it had come when you did not reply immediately. “Of course only if-”

You touched his arm, making him halter in his sentence. You gave him a shy smile.

“That sounds wonderful, let me just close the shop.”

I choose the prompt: Kid playing matchmaker because who isn’t a sucker for diff BTS?

#Secret valentine #Writing event #btscreatorscorner #btsgoldnet #thetruthuntoldnet #networkbangtan #bangtanuniversity #bangtanhq #armysource #bangtanarmynet #btswriterscollective #btswritersguild #btswritersclub #btswritingcafe #thebtswritersclub #thehyunglinenetwork #hyunglinenetwork #f: Little matchmaker #m: myg #g: fluff #g: single parent #au: single parent #au: valentine #w: none #drabble #p: x reader #daydreaminc

[bluewhale52]

The House by the River

Summary: You, your husband and his brothers are back in the In The Soop house. But what happens when you forget the one thing you have to do during the pandemic?

Pairing: Yoongi x OC

Genre: idol!au, established relationship, fluff

Rating: R - there’s a bit of a talk about sex but nothing NSFW

WC: 2.3k

Warning: setting during the pandemic, a breach of safety protocol, Yoongi and OC sleep naked, talk of sex, pregnancy talk ~Part of the Domestic Yoongi Series~

It is a great idea, you have to admit. When your husband found out that he had two straight days of no schedules and no work, he immediately suggested going back to the house by the river, where he and his brothers had gone to for work and also for a time of healing and relaxation. 

You were so excited at the getaway idea, and although his six brothers invited themselves for the trip, you did not mind. Your daughter adores them, moreover you would have six very eager babysitters at your disposal. 

So that’s how you find yourself, on a beautiful autumn day, on a hammock and reading a book Namjoon has lent you. You hear Jimin and Taehyung back at the ping pong table, and Hoseok screaming gleefully at his toy aeroplane he has built himself. Sweet musical notes drift from the house; Namjoon and Jungkook must have gotten inspiration in nature and are creating a song together.

You hear the familiar giggles coming from the dock, and you close your book. Leaving the hammock, you head to the boathouse to meet the owners of those giggles.

Your little girl is smiling ear to ear, and shrieking in delight at Seokjin, who is carrying a bucket and two fishing rods- well, one fishing rod and a toy one. He has been regaling your daughter with stories of fishing, it was not difficult at all to get her all excited to be his fishing buddy.

“Hey baby,” you kneel as your daughter barel into your arms. “Did you catch a lot of fish?”

“Four!” She happily exclaims, wriggling out of your arms to pull Seokjin closer to you. “Look, Eomma!”

“She’s my good luck charm. Not Yoongi, not my painting, Min Soojin was all I needed to show these fish who’s boss!” He ruffles her hair. She beams at him proudly.

“Wow! Are we having sashimi tonight?” You turn to find Hoseok right behind you, peering into the bucket. He turns to your daughter, innocently asking her, “you’re going to help Uncle Jin and Uncle Kook cut the fish?”

Soojin’s face immediately turns serious, her smile all gone. “Cut? Eomma?” She turns to you. “We cut fishies?”

“Well, that’s how we get sashimi, baby.”

Her face crumples at your answer, tears start pooling in her eyes. “No, I don’t want to hurt fishies.”

The two men immediately bend down and soothe her. “No, no, we won’t cut the fishies. Uncle Hoseok is just joking, right?” Seokjin gives Hoseok a stare.

“Yes, I was only joking, Soojin-ah.” Hoseok cuddles her. “Hey, do you want to see the plane I made?”

Soojin shakes her head. “No, I want to take fishies home so you don’t cut her.”

Hoseok resigns to his fate. He knows now your four year old daughter will see him as an evil villain, out to cut all the fish in the world.

“Baby,” you coo at Soojin. “Why don’t you, Uncle Jin and Uncle Hobi return the fish to the river?”

Seokjin glares at you. You know how challenging it was for him to catch even a single fish on his last trip here, and on the day he caught FOUR, he can’t even enjoy one as a sashimi.

Hoseok on the other hand, jumps at his chance of redemption. “Yes, that’s a great idea! Let’s do that, Soojin. Let’s free the fish!”

Soojin looks at Hoseok doubtfully. He grabs the bucket from Seokjin and offers his hand to your daughter. She gingerly puts her hand in his, and her other hand reaches for Seokjin’s.

Over your daughter’s head, Seokjin whispers sharply at Hoseok. “YOU put the fish back.”

You watch them squat by the dock, laughing along with Seokjin and Soojin as Hoseok squeals in disgust as he picks a fish out of the bucket and throws it inelegantly into the river. After the fourth fish is back in the water, Soojin is satisfied and her mood is back to her cheery self.

You look at your watch. 5pm. It’s time to get your husband out of his makeshift studio. “Soojin, want to see Appa?” You call out.

“No! Plane!” She points at Hoseok who is winding his toy plane again.

“Go get Yoongi. We’ll look after her.” Seokjin offers, and you give him a grateful smile. It IS nice to have your husband’s band mates around.

You walk up towards the campervan by the upper house. Your husband specifically made the request for the van to be there. You knock on the door, and you open it only after you hear his gruff response from inside.

“Hey babe,” you greet him from the door. “It’s just past five.”

Yoongi stretches behind the laptop and all his equipments. Rubbing his face, he mumbles, “Already?”

You open the door wider, letting more sun inside the dark campervan. “Did you manage to get all your work done?”

Yoongi gestures for you to come inside. You step in, and sit next to him. “Wanna hear?” He offers.

“Of course.” You take the headphones from his hands. You love how he always shares his rough drafts with you, even before he shares them with his members. It doesn’t matter that you know zilch about music, he loves watching you reacting to his creations.

He presses play, and your eyes widen at the sounds filling your ears. You turn to smile at him, pride on your face. He returns your smile with his own gummy one.

You love this kind of moment with Yoongi. You don’t need dates at fancy restaurants or expensive gifts like big diamond necklaces. Just time with him, alone like this, is enough. He watches you bopping along to his music, and burst out laughing in embarrassment as you scrunch your face at his attempt at a high note.

When the song ends, you take off the headphone and kiss him. “Well, Min PD-nim, I think you have another hit there.”

“You say that to all my songs.” He brushes away your compliment as he starts packing up his things.

“Well, it’s true. I’m not just saying that because you’re my husband.” You stand and move to the door to give him more space in the cramped sitting area of the campervan. You report to him about Soojin’s fishing experience earlier while Yoongi is putting his equipments in the bags.

“So Hobi actually held the fish?” Yoongi chuckles.

You nod. “I regret not capturing it on video. It was so funny.” You open the door and you both walk towards the upper house. “OH MY GOD!”

You exclaim as you see the state of the kitchen. Yoongi curses next to you.

All the foods you have bought for the stay are scattered all over the counter and the floor. Packages ripped open, vegetables and fruits half eaten.

“Oh no, did an animal- or a pack of them- get in?” You lift a bag of bitten and nibbled onions. “They like onions it seems.”

Your husband sighs. “Guess we’ll have to go out for dinner then. There’s no way we can salvage any of this.”

You agree with him and start cleaning up. Shortly after, the kitchen is clean and free of scraps, and you both return to the main house to break the news. The members don’t seem to mind going out, Taehyung even suggests going to the burger joint he visited with Hoseok before. Seokjin and Yoongi decide they could stop by a supermarket on the way back to get enough food for breakfast and lunch for the next day.

And so off the nine of you go to the town for a burger dinner. Arriving at the small restaurant, you are shocked at how crowded it is. “Wow, the burgers here must be really good.” You comment to Taehyung.

He nods, licking his lips. “One of the best, Noona. You’ll love it.”

You smile at his enthusiasm, and also when he picks up Soojin to show her the menu board.

Then you realize something.

Your heart drops when you realise that no one, not a single person is wearing a mask. The staff, the patrons, and even you, your husband and his brothers, and your daughter, none of you is masked up.

You start to panic. Reaching for Yoongi, you tug his hand. “Babe, we’re not wearing our masks!”

“Relax, baby, we’re fine. No one recognizes us here.”

“No! Yoongi, not to hide your faces. The pandemic isn’t over yet and we’re not wearing masks!” You shout at him.

To your shock, no one seems to hear you, or even care that everyone in this burger joint is ignoring the most important safety protocol. You panic even further, and while making your way to Taehyung to take Soojin back, you feel something tugging the back for your cardigan.

You turn to chide Yoongi, thinking it is him who is pulling your clothes. You gasp when you find no one behind you. Not Yoongi, not Namjoon, not anyone you came to the place with. In fact, the whole place has become empty, but for a little boy standing in front of you.

He has feline eyes, much like Yoongi’s, and his complexion is as milky white as your husband’s too. He looks up at you with such innocence, and you kneel down to meet him at eye level.

“Hi,” you greet him. “Are you okay? Where are your parents?”

The boy continues to look at you silently, then he fishes something out of his packet. It is a folded K94 mask. He offers it to you.

“For you, Eomma.” He says shyly.

=======

You sit up, gasping out loud. You immediately reach for your face, feeling for a mask around your mouth and nose. Your fingers touch bare skin directly, which sends you into a panic.

You start to look around for a mask frantically, only to find yourself... in your bedroom in Seoul? And your husband is stirring awake next to you. You reach for the baby monitor, and relief floods over you as you see on the screen that your daughter Soojin is sleeping peacefully in her room.

“Babe,” Yoongi sits up next to you, voice still thick with sleep. “You okay?”

You place a hand on your bare chest. Your heart is still beating fast. “I just had the craziest dream.”

Yoongi reaches for you and pull you down to lie with him. Rubbing your back, he asks you to tell him your dream.

“We were back in the house, that In the Soop house,” you begin. “We were having such a good time, Soojin was laughing, the boys were all there too.”

You try to focus but bits and pieces of the dream are already forgotten in your mind. “And somehow we all went out for dinner, and no one was wearing masks, Yoongs, including us and I panicked I think?”

Your husbands hands are soothing you. “And that’s when you woke up?”

“No...There’s something else.” You struggle to remember. “There’s a boy I think, and I thought he was lost, but he gave me a face mask.”

Yoongi stops rubbing you. “The boy gave you a mask?” He sounds tickled.

“It’s a dream, it doesn’t have to make sense.” You playfully swat his chest.

He nuzzles your hair. “You dream of the weirdest things.”

You giggle in his embrace. Your naked bodies pressed closer as sleepiness starts to disappear, slowly replaced by something more carnal.

You suddenly remember something. “Oh my god, Yoons!” You push Yoongi away. He leans back, confused.

“What if that was a conception dream? The boy called me Eomma.”

Your husband looks at you as if you have grown two heads. “A conception dream?”

“Well, we may have conceived a child tonight, considering... you know, how many times you came in me.”

“Only twice but thanks for the ego boost.”

“I’m serious!” You give him a stern look. “What if we conceived a baby tonight, and that was my conception dream? Oh my god, how could my conception dream be of a boy giving me a K94 mask?”

Yoongi starts laughing. “And what do you think that would mean? We’re gonna have a son who’d become a doctor? That wouldn’t be so bad, right?”

You pout. “Now you’re just teasing me.”

He cradles you back in his arms. You have talked with your husband before about giving Soojin a sibling. Your hand unconsciously moves down to your tummy. You and Yoongi have foregone all birth controls tonight, and you hope one of his swimmers has made it.

Yoongi strokes your hair gently. “You know, since you have the conception dream already, why don’t we make sure it doesn’t go to waste?”

His hands are moving down your body, sending sparks all over.

“I agree, Min Yoongi. You better give me a baby tonight. Just in case the first two times weren’t quite successful.”

Laughing, he rolls over to be on top of you, determined to get you all nice and pregnant by the time morning comes.

A/N: I actually had the dream OC had - minus the boy with the K94 mask. The fact that Miss Rona actually invaded my dream, that was just so crazy I had to write it down! And eventually it became this little piece of a fic 😄 Please remember to wear your mask, social distance and stay safe! 💜

Published 08022021

#thebtswritersclub #thetruthuntoldnet #btscreatorscorner #noonasinnetwork #bts fluff #yoongi fluff #yoongi x you #yoongi x reader #yoongi x oc #in the soop #bts fan fiction #bts fanfiction #bts fanfic #husband Yoongi

[selfproducingfanfictionauthor]

BTS Scenario: An omega arrives in your pack (Hyungline x alpha/beta fem!reader)

Summary:  An omega joining a pack is a blessing - an unmated one is a miracle. So when the village elder came to you not with authority in her eyes but pity and pleading for understanding, you had no choice but to let him go.

Or, an omega joins the pack and you’re an alpha/beta in a relationship with another alpha. The community asks for your sacrifice. Warnings/Notes: Implied Smut, slight ass play, Angst, Drabble (no resolution... yet) I wanted to explore a different dynamic in the ABO Universe, since it’s usually Alpha BTS x Omega Reader but how about the Beta or even the Alpha reader? Hope you enjoy!  Word Count: 2k+ (500 per drabble) 

KIM SEOKJIN 

(after he’s called to participate in the matching, and Jungkook is an unmated male omega who’s always had a crush on you) (though crush is a understatement)

He’s here for a final goodbye, you think as you allow him to push you back against the wall.

He kisses you with desperation, all teeth and tongue, as if he wants to devour you whole. He reeks of her but you push it at the back of your mind, together with your instinct to gain the upper hand.

If this is goodbye, let it be as soft as you two could be.

You close your eyes to blink back the tears and wrap your arms around his neck. You match his passion kiss after kiss until you both are panting, breathing in each other.

Seokjin slows it down and pulls at your shirt, slipping it off your head. His eyes are wan, and he hasn’t met your gaze the whole time. It feels wrong, but then again, everything is.

So you try to bring back some normalcy and let the urgency in your touch show. Your arms slid down his shoulder, pushing him back into your room, your strength easily matching his.

In the dark of the room, you tug at his shirt but Seokjin grasps your hand away from his chest. You thought he’s going to lead you to his cock just as he did many times before, but he pulls you closer until there’s no more space between your chest and his and leads your hand to his hole.

He’s dry as the dessert but her pushes your hand closer, until your fingers tap his puckered hole.

You can feel him force himself not to tense up, breathing deeply and dropping his head to your shoulder. His back is caved over you, like a tall child and he turns to graze his lips against your ear.

“I’ll let you fuck me too, if that’s what you want, jagi.”

Your eyes widen and you try to pull your hand away but he holds it still. Your other hand tries to push his chest away but his other arm wraps around your shoulder blades, unwilling to let go.

He keeps still in the crook of your neck, murmuring words you never imagined you’ll hear from the alpha, “I’ll moan like he did. Beg like he did.” His voice shakes, and you startle at the tears wetting your skin. It doesn’t even occur to you to wonder how he knew about Jungkook, and what had transpired the night before because here he is.

He’s crying. Your alpha is crying.

“Just please don’t leave me.”

MIN YOONGI 

(Your love for Yoongi knows no bounds, you can give him this. In which your arranged marriage is thwarted.)

“It’s a good thing we’re not bonded yet, huh?”

You try not to wince at the relief in his voice and instead you laugh, hoping that the dark is enough to conceal the wobble on your lip.

You are both lying on your bed, exhausted by your hours long of… what do you call it again? Ah, he did call it his favorite recreational activity. He figured sexual compatibility is an important factor in arrange marriages earlier on your engagement.

And you, in love with him for more than half your life, said yes.

His fingers are playing with your hair, while his other hand lifts a lit cigarette to his lips. He glances down at you, his cat-like eyes half-lidded.

“You want a smoke?”

Pulling the blanket higher to your chest, relishing in the slight flicker of interest in his eyes, you shake your head. “Actually, can you not smoke on my bed tonight?”

Yoongi raises an eyebrow but says nothing and puts out his cigarette against the ash tray on your bedside table. Usually, you take up on his offer, and he’s not gonna lie and say that the image of your lips around a cigarette doesn’t stir his cock alive.

“Not feeling well?” He asks, the only time you refused his offer was whenever you’re feeling the drop after your activities. But usually, you’ll tell him outright, communication being as open as you both could.

You let a small smile touch your lips at his tone. He cares for you, you know, maybe not as much as you want him to, but it’s enough.

Or it used to be enough.

“Just a mild migraine,” you lie before pressing a kiss against his shoulder.

Yoongi smiles and kisses the crown of your head, “You know what cures migraines?”

Your smile grows wider as you look up to his grin, his hand already sliding down the small of your back under your blankets. “I think I have an idea.”

By the time he’s pulled out 3 more orgasms from you, the moon has started fading from the night sky. The brisk winter air entering your room by the open window, drawing goosebumps on your skin.

Beside you, Yoongi sits up and pulls his shirt over his head.

“You’re not staying the night?”

Yoongi shakes his head, “The trials start the day after tomorrow, I’ve got to get a head start.”

Your press your lips together, your hand sneaking down your belly. You imagine your child, the size of a pea, hoping they do not hear your breaking heart. “I thought you didn’t like being choices taken away from you.”

That was one of the major points of discussion when your parents arranged your marriage. It’s also a source of your many arguments at the start, before slowly becoming some sort of unwanted roommate in your makeshift relationship.

Yoongi pauses, there’s something in your voice that he can’t pinpoint. He turns to you, for once, you are unreadable. “This is different.”

“Oh,” you breathe. How so, you want to ask. How come a choice robbed by our secondary natures so much different than the ones robbed by our parents? How come it’s the lesser evil in your eyes?

How come I was never a palatable choice in the first place?

But you don’t. Instead, Yoongi presses on. “At least now, you know, if it turns out that it’s me, you’re free. You can go to university just like you want.”

“Yeah…” you chuckle dryly, “Well, good luck then.”

You don’t beg him to stay, you’re an alpha too and an alpha protects their pack. As your hand travels down to your belly again, you remember - you have your own to protect now too.

JUNG HOSEOK 

(You’re just his best friend. What can you say?)

“She smells like lilacs! No, wait, honey! Honey and cream.” Hoseok sighs, all lovestruck on your couch over the new omega girl in town.

As part of the search party that found her, he hasn’t stopped talking about her for weeks. Giving you updates on her recovery in the beginning, and then her smile, her eyes, and the way she laughs as time went by.

At first, you didn’t mind. An omega joining the pack is a blessing, given their rarity. They symbolize fertility and bounty, and you are nothing if not loyal to the community. You foster the village children as their teacher, you teach them the ropes of the land - how to feed the cows, how to plant the seeds, and how to prepare for harvest - after all.

But as time went by, as Hoseok’s visits to her home frequent and his visits to yours lessen, it’s become harder and harder to keep the bitter thoughts away. Hoseok may still visit you, but when was the last time you two talked about anything other than her?

“The trials for her mate starts next week,” Hoseok starts, almost as if waiting for you to say something, “I’m thinking of participating.”

From the kitchen, you tighten your hold on the tray balancing your tea and snacks. Without a wobble, you inquire as you step back into your living room, “Oh?”

“Yeah,” he picks up one of your cookies, suddenly looking all bashful, “I’m unmated and I’m not getting younger so, might as well give it a shot you know?”

You frown behind your tea cup, “We’re barely past our mid-20s, Seok-ie, that hardly qualifies as old.”

Hoseok leans back and tilts his head on the back of your couch until it hangs in relaxation. “It’s different between you and I.”

It’s true, betas are not so pressured to reproduce early. After all, there’s nothing special to be had in your genes, you think bitterly.

“Besides,” he continues, “I think I like her. You know, maybe we should invite her next time we hang out! You can get to know her too!”

“I’d rather not.” It spills over your lips before you could control it, and Hoseok stiffens before turning his gaze to you.

“If I didn’t know any better, I’d think you’re jealous.” Hoseok teases, unaware at how his words hit home.

You stiffen, biting your lip before the dam breaks. “Maybe I am.” you whisper.

He blinks in surprise at the feebleness of your tone, “B-but… you’re a beta.”

You know. You know your place, in this village and in his life but somehow it’s different hearing it from him. Standing, you  turn away to step back into your kitchen when a hand grasps your wrist.

“I don’t understand.” Hoseok whispers, trying to look up to your face but thwarted by your hair. He doesn’t need to see your watering eyes to know there are tears in them. He’s reeling from the sudden change of atmosphere, smelling your distress in the air.

Suddenly, you’re overwhelmed by the sense of inferiority and your heart caves into itself. With the last of your strength, you shake off his hold, pointing to the door.

“I think it’s best you leave.”

KIM NAMJOON 

(Namjoon has always been a man of duty, and though you are tough and strong, there are limits to what you can and will endure)

You pride yourself to be level-headed, calm, and objective unlike many of the alphas in the pack. You’ve never lost your control, or flown into fury even during your youth but at this very moment, you summon all your discipline to keep your lips from pulling back and snarling at the older alpha in front of you.

How dare she?

How dare they ask this of you?

“It is his duty.” She repeats and beside you, Namjoon is silent. Eyes straight ahead, back as rigid as the trees outside your home. The home that you two built for your children that will come after your wedding.

The wedding that’s supposed to be in a month.

But the longer Namjoon stays silent, the farther that future seems to be. By the time the elder leaves your home, you don’t even see a speck of it in your mind’s eye.

The silence continue as you clean up the cups and uneaten rice cakes. The silent clink of the utensils echoing in your quaint home.

As you wash the dishes, you feel like an outsider watching your body go through the motions. Scrubbing the plate clockwise, once, twice, three times, before running it under the faucet. Next, you pick up the cups, here, clockwise, once, twice —

“It is my duty,” you hear Namjoon, and oh, he’s beside you, hand on your wrist, pulling your hands away from the frigid waters, “you know that, right?”

As one of the strongest and wisest alphas this pack has ever seen in generations, your betrothal to Namjoon was tolerated at best. Alpha bondings are common nowadays, with the scarcity of omegas. So yes, your betrothal was tolerated - just tolerated, even with you being as strong and as wise as your betrothed - but now?

With that young omega in the picture?

They are making you feel as if you’ve committed a grave sin against the community, as if it’s not within your rights to rage against the unfairness of it all.

They’re asking you for your love.

And he’s so willing to be taken away. Your heart breaks but you nod quietly, “I know. I understand.”

Namjoon stupidly thought that was the end of it. That you knew he’ll always come back to you, omega or not.

Maybe he was naive, or he truly was selfish to ask it of you but when he gets home the week after the trials to a dark cold house the surprise knocks him to his knees and drops his heart to his stomach.

You left the kitchen untouched, his mug still next to yours but, Namjoon pauses at the threshold of your room. There, glinting under the moonlight, sits your ring and the last of your scent wafts away.

END NOTES:  Hearts are appreciated but comments are gold. Let me know if this should have a second (or even third) part! :) 

#bts scenario #bts x reader #hyungline x reader #alpha! namjoon #alpha! yoongi #alpha! seokjin #alpha! hoseok #namjoon x reader #yoongi x reader #seokjin x reader #hoseok x reader #slight jungkook x reader #alpha! reader #beta! reader #abo dynamics #thetruthuntoldnet #bangtanarmynet #bts fanfiction #bts drabbles #bts angst

[igotyouniverse]

Kiss me under the Mistletoe

Pairing: Kim Namjoon x Reader

Request: Kim Namjoon with drabble prompt 8 please Fluff for Namjoon secret crush they both have a crush on each other and Namjoon is the one to say “Oh wow – who put that mistletoe up there”?? Please??

Prompt: “Oh wow - who put that mistletoe up there?”

Genre: Fluff, secret crush, basically Namjoon pining for the reader in the cutest way

Words: 1,5k

Part of my Seasonal Requests Special - Winter Edition.

a/n: I'm back after my break! So this is the 2nd drabble a lovely anon requested. I hope you enjoy this as much as the first one! ❤️ I was so happy when you requested Namjoon because he is my bias in BTS and overall one of my ults qwq🥺 So this is extra cute and lovely! Hopefully you enjoy it just as much as I do! ❤️❄️

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To say that Namjoon was nervous would be the understatement of the year. For months now, he's had the biggest crush on you – and everyone knew. Except for you. He remembered the day Yoongi introduced you as his new neighbour so clearly in his mind. The way you talked, voice soft and charming like a fairy, completely putting him under your spell. He was hooked immediately. He liked the way you talked with such grace and maturity. The way you saw things just like him, from simple things like food over to books and even the deepest philosophical questions. He couldn't resist from admiring you, following your mouth with every movement, lulled by every word falling from your plumb lips. He was mesmerized by the way you delicately moved your hands while speaking and how your long, wavy hair just fell down your shoulders in the most perfect way. For him, your were the perfect mixture of smart and sexy, just like he always imagined a women who would peak his interest. Yet, he saw your sweet side, like when you passionately talked about your loved ones and job. He even has a blurred memory of you blushing while talking to him, making his heart melt once and for all.

His friends teased him endlessly about him not having the courage to ask you out. Every time you met in your small group of friends  they exchanged conspicuously inconspicuous looks with each other, wiggling their brows at him. It annoyed him. So he knew, today was the day he finally grew some balls and made a move – indirectly. It was holiday season and like every year his friends and him threw a small Christmas party at his place. He wasn't the most creative person when it came to decorations so of course he asked for help.  “Is everyone coming tonight?”, Taehyung asked him while putting up some simple fairy lights on the walls. “Yeah, I think so.”, Namjoon answered, his hands fumbling with a mistletoe he bought in a store just a few hours ago. “Do you wanna hang that up?”, he heard a smirk in Taehyungs voice, who obviously knew about his crush on you. “Ah, I don't know, Tae.”, Namjoon sighed, a hand running through his hair desperately. “What if she doesn't see it?” he asked and looked up at his friend who looked down at him and chuckled. “Then you need to make her see it. Just hang it somewhere obvious – but not too obvious.”, his friend answered and looked across the room, “You could put it in the kitchen door. Not too obvious but easy to get her under it.”, he added and Namjoon scratched his chin, thinking about what his friend said.

“I guess.”, he just mumbled and pinned it on the door frame. He wasn't sure if it would work. And even if he managed to get her under the mistletoe – would she even kiss him? What if she ignore it or just laughed?

“Stop worrying so much. I'm pretty sure she likes you too. We all are, honestly.”, he heard Taeyhung say after hanging up the lights and coming down from the ladder he stood on. “Why are you so sure about it? Have you seen her?”, Namjoon sighed, burying his face in his hands for a quick second to let out a frustrated groan. “Yeah I have. That's why I'm sure. Everyone can see how clearly you two are just pining for each other but obviously lack some balls.”, Taehyung said to cheer up his friend and chuckled as soon as Namjoon shot an annoyed look at him.

Namjoon felt how his nervousness rose with each second passing by and the evening just kept going and going without him even exchanging one word with you, except for a quick Hi when you arrived at his place. He stared at the drink in his hand, taking a small sip, eyes following your every step. You weren't even making the slightest move towards the kitchen and he started to get frustrated. Why couldn't he just ask you out like a normal guy would? Your simple presence made him feel like a lost child, trying to get your attention yet being too shy to actually initiate a conversation. All he did, was listen to you when you talked and agree quietly. He wasn't even sure if you every listened to him when he talked. He even felt a bit confident as the party came closer but as soon as you walked through that door, wearing a dark red dress with a perfectly matched lipstick, delicate golden accessories complimenting your skin tone, looking just way too gorgeous to  be true, his confidence was gone, being a complete flustered mess.

“Okay, honestly. Make a move now.”, he heard Taehyung whisper next to him. “How? She's not even close to the kitchen.”, Namjoon answered and sighed. He wanted to add something but nearly choked on his own salvia when he saw you walking up to him. He coughed before smiling at you, forgetting how to speak for a brief second. “Nice place.”, you said with that angelic voice of yours. Taehyung excused himself, leaving you two in the living room without him. “Oh, thanks.”, he said, scratching his neck nervously. He tried his best to just calm his breath and not stare at you for too long. “I saw your book collection. It's really impressive! I even saw some of my own favourites in it.”, you chuckled and smiled at him once more but this time it really felt like his heart skipped a beat. The way you charmingly smiled at him, made his legs feel all jiggly. “Really? I can lend you some. I mean, ones you haven't read already, of course.”, he chuckled and placed his drink down on a small coffee table. “Ah, that would be sweet. There are some I don't know yet but they look really interesting.”, you said and he watched how you carefully put a strand of hair behind your ear.

He knew this was his chance he just couldn't blow it. “Um, are you hungry? I got some snacks in the kitchen.”, he tried to keep his voice as calm and down as possible but when you nodded and smiled once more he felt how he nearly bit his tongue in excitement. He felt how you walked next to him to the kitchen, his eyes fixated on the mistletoe in front of you. Just a few steps further and he had you right under it – just a few meters until he had a chance of finally kissing you. Anxiety filled his body shortly after, afraid of getting rejected by you – the women he liked just so much. But if he didn't try now, he probably wouldn't ever. So, just as soon as you stepped into the door frame he looked up and chuckled. “Oh wow – who put that mistletoe up there?”, he laughed and scratched his neck once more, before nervously looking at you, seeing how your eyes looked up at the mistletoe before back at him, the corners of your mouth forming into  a small grin. “A mistletoe? I guess we have to kiss now, don't we?”, he blinked a few times, trying to process what you just said to him. His lips curled into a big smile, feeling how his friends stared holes in his back. He cleared his throat, looking at you again, locking his gaze with yours. When he saw you smiling at him, his heart just melt right there in his chest. He carefully cupped your head in his hands, slowly bending down slightly, his breath starting to hitch, before finally connecting his lips with yours. It was like a wave hit him. The way your soft, plump lips felt on his, tasting sweet and endearing. His body filled with a warmth, which spread through his veins, making him feel happy. He was finally kissing you, still unable to fully believe it was really happening right here, right now. It might sound like a cliché but he really felt like a thousand butterflies were set free inside of his stomach. After a few seconds he slowly pulled away, looking back into your eyes seeing them glow as soon as you opened them.

“Finally.” he heard you whisper before locking his lips with yours once more.

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[joheun-saram]

January Rain (jjk)

word count- 1.5k

pairing- ceo!Jungkook x secretary!Reader

rating- PG

genre- angst, fluff

warnings- none! :)

an- for the cute 🍒anon! I hope you like it!

-

You looked at the email your boss’s mother had sent you and felt a shiver run down your spine. You knew what you had with Jungkook was too good to last. It was a cliche really, the secretary sleeping with the CEO, but every time he looked at you, it was like you forgot your own name. The way his big doe eyes traced your features right before he devoured you, or the way he called you in his office for some paperwork, when really he just wanted to kiss you silly.

I'm not sure if Jungkook mentioned this to you yet, but can you please check when he is available for his date with Jisoo. Any time from Wed to Fri would work.

As you reread the email asking you to set a time for a date with his fiancee, you knew starting something with the handsome man across from you was a mistake. You would never be able to call him yours, never be able to hold his hand in public, and the thought made your eyes sting. Looking through his calendar, you did your job, quietly resolving to no longer fall for his charms. There was a reason he made the number of deals that he did, he was great at getting his way, but that would no longer be the case with you.

It was when you added the event in his calendar that he called your name. He was settled behind a large desk, the dark oak a contrast to the light cedar of the cabin. He had rented the chalet for the weekend, wanting a getaway to work on the new expansion proposal for the board. It was an added bonus that the large cottage came with a room with a king-sized bed and a hot tub on the back patio. Initially, you were looking forward to spending the weekend tangled up in the sheets with your boss, but the sound of your name on his lips just irritated you now.

He called you twice before you graced him with a glance in his direction.

"Why did you send me this?" He asked, eyes narrowed in your direction and jaw set. He seemed annoyed. Good.

"Your mother emailed me. I'm just doing my job," you replied with a huff, rolling your eyes at his demeanor as he sighed.

"Come here, baby." Jungkook spoke softly as he rolled his chair away from his desk, tapping his lap in an invitation. An invitation you would've jumped at a mere twenty minutes ago, but now it just caused frustration and hurt to bloom in your chest.

"I'm sorry. I think that would be unprofessional, sir." You remained straight-faced, averting your eyes towards your laptop as you continued to work through his emails and schedule for the week. He scoffed, turning to his true-tried method of humour to lighten the mood.

“Come on. I dare you.” He smirked, moving around his desk to lean against it, arms open, expecting you to grumble but make your way to him as usual. But you avoided looking at him, your full attention on your work, as you tried to pretend he wasn’t even in the room. In the attempt to shield your feelings, you missed the look of hurt that clouded his features as he lost his earlier confidence and fidgeted with the many documents strewn across his desk.

"Baby, look at me. Please?" Jungkook pleaded, the pout on his face evident through his voice. You couldn't look at him even if you tried, you knew the effect he had on you. It was the same adorable pout that had made you give him your heart the first time he aimed it at you. It was your kryptonite. The way he would be extremely polite and professional to all your colleagues but turn into a puppy whenever the two of you were alone. It was something that made you want him more, deluded you into thinking that he was only this open in front of you. But clearly, his change in character wasn't as special as you thought.

Ignoring his request, you swiftly stood from your seat on the couch, walking firmly to the main door into the cold rain outside. The freezing raindrops pelted your skin, making goosebumps rise in their wake as your teeth chattered. Although you had forgotten your coat in your haste to remove yourself from the situation, you didn't regret it one bit. You welcomed the chill, letting it cool you to the bone as you walked away from the fancy chalet. You didn't care that you would inevitably have to go inside in a few minutes and that you would also probably get a headache from the way the almost frozen droplets pelted your head.

Before you could walk too long though, you felt a pair of strong arms encircle you, the warmth of a firm chest molding to your back like a comfortable blanket.

"You're going to get sick," Jungkook murmured in your ear, his grip tight around your waist, as you tried not to give into him yet again.

"Stop worrying about me. You have Jisoo." You tried to push him off you, but his strength outmatched you by miles as he clung to your back, the two of you drenched and shivering.

"I don't want Jisoo. I want you." He whispered, his voice barely audible over the sound of the rain. His words sent the butterflies in your belly a flutter, but your brain refused to let them win. You shoved him off you, turning around to stare at him. 

His hair was in his eyes, the black curls obstructing his eyes, as he shook his head to see you clearer. He was drenched, his white shirt almost invisible, highlighting the contours of his body. He moved closer, rubbing his hands on your arms in an attempt to warm you up, but despite the way he looked at you softly, you shrugged him off once again.

"So what? You're gonna break off your engagement and run away with me?" you questioned, arms folded as your gaze hardened.

"Absolutely." There was no hint of hesitation in his eyes, and his determination broke down your defenses. Before you knew it you were staring at the ground, willing the tears to go away. You were never more thankful to have the rain soaking you through.

"Don't do this to me. I can't take this anymore," you spoke quietly, unsure if he could even hear you.

"Do what? I told you I don't want her. I want you." Jungkook held your arms, bending a little to make the eye contact you were so adamant in avoiding.

"But your mom -" Jungkook scoffed, cutting you off. His hands cupped your face as he tried to pour as much of his feelings through his gaze as he could, his warm chocolate eyes entrancing you like they always did. 

"Do you think I care? I did my part, took over the company like a good little boy. I'm not going to let her control me anymore." His gaze hardened as he spoke and it reminded you of your resolve. Even though he was determined right now, you knew Jungkook. Knew that he would always pick his mom over anyone else, knew that he would never want to disappoint her. And above all, you knew that she would never accept you. 

"Jungkook, I think it's best if we end this." And although your words spoke differently, you moved closer to him, your hands over his arms as you held on like he would let go. 

"No. How can it be best if I can't be with the woman I love?" His forehead met yours as he confessed and your heart felt like it could explode. In the year you had been part of this fling, he had never told you he loved you. Jungkook wasn’t one for words, he would instead buy you extravagant gifts and take you travelling. You had always hoped he felt what you did but you never thought you’d hear those words escape his lips.

"Love?" you asked in a daze, your resolve falling like crumbs to the wayside. Jungkook smiled at your confusion as if it was the most endearing thing in the world. His nose scrunched a little as it grazed yours and he giggled.

"I love you." 

You couldn’t stop yourself from crashing your lips to his. How could you, when the man you had been in love with for years finally spoke like he had in your dreams. His kiss warmed you up, making you forget about the rain still pelting from above and the chill in your bones. His arms encircled your waist once again, pulling you close, chest to chest, as yours found home around his neck. Kissing him was so easy, it was like your body was finally at peace in his arms.

"Tell me you love me too. Please?" He pleaded when you finally broke for air and the uncertainty in his voice made you want to do anything in your power to assure him.

"I love you. I love you. I love you." You kissed him with every confession, your heart finally being allowed to pour through your actions. 

You didn’t remember how long the two of you stood kissing in the cold January rain, but it was worth the stuffy noses and headaches that plagued you both for a week afterward. 

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