Scars From Your Mistakes Mark Your Constellation

Tee. 30-ish. She/her. OT7 but a rapline hoe. 18+ only!

[foliexaxdeux]

I'LL DO THE THING FOR YOU | MYG

Pairing: Yoongi x f!reader

Genre: Oneshot, smut, pwp, established relationship

Summary: After a small fight, Yoongi wants to make it up to you. He'll do the thing for you, he's on his knees and, of course, he also says please.

Warnings: MDNI, explicit sexual content, very loosely based on the lyrics of 'Please', oral (f receiving), fingering, face sitting, PiV, unprotected sex (they're together and I imagined MC on some form of contraceptive), dirty talk, Yoongi is cocky in the beginning and whiny towards the end, this isn't a dom/sub setting at all but if it was he'd be a switch, he's pussy whipped and begs for it hehe

Wordcount: 3.4k

Masterlist

The argument you had with Yoongi earlier wasn't even supposed to be one, seriously. You were just playing, but he took it the wrong way and now you're sitting on the couch sulking. 

You were driving home together when it happened. Yoongi was parking the car, had put it in reverse, looking out the rear window with his arm slung around the back of your seat while backing into the open spot. You’d told him something about - what even was it...? Some random post you’d seen online about sourdough. And he didn’t listen because he was busy concentrating on parking. He’d asked you to come again once he turned off the car and you said something along the lines of it’s alright, you never listen to me anyway. 

It was supposed to be a joke. Obviously! You’d even grinned while saying it but had turned your head away from him to look out the window in a dramatic display of feigned offense. Yoongi didn’t catch the sarcasm. And he huffed. Then shook his head and got out of the car without another word. That’s when you started to get pissed. He really thought you were that much of a bitch, huh? Okay then. 

Neither of you were in the mood to address it, busy seething with a subtle broil of pent up irritation as you entered your shared apartment. He tried to ease the tension by pushing your shoulder with a playful nudge of his while you slipped out of your shoes. You scoffed though, still griping about him believing you’d be upset over something so trivial. And yes, the irony was lost on you. He let you be then, knowing you’d come around after a while and needing a minute to clear his head himself.

Some hours have passed since, the cool down phase in full effect and you drop on the couch after a long shower that brought some sense of balance to your brain. This ‘fight’ was so stupid, it almost makes you laugh. You shake your head, pulling your bath robe tighter as you swipe on your phone when he walks past you, then stops. He’s testing the waters, you can tell from the way he monitors your body language; how you will or won’t react to his presence. You raise a brow while looking up at him, the corner of your lip pulling upwards. A truce. One he decides to accept, judging by the way he trudges closer.

“You feel better?” he asks and you know he worded it that way on purpose, so as not to ask you if you’ve finally calmed down. 

You huff out a breath, laughter mixed with a hint of reluctance, because that question still suggests that you’ve been overreacting. You don’t pin him down on it, though. Not yet at least. Rather, you return it. “And you?”

“Mhm.” He bends his knees until he’s crouching before you, his eyes now level with yours, one hand resting on your knee for support. “We were both being stupid, huh?”

Yeah, he’s right. Still, you don’t have to admit it right away. “I was just joking, you know? When I said you never listen to me.”

“Yeah, I figured,” he sighs. “An hour too late, I guess.”

The honesty makes you laugh and you drop your phone somewhere in the cracks of the couch cushions. 

Yoongi takes it as an invitation - an unspoken extension of the truce that, if handled correctly, could even lead to peace. “I’m sorry baby,” he says before he leans in. “Let me make it up to you.”

You’re closing in as well, meeting his lips for a single kiss. Smiling now, you might have an idea on how he could fulfill that proposition. “And how would you do that?”

Yoongi cocks his head to the side with a smirk, eyelids narrowing as he thinks about it. He moves from crouching to resting on his knees on the floor before you, hand on the back of your head pulling you forward, so you’re still face to face even though he’s positioned lower than before. He kisses your cheek, lips wandering along your jaw and down the side of your throat where he sucks lightly, making your breath hitch. When his nose traces your earlobe he detaches from you but stays close, whispering, “I’ll do the thing for you.”

“The thing?” Oh, you know exactly which thing.

“Yeah,” he breathes against your neck while his right hand reaches for the lapel of your robe. He rubs the soft material between his fingers before gently pushing it aside and slipping them under. “The thing you like so much, you know.”

With the back of his hand now resting on the supple skin of your chest he pulls his head back to look at you. 

“Hm, I don’t know what you mean,” you lie as you move closer for another kiss. He leans in harder now, sighing against your lips and pushes his tongue into your mouth. He flicks it against yours lightly, barely grazing you with its tip and it makes you chuckle how he’s subtly trying to help you remember. You pull back but keep him near by cupping his cheek. “Ah, that thing.”

His hand under your robe inches down, knuckles brushing over your nipple and the sensation makes it harden instantly. He finds the belt around your waist with his other hand and unties the knot with his thumb. His eyes widen slightly as the fabric falls open and drops loosely around your sides. It’s not like he hasn’t looked at you a million times before. Still, his lids show the tiniest of flutters every single time, the dilation of his pupils barely detectable. 

Yoongi leans in, not taking his gaze off your tits and latches onto your chest. With his lips around one nipple and his hand on the other, he sucks with a slight graze of his teeth and simultaneously rolls his fingers, pulling a gasp from you. 

The smirk on his face is dangerous, bordering on vicious, when he looks up at you. “You know, sometimes I think you’re only provoking those small fights for the make-up sex.” 

He straightens his back when you don't respond, his knees still on the floor and leans backwards as he snakes his hands beneath your legs. With a firm pull, he drags you down the cushion, so your ass rests at the edge of the sofa, your back now flat against the seat. His hands run up the skin of your thighs, grabbing them gently by the backs of your knees and pushing your legs up against your belly while spreading them. “Keep them like this for me, alright?” 

You do what he asked and hold your legs up with your hands, anticipation coiling tightly in your abdomen as you watch him with bated breath.

“So pretty,” he muses quietly when he looks down at you, nodding to himself as if he’s confirming his own remark while his eyes stay glued to your core. “Gonna make it up to you, yeah?”

You nod even though he doesn't wait for your answer anyway, already tilting his head down again but not closing in. He purses his lips a good few inches above your pussy and releases a dense wad of spit, letting it drop slowly so it stretches into a thick string, before it lands directly on your clit. You suck in a breath of surprise at the feeling, your hip jerking as hot slick that’s cooling down quickly trickles down your folds and Yoongi grins as he watches how it coats you.  

When he finally comes closer, his lips trace down the inside of your thigh, kissing and sucking the skin on his way. “Gonna eat you out so good baby,” he mumbles while his thumbs draw lazy circles around the outer edges of your labia. “You want that?”

“Yes,” you whine, mouth agape as you watch him descend. If you weren’t wet before, you certainly are now. “Want it so bad.”

Yoongi chuckles against your skin, hot breath fanning over the slick across your core. His lips are soft when he brushes them from where his thumbs work, up to your mound and his eyes snap to yours just before he closes the last bit of distance to place a kiss on your clit. You shudder at the contact, brows furrowed into a needy frown, to which he only grins. 

His tongue glides across you in calculated motions and - oh - when he flicks it, he’s really doing the thing that always makes your eyes roll back into your head. 

“Fuck,” you breathe out, removing your hand from your shin and bringing it down to stroke through his hair. Yoongi’s lids fall shut when your fingers catch hold of a thick strand to pull him even closer and he releases a muffled groan against you. 

He runs his tongue up and down your pussy in unhurried strokes, lapping at your entrance and tracing its outline before coming back up. His finger pushes into you right when his lips close around your clit, sucking lightly and kissing it softly as he applies pressure to his hand, entering you with one single, slow thrust. Your head falls back into the couch cushion when he pumps it in and out, curling it just right, so he hits the spot you need him to. 

“Right there,” you moan, fingers tightening around the hair close to his scalp. He knows, of course he does, that you like it right there and doesn't relent, his tongue still working its wonders while he adds a second finger, pushing and pulling and curling on their way out, making you feel like you’re going to explode. 

Fuck, the muscles in your abdomen are straining, breaths turning shallow and your legs begin to shake already. You're about to come, pulling him even closer and he groans against your pussy again. 

When you tear your eyes open to look at him, you notice him shuffling around a bit and wonder what he's doing. The coil in your belly relaxes at the slight distraction, eyes wandering over his hunched figure. Ah, he moved his free hand down into his pants. You twist your torso a bit to get a better view and take another peak to confirm. Yes, he pushed down his sweats and is jerking himself off while eating you out. 

You giggle, feeling yourself getting even wetter at the thought of him enjoying this so much he has to touch himself, but Yoongi looks up at you at the sound. 

“What's so funny?” he asks, a bit out of breath. 

“Nothing,” you answer as your fingers run across his scalp. “Just didn't expect you to multitask.”

His gaze drops down to his dick, a slight flush on his cheeks before he pulls up his pants. 

“No, don't stop. I like it.”

“Not planning on stopping,” he says as he stands up from the floor and offers you his hand. “Just changing the setting.”

You let him pull you up and guide you into the bedroom, where he pushes the bath robe from your shoulders and takes off his shirt. He pulls you to sit at the edge of the bed, tips of his fingers ghosting up your arms before he tangles them in your hair to pull you in. Your lips meet for a hungry kiss, Yoongi’s nonchalance slowly but surely dissipating. His hands roam your whole body and end up on your tits for a harsh squeeze while you sigh against his lips, desperately wanting to touch him too. You reach out for him, palming him over his sweats and earn a sharp exhale from him. He doesn't grant you access for long though as he pulls back, eager eyes now dark and almost impatient, taking in your figure before he slips away. 

You watch him moving up the mattress where he throws the pillows down to the floor and lays down flat on his back, his head right where the pillows were a second ago. 

“Come here and sit on my face,” he says as his hand already snakes down into his pants again. 

No need to ask you twice, of course you’re going to, you’re already on your way actually. You climb onto the bed and swing a leg over him, straddling his face between your thighs. Yoongi smiles up at you before pulling you closer by your hip. 

“Now let me finish this.” His words slur against your skin as you grab the headboard for support in hopes that it'll help you to come out of this alive. 

His strokes are quick now, diligently lapping at your dripping heat, making you throw your head back, nails digging into the wood in front of you. 

“God, fuck,” you sigh, wanting to tell him how good it feels but alas, you're lost for words, thoughts currently swimming somewhere too far away for your brain to catch up and form a coherent sentence.

You're afraid of suffocating him between your legs, thighs flexing absentmindedly to hold most of your weight up even though his left arm on your hip keeps pulling, pulling, pulling you down and you finally give in and relax. Now that you're really sitting down, he breathes out a groan so content, it vibrates through your whole body. 

Without a doubt he’s giving his all to make it up to you, kissing, tongue swirling, slurping you up until you see stars. Your hips start rocking on him on their own, needily grinding over his face as you chase your release and he seems to like that, judging by the way he hums against you at the constant back and forth. 

“Shit, I’m so close,” you gasp as he’s guiding your movements across his face, tongue rolling over your clit every time you glide over his lips. The coil in your belly tightens as you feel him stir and you turn your head only to see that he’s pushed his sweats down again, hand closed around his dick and stroking himself. The image propels you across the edge, fingers on the headboard digging harder into the wood while your other hand finds his hair to hold on to. With your head spinning and ears ringing, you shudder above him, riding out your high in quick motions, pussy clenching around nothing while he eats you out like you're his favorite meal. 

He’s not stopping his feast, still licking your throbbing clit until you have to pull off of him with a moan that ends up sounding more like a cry. Your body betrays you as you move and you practically fold, falling down on the mattress right next to him and landing on your back with a thump. 

Yoongi gets up on his knees while you gasp for air, towering over your figure with his sweats shoved down his thighs and he immediately presses himself against you, hand on his hard dick, rubbing it up and down your sensitive core. 

“Shit baby,” he grits out with his eyes closed, mouth glistening with your essence as he leans in for another kiss. “Wanna fuck you so bad.”

“Yeah?” you ask, buying yourself a bit more time to calm down. You reach for him and replace his hand with yours, fingers wrapping tightly around his erection. “I’m still so sensitive though.”

His tip is halfway inside of you and his head falls back when you start pumping him slowly, dragging out the moment before he can push in further. “Please baby, you feel so good.”

It makes you chuckle when he begs and he knows you like it, so you can't help yourself from playing that game, still pumping him lazily while he holds himself back from sinking in fully. “Are you sure you've made it up to me properly? You were really mean earlier.”

“Shit, don't do this to me,” he almost whines. “I was so, so good to you, wasn't I? Made you come so hard.”

“Yeah, you did,” you tell him, gripping him a bit tighter as you roll your wrist on him and drawing another sharp breath from his lips while you kiss him. “So you’d say you’ve earned it, huh?”

“Yes!” He nods like you asked him if you should gift him a million dollars right now. “Yes, I’ve earned it. Please baby. Please.”

Can't deny him his wishes, not when he begs so nicely, can you? 

“Alright, yeah,” you whisper while changing the angle of your hold to line him up perfectly. “Go on and fuck me, baby.”

He thrusts in fully without any warning, pushing a moan from your lungs at the sudden intrusion and his lids scrunch together when he does. “Shit, sorry,” he mutters as he stills. “That wasn't… Couldn't help it. Did I hurt you?”

Your hands intertwine behind his neck as you shake your head and relax, getting used to the stretch. “No, it's alright.”

He leans in for a kiss, tongue twisting against yours as he pulls his hip back before he thrusts into you again. He sighs with each move, groaning when your lips part. Gripping your hips as he leans back, he holds you in place, fucking into you with force now and his eyes roll back like he’s losing himself in the feeling. “Always so fucking tight for me.”

The noise of your combined moans, your high pitched whines and his low grunts fill the room, accompanied by the quieter sound of his groin snapping against yours, quite like a beat to the carnal melody that the two of you are creating. 

Yoongi slides his hands down your legs and moves them to drop your ankles upon his shoulders, creating an angle that allows him to go even deeper than before. You're gasping for air from how he plows into you, the roll of his hips making his cock drag across your g-spot with every thrust. 

He grows frantic, spitting out curse words here and there before he takes your hand and guides it between your legs. “Make yourself come on my cock,” he directs with his head falling back between his shoulders. “That’s it baby, I can feel how close you are. Fucking squeezing me.”

He’s right, you are close again, now rubbing yourself in tight circles like he asked and it's like there's no air left in your lungs to exhale. Your muscles tense all over and you bite your tongue to relieve the pressure, watching him pump in and out of you over and over, a vein on his neck straining against his skin like it's about to burst.

“Come for me,” he groans, voice breaking to a tone so wrecked, you both know that no one will ever hear him sound like that but you. 

You follow his command, it’s not like you have a choice, another orgasm crashing all over you and draining your mind from everything that isn't him inside of you. Limbs convulse and sweat drips down your temple as the shuddering waves ripple from your core throughout your whole body. 

Your pussy clenches around him frantically and pulls him over the edge as well, so he can't help the moan from slipping out as his hips stutter with every spurt of cum that he fills you with. His head falls into the crook of your neck, breathing heavily against your sticky skin, still moving, still pressing himself in as deep as he can, like he wants to bury himself inside of you. 

“Shit,” he curses, muffled and drawn out, panting and revelling in the feeling of your cunt still wrapped around him so tightly. “I’m never pulling out of you, just so you know.”

You chuckle as you bring your arms around his back, fingers playing with the hair on the nape of his neck. “You sure about that?”

He’s still breathing heavily and you feel his lips curl into a smile against your skin as he nods. “No doubt about it.” He lifts his head to look into your eyes. “Still mad at me?”

“Never was.”

Masterlist

A/N: Thank you so much for reading :] Please consider reblogging or commenting if you enjoyed, or if you're shy, feel free to send us an anonymous ask! <3

[bangtan-tee-86]

First off, loving the banner💜 Second, this is my favorite song from Arirang! How can I not immediately stop my life and read this asap! Begging Yoongi will be the death of me ☠️ i needed this pick me up because i just watched them at vegas and realizing that its done shoved me into melancholy. Thank you, bunny & nyx 💜💜💜

[jung-koook]

HIS WINK OMG

[foliexaxdeux]

Nuts Masterlist

[daechwitatamic]

My Feet to Follow, and My Heart to Hold || KNJ || Masterpost

(banner by @/itaeewon)

Title: My Feet to Follow, and My Heart to Hold (Complete!)

Rating: NSWF - minors dni

Genre: college!au, roomie!au, angst, s2l, slow burn, eventual smut

Pairings: KNJ x female reader, unrequited KTH x reader

Summary: You know a lot about the many types of love thanks to Kim Taehyung. You love him as the only person you see as “family”, you love him as your very best friend, and you love him as the beautiful, funny man he’s become. But when a twist of fate during your senior year has you rooming with his good friend Kim Namjoon, you just might find that you have plenty left to learn about love. 

Lesson One: there are such things as a right way and a wrong way to love and to be loved.  Warnings: pov changes - some scenes are namjoon’s pov, conversations revolving around the past loss of immediate family members, language, drinking, angst, a LOT of poetry sorry, eventual smut - sections will have individual warnings

Author's Note: huge thank you to @/kookstempo, @/casuallyimagining, and @/toikiii for beta-ing and listening to me talk about this series a LOT!!! Second thank you to @/jeonqkooks for the gorgeous banner and ALSO for listening to me talk about this way too much lolllll

Series Teaser:

Namjoon peers at you through eyes squinted in suspicion. “How drunk are you?”

You consider this. “Enough that I want to kiss you again, to hell with the consequences. Not too drunk to remember that there would be consequences.”

The playfulness leaves his face; it’s too obvious not to notice. “Consequences like what?”

It’s a challenge. He knows you know it.

“Namjoon,” you say, a little pleading. Don’t. 

“Consequences like Taehyung would see?” he presses. His voice has gone hard.

I. Your Wild-Running Heart | 7k

II. My Devotion's Been an Ocean | 7k

III. So I Speak Your Name | 7.5k

IV. Something Has to Change | 7.5k

V. Say What You Mean | 6k

VI. Don't Think About Him | 6k

VII. Supposed to Be With You | 6k

VIII. Nothing Grows Here | 5.5k

IX. Heedless and Willful | 8k

X. So I Follow | 7.8k

XI. All of It | 8K

--

Extras:

-> Knife drabble added May 2026

-> The apartment's layout

-> Section II Poetry Analysis

-> Section III Poetry Analysis

-> Section IV Poetry Analysis

-> Section VI Poetry Analysis

-> Section VIII Poetry Reading and Analysis

[bangtan-tee-86]

How I wish I found this series when Indigo came out 🥰 It is so beautiful and thoughtfully written out. Very namjoon, especially with the author references. I am at chapter 6 and so excited for what’s to come. 💙💙💙

[kithtaehyung]

mami pt. 3 (m) | myg/knj/jhs

title: mami pt 3: k*ller (m) | series: mami | mami 2: triptych | masterlist

pairing: battle rappers!myg/knj x reader(f) , jhs x reader(f)😛 

rating/genre: m (18+) ; smut ; battle rap au , roommates au 

summary: after you have a conversation with yoongi, things start to twist and muddle in your head. but when work gets hard, you need to blow off steam—turns out, all you needed was a heated encounter. with your roommate. 

note: heavy 00s vibes, they are all menaces, including reader what can i say🦋, y’all there’s a lot in here lmao, but trust me!!!, there is even more coming and we are not ready??

note 2: again this is super unedited i kinda just went off the rails and said that’s good let’s post, but also we can ignore this being the second time posting since the first one got sent to the void sdlkfjsdkl

warnings: language, tension, namjoon in grey sweats yikes!!!!!, yoongi being irritating in tanks??, jung hoseok is MAD mad, what is happening, feelings™, reader is just so fun istg, stressing, nsfw scenes, angst..?, jung hoseok what is your gd problem, wet hair……., namgi bickering lmao, competitive as hell namgi, joon is just a warning himself, blanket kicking scenes LMAO IM SORRY, yes yoongi is a massive problem but so is everyone else, namjoon on the phone....... yeah

spice warnings: under the cut and there are a lot again lol

drop date: april 25th, 2026, 11am est 

word count: 9.7k of messy messy rapline | mood: here

nsfw warnings: cursing, choking, smut scenes, uhhhh kissing is considered nsfw here, especially with who it’s with!!!!, cowgirl, breast play, wet wet wet, and even wetter, ……someone makes you squirt…., but who…, protected sex, rough sex, basically we get put through a mattress lol, Feelings??, sauve as hell rapline, is that it?, chains, always those, i think that's it, maybe a little angst??, yes angst

—

—

nsfw warnings: cursing, choking, smut scenes, uhhhh kissing is considered nsfw here, especially with who it’s with!!!!, cowgirl, breast play, wet wet wet, and even wetter, ……someone makes you squirt…., but who…, protected sex, rough sex, basically we get put through a mattress lol, Feelings??, sauve as hell rapline, is that it?, chains, always those, 

Clad in only a simple tank and sweatpants, Yoongi lazily leans on the back kitchen counter, hair framing his face and eyes downward as he’s busy peeling a small, vibrant clementine. 

When you don’t speak, he slowly lifts his gaze. And his dark rasp shakes you straight down to your bare, curling toes, 

“You have fun?” 

You’re so in shock that your knees almost knock together, mouth struggling to form words in a coherent order, “Yoongi, what’re you— doing—”

“I live here, genius.”

“You… And Joon—”

“Joon? Cute.”

“I—what are you even doing up—” 

“Need a ride?”

You pause, suddenly forced to make a decision with your mind still lust-laced and dizzy. But you finally decide to turn his offer down, which is the best choice considering it would be far too much hassle for him to know you live so close. “I can manage.”

“It’s late as fuck.” Yoongi pushes off the counter before chucking his peels in a trashcan. God, do his bangs really have to shift like that when he turns? Can you focus on anything else? “Lemme drive you. Unless you wanna stand on the back of his pedal bike.”

“Uhh.”

Shit, you don’t want anyone knowing where you live. Which happens to be very, very close. “My friend can scoop me,” you respond, still unmoving like it would further disturb the surrounding air.

“…Still weird.”

And yet Yoongi disrupts it himself. You quickly flip him off as you text, asking a question to his laugh as you hit send, “Is she still here, too?”

The answer is quick and bored, “Nah.”

Figures. “You don’t let them stay, huh.”

At this, Yoongi takes slow strides to your leaning form, eyes roaming over every exhausted inch and holding a spark you haven’t seen in them before. 

When he reaches your silence, his hands softly tug your hips, and you suddenly notice how his thick sweatpants accentuate the fit of his tank annoyingly well. “Wanna find out?”

“You whore,” you meekly grit, starting to push him away before he growls. “You’ve never taken me ho—”

“Goddamn, he went hard.”

Shit. Your hand flies to your neck. “Oh, fuck, really?”

“Yeah.”

Flicking up a brow, you grow very, very curious. “As if you didn’t do the same with whoever that was?”

“Mm.” He leans on an elbow next to your still frame. “Don’t fuckin spill, either.”

“That you’re roomies?”

“Yeah. We’ve known each other for years before moving over here.”

“You’re scheming, huh.”

He only smiles before flicking a finger over your nose.

It’s fucking genius, if not borderline criminal. “So what, you take south side and he takes west?”

“Smart.” He gives you a look of approval. “Why stay in the same circles when we can win both?”

“Well, shit,” you exhale, eyes roaming the floor in thought before you drop your jaw in frustration. “Wait, you even played me! Fuckers!”

Yoongi immediately laughs, and you can very much smell his breath—full of peppermint. Interesting. 

But he doesn’t notice your observing stare. “I didn’t know you’d run into him. How do you even know each other?”

“I see him at the gym.”

“Mm.” A sage nod. “Guess it’s not surprising.”

You look away, a little hurt that neither of them told you but having no basis of why they would. It’s clearly not like they tell each other when they’re bringing people home.

But still, you pout. “Can’t believe y’all.”

“What are we gonna do with you.”

We? Him included? Irony seems to leak from his puffed lips tonight. “Clearly you won’t do anythi—”

A door opens and snips your accusation in half, and you snap your head to see Namjoon leaving his room in a rush, eyes darting between both of you from the end of the hallway. “Oh, you’re… Oh.”

“Ah,” you start, “Hi.”

“Uhh.”

“She won’t tell.”

“K.” He keeps his stare, blinking sleep off before tilting his head at you. “You leaving?”

Damn, why are you feeling so sheepish? “Yeah.. I should’ve told you before. I don’t, umm.” You feel the weight of Yoongi’s stare and Namjoon’s awaiting expression, and they both clash in your gut. “It’s not you. I just don’t ever stay.” 

“Oh.” Namjoon walks down the hall, his grey sweats and lack of a shirt making you so fucking weak you’re already mentally stumbling. When he speaks, you trip even harder, scraped by his drowsy rasp, “You could’ve just told me. I would’ve gotten you a ride.”

That would’ve still meant he would type in your address or see it after you did it for him. You like the sentiment, though. “Maybe next time,” you tease with a wink. 

Thank goodness he’s easily placated. If things got weird already with Yoongi right here? 

“Wait,” Joon blurts, mind whirring behind those eyes, “You said you followed Gloss, but. I didn’t know y’all knew each other.”

Oh. Uhh.. 

When you speak, you ignore Yoongi’s curious yet amused look, astounded that he even let you talk first, “Something like that.”

Instead, the man chuckles in arrogance right after. “Something like that, yeah,” he says through a lopsided line. “Gonna give her a ride home.”

“No need,” you stop him with a hand, and they both zero in on your nails. “I… uhh.” 

Shit. You really don’t want to call a ride for the same complex, and you definitely don’t want them knowing you’re a walk away. So when you look down at your phone, a white lie slides out of your mouth, and you have to deal with a choice, “My ride said they’re gonna be awhile, so...”

Both of them look at each other.

“I could just stay… If that’s cool.”

For the first time probably ever, both Namjoon and Yoongi are silent. But in their brief pause, you just inspect your nails and wonder if you should switch them up again. Maybe back to that set you had at the beginning of last month? You really keep coming back to this color combo, though. “But don’t get any ideas if I do. I just wanna shower and sleep—”

“You can sleep with me,” they both respond in unison, and you can barely hold in your laugh when an argument sprouts.

“She was just with you.”

“My bed is better.”

“We have the same one?”

“Mine’s bigger.”

“It is not.”

“Who’s the one that brought her here?”

You halt them, sparing their neighbors from a verbal sparring match and not wanting to think about that last part. 

Because you’re still a little hurt that one of them really hasn’t taken you here, and the same guy falls a little too quiet.

When you finally offer your own suggestion, Yoongi looks at you first. “I’ll take the couch.” 

“Nah,” Namjoon rejects immediately, walking forward and heading your way. “I’ll take it. Use my room.” 

Fuck, this man is fine and considerate? “No no, I’m cool with it.”

“You sure?”

“I’ve slept in much worse places,” you assure, bringing up many, many terrible reminders in your head. “And I think you both need some good sleep, too.” 

“Use my shower then,” Yoongi finally pipes up, and both you and Joon pin him with shock. “I got clothes you can use, too.”

Oh. This is… This is new. 

Blinking, you can’t help but swallow your inner thoughts, wondering why he’s offering and a little giddy about it. Is this Yoongi being accommodating? Or jealous? Either way, it’s adorable coming from him.

Well. If both of them are offering to take care of you, you’ll gladly take them up on it. This is downright delightful. How do you just keep winning?

“You guys decide,” you say with arms folded, pretending to be huffy and internally grinning. Watching their competitive natures collide in real time is just too fun. 

But finally, Namjoon flexes his jaw before heading into the kitchen for water,

“You use my shower next.” 

When you feel Yoongi visibly exhale at your side? This is when it’s undeniable. 

These guys are just big teddy bears. Caustic on the mic and absolutely fiendish when it comes to wordplay and demolition, they’re just boys at the end of the day. And it’s so endearing you find yourself sinking more and more into these apartment walls.

No no. Get real. You have aspirations and dreams. Don’t get too caught up before you achieve them. 

But it’s okay to let go for just a bit. So your eyes follow Namjoon like a fool, winking and beaming at his growing, quiet smile.

To which Yoongi hums at. “You hungry?”

“Not yet.”

“K.”

“I might be later, though. So y’all better feed me.”

They have varying levels of mirthy scoffs, and you go into the kitchen to ask Joon for a water, too, which he’s already handing to you. 

“That thing you did,” you start, knowing you have both of their attentions, “With your fingers.. Do that next time, too.” 

While you really do want Namjoon to do whatever the fuck he just did with you, you’re also showing him there’s no reason to be jealous. If he is. 

And he pulls you in for a kiss, smiling and chuckling at your little bit of shyness. Because he tamed the fuck out of you tonight, and you will give him all the softness you got left. It’s only fair.

“Whatever you want,” he whispers to your ear. 

Humming, you slide a hand along his arm. “Good to know.” When you scratch just a tad, only you can hear his breath catch. “Guess I’ll go clean up your mess now.”

“Gonna take me hours to clean up yours.”

“Mm. Good problems.”

“Don’t I fuckin’ know it.”

This man is too suave and it’s a goddamn problem. 

When you leave Namjoon’s side with a quickened heart rate, Yoongi’s still on the wall with his phone, foot propped on the floorboard before he sees your look of satisfaction. 

And he actually waits for you before you follow him to his room. 

In terms of aesthetics, Yoongi’s room is different from Namjoon’s despite being the same level of minimal. Where Joon has posters of rappers and shelves of books and vinyls, Yoongi has basketball players and what looks like production equipment. But they both have desks littered with sheets of paper, journals, and writing utensils, trash cans mostly filled with balled up scraps.

It’s actually… inspiring. They really do the work and it clearly, clearly shows.

“You just gonna stand there?”

“No,” you say, petulant. “Just don’t know when I’d ever be back so I’m taking it all in.”

It’s kinda true. Probably actually true. But you can’t force him to do anything when it comes to you, so if this is your only chance then you’re taking advantage.

Though… he did offer for you to just sleep through the night with him… What does that mean?

Turning with a mind full of thoughts, you see Yoongi quietly watching from his closet before his voice drifts across carpet,

“Come here.”

Silent, you go to stand in front before he pulls you in and slowly pins you against an empty wall. And being in a smaller space with him so close? Strangely, you feel comfortable and a little at home, if only because this is how you both usually end up anyway. 

At home. Irony is dripping from your lips, too. 

“You’ve never taken me home,” you pout to his mouth, deciding to be vulnerable and hating it. “Why?”

You expect to be dismissed. Or even just given an offhanded comment or a quick joke. 

So you’re completely thrown when Yoongi chooses to kiss the side of your neck that isn’t marked to hell, one slow pass after the other.

Ah. He’s avoiding your question. 

That’s fine. He’ll be a much harder one to crack, you assume. Definitely seems a lot more private than most, but you’re the same way so it’s not like you have room to talk—

“Cus you’d never leave,” he murmurs against your skin, going for your shoulder. 

Oh.

Wait, what?

If he’s assuming things about you, he’ll be sorry to note that you’d surpass his expectations. But under his fucking impeccable kissing and godforaken cologne, your reply comes out a lot less confident than you’d prefer, 

“Gimme some credit. I’d show some restraint.”

“I wouldn’t.”

“Hmm?”

You get kissed on your jaw before you can register what he means, and he falls really silent after letting up, eyes on your lips as he quietly admits, 

“I’m saying I’d keep you here.”

…Oh. Oh, that’s… 

You blink in stunned silence, stomach flipping when he glances at your eyes before kissing your neck again so languidly it lulls you into a trance. “You’d… do that…?”

“Maybe so.” He brings you into his pelvis, hands rounding to rest just behind your hips. “But I know I’d make you wanna stay anyway.” 

“Prove it later,” you challenge with a hitch. “You don’t know me.”

“I think I’m proving it now,” he corrects with confidence, chuckling deep when your arms sling over his shoulders. “Aren’t I.”

You kiss his neck in response, and he chuckles into his groan because he knows what it means. 

Fuck, his skin feels divine. And his breath is full of peppermint and clean and you sense no trace of whatever you saw him doing earlier. It’s a strange contrast to how he’s acted around you before. You don’t doubt that he’s done this same exact thing with someone else after eating you out—just like you’ve done before. It’s nothing special. 

So why does your chest constrict?

“Fine,” Yoongi breathes you in, clutching at your neck. “There is another reason.”

You freeze. Wondering what the hell he means and washing over with anxiety. “What?”

Another reason he never takes you home? That can’t be good. 

Maybe it’s a good thing you haven’t gone home with him before, if he’s not even comfortable saying it outright then the two of you aren’t meant to be more than ships passing in the night.

“I…” He sighs, touching his forehead to yours. “I never asked cus I know what would happen.”

Wait. What the hell does that mean? Why is Yoongi being so damn cryptic? “Why? I’m a fun time.”

He huffs away from your face. “That’s exactly why.” 

You stare, and stare some more.

“I,” he laughs again, and it’s not a joyful one. “I even thought about getting your number a thousand times. And couldn’t even ask for that.”

Your chest heaves. What is Yoongi saying? What’s gotten into him? This man is fearless on stage, who is this guy that can’t even look you in the eye right now? “I don’t get it, Yoongi. You don’t know me but you don’t have to be scared of me, so what’s…”

Oh. You don’t like that tiny slanted smile at all. 

“If you’re going steady with him, don’t worry about what I wanna say.” When he pushes off the wall, his hand slides off slow. Deep in thought, he turns and goes for a shirt hanging from his rack. “Here. Your favorite.”

He means the color. Your stomach feels funny. “How’d you know?”

“Your nails,” Yoongi responds offhandedly as he fishes sweats from a drawer. “There’s a color you use a lot.”

What. The actual fuck. “Oh. Well, shit.”

He doesn’t mention what you just accused him of, but it’s in his eyes. His whole face. And you are a damn fool. 

When Yoongi hands you a baggy pair of pants, you slowly take it, brain overloaded with thoughts. “There’s extra toothbrushes under the sink. You can use anything in there, too. Just put everything back in the same spot.” 

“K.” 

He just said a lot of vulnerable shit. What the hell are you supposed to do? How are you supposed to walk out of here knowing what you know now? 

You’re not gonna address any of it. That would require way too much thinking and feelings on your own part and you need space to unpack your own shit. 

But you do stop him from leaving his closet, waiting until he turns around to notice your hand on his wrist. “You brushed your teeth.. Why?”

His lips close while his brows slightly bend.

And what he says to the side of his doorframe makes your heart fall a few clouds down, flipping your world and rocking you off balance entirely,

“She didn’t taste like you.” 

Yoongi means it. You know it in your bones.

And if he didn’t move just out of your reach. And if you weren’t taking the couch and sleeping in here instead. 

Something may have shifted even more than it already has tonight. 

Because your heart is starting to beat in two different cadences. Over, and over, and over.

Fuck space.

“Come here,” you whoosh out, spinning Yoongi so hard he rams you back into a wall. And finally, your mouths collide, with you attacking his lips just as much as he does yours. You fully taste peppermint and nothing else and that is crazy considering how much he had to do to be this clean and fuck his kissing is perfect. 

Yoongi knows exactly what to do with you. And he knows exactly what to do to pitch you over the edge in a second. Nails rake into his stupid hair before you feel his annoying hands all over your neck, his fingers all over your head, his chest all over your heart—

Outright fear shoves him back, and your breaths are the only two elements of sound when he freezes a few steps away. Exhale. Exhale. A swallow. Another one.

That was…

He looks…

Fuck.

You use what little logic you have left to speedwalk past Yoongi’s shoulder.

Knowing he’s letting you dip because it’s what’s best for both of you. 

—

—

Namjoon is a gentleman when you come back into his bedroom after pacing a hole in the living room, holding off your shower time a slight tad. From his desk chair, he asks if you’re okay staying and you tell him it’s fine since you do know both of them.

“Also,” he breathes out. “You’re stunning.”

That came out of nowhere. “Oh.. I know, but thank you.”

Leaning back in his chair, the man lets out a breathy laugh. “Fuck, I love how you know that. I was just gonna say.. Well.” He fidgets. “Don’t let me keep you down.”

“What?”

“Like.. Yeah. I love going on dates with you and seeing you at my thing.. I dunno, it made me happy as fuck.” He then scratches an ear. “But I know you got a lot going on so it’s okay if—”

“Are you done with me?”

Immediately, Namjoon shoots up and walks straight to your squared shoulders, cradling your chin and responding so deep your mind reels. “Did I say that, baby girl?”

“No.”

“I’m just saying,” he smoothes a hand over your arm. “I’m okay if I’m not the only thing. I’ve seen what you’ve been doing. It’s incredible. So if you don’t have time, it’s okay.” 

“What are you saying?”

“I’ll be there when you need me,” he says. “I’m okay with just going with the flow. I know you already know, but—uhh—if you wanna see other people, it’s cool.” 

“You… You sure?” Blinking, you frown. There’s an explanation for this switch up and it’s existing and haunting you from the other room. “Is this because of Yoongi?”

His face cannot lie. “Kinda, yeah.” 

“Oh.”

“I saw how you looked at him.” Namjoon slides his hands down, and you follow those long fingers and curl your heart when they do. “And even more than that, I saw how he looked at you.”

Ah. That makes you bite down hard. “We’ve known each other for awhile, that’s all.”

“I don’t think that’s all. But seriously, you don’t have to pretend or anything around me. I’m a big guy, I can take it.”

“Hey, same here.” You lift a hand to smooth the stubble on his chin. “Don’t let me hold you down, either.”

“I am more than happy with you doing anything to me.”

“Joon.” You give him a little pat. “I’m serious.”

“And I’m not?”

Your lips purse. “If you’re really okay with it, I am, too.” When you slip arms around his strong form, you sigh into his chest. “But I’m having so much fun with you.”

He circles you in warmth immediately. “Fuck, same here.” He laughs. “You really got me with that bar line.”

Ecstatic, you try to spit some scheme of your own, slowly petering out the more and more you know you’re losing it, “Really? Got more in the chamber, yeah, I like danger.. Uhh.. Something, something, it’s a.. banger… Ah, damn, I dunno.”

Namjoon fully laughs at you now, his arms circling even tighter and fingers splayed wide across your backs “I’m in trouble,” he bemoans. “You have to stop or you’d be right back in that bed.”

“Next time.” You reach to kiss him, knowing he can taste the peppermint on your tongue but not speaking about it. “I’m really gonna go shower now.” 

“K.”

“And hey.” You hold his forearm. “If you really wanna do this—just us—we can try. You just gotta let me know.”

He hesitates for a second. But it’s enough to clue you into it not being a confirmation. “I will.”

Yup. That wasn’t a now answer. So you smile and head out to go to Yoongi’s bathroom, across the hall from his room. Guess he got the shorter end of the stick in the layout.

It’s fine. You don’t wanna approach his door again yet.

That’s gonna wait until later. 

—

—

After you shower and get ready for bed—as well as you can in a bathroom that’s not a woman’s and not yours—you’re so exhausted that can barely keep your eyes open. 

But there’s something you wanna do before sleeping, so you finally knock on the door you’ve been avoiding. 

No answer. 

Well. Guess the universe has other plans. 

But you suddenly hear clacking and a voice to hold on, and you straighten as Yoongi opens up. 

Headphones around his neck, his gaze immediately goes to his clothes on your frame, and you steel your gaze before holding out your hand. “I’m only gonna ask once.” 

He stares. 

“Gimme your phone.”

Yoongi blinks before turning to reach behind him, grabbing his phone off the desk before handing it to you. As you type, he just watches, silent. 

And you start to wonder what he’ll say when you hand it back. “Put whatever you want for my name. If you ever text me, I’m naming you the village idiot.”

He grins wider and wider, looking down and biting his lip in thought. When he moves closer, you stop him in the doorway,

“Don’t.”

“What’s wrong.”

“I…” Sighing, you set a rule, hating yourself for setting a boundary but deeming it necessary for your own good. Both of your own goods, really,

“The next time I go in there will be when you take me home.” 

Yoongi looks at you without words, shifting his gaze between your eyes for any hidden meanings when there are none. “You sure?”

You know what he’s asking. And you flat out ignore the spark you catch in that stare. “We aren’t exclusive,” you say, looking at Namjoon’s door. “We’ve never said we were, so yeah.”

It’s silent for a moment, and you don’t know whether to keep standing there or shove him back and go in yourself. The best choice would be to walk away, though, so you start to do so—

“About that girl.”

You stiffen. “This isn’t off to a good start, Min—”

“She bailed on me.” 

…Wait, what? You heard her for a good amount of time. “When? Why?”

“Uhm.” Yoongi looks away with a shift of his jaw and some teeth. “I was.. distracted.”

Fuck. Just like you were? “Like you two weren’t loud, too.”

“Nah, like… Said the wrong name distracted.”

“Said the wrong… Whose name did you—” You blink. Hard. “Oh.”

“Yeah.”

“Goddamn it, Yoongi.” You roll your eyes to the ceiling, feeling for the poor girl. “That’s the worst you could ever do.” 

So she had to have left in the middle, right? But you swore you heard him for awhile so maybe they kept going for a little before she came to her senses instead of around his di—

“And for what it’s worth,” Yoongi continues with a point, “I don’t bring many people here anyway. She’s the first one in a long time.” 

When he leans on the doorway, you let his eyes drag down your body, knowing he didn’t get to have it tonight and feeling a little smug. “Of fucking course it’d be when you show up, too.” 

Your hum to a lifted shoulder makes his pupils dark. “Could’ve been you,” you tease. When Yoongi doesn’t respond, you ignore it and fold your arms. “But seriously? You don’t?”

“Nope.” His hand dips into his sagging pants pocket, looking towards his roommate’s room. “And no one from where we usually go. Namjoon and I don’t want anyone knowing we live together, so it’s best to keep everyone in the dark.”

That makes sense. But there’s a thought that stands out in your mind. “Wait, but… You both knew I knew your names.”

When Yoongi looks back at you, your chest caves at his expression under those tendrils. “Yeah. And I wanted to take you home several times, so what does that tell you.”

…Several? Yoongi, what the fuck?

Heart beating. Those unwavering eyes. These breaths between your bodies short and waiting. 

Were you… always this into him? Have you really been ignoring how you’ve felt because things with Yoongi were just… easy? 

Is this why he didn’t want to bring you home? Because you really can’t fucking think straight and it’s aggravating.

So you swallow. “I should.. Go to bed.”

Yoongi nods and looks down the hall. “There’s extra blankets on the couch. And he gave you one of his pillows.”

A switch was definitely flipped. You don’t know which one you hit or how you managed to do it, but thank god because this was getting a little too real. “K. Thank you both.” 

“No sweat.” Yoongi looks at you without shame, and you wonder if it’s to remember how you look in his tee. 

Please don’t be the reason. 

“You’re the first one to ever stay,” he murmurs, as a fact and a final good night. “He doesn’t let anyone do this, either.”

Oh. Holy shit. 

“Then I’ll be sure to snore loud as fuck,” you bluff, melting at the way Yoongi shakes his head in a laugh. “Night, Yoongi.” 

He stares at you one more time. 

And you keep staring right back.

One second becomes two, and two seconds become three. 

Screw what you said earlier. All Yoongi has to do is let you in. All he has to do is utter one syllable of invitation and you’re taking residence in his bed.

But in the end, he doesn’t. And you’re completely, totally, seriously fine with that. 

“Night.”

…Right?

—

—

You stay up until you can’t fight sleep anymore. 

— 

—

When you wake, you notice the bright sunshine outside their living room windows. But it’s really, really bright. How long were you out?

There’s a note on the coffee table saying they both left, but there’s a spare key and one of them can take care of your ride. Right next to said items is a covered plate of food, and you have a suspicion as to who made it. 

Well. This is honestly the best outcome that could’ve happened. You don’t have to worry about them knowing where you’re about to go. 

So you take your time and really observe everything, noticing how sore you are and that you’ll need time to recover. The walls and decor in their place are also minimal in the more public spaces, but there’s a lot of earth tones and a surprising amount of plants. Not what you’d expect from two guys tearing up the battle rap scene in two sectors of the city.

Then again, you didn’t expect them to know each other, either. Looks like they’re both really good at putting on masks.

And taking them down when you’re alone with them.

“Kept myself away for far too long.”

“If you’re going steady with him, don’t worry about what I wanna say.”

Your face finds the cup of your palms.

—

—

Bathroom. Freshen up. Walk around their kitchen and observe the little things. Finally sit down to eat.

When you dig in, you savor each bite, wondering what the hell you just got yourself into. Is this gonna be the last time you’re here? Or is this going to be a turning point in your life and there will be many, many stops at this station?

Guess you’re just gonna have to find out.

Yoongi’s food is damn near enough to convince you to come back, though. Goddamn, he can cook in there, too.

—

—

You purse your lips and shake your head when you time the walk from their building to yours.

Not even two minutes. Oh god, that is so fucking close.

But you join a whole new energy as you open your apartment door, delighted to see your roommate and his newfound obsession with tank tops.

“Damn, where were you?”

“I told you,” you laugh. “Here.”

“That’s not what I meant.”

You realize what he means, and you saucily lift a shoulder. “Turns out, he’s really good.”

Namjoon? 

Or Yoongi?

Hoseok lets out a soft laugh. “You look a little… I dunno.”

You know what he means. Because even though you should be glowing enough to match his shine, things happened that threw you for a loop. And while you are very good with your quickwittedness and solution driven attitude, this is gonna need a bit more nuance. 

“Just have things to think about,” you summarize. “How was your date?”

“So fun!” Hobi rushes over to the couch and brings over a fun looking accessory. “Look what they got me.”

It’s perfect. A little acorn bag that would go great with multiple items in his closet. “Wow.. Great taste.”

“I know, right?”

He excitedly puts it down before guiding you to your room, and you suddenly seem guilty for whatever the hell you’re doing with him. 

Is Hobi an exclusive kinda guy? Why can you not remember? 

But he takes your bag and sets it all down, and you stew in more complicated thoughts as he leads you to your bed. Are you even gonna go back to sleep at this point? Why does bed sound like the perfect place to be? 

“Those his clothes, too?”

Oops.

Wincing, you slowly find a hard admittance in your throat, “Uhh.. Nope.”

The downturn of his brows comes as no surprise. 

“It’s hard to explain,” you say as you plop down on your made comforter. “But trust me, I had a really good time. I’m glad you did, too.”

Maybe you had too good of a time.

“Scoot over,” your roommate suddenly says, climbing into your bed before you even get to move.

“Hello?”

“Scoot!”

Laughing, you move to the middle of your bed as he tugs up the covers, sliding into the cool den right next to you. “What are we doing?”

“Napping.”

“It’s late in the afternoon?”

“Sweet dreams.” Hoseok snuggles into you, and you feel your shoulders loosen immediately. “Mm mm mm.”

You groan, knowing he can hear the smile inside. 

Is this man aware that he’s the only one that can order you around like this? Because if he is and is now taking full advantage, you may need to tighten your restrictions. 

“You smell expensive.”

Eyes downcast, you pretend to giggle. “I know, right.”

You don’t have the heart to admit you just wanted to keep wearing Yoongi’s clothes, and breathing in Namjoon’s scent. 

— 

— 

For the next two full weeks, work life gets busy for you, so you have to stay focused or else risk falling behind. 

And of course the family is having lots of get togethers when it’s crunch time so your stress is through the roof, so you need need need to blow off some steam more than ever. As much as you enjoy the festivities and cookouts and reunions and random birthdays, you’re getting way too overstimulated too fast. 

Because work is hell.

But showcases happen at night, so you can’t make them because your schedule requires early mornings. Anything starting late is out of the question. 

You don’t hear from Namjoon or Yoongi. But you start to wonder if that means they’re working or writing or even going to the same studio he mentioned. That would be sick if they were working on some record or mixtape together—or even individually? Hot hot hot either way. Your work ethic can’t lose to theirs.

So you brush off the lack of communication and just assume good intent. You haven’t reached out either because you’re so busy, so why should they?

Back to work you go.

—

—

Eventually, on a random Thursday, Joon finally texts you. And it’s so out of the blue that you pick up the phone and call instead.

Namjoon [14:02]: Did I mess up?

It doesn’t take him long to answer the phone, so you dive right in, staring at unfinished work on your laptop, “What do you mean?”

“I haven’t heard from you, so I thought… I dunno.”

This man. Was he really worried this whole time? You wonder how much of these two weeks you got wrong. “I haven’t heard from you, either.” 

“Damn. I’m not good at this.”

You laugh. “It’s my fault, too. I could’ve just asked.” 

“You doing okay?”

That makes you stop, not hearing those words in a minute. Between everyone you’ve seen, only one of your little cousins checked on you solely because you were staring into space in your uncle’s backyard. She probably thinks you’re crazy now, but whatever. “Uhh, I’ve been better. You?”

“Nah, hold on. What’s wrong?”

Your smile is weak. He really is the same guy you met awhile back. “Work is just kicking my ass.” 

“I feel that. I’m sorry.”

“You liar.”

“Huh?”

Grinning, you tuck your phone under your chin and keep typing away. “You are good at this.”

“Oh.” He laughs. “Talking to people?”

“Talking to me.”

“That right? Can I get that in writing?”

Nails paused on plastic keys, you laugh. “Now you’re pushing it.” 

“Sorry.”

“Good boy.”

A hitched breath. A bit of pause on the line. 

Very, very interesting. 

But you spare him this once and say you’re down to hang tomorrow. “We can try a rooftop dinner this time?”

“I wish. But I’m actually gonna be busy.”

“Oh? Studio?”

“Nah, like. Flying out to another city busy.”

“No shit! Okay, I’ll put you down as a no for the rooftop dinner.”

Joon laughs, and it really hits your ear just right. “Yeah, put me down as a no this time.” 

“Both of y’all are leaving?”

“Nah, just me.”

Your pout is super evident in your tone. “What am I gonna do without you?”

“I dunno. Probably cheer Yoongi up.” Your heart stops as Joon laughs, and you can hear a faint set of yells on the line. “He’s been moping all fucking week.”

“Was that him?” You ask with a laugh, already wondering what the hell is happening wherever they are. “What a baby!”

“Tell him yourself!”

So you do, yelling into the phone and knowing it’s gonna come out so crunchy, “Yoongi, get up!” 

There’s more laughing and a muddle of words, but you can’t make them out too much. But just that helped you burn some steam. 

Yoongi? Moping? He gets moody just like you do, but you’ve never seen him moping. What happened? 

Well. You’d ask if he’d fucking text you. But since that hasn’t happened yet, guess you’re left to speculation. 

“But yeah. I miss you, but work is important. Wanna go out sometime next week?”

“You know I do.”

“Perfect. I’m putting it in my phone so I don’t miss it for any stupid reason.”

“Next Friday is best.”

“K. Got it.”

— 

—

The next afternoon, the door to your apartment flings open, and you snap your head to the muffled sound before clutching your phone tight. 

What the fuck? 

You almost think to call for help when you hear footsteps thump to the far side of the unit, and a further door banging shut.

Fuck, that was Hobi. What the hell is up? 

Abandoning your laptop, you rush out of your room and cross the shared living space, lifting your hand to knock on his door but hesitating. 

What are you pausing for? It’s Hoseok, and he’s clearly not happy. He’d be at your door before you could even fling your purse off if you stormed in just like he did. 

For a moment, though, you hesitate. Because you were supposed to have the place to yourself and that meant bare face, low maintenance head, and nightgown on at 3pm. 

But he sounded mad and all you heard were his footsteps and door closing. This isn’t the time to be caught up in appearances. 

So you softly bang on wood before calling his name. “Let me in,” you command. “Now.”

“No.”

Umm, what the fuck? “No?”

“Just gimme a second.”

Lips smushed, you eye the door with such annoyance you try the knob to burst in yourself—

It opens immediately, and you barge in to a sight that makes your tongue loll and your saliva multiply.

Hoseok. Shaking his very wet hair. With nothing on but some very, very wet jeans. 

He gives you a slight look of annoyance while you reach for words, mouth in a line when he asks, “Seriously?” 

Umm. You were checking in on why this man came in hot. And now you’re feeling your own temperature spike through the goddamn roof. Truthfully, the only thing you can think of saying is something born from confusion, “You don’t lock your door?”

A tsk flings out before he sets foot in his bathroom, hanging the towel on a rack before replying, “I never do when it’s just us.” 

“Really?” That makes you feel a little sheepish. Chalk it up to being a severely private person—and a woman—but you always lock your door. “I never knew that.”

“Did you come into my room just to tell me that?”

Oh, you don’t have time for that. All the pent up emotions and stress you’ve felt this week comes pouring down. Couple that with the fact you can’t even fool around with him since he’s still going steady with whoever? You are really deep in the trenches.

“Obviously not, Hoseok,” you sling out his name, catching his attention immediately, “I was just wondering what the fuck was up. I can’t just check on my friend?”

“I told you just give me a second?”

“Okay seriously, what’s with the attitude?”

“Attitude? What’s with the grilling?”

Your mouth snaps shut. “I’m not grilling you—”

“You are.” He flings more wetness from his bangs, and the motion alone makes your core ache. Fuck, he’s not helping your lack of release at all and now he’s raking through his fucking locks your moan is forming so quick you can’t stop—

…Why’s he looking at you like that? 

Shit. Did you… did you do that out loud? 

“What was that?”

Ignore him. You have to ignore him because if you stay you are begging for trouble. And you don’t want trouble for you, nor for him. 

“You know what? Never mind,” you rush out, turning to head out and lock yourself in your room once again. “Forget it. Stay mad or whatever, I don’t care—”

The door closes in front of your nose before you’re spun back, shoved against wood as Hoseok cages you in. 

“Let me go,” you move to shove him off, hands slipping as you palm his slick chest fuck. “You don’t want me in here anyway—”

“Did I fucking say that?”

“No, but I know when I’m not wanted—”

Your roommate presses his pelvis into yours, and your eyes fly wide at the straining bulge in his pants. Fuck, does that hurt him? His pants are soaked. 

“I’m only gonna say this once.” Hoseok grabs your chin to force your eyes to his. “But I always fucking want you so shut the fuck up.”

What—

His lips smash into yours before you groan, your bones smacking against his door and your concerns muffled. 

“I thought— I thought you were seeing someone—”

“Not anymore,” he whooshes out, diving into your neck. “Not after today.”

“I’m—fuck—I’m so sorry,” you moan out, losing yourself in those kisses.

“Don’t be.” 

“You’re mad.”

“Just fucking pissed he took my umbrella.” He shoves his mouth into your column. “Now all my shit is soaked.”

“Lucky me,” you gasp out, grabbing his wet hair and raking down. “I love it.”

You hear him groan deep and raspy, and it scratches your brain just right. “Sorry I came in hot,” you quickly repent. “I’m just so fucking stressed.”

“I can tell.”

“So fix it.”

“What do you want.”

“You.”

And you’re yanked from the wall before being tossed onto a fully made bed. 

Your long gown is hiked up before you even strip your underwear down, but Hoseok slaps your hand away. 

Which can only mean one thing. And you’re rejoicing. 

He slips his pants and underwear off before throwing them into the bathroom, and you yelp at his freezing cold legs before he grins. “Sorry.”

“You are not.”

“I’m not.”

“So fucking cold,” you growl, trying to move away from his skin but end up arching into his chest in the process. 

Which completely destroys any hope you have of avoiding him, because your nipples have now pebbled against your dress, and you know for a fact Hoseok can feel them right through the silken material. 

Your quick suspicion is confirmed with a growl, and the sound that leaves your mouth at the feel of teeth around one slings through all four walls. “Fuck!” 

Shivers. Full body shivers erupt when your roommate buries his face in your chest, the rumbling in his throat searing you through as he inhales before kissing between your breasts. 

…What was that for? 

That wasn’t something you just do during a quick and dirty session. Which is exactly what you expect this to be. Hoseok came in hot after a tragic yet somewhat comical rainy day breakup, and you’re pissed he told you to wait at his door. 

He’s always there and always telling you yes. Hobi never says no to you. 

And you damn well know you would never say no to him, either. 

“Smell so fucking good,” he moans, eyes closed and eyebrows knitted as he sweeps a hot tongue across your chest. “And you’re so warm.” 

“I don’t feel like it.” Your pout makes him laugh, and you blink at how anger is slowly draining out of the atmosphere, and at how you’re just happy to hear his change in demeanor. 

But he still gave you attitude earlier—you will not back down on that—so you need to preserve the last of your pissy mood to give him a good post-breakup vent session. “I know you didn’t throw me on your bed just to use me as a heater and smell me.” 

Fuck. The laughter you hear now is fuller, and his arms immediately tighten around your frame as he collapses onto you. “I didn’t!” 

“Then what did you have in—”

Hobi smushes his lips onto yours, rolling his body against your front and making you gasp like you’ve been blindsided. Which, technically you have, because this is not the way you thought things were gonna go a mere five minutes ago.

“Gonna fix you,” he rasps against your lips. “Remember?”

“Wouldn’t mind fixing you first,” you counter, raking long nails down his bare hip and enjoying his hitched reaction. “I can suck you off?”

“Fuck,” Hoseok shudders out before pinching his brows. “You can’t do that.” 

Huh? “I do that very well actually? Rude.”

“No, no,” he clarifies, subtly moving one of your thighs to the side. “I just meant not now. If you do, I’m not gonna last for shit.”

“Oh.” 

You only get a second before you feel a freezing finger on your underwear, flinching up and watching Hoseok’s eyes slip into the depths of lust and concentration. When he slides the material to the side, your breath stops. “But this right here, I can do all day.” 

Breathing out his name, you have to close your eyes with how good it feels to have him touch you with such softness and precision. It’s like he’s done this a thousand times when it’s only been more like five, and you rock against his fingers just like all the other times before. “Feels so fucking good.”

“So do you,” he praises with gravel, reaching up your body to slowly bring your dress down to reveal your breasts like a slow gift unwrapping. “Really, I could touch you all night.”

“Finish my work for me,” you whoosh out, “And you can.”

Chuckling, Hoseok goes from rubbing to inserting his fingers, and you twitch hard while projecting a moan into his ceiling. “That’s it, baby,” he coaxes. “Yell for me.”

Fuck. How the hell are you already so close? “Hobi, I’m—”

“I feel it. Come on, baby.”

How is this happening? He’s going faster and faster and you’re already wet enough to let him and it’s building so fast in your core that it’s shocking. A whine propels from your throat as you keep exhaling hard, and when the pleasure becomes too much to bear you release in the most sinful way—

Oh, shit shit shit, you really—

“Fuck.”

Liquid spews from your cunt and onto his chest, drenching your roommate even more than the rain outside and dripping down his abdomen. Both of you groan at the sight, and you can’t believe you just squirted right onto him with minimal effort on his part how the—

“What the fuck, come here.”

You’re dragged forward and hitched up on his legs, and Hoseok leans over to yank his nightstand drawer out for protection, his necklace brushing cold against your chest. 

Drunk on lust and indescribable pleasure and a wave of strange intimacy, you reach up to suck one of his nipples, laughing into his skin when he visibly twitches and collapses. 

The sound he makes causes your cunt to squeeze, and you hold him with your claws while swirling your tongue all around his chest. When you move to the other side, you give it just as much effort, squirming under his pelvis and rocking against him when you feel his cock. 

“Baby,” he gasps. “Lemme put this on.”

“No,” you simply reject, reaching down to stroke him and giggling at his loud moan. “Not yet.” 

“You first,” he strains out, veins in his neck protruding so hard they could pop. “Then me.”

“You really about to come?”

“Yes.”

“Then don’t,” you offer, the most simple yet complicated and difficult task. “Or else I’ll have to clean it up.”

“Shut up, please.” 

You kick your head back in a laugh, loving how he’s so puddy in your hands. “Fine, fine. Ready?”

“Hold on.. Just..” Shaking, he slips the condom on before leaning down, flipping you up so you’re on top wait what? “Ready.”

Leering down, you cannot believe he just did that. “You lazy piece of…”

Hoseok rests his head on his palms, smirk so cutting and dazzling. “Bounce for me if you’re so mad.”

Oh, you plan on it. “Gonna snap you in two, bitch.” 

Damn that stupid laugh. “Please do.”

Mm. You get up and sink down, groaning when he does and start to slowly rise and fall, letting your legs warm up and feeling the burn in your thighs. But the feeling of having him inside overrides any pain, so you gladly sink onto him again and again. 

The little curses and raspy praise are enough to keep you going, too. “So fucking hot.”

“Am I?” You pout, mewling when Hoseok reaches to smooth a thumb over a nipple. “I didn’t even do much today.”

It’s true. Pretty much no makeup other than some spray and sunscreen. You planned to stay home forever today, and your roommate was supposed to be gone.

“Doesn’t matter.” He touches you again before sliding slim fingers up to your chin, gripping and holding it high. “Still a killer.”

You suppress a smile before dipping your head against him just a tad. “Thank you,” you strain out, because somehow a genuine word of gratitude is hard. 

And because you start to swirl around, huffing and feeling the heat in your legs build higher and higher. When Hoseok groans low, he grips your hips, starting to match your pace but lifting up instead. The slow, sensual movements loll you forward because holy fuck you feel full, and your moans start to pitch up the more your core starts to wind. 

“There you go,” he goads, kicking his head back and gritting those beautiful teeth. “I feel it, baby.”

“Feel you, too,” you gasp out. “But I—My legs—”

Hoseok’s response is immediate. Without prompt, he flips you around, slamming you into the bed and thrusting up to stay there and torture you. “About fuckin’ time.”

“Huh?”

“Was waiting for my turn.” His mouth curves devilishly when you start to squirm, breathing hard because holy shit this feels way too good when he just stays still like that how is this alone affecting you so bad?

“Hobi, I’m actually—”

“Nope.”

Rocked and rocked again, you yelp high, realizing too late that your roommate is giving you all the business shit shit shit his pace is manic and his thrusts are so deep. “Fuck!”

“Uh huh.”

He does not stop. Every second is counting and you’re losing track of time. This man is hitting every spot just right, gripping onto your hips and going to fucking town. Your body has gone completely limp at some point, and you don’t remember when you’ve surrendered your head to his pillow—or are you even right side up anymore? 

You crumple against his headboard and your legs flop over his shoulders but you don’t care. You are blissed out. Completely gone. Nothing exists except for him and whatever the hell he’s putting you through—the mattress, the floor, the poor neighbor’s wall right next to you, all the above. 

“So fucking tight, fuck.”

Fuck, you feel it. You know you’re about to lose it and there’s almost no time to warn him. “Hobi, I’m—”

“Shit, I’m gonna—” 

He collapses onto you, and you welcome him with arms slinging around his neck as he comes hard, groaning low and stuttering in his movements while you come just as hard, both of you straining and sweaty and slick from completely going at each other. 

That release is exactly what you needed. Even through the breaths you inhale and exhale, beautifully crushed under your roommate's body weight, you're already settling into a state of zen. The stress starts to ebb, leaving you floating through a calmer, more relaxed state.

With even more things to think about.

“You still mad?”

Breathily chuckling at Hobi's straightforwardness, you gasp out, “Not anymore. You?”

Realizing what's happening, he lifts up, teeth gritting as he plops onto his mattress next to you. “No.”

“Good.”

He stares at your eyes before sliding down to your lips, then back up again for another hold. And it's the most confusing mix of things in your chest because you know for a fact he hasn't done that. Ever. Not with you, at least. Not like this.

You're the safety net, though. You both are for each other. So that's how you decide to define this scenario when you slip into a smile you hope's convincing, "Hell of a rebound this time, huh."

Hoseok blinks before he grins. And it shoots you straight through the heart. "Yeah... We're fuckin' good at this."

Your laugh is short but your matching grin is genuine. "The best to ever do it."

"Damn right."  

—

—

True freedom comes a few days later.  

On Monday, you’re finally done with work, which completely flips the feel of a normally dreaded day around. 

And what makes this particular Monday even better? 

There’s a showcase tonight. And you are completely free to go. 

—

—

You’ll always love the energy in these warehouses. Honestly, you’ve been away for so long that you feel quite attached as soon as you walk in with random people onto the wide, bustling floor. 

From the conversations you hear springing around you, to the music booming from the DJ booth, to the shouting and cheering of different rappers trying to make their mark on the scene, you truly bask in it all. It’s a wonder you mostly come to these alone, considering how often you show up. 

Tonight, however, someone seems to keep talking to you and standing beside you for a good portion of the first two battles. And you really don’t need nor want their attention. 

So you start making your way to the side of the crowd nearest to where the contestants enter the stage. By some stroke of luck, if Yoongi is here, you can hopefully use him as a get-out-of-stranger-interaction card because all these weeks of work has your social battery completely drained. 

Like you can’t even muster the energy to tell them you really aren’t interested. And you don’t really see anyone else you know so it would be awkward to just dip. 

Thank god. 

Yoongi is here.

When you peek from the crowd, you’re a few rows away, so you have to get his attention somehow. Do you shout his name? Do you wave? Do you just stare lasers at him and hope he—

Oh. He’s looking at you. 

How did he pick you out of the crowd so quick?

Suddenly, everyone else in the room melts away as your eyes find each other. Colors blur as you watch him pause on the stage stairs, sounds mute as he looks genuinely shocked to see you here. 

You’re so thrown that you can’t even gesture to him that you’re being held hostage by a nice but annoying stranger. All you can focus on is how visceral your reaction is.

Because your breath is stolen and your whole body locks into place. 

That last kiss you shared is all you can think about. That one, singular moment before Yoongi let you walk out of his room. 

It was not normal. 

It was not normal in the slightest. 

But that’s just how you feel. For him? It could’ve just been another kiss and he could compare it to the thousands of lip locks he’s had. Why should you hold so much stock in it if he hasn't this whole time? Play it cool. Relax.

The moment passes, and he’s getting on stage to thunderous shouting and cheers. Like always, he doesn’t look at the crowd nor show much emotion, but you know there’s a storm brewing under that jacket just waiting to be unleashed.

You’re proven correct for two straight rounds. 

It was a good match, though you have a feeling Yoongi held back a bit or wasn’t at a hundred percent. His delivery was rough in the right ways and just incredible on the ears, but you could tell something was missing. His fire wasn't as bright as before.

But everyone has their days. And he fucking won despite his dip in performance, which goes to show just how hard he works for this shit.

So you start leaving, eyes closed in quiet rage that this same person is still walking next to you. Do they think they have a legitimate chance? Awareness level zero.

You let them down easy and sigh in relief when they take the hint. But now you're left alone again with a long ass walk to your car. Great. Here you go.

Three steps towards the exit, you feel a vibration in your purse. Fishing out your phone, you see it's a number you haven't saved.

And your heart thrums into your shoes when you pick up, because you don't even have to answer when you hear one word.

“Wait.”

—

—

tbc :))

-

so.. what do we think lmaooo 🦋 | join the taglist :D | feedback box

a/n: and all roads lead to jung hoseok yet again lmfaooooo. but hey, if there's ever a time to be greedy.. it's here LOL. if you did enjoy, please interact however you can! even a like is okay at this point, but all tags, reblogs, comments, messages, and submissions in the feedback box are super appreciated. no one is ready for pt. 4 not even meeee :)))

a/n 2: all the names i’m gonna include that aren’t the members (or yijeong lol) are real life battle rappers! since there's no battle rappers showcased in this episode/chapter, let's just link to 2.0 by bts shall we lololol

++ feedback box: feedback box ⇥ of course, any reblogs/comments/messages are appreciated! ⇥ for the ones that are too shy to reblog with a review, comment on this, or send a message, i went ahead and made another anonymous form where you can send in what you think! ⇥ no emails collected, no need to put in a username. it’s literally just a comment dropbox :D feedback can be as short/sweet or as long as you’d like! ++ more links: ⇥ masterlist 

🦋 so.. who are you going on a date with if you had to choose?? 🦋

[borathae]

i am looking respectfully [cr.]

[poeticblissme]

Girl fuck respect HELLO HOSEOKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKK IM LOOKING

[borathae]

YOU GET ME HOLY FUCK HOSEOK IS TOO FINE I’M LOOKING WITH LUST 😩

[bangtan-tee-86]

I’m sat ☠️

[foliexaxdeux]

Nuts - Masterlist

Pairings: Yoongi x f!reader, Namjoon x f!reader, Yoongi x Namjoon

Summary: After moving to a new city and getting to know Jimin through work, he introduces you to his friends, a group of weirdos, just how you like them. Getting involved with two of them, without knowing about their past, makes things perfectly complicated.

Genre: Why choose (that counts for all three of them), fluff, smut (porn with plot), new in town, fwb to lovers, comedy (?? at least we think we’re funny), non-idol!au, producer!Yoongi, author!Namjoon

Warnings: MDNI, explicit sexual content (MxF, MxM, MMF), smoking cigarettes and weed, alcohol, angst on the side. Detailed warnings will be listed for each individual chapter.

Wordcount: ~50k

Status: Ongoing but completely written (chapters will be posted twice a week, on Mondays and Thursdays)

Key: ✿ → fluff | ♡ → smut | ❆ → angst

Chapters:

01. Intro - 2.5k

02. Cypher - 6.8k - ✿ ♡

03. Burn It - 4k - ♡ ❆

04. Pied Piper - 4.3k - ✿ ♡

05. Cypher pt. 2 - 7.1k - ✿ ♡

06. Lonely - 4k - ❆

07. People - 3.6k - ✿

08. The Truth Untold - 4k - ✿

09. Nuts - ~15k (oops) - ❆ ✿ ♡♡♡

[bangtan-tee-86]

Beautifully written with smoldering smut, served on a silver platter.

[hamsterclaw]

Drift Kings

You and your brother Seokjin live completely separate lives, until one day when your worlds collide.

Pairing: Jimin x f! reader, Yoongi x f! reader

Genre: Drifting, street racing AU, smut

Word count: 9.5k

Rating: 18+

Warnings: Explicit sex, swearing, mentions of drugs, cigarette smoking, illegal street racing

You know from the first time you lay eyes on Park Jimin that he doesn’t belong in your world.

He’s physically blessed, that much is obvious to anyone with eyes, but he’s all wrong.

His suit is beautifully tailored, but the material’s wrong. His shoes are expensive but in that modern, stylish way that screams new money.

You doubt any of the jewelry he has on is inherited.

He catches you staring, assumes it’s because of his good looks rather than that you’re finding him lacking.

He has the audacity to give you a once over of his own, like he has the right to judge you like you judged him.

You stay perfectly still, let him look.

You’re a Kim, and you’re used to people staring at you.

His lips curl in a smile that looks closer to a sneer.

‘You should wipe that sour look off your face, princess, before the wind changes.’

You’re too surprised to snap back at him, and a moment later, he turns away, like he’s the one dismissing you. 

You’re still staring at his back when Seokjin, your brother, arrives with Yoongi.

‘Were you waiting long?’ Seokjin asks politely, gesturing for you to go ahead of him into the private room he’s reserved for dinner.

‘Not long,’ you say, still thinking about the very beautiful man who’s just cut you down.

***

Seokjin, is as unmarked as he ever was, at least from what you can see whilst he’s dressed in a three-piece suit.

You’re glad.

Your brother’s always loved cars. When you were growing up, he spent every spare moment in Yoongi’s family’s auto workshop, similar to how you spent every moment in your father’s office, learning the ropes of your family business.

There was a Kim needed to take over the company, and thankfully, your family didn’t have any qualms about which Kim sibling it was.

A life in business would have killed your brother, totally unlike a life spent drag racing on Mount Samo, you think, uncomfortable with the irony.

If your parents were still alive, they’d probably have things to say about Seokjin’s lifestyle.

At least he’s always with Yoongi.

Min Yoongi.

You sneak a glance at him over your plate as you eat.

Around you and Seokjin, his normally serious face relaxes into a smile, perfect teeth flashing often, eyes crinkled at the corners.

Your brother’s closest friend, you spent most of your teenage years swinging between a desperate crush on him and a desperate need not to be perceived by his intense, penetrating gaze.

Now that you’re older, the heat of your crush has settled into a burning ember he occasionally stokes by turning up when you meet Seokjin, all dark eyes and deep voice and the odd flattering comment that has the power to set your heart aflutter.

Apart from all that though, you know enough about Min Yoongi to know he’s got the heart of a hustler, and fierce loyalty to your brother. If your brother ever went down, Yoongi would be right there with him fighting to the bitter end. 

‘You look tired, sis,’ Seokjin says, dropping a dumpling onto your plate.

‘I’m just closing on a three year contract with the Moiwa group,’ you say, not denying it. You’ve been working on a lucrative partnership with the tech company for months, and you’re finally on the home stretch.

You’re not sure how much Seokjin knows about the family business, he rarely attends board meetings, like you’ve never seen him race.

Seokjin loosens his tie, wincing slightly as he does so.

‘How’s your collarbone?’ you ask.

Four weeks ago Seokjin had broken his collarbone and three ribs on Mount Samo. He hadn’t told you about it, but as you are each other’s next of kin, you’d found out anyway.

‘Healing,’ Seokjin says, making up for his brevity with a brilliant smile.

You know what they call your brother on the circuit. 

Chaebol. Often said with a sneer, despite the fact that he can put together an Evolution IX blindfolded and drive it in a way that credits all the tuneups he can afford to pay for.

‘I hurt my shoulder,’ Yoongi tells you, teeth flashing in the half-smile-half-snarl that makes you feel lightheaded when it’s directed at you.

‘I’m sure you have plenty of people to take care of it for you,’ you say, straightfaced.

Yoongi blinks, and his lip curls again. ‘Don’t you want to?’

You laugh. ‘Are you trying to be cute? It doesn’t suit you, Yoongi.’

‘Stop flirting with my sister, Yoongi,’ Seokjin interjects, distracting you from Yoongi’s pout.

He turns back to you. ‘Are you free this weekend? I was planning to visit Daejeon.’

‘I’m free,’ you agree.

Your parents’ graves are in Daejeon. You and Seokjin go a couple of times a year.

Your phone rings. It’s your PA, Daeun.

‘I should go,’ you say, apologetic. ‘It’s hectic right now at work.’

‘At least finish your food,’ Seokjin urges.

‘I’ll pick up something before I get home,’ you reply.

Seokjin frowns. ‘I’ll drop food off at your place.’

You smile. ‘I’ll see you this weekend, ok? Keep my brother out of trouble, Yoongi.’

‘And you stay out of trouble too,’ you add.

Yoongi throws you another grin. ‘For you,’ he promises.

‘This weekend,’ Seokjin says. 

Both men rise as you leave the room.

***

Seokjin wanted to drop by Yoongi’s workshop on your way to Daejeon, and you have to admit, it’s been a while since you’ve seen his crew.

Jung Hoseok, the angel-faced mechanic turned racer who has a smile and personality that can light up a room and drives like he’s halfway to heaven.

Jeon Jungkook, the youngest, a baby brother to all who of recent years seems to be trying his hardest to hide the facts of his pretty face and endearingly cute little shit personality, by getting tatted and pierced and wearing exclusively black.

There’s an unfamiliar person though, and as he turns to greet Seokjin upon your arrival, you realise it’s the beautiful man who sneered at you in the restaurant.

‘Y/N, this is Park Jimin,’ says Seokjin.

Park Jimin gives you a smile that makes you long to slap him.

‘We’ve met. Turns out, I wasn’t far off when I called you a princess.’

His comment makes your hackles rise.

‘I wish I could say it’s a pleasure,’ you say coolly. 

‘How did you meet?’ Seokjin asks.

‘It was at the restaurant that night,’ you tell Seokjin, trying to shut down the line of questioning.

You turn to Yoongi, who’s leaning against a workbench, watching the whole exchange with a bemused look on his face.

‘I’ve never met anyone who doesn’t like Y/N,’ Hoseok remarks, kindly. ‘It must be your fault, Jimin.’

You laugh. ‘I’m sure I have a lot of enemies, Hobi.’

If Seokjin’s the chaebol racer, and Yoongi’s the drifting king, you’re the ice princess of Cheongdam-dong. 

You’re well aware that your family’s laissez-faire attitude to succession isn’t necessarily shared by all. You’ve grown so weary of the misogyny in your society that it barely even registers to you, now. You learned long ago to apologise for daring to carry on your family business lineage. 

You completely miss the look that passes between Seokjin and Yoongi.

‘I’ll be back by nine,’ Seokjin says to Yoongi.

That gets your attention. ‘A race?’

‘We’ll look after him,’ Jungkook assures you sweetly.

You roll your eyes in mock exasperation. ‘Who’s going to look after the rest of you?’

***

Seokjin parks the car, cuts the engine. 

You unbuckle your belt, and you both walk around to the trunk to get the flowers you brought.

Seokjin asks, casually, as you walk down the path to your parents’ graves, ‘How’s work going?’

‘Still busy,’ you say, shading your eyes against the brightness of the afternoon sun.

‘The deal came through,’ you tell him. ‘I spent most of last night celebrating with my team.’

‘Congratulations,’ says Seokjin. He’s had the foresight to put on sunglasses, you can’t see most of his face.

‘Thanks,’ you reply. ‘How’s the Supra coming along?’

Seokjin and Yoongi are working on tuning up a fourth generation Supra for a client from Hong Kong.

‘It’s coming along,’ Seokjin says. He smiles wryly. ‘Jungkook keeps asking if he can ‘road-test’ it.’

You laugh along with him. 

‘Yoongi says he’ll let him if he can rebuild it after,’ Seokjin continues.

You know Jungkook’s talented, but he’s not as skilled as either your brother or Yoongi.

‘You can come watch the race tonight, if you want,’ Seokjin offers. 

He’s never invited you before.

‘Sure,’ you say.

‘We’ll head off when we get back,’ Seokjin says. 

You’ve reached the graves.

Seokjin kneels down to lay the flowers on the ground. 

You wonder if it’ll ever get easier.

***

You’re sitting in a corner of Yoongi’s workshop, watching as Seokjin and his crew get ready.

The atmosphere’s crackling with anticipation, a wild energy that has adrenaline thrumming through your veins. 

Seokjin and Yoongi are hunched over the popped engine hood of Yoongi’s Nissan GT-R, talking quietly. 

Jungkook and Hoseok are roughhousing by the workbench. Jungkook’s dressed in black leather and motorcycle boots, a chain round his neck, and you wonder, again, when the maknae started to become such a menace.

Jimin’s sitting on the raised walkway over Yoongi’s workshop, arms on the railing, feet dangling off the edge.

He catches you looking at him, and the slow smirk that spreads over his face is, to your chagrin, equal parts infuriating and attractive.

You can’t deny it, he’s not your usual type but he’s so fucking attractive you almost can’t stand to look at him.

His blond hair is styled back, a stray lock falls across his brow as he stares at you, almost in his eyes. His full lips are curved, smile lines crinkling the corners of his eyes.

The way his jacket’s lifted, with his arms braced on the railing, shows off his flat stomach, the plain t-shirt he’s got on doing nothing to hide how cut his torso is.

Beside you, Seokjin clears his throat. 

‘You can ride with me,’ he says. He glances up at Jimin as he speaks, and you wonder how long Seokjin was watching before you noticed.

***

You’ve been in Seokjin’s Honda before, but never on a race day.

The interiors are black leather, he’s modified the sound system, of course, but most striking to you is the way the engine vibrates with power, even when he’s driving the speed limit en route to Mount Samo.

Up ahead, Yoongi’s leading the convoy. You’d glimpsed the flash of his grin as he’d cut Seokjin off at an intersection a couple miles back, and the barely leashed ferality of it had made you fantasise, for the umpteenth time, about sleeping with him.

Bringing up the rear are Jungkook, Hobi and Jimin, keeping tight on Seokjin’s tail.

You look around with interest at the cars idling at the summit when Seokjin slides smoothly into a spot next to Yoongi.

Seokjin cuts the engine, and you get out.

You’d expected Seokjin to get a reaction, your brother is striking even when he’s not driving a midnight black Honda, crimson racing stripes cutting the car in half lengthways, but to your surprise, there are an equal number of eyes on you.

Yoongi’s lit a cigarette, the glow of the lit end reflected in his dark eyes as he moves over to make a space for you next to where he’s leaning.

Smoke curls around your face as he asks, polite as ever, ‘Do you mind if I smoke around you?’

‘I don’t,’ you reassure him. 

Yoongi nods. ‘I usually just have the one.’ 

His lips curl. ‘Then another when I win.’

Seokjin says. ‘Jimin will drive you back down when he’s scouting. We’ll see you at the bottom.’

‘Scouting?’

‘For police,’ Seokjin explains. 

You look at him sharply.

‘If you want, Jimin can drive you home right now,’ Seokjin offers.

It occurs to you then, just how separate yours and Seokjin’s lives are.

Yours is a world of meetings, boardrooms, euphemisms for what one really means.

And Seokjin’s is this, nighttimes and headlamps so bright they light up the city, and a physical rawness you never see.

Your brother looks chaebol but inside? He’s this.

‘I’ll stay,’ you say. ‘Good luck.’

Seokjin’s gaze lingers on you, but he doesn’t say anything else.

When Jimin arrives Seokjin takes him aside. They have a conversation you can’t hear, they’re several feet away and Hobi’s trying to show you pictures of his new puppy.

There’s a shift in the atmosphere, the deafening roar of engines, blinding lights as three new cars arrive.

One looks like it’s heading straight for your brother’s Honda. 

You tense as it approaches at full speed, screeching to a halt barely a foot from the front bumper.

Seokjin raises an eyebrow, and beside him Yoongi straightens up, grinds the remnants of his cigarette to ash under his boot.

‘Who’s that, Hobi?’ you ask, as the driver gets out.

He’s tall, like your brother, good looking in a flashy way, and the way he stares at your brother as he approaches makes your skin crawl.

There’s a tattoo running up the side of his neck, next to a jagged scar.

You slip past Hoseok and go to stand next to Seokjin.

‘Hyunjin,’ Seokjin says, neutral.

Yoongi just stares back, lip curled in a sneer.

‘Seokjin,’ the man replies. ‘Ready to be driven off a mountain?’

You tense, and Hyunjin’s gaze shifts to you.

‘I’ll be waiting for you at the bottom,’ Seokjin replies, but Hyunjin barely reacts. 

He’s still staring at you.

‘Who’s this?’ he asks.

‘The person who’ll make you pay if you do anything to my brother,’ you snap.

He raises an eyebrow, gaze shifting between you and Seokjin thoughtfully.

‘You must be the ice princess. I didn’t think you’d be quite this pretty. I guess Seokjin keeps you hidden away for a reason.’

‘Shut up,’ Yoongi growls, as Seokjin shifts so he’s in front of you.

You realise Jungkook and Hoseok are behind you.

Hyunjin just laughs.

‘I’ll see you at the bottom, princess. If I beat your brother can I have a kiss?’

Seokjin says, voice low and even, ‘What about winner gets the loser’s ride?’

Your eyes widen. You know how many hours Seokjin put in on his car in Yoongi’s workshop.

Hyunjin scoffs. ‘I’m going to enjoy driving your car.’

He gives you another long look, and then he’s turning on his heel.

‘Go with Jimin,’ Seokjin says, glancing at you. ‘I’ll see you down there.’

You’re hesitant. ‘Seokjin —- that guy —-‘

‘Don’t worry,’ Seokjin says. ‘I’ll beat him.’

His expression softens.

‘It’s not my first race,’ he reminds you gently.

You realise Jimin’s got his car pulled up next to you, door open, waiting.

‘Good luck,’ you say, still uncertain.

Seokjin nods, waits until you get in the car, closes the door after you.

***

Jimin drives in silence, navigating the hairpin bends that make Mount Samo a drifter’s dream with a competence that makes you wonder why he’s not racing himself.

‘Is my brother going to be all right?’ you ask, plaintive in the quiet of the car.

Jimin doesn’t answer immediately, and you’re wondering if he heard you when you catch him looking at you in the rearview mirror.

‘Your brother will be fine,’ he says finally. ‘We’ll wait for him at the finish.’

You’re thinking about the way Hyunjin sneered at Seokjin.

‘Is it always like that?’ you ask.

Jimin takes his time answering this question too.

‘Seokjin and Hyunjin have a history,’ he tells you. He turns to you briefly.

‘You should ask Seokjin about it.’

‘Have you known Seokjin long?’ you ask.

Jimin glances at you again.

‘Not long. We started working together a few months ago.’

‘Do you race?’

‘Occasionally.’

‘Are you any good?’ you ask. 

Jimin changes gears, slows to a stop. 

‘Never good enough for you, princess,’ he says, flicking his gaze at you. 

You feel chastened. It’s fair enough, you know that you can be a snob. It’s a learned behaviour, from your years trying to prove yourself as leader of the Kim conglomerate, but Jimin wouldn’t know that, and you doubt he’d care. 

‘I’m sorry,’ you say. 

Jimin parks the car, turns up the music. He glances at the clock on the dash. 

‘Your brother’ll be down in twenty minutes. We’ll have an extra car to drive back - which is why Hobi and Jungkook rode together on the way here.’ 

‘The wager,’ you say, a question. 

‘The wager,’ Jimin confirms. 

‘It was all planned then?’ 

Jimin laughs, short. ‘Hyunjin’s predictable.’ 

He glances in the rearview. ‘I’ve never seen anyone drift like your brother.’

You’re processing this when he says, referring to your apology, ‘It’s fine. I’ve been nothing but a dick to you since we met.’ 

‘Are you any good at your job?’ Jimin asks.

There’s the faintest hint of taunting in his voice. You can’t blame him in all honesty.

You decide to tell the truth.

‘I’m inexperienced but I have a good team.’

You look out the window.

‘I don’t have a problem carrying responsibility. Out of the both of us, I was the better choice. Corporate life would have killed Seokjin.’

You press a thumb to your temple, massaging the tension headache that’s threatening to come away.

The silence in the car is deafening. 

You glance at Jimin.

He’s staring at you, unreadable.

‘I’ll wait outside,’ you say. 

You push your door open and step out into the cool darkness of the night.

A light rain starts to fall.

Behind you, Jimin gets out of the car. A moment later he drapes his jacket over your shoulders, the fabric warm from his body heat.

All he says is, ‘They should be here soon.’

***

Your heart accelerates when the gleam of headlights cuts through the dark.

The rain’s stopped but the tarmac of the road still glistens with wet.

You can’t see who it is, blinded as you are.

The car comes to a smooth stop not six feet from where you and Jimin, and a handful of others, are waiting.

The door opens as your vision begins to adjust, and your brother steps out. 

He looks around, spots you and Jimin, lifts his hand in a wave like butter wouldn’t melt.

There’s a wave of cheering, drowned out by the roar of Yoongi’s Nissan as he cruises past, stops a little way past your brother’s car.

You don’t even notice when Hyunjin and the rest of the racers arrive, caught up as you are in the overwhelming wave of relief that your brother and Yoongi are all right.

You lose Jimin in the crowd that surges forward, eyes only on your brother as Hyunjin tosses keys on the ground at his feet, disgusted.

Your phone vibrates in your pocket. You check it distractedly as you head for Seokjin. 

It’s an unknown number. 

You’re swiping to answer when you collide with what feels like a brick wall.

You’d be off your feet if an arm hadn’t curled around you to steady you.

You look up into Hyunjin’s face.

‘Where’s my kiss, princess?’ he asks. His grip around your waist feels like steel.

You lean back. 

‘I don’t remember promising you one,’ you tell him, bringing your arms up against his chest, trying to put more distance between you.

He laughs, holds tighter, starts walking you backwards.

‘Get off me,’ you warn. 

‘Or what?’ he asks. ‘You gonna call your brother to come save you?’

‘She’s got more than one friend here, actually,’ comes a voice from behind you.

You turn to see Jimin, hands loose by his sides, expression hard.

‘She asked you to get off her,’ Jimin points out.

Hyunjin’s hand tightens painfully around your wrist for a heart stopping moment before he scoffs and drops it.

‘Maybe next time, princess,’ he says.

He leers at you as he steps away.

‘Are you ok?’ Jimin asks, nodding to your wrist.

‘I’m fine,’ you say automatically, despite the throbbing in your wrist. You’re used to showing no weakness. 

Seokjin and Yoongi have reached you. 

‘What happened?’ Seokjin asks, an edge to his voice.

‘We saw that fucker head straight for you,’ Yoongi says. The feral spark’s back in his eyes, he looks like he’s spoiling for a fight.

You tug the cuffs of Jimin’s jacket down over your wrists.

‘Nothing happened,’ you say.

Seokjin doesn’t believe you, you can tell, but you don’t want to talk about it.

Finally, he says, ‘I’ll drive you—‘

‘I can drive you home,’ Jimin says. ‘It’s on my way.’

***

You sit in the passenger seat of Jimin’s car, waiting as he grabs something from the trunk.

He gets in, tosses a heat pack into your lap.

‘He grabbed you pretty hard,’ he says. ‘You can use that if you feel sore.’

You look at it for a moment.

‘Thanks.’

‘I’m sorry I lost you for a moment there in the crowd,’ Jimin says, shifting the car into gear as he pulls out onto the road.

‘I’m not a kid,’ you say.

The heat pack feels nice. 

‘You’re definitely not a kid,’ Jimin agrees.

His gaze flicks over you, so quick you wonder if you imagined it.

‘You don’t even know where I live,’ you say, with a flicker of amusement. 

‘I’ll drive you anywhere you want,’ Jimin replies. 

For the first time, he smiles at you, lips curving, eyes crinkling at the corners. ‘Where do you want to go, princess?’ 

***

Your back’s against the front door of your apartment, your head thrown back as Jimin presses heated kisses to your neck. 

He’s beautiful, dark eyes and gleaming skin, you keep wanting to watch him but he’s kissing you so well it’s hard to keep your eyes open. 

He’s got one hand under your top, smoothing circles over your skin, the other curled over your ass, squeezing your flesh. 

‘Jimin,’ you breathe, your hand braced on his shoulder, fingers curling into the hair on the nape of his neck.

‘Yeah,’ he murmurs, silvery voice making you tingle. ‘Touch me, if you want.’

You slide a hand over the hardness of his torso, feeling the ridges of his abs, the tautness of him. 

Skin over muscle over bone.

He’s hard all the places you’re soft.

You can’t stifle a moan as he rolls his hips against yours. 

‘Where’s your room,’ he grunts, pulling a whine from your lips as he lifts his own lips from your skin.

You point, and he knits his fingers with yours, tugging you with him as he heads for your bedroom.

The door closes behind you, and in front of you, Jimin shucks his t-shirt, pulling it over his head.

His beauty stops you in your tracks.

Jimin grins. He tilts his chin at you, all golden skin and bright eyes.

‘Stop staring,’ he says, bold, ‘and take your clothes off.’

You can feel your skin heat as Jimin fixes his gaze on you, watching as you fumble with the buttons on your blouse, undo the fastening on your jeans.

You can’t meet his gaze when you’re in your bra and panties.

Jimin takes two steps forward, dropping his own jeans.

You’re still looking down, so the bottom half of him comes into view first.

The waistband of his boxer briefs, stretched over taut skin, the very obvious bulge just beneath. Thighs so muscled your own thighs tighten against each other.

He lifts your chin gently so you’ll look at him.

‘Why so shy, princess? Look how hard I am.’

He doesn’t wait for a reply, lips meeting yours in a kiss that’s surprisingly gentle.

He walks you backward onto the bed, takes a moment to look at you laid on your sheets. His hand strokes over his rigid cock once, then he’s lowering himself on top of you.

He’s gentle, but you can feel the coiled power in his muscles as he grinds himself into the softness between your legs.

‘You really are a princess,’ he murmurs into the dip between your breasts, so lightly you know he’s just teasing.

He kisses the round of your breast, tongue flicking around your areola tantalisingly until you’re soaked, your hips seeking friction against his hardness.

‘Jimin,’ you plead, maddened with arousal.

‘Don’t worry,’ he soothes. ‘I’ve got you. Panties off.’

You lift your hips to pull your panties down.

There’s a rip of foil, a barely suppressed groan from Jimin as he unrolls the condom onto himself. 

He positions himself above you, slides into you like he’s been doing it his whole life, and you moan, eyes squeezing shut at the stretch of him.

‘You like that?’ he asks, silvery voice deep now, breath hot against your skin.

‘Yeah,’ you cry.

He props himself on one arm, rolls his hips against yours.

‘Fuck,’ he groans.

He picks up the pace, eyes on you, flicking between your face and how he’s making your tits bounce with the force of his thrusts. 

He’s glistening with a sheen of sweat now, hair flopped over his face, damp. 

‘Look at you, princess,’ he murmurs, voice dropped low, breathless. ‘Look how well you take me.’

He flattens a hand over the curve of your lower belly, thumb flicking over your clit, purposeful, firm, making the pleasure build. 

Slows, lifts your hips so he can fuck you deeper. 

The curve of his cock hits so good you’re crying out with each rock of his hips against yours. 

You come with a gasp of his name, and Jimin drops down on you, grinding, hips working. 

‘Fuck,’ he groans, deep in his chest. ‘Take it, baby.’ 

You wind a hand around his neck, and his lips meet yours again, tongue licking into your mouth as he fills the condom. 

‘Shit,’ he groans, pulling out, knotting off the condom, tossing it carelessly. 

You’re breathless still, heart hammering in your chest, but you sit up, admire how he looks sprawled out on the covers of your bed, flushed and glowing. 

‘You were right, you know,’ Jimin says. 

He’d been looking up at the ceiling, but now he flicks his gaze at you. 

‘You’re too good for me.’ 

You scoff. ‘Shut up. I never said that.’ 

Jimin laughs. ‘I didn’t say it was going to stop me from pursuing you.’ 

You raise an eyebrow. ‘Pursuing me?’ 

‘I said what I said,’ Jimin says. 

He sits up, muscles flexing, hair pushed back. He drops a kiss on your exposed shoulder, teeth flashing as he follows it up with a playful nip. 

As you’re getting up, picking up your clothes, you notice a flash of gold half-out of the pocket of his jeans. 

You lift it out, curious. 

Jimin says nothing as you rub your thumb over the gold badge, turn it over to see his ID. 

‘You’re a cop,’ you say. It’s not a question, you have the proof in your hand, but it comes out querulous anyway. 

‘I’m a cop,’ Jimin replies. 

You’re trying to process. ‘Does my brother know?’ 

‘Seokjin knows,’ Jimin says. 

He gets up, starts getting dressed too. 

‘It’s illegal to race on Mount Samo,’ you say. 

‘I’m undercover,’ Jimin tells you. He reaches for his badge, and you let him take it out of your loose grip. 

‘What are you investigating?’ you ask. 

‘Currently, your ass,’ Jimin says. 

You crack a reluctant smile. ‘Could have told me you were a cop before we slept together.’ 

‘I usually wait for a second date before I get the handcuffs out,’ Jimin shoots back. 

You laugh, but your mind’s still racing, wondering why Jimin’s hanging around with your brother and Yoongi.

You’re so preoccupied with your thoughts it takes you a moment to realise Jimin’s watching you.

‘I should get to bed,’ you say, feigning a yawn. ‘I’ve got a busy day tomorrow.’

Jimin asks, quietly, ‘Is there anything you want to ask me?’

You’re troubled, but you force a smile. 

‘I’ll save my questions for when I’m less tired,’ you say.

Jimin’s got his jacket on, you’ve both moved out of the bedroom.

He says, ‘I’d like to see you again.’

Your smile becomes a little less forced. 

‘Yeah,’ you agree.

Jimin looks like he wants to say more, but all he does is nod, flash you a smile before he leaves.

The click of the latch falling into place as he pulls the door to sounds oddly final. 

***

You’re tired.

You’ve been in and out of meetings all day. On top of that there’s been a problem with the city planning committee over the new property you’ve just acquired.

It was a hard fought battle but you’d managed to pip your competitor, Jungcorp, to the post. You’re not sure why Jungcorp had fought so hard for it, it’s an abandoned tower block in an unglamorous part of the city, but the land’s invaluable to you for development.

As far as you know Jungcorp’s got no vested interests in property development. 

You look up, exasperated, as there’s yet another knock on your door. 

It’s past 8pm, your feet are sore and all you want to do is go home and take your bra off, if you could only just finish reading and sign off on the city planning committee’s requirements.

Plus you thought you’d sent everyone from your executive team home. 

Your frown softens when you realise it’s Jimin.

You’ve been texting back and forth since you hooked up, he’s called you a few times, but you’ve been too busy to meet.

‘How’d you get in here?’ you ask, getting up to greet him.

‘I’m a cop, remember?’ Jimin says. He looks as pretty as ever, dressed all in black, silverware in his ears.

‘I have security,’ you point out.

‘Jaebeom?’ Jimin asks, feigning innocence. ‘We used to work together.

You roll your eyes.

‘I thought you wouldn’t mind me dropping by unannounced like this,’ Jimin says, ‘because I brought food.’

He brings his arms round from behind his back to reveal a bag of food that makes your stomach growl, loudly and ungracefully.

‘When did you last eat?’ Jimin asks.

‘I had a protein shake for lunch,’ you say, eyeing him as he sets out boxes of noodles. ‘They’re apparently a complete meal.’

It’s Jimin’s turn to roll his eyes.

‘Prawns or chicken?’ he asks, holding out chopsticks to you.

You reach out and grasp his hand instead.

‘I’ve missed you a little,’ you say, tugging.

Jimin lets you pull him closer. ‘Yeah? I’ve missed you a lot.’

He’s close now, head tilted to yours, face barely inches away.

‘A lot?’ you ask, staring at his lips.

‘Yeah.’ His voice is husky now, and he dips his head to yours.

You meet him more than halfway, lips already parted.

Jimin’s hand curls around the back of your head as he slants his own to kiss you deeper.

‘I lied,’ he murmurs, crowding you against the edge of your desk.

‘I didn’t just come to bring you food. I came because I knew you’d look fucking sexy in your work clothes.’

He kisses you again, hips pressed against yours, hand slipping down to cup your ass.

You slip your arm around him, sighing a little as he kisses you, lips warm and sweet.

‘Eat, before we get distracted,’ Jimin says, pulling away.

You whine, disgruntled, but he’s insistent.

The noodles are hot, tasty, satiating the hunger you’ve been suppressing all day.

‘Thanks,’ you say, as Jimin gets up to clear away the food.

You’d help, but it’s the longest break from work you’ve had all day, and now that you’ve sat down on the comfortable sofa you’re not sure you can muster the willpower to get up.

Jimin looks at you knowingly.

‘Want a ride home?’

‘I should probably get back to work,’ you say, regretfully.

Jimin says, ‘You look exhausted. Here, I’ll take you home.’

You find yourself picking up your things, letting Jimin help you on with your coat, following him to the lifts.

Jimin curls an arm around you, and you lean into him as you wait for the lift.

He smells good, but more than that, he feels good, solid, his shoulder corded with muscle under your cheek. 

‘You can lean on me,’ Jimin says. There’s a teasing lilt to his voice, but he holds you tighter when you try to pull away.

In the car, Jimin leans over to help you fasten your belt.

‘I can do it,’ you say, but he just smiles. 

‘I said you can lean on me,’ he tells you. He starts the engine, puts on soft music, a lo-fi beat. 

‘Sit back, princess. I’ve got you.’

You want to tell him to stop calling you princess but you’re so comfortable and warm the words won’t leave your lips.

You blink awake to find that Jimin’s parked outside your apartment building. 

‘Sorry,’ you mumble, trying to orientate yourself. ‘Did I sleep the whole way?’

‘You talk in your sleep,’ Jimin tells you. 

Now you’re fully awake. 

‘What did I say?’

‘I didn’t know you liked my ass that much,’ Jimin says, thoughtfully. 

‘What?’

He laughs. ‘Go to bed, princess. Want me to walk you up?’

‘I’ll be all right,’ you tell him. You hesitate, hand on the door handle. 

‘Thanks, Jimin.’

‘Anytime, princess.’

He waits until you’re inside the doors before he drives away.

***

Yoongi rolls himself out from under the body of the Subaru he’s working on just as Seokjin approaches. 

He stares at the pictures Seokjin hands him, jaw tightening, anger sparking, hot and bright, within him.

‘Does she know?’

‘Jimin says she doesn’t seem to know,’ Seokjin says, voice low, furious.

Yoongi hands him back the pictures, lip curled in disgust. 

‘I think you’d better fucking tell her,’ he says. 

‘It’s not just that,’ Seokjin says. ‘I got this, too.’

Yoongi listens to the recording on Seokjin’s phone, swears.

‘Shit, that asshole’s asking to be fucked up.’

‘Call the guys,’ Seokjin says, voice hard. ‘We get her and then we show him what happens to people who fuck with us.’

***

You’re hurrying, running late. You’re meeting a client from Norway in the busiest part of the city at 7pm sharp.

You glance at your watch just as the light goes green at a multiway intersection, watch the numbers indicating how long you have to cross tick down as you walk briskly across the white stripes on the road.

There’s a thunderous roar, a wave of screams, and the throng of people crossing with you disperses rapidly as you look around to see where the noise is coming from.

The crowd’s clearing, but you stay where you are in the middle of the intersection because you recognise the midnight black Honda with the red racing stripes heading straight for you, the sleek silver Nissan keeping pace alongside it.

Your brother drives slightly past you and executes a 90 degree turn so his car’s across your path, lengthways, tyres screeching.

The acrid smell of burning rubber fills your nostrils, but you almost don’t notice it, because three other cars surround you in quick succession, boxing you in.

To your left, Yoongi, dark eyes scanning you as if to assure himself you’re unharmed.

To your right, Hobi, his face more serious than you’ve ever seen him.

Behind you, Jimin, a shadow behind his blinding headlights.

Seokjin leans across the passenger seat, pushes the door open.

‘Get in,’ he says.

***

You have questions, but Seokjin waits until you’re out of the busiest part of town, when the streets get a little wider, the lights less bright, before he starts talking.

You realise he’s taking you to his apartment.

‘What’s going on?’ you ask.

‘Hyunjin threatened you,’ Seokjin says, terse, jaw tense as he navigates the expensive neighbourhood his apartment’s in. 

‘He threatened me?’ you ask, sure you’ve heard wrong.

Seokjin glances at you. ‘The land you just purchased.’

You frown. ‘The square footage we fought Jungcorp over?’

‘Jungcorp is Hyunjin’s grandfather’s company,’ Seokjin says.

The puzzle pieces click into place.

You let out a low whistle. ‘Shit. And he calls you chaebol.’

‘The company’s in trouble,’ Seokjin says, ‘and they’re being investigated for running drugs out of Jamsil.’

He slides into a space in the underground car park, cuts the engine.

‘You know Jimin’s part of the narcotics squad.’

‘He didn’t say what he was investigating,’ you reply, sliding out the door, walking with Seokjin to the private lift.

Seokjin punches in the code, activates the lift, and a moment later you’re walking into his apartment.

There are pictures scattered across the coffee table in the lounge, and for once you don’t stop to admire the view of the city.

They’re all pictures of you. Full colour, high resolution.

Pictures of you in your office, walking into your apartment, at a client dinner. Even, to your horror, one of you in your bed, asleep.

‘Who took these?’ you ask. Your voice comes out tremulous, you barely recognise it.

‘Hyunjin had them sent to me,’ Seokjin replies.

You have to sit down. 

‘They want you to give up the Jamsil property and land,’ Seokjin tells you.

You’re struggling to take all this in.

‘Or what?’

Seokjin doesn’t want to give you the details of what Hyunjin threatened to do to you.

‘You should stay at mine until this settles down,’ is what he settles for.

You look up at him.

‘I can’t give up the Jamsil land, Seokjin. It’s the biggest victory I’ve had since I took over the company.’

‘No victory is worth your life,’ Seokjin points out.

Logically, you know your brother is right, but you don’t know if he knows how hard you’ve fought since you took control of the reins of the Kim conglomerate.

The times you were challenged over decisions the board would have praised you for, if you were a man.

The tears you cried in secret when your spirit was battered and bruised from pretending you were immune to the snide comments, the demeaning remarks.

You know you’re stronger than the adversity you faced but it’s never been easy.

Seokjin studies your face, a look in his eyes that makes you wonder how much your older brother really knows.

‘Yoongi’ll take you home to get your things. I’ll fix us dinner for when you get back.’

***

Yoongi never really seems to expect anything from you when you’re together.

It’s a trait that you’ve come to appreciate more and more as the years go by.

He listened to your naive prattling about your friends on the odd occasion when he picked you up after school, never commenting except to ask if you wanted ice cream.

He picked you up sometimes when you were back from college, letting you choose the music you wanted to play, handing you snacks silently, sometimes smoking out the open window.

He drives quietly now, changing gears so seamlessly you barely notice even though you’re staring at his hands.

You remember once, a couple years ago, when you’d met by chance when you were walking to the metro after a disastrous blind date.

You’d been so stung by the experience the indignation had tumbled out of you, words jumbled, as he’d pulled up alongside you and offered you a lift.

Yoongi had listened all the way to your apartment, murmuring support in the lower range of his vocal register, a reassuring rumble if not any actual words.

As soon as he’d stopped the car you’d unbuckled your belt, intending to turn to him and thank him, and instead, you’d looked at him looking at you, his hair pulled back from his forehead in a tiny ponytail, eyes dark and unreadable, and you’d leaned forward and kissed him instead.

Yoongi had grunted a little, and you would have pulled away, if he hadn’t cupped the back of your head and sought your lips with a hunger that thrilled you all the way to your bones. 

Heat had pooled in your belly, down low, as he licked boldly into your mouth, slid his big hands around your hips to steady you.

You’d pulled away, breathless, more than a little aroused, and he’d quirked a brow at you.

A question.

You think that if you’d showed any uncertainty, Yoongi would have stopped, and so you didn’t.

You’d taken his hardness in your mouth with a confidence fueled by the reverent, affectionate way he said your name, had learned what he liked by the way his breathing quickened until it was laboured gasps, then a single uttered, emphatic ‘fuck’ as he spilled down your throat, hand clenched on the steering wheel.

He’d given you a feral smile, thumbed away a smear of his cum from the corner of your mouth and put his hand up your skirt like it belonged there.

You’d come crying his name, once with his tongue buried deep in your cunt and another time on his cock as he drilled you into your bed.

He’d left in the morning, a kiss on your forehead and a goodbye so sweet it’s never mattered to you that you’ve never talked about that night since.

You sometimes wonder if he still thinks of it. You’ve never asked.

You look out the window as Yoongi drives.

He reaches into the centre console, tosses a packet of chocolate fish into your lap.

‘I’m not a kid, you don’t have to bribe me with snacks,’ you grouse, but you open it anyway.

The chocolate reminds you that you haven’t eaten all day.

‘Stop being cute and I won’t buy you snacks,’ Yoongi says, reasonably.

‘I’m not cute.’

He just snorts.

‘Want one?’ you offer.

‘You look like you need them more than me,’ Yoongi says, but he accepts the fish you place in his palm. 

He walks you up to your building once he’s parked, waits in the living room as you pack a bag.

Once you’re back in his car you turn to him.

‘Did you see those pictures?’

Yoongi’s jaw tightens. ‘Yes.’

‘Seokjin’s worried,’ you say.

‘He’s your big brother,’ Yoongi says, neutral. ‘He worries about you like you worry about him.’

‘I’m fine,’ you tell him.

‘I’m not,’ Yoongi says. He glances in the rearview, signals to turn. ‘I’m angry.’

You put your hand on his arm. ‘You’re always angry,’ you point out, gently.

Yoongi huffs out a breath. ‘No one comes for you, especially not some half assed wannabe racer like Hyunjin.’

You’re touched at his anger on your behalf.

Yoongi looks at you. ‘Seokjin and I will take care of it.’

‘I can’t give up the Jamsil land, Yoongi. I’ve finally clawed myself some credibility.’

‘Fuck that,’ Yoongi agrees. ‘You’re not giving up jack shit for that asshole.’

His lip curls in a half snarl. ‘We’re not giving in even if I have to chain you to me to keep you safe.’

You raise an eyebrow at him.

Yoongi raises an eyebrow back. 

He stops in front of the private lift to Seokjin’s apartment. 

‘I think you’d like being chained to me,’ you say, unable to resist.

The smile he gives you is a mix of rueful and cocky. 

‘Of course I fucking would. I’d make you like it too.’

He unlocks the doors so you can get out, rolls down the window as you get into the lift. 

‘I think about that night all the fucking time,’ he tells you, voice low.

You look up at him in surprise, but don’t have time to reply before the lift doors shut between you.

***

Seokjin sets a plate in front of you.

‘Eat,’ he urges.

You pick up your chopsticks and dig in.

‘The responsible thing to do would be to tell you to give up the land,’ he says. ‘That’s what our parents would tell you to do.’

His words set off a pang of sadness that resonates in your chest.

‘If our parents were still here I wouldn’t be running the company,’ you reply.

‘I don’t want you to give up the land. I know how hard you fought for that victory.’

Seokjin takes another bite. 

‘I know how hard you’ve been fighting.’

‘Running the company was always what I wanted,’ you tell him. ‘It’s just that it was supposed to be with dad at the helm whilst I found my feet.’

It’s the first time you’ve ever come close to hinting that it hasn’t been easy.

There’s sadness in Seokjin’s eyes.

‘I can put in some time at the company. I’m a Kim, too.’

‘The company is what I want,’ you say, very gently, ‘but it’s not what you want.’

Seokjin sighs. ‘What I want is for you to be happy. I am.’

You snort. ‘You have three broken ribs and a fractured collarbone.’

Seokjin smiles. ‘And you have no injuries. Let’s keep it that way.’

You clink your glasses in a toast.

‘So, Jimin, huh?’ Seokjin asks, sly.

You blink at him but don’t say anything.

Your brother manages to smirk at you anyway.

***

You’re in the gym in your brother’s building, running through your PT routine when there’s a flicker of reflection in the floor to ceiling window you’re facing.

Jimin.

‘Seokjin said you’d be down here,’ he says.

You look up at his reflection in the glass.

‘I’ve got a meeting with my board tomorrow,’ you say. ‘They’re going to want to congratulate me on the Jamsil acquisition.’

You get up from the mat, turn around, and realise he’s as sweaty as you are.

Jimin tilts his head, blond hair falling over one eye. He’s wearing a grey hoodie, unzipped, a white t-shirt underneath that’s moulded to his torso, sweatpants, hands shoved in his pockets. 

The gold pendant he wears glimmers in the low light of the gym. 

There’s a faint bruise on his jaw. 

Unthinking, you step forward and brush a thumb over it lightly. 

‘What happened?’ you ask. 

Jimin stays perfectly still as you touch him. 

‘Just some bangers down by the river,’ he says, vague. 

‘Hurt anywhere else?’ you ask. 

‘Check me over and see,’ he says, an invitation. 

He’s ready for the kiss you press on him, sliding his arms around you, hands warm on the gap between your top and leggings. 

You lose yourself in his kisses, only realising he’s walked you backward when your back hits the glass. 

The cool press of the window against your shoulder blades is a startling contrast to the warmth of him. 

Shit, why’s he so warm? 

Jimin’s more insistent than usual, you can feel his erection, already rock solid, nudging at your core even between your layers of clothing. 

He grunts, fingers tugging at the zipper down the front of your top, working your breasts free, hands cupping you possessively, pinching your nipples. 

You’re aware anyone could walk in but you’re struggling to care, at least whilst Jimin’s hot mouth is pressed against your skin and he’s murmuring filth to you as he touches you. 

You’re the one who ends up tugging your leggings down. They’re barely at mid thigh before Jimin’s surged forward, entering you to the hilt in one stroke. 

‘Shit, Jimin,’ you gasp. It’s tight like this, your legs pinned together. 

‘Turn,’ Jimin commands. 

He pulls out, turns you, one hand cupping your cheek so your face doesn’t hit the glass, the other pressed into the small of your back so your hips are angled perfectly for him to enter you again. 

He fucks you hard, drilling you into the glass, cock gliding in and out of you at a pace that makes stars form behind your eyelids. 

You’re not wet enough but the friction adds to the thrill. 

Your nipples tighten harder against the cold of the window. 

‘Look at you,’ Jimin groans. ‘Fuck, I’m gonna come so hard.’ 

His hand kneads the flesh of your ass, squeezing so hard you know he’s going to leave handprints. 

He groans again, long, drawn out, into the back of your neck as he spills. 

You’re stil recovering when he turns you around again, drops to his knees, pushes his head between your thighs. 

He looks up at you, flushed, breathless still from fucking you, eyes dark as he licks up into your cunt. 

He hooks his hands over your bared thighs, parts you with his thumbs, and laps at your clit. 

‘Jimin,’ you gasp. 

‘Yeah, fuck,’ he moans. He’s flicking at your clit with the tip of his tongue, slow circles, fingers sliding into you, curving, pressing. 

You can see his come leaking out of you, dripping down his hand as your cunt spasms around his fingers. 

He keeps up the pace, fingers moving in and out of you, lips suctioning at your clit, and your fingers tighten in his hair as you come. 

He moans like he loves the taste of you, licking at your arousal until your knees weaken. 

You get re-dressed in a hurry, Jimin helping you with most of it, shucking off his hoodie and pulling it tight around you.

‘Come on. I’ll put you to bed.’ 

You’re boneless from your orgasm, weary from the stress of the last few days. 

You lean on him as you head back up to Seokjin’s apartment. 

Jimin waits, seated on the edge of your bed as you take a shower, pulls back the covers so you can get in. 

You grasp his wrist as he gets up. 

‘Where are you going?’ you ask, sleepy. 

‘I’ve got more to do, princess.’ 

Jimin presses a kiss to your forehead. 

‘It’ll be over tomorrow, ok?’ 

‘Yeah?’ 

You’re so tired you can barely keep your eyes open. 

‘Yeah. Promise.’ 

You want to ask more but you’re asleep before he leaves your room. 

***

You love the view from your office, in the nighttime but also on days like today, when the sun blazes bright, laying out the city before you.

In the distance, the silhouette of Mount Samo. 

It always reminds you of Seokjin.

Seokjin had asked you to back down from the deal on the Jamsil land, just until he could ‘take care of things’, but your board meeting’s been planned for months.

The success of the acquisition was meant to be the cherry on the top of the cake, the final step in proving your worth to the company.

You’d tried, at dinner last night, to articulate to Seokjin how much you needed this, but had found yourself too close to tears for comfort.

You think maybe at the end he’d understood.

You breathe in, slow, trying to get your head in the game before you face your board.

Your PA buzzes with a reminder.

You take one last look at Mount Samo in the distance and turn.

Time to go.

The walk to the meeting room’s never felt so short.

Everyone rises when you enter. 

You scan the sea of faces around the U-shaped table and are about to sit when the glass door swings open.

The murmur through the room makes you turn sharply.

Your brother, tall and broad and exquisitely coiffed, walks up to stand beside you at the head of the room.

All eyes are on you, but Seokjin doesn’t seem affected in the slightest.

He leans over, and says, simply, ‘I was wrong.’

You search his gaze, and realise how wrong you were to think Seokjin has no idea what you’re going through.

The realisation makes warmth course through you.

You compose yourself enough to say, ‘That’s why our parents left the company to me, brother.’

The laugh you share makes the tension ease in a way it hasn’t in days.

You turn back to your board. 

‘Let’s begin.’

***

The meeting is a success.

Maybe you’re just flying high off the reaction to your report, but you think you’ve made a significant step towards proving your abilities.

Seokjin, beside you, loosens his tie as he starts the car.

‘Where are we going?’ you ask.

‘You’ve done your bit,’ Seokjin says, glancing in the rearview as he pulls out of the space he’s parked in.

His jaw tightens. ‘It’s time to do mine.’

***

You’ve never really been on Mount Samo in the day before, and the hairpin bends that Seokjin’s manoeuvring with ease are making you a little queasy.

Seokjin glances at you in the rearview mirror, amusement on his face.

‘I could drive this blindfolded,’ he tells you.

‘That’s not as reassuring as you think it is,’ you mutter, trying to keep your eyes straight ahead instead of gaping over the sheer drop you’re inches away from.

‘What have you got planned?’ you ask.

‘We’ve actually already carried out the plan,’ Seokjin tells you. ‘I thought you’d like to be there for the final part.’

You’re curious, thinking back to the night before, when Jimin met you in the gym and then left because he had things to take care of. You’d never heard Seokjin come back, you’d assumed that you’d been asleep and that he’d been quiet.

For the first time, you notice the dark circles under Seokjin’s eyes, marring his normally perfect complexion.

It strikes you that although you’ve been bemoaning your brother’s lack of involvement in your work life, you know very little about what he gets up to.

‘What did you do, Seokjin?’ you ask.

‘Nothing Hyunjin didn’t have coming to him,’ Seokjin replies.

He shrugs.

‘I set him up to meet again today so he could have a chance to win back the car I won from him the other day. I gave Jimin all the pictures Hyunjin sent me, the threats he sent against you.’

Seokjin’s lips thin into a hard line. 

‘Hyunjin’s car’s been captured on CCTV in a notorious spot in Jamsil that the narcotics squad have been monitoring.’

You’re staring at your brother.

‘There are traces of narcotics in the trunk.’

Seokjin blinks. ‘Jimin knows I won the car, but he left with you that night so he hasn’t seen it driven by anyone other than Hyunjin.’

You see what your brother’s done.

You turn to him, realising only now, how carefully he’s been watching you this whole time.

Seokjin’s voice is carefully neutral. ‘This is the kind of thing your big brother gets up to.’

Seokjin doesn’t know about everything in your life, and you don’t know everything about his.

All you know is, he’s your brother, and you can stand up for him like he stood up for you.

You put your hand on his, where it’s loosely curled over the gear shaft.

‘Guess you’re a good big brother after all.’

Seokjin fixes his gaze on your joined hands, throat bobbing as he swallows.

‘I’m the best,’ he agrees, giving you a crooked smile.

***

When you make it to the summit, Yoongi’s already there, peering through binoculars.

‘Hey princess,’ he says, shifting over on the hood of his car to make room for you.

He hands you the binoculars, casual. ‘Check this out.’

You hold the binoculars up, and Yoongi gently pushes you in the right direction, fingers warm under your chin.

The scene’s a few hundred feet down from the summit, and for once you’re not distracted by the vertiginous drop.

There’s Hyunjin’s distinctive car flanked by a tactical team, all clad in distinctive blue and yellow jackets over bulletproof vests. 

Hyunjin, hands above his head.

A flash of blonde hair you’d know anywhere.

Jimin cuffing him and guiding him to an armoured van.

Beside you, there’s the clink of a lighter as Yoongi lights a cigarette.

You lower the binoculars. 

‘I guess that’s that.’

Seokjin lowers his own binoculars.

‘Guess so.’

‘Your boyfriend’s a good cop,’ Yoongi remarks.

‘He’s not my boyfriend,’ you reply.

Yoongi’s dark eyes fix on you with interest, but all he does is hum, noncommittal.

It’s barely a quarter of an hour before a car pulls up to the summit, parks beside Seokjin’s.

Jimin steps out, still in his regs, a sight for sore eyes.

He looks tired, but he smiles when he sees you.

‘We’ve got him,’ he tells you.

‘We saw,’ you say.

‘I’ve got to go down to the precinct, then they’re sending me down to Gwangju.’

He hesitates. ‘I don’t know how long I’ll be gone. It could be months.’

You reach out and give him a hug.

He smells faintly of sweat and gunmetal, and you think you like it.

‘I guess you should call me when you’re next in town then,’ you tell him, close so only he can hear.

Jimin turns his head, lets his lips brush your cheek.

‘Is that an invitation, princess?’

‘Take it however you want it,’ you reply.

Jimin laughs. ‘I will.’

He gives you a look so heated your skin warms. He nods at Seokjin and Yoongi, gets back in the car.

You all watch him drive off.

Yoongi finishes his cigarette, grinds it into the dirt at his feet.

‘Dinner?’ Seokjin suggests.

‘Yeah,’ you agree.

Yoongi curls his lip at you, that familiar slow smirk that makes your heart skip a beat.

‘Wanna ride, princess?’

Seokjin rolls his eyes. ‘See you guys at the restaurant.’

You guess he really is the best brother ever.

©hamsterclaw 2023

[jjungkookii]

No Room For Secrets-Masterlist | Jeon JungKook

jjk x reader · roommates!au · slow burn · angst + smut

•this will be a long fic•

→ Summary: Moving in with three four hot strangers in Seoul? Bold.

Catching feelings for the quiet overachiever with devastating eyes and a secret fiancée? Unfortunate.

Jeon Jungkook is humble, helpful, and annoyingly good at everything—from cooking dinner to driving you insane. He doesn’t say much, but when he does? It lingers. He lets you steal his hoodies. He never calls you out. He just watches—and instigates.

Between forbidden hookups, loaded glances, and rules you definitely shouldn’t be breaking, you’re both in way too deep. The only house rule? Don’t fall in love.

Hard to follow when you’re the emotionally repressed one, Jimin’s clocking your every move, Jin thinks he’s in charge, and Taehyung has fully entered his detective era.

Secrets are piling up.

And love was never supposed to be part of the lease.

→ Pairing: Jungkook x reader (female)

→ Side Ships: Jimin x Yoongi, Seokjin x ?, Tae x ?

→ AUs: roommate!au, New Girl AU, fwb!au, arranged marriage!au(jungkook x jisoo)

→ Genre: comedy, smut, fluff, slow burn, angst

→ Trope(s): strangers to roommates to friends to FWB to lovers, roommates to lovers

→ Rating: Explicit 18+ (minors GTFO… pls)

→ Word Count (total+drabbles): 196,482+

→ Status: ONGOING

→ Warnings/Triggers: Will be tagged on each chapter

→ Total Chapters: 18/? [not including the .5 chapters]

→ Author’s Note: Wassup fool Hey besties! When I started this fic, I had a vision. A plan. A literal outline. A PINTEREST BOARD. Now, I’m just as surprised by the plot as you are🙂. My characters have gone rogue. It’s like herding cats, but the cats have emotional baggage and unresolved sexual tension.

Inspo: This story is loosely (and sometimes alarmingly) inspired by my day-to-day life, New Girl vibes, and the chaotic genius of our tannies on Run BTS. Somehow, it’s all managed to spiral into one big feelings-fueled fever dream—and I wouldn’t have it any other way🥹.

Update Schedule: Updates will appear as mysteriously as Jungkook’s tattoos—sporadic but always worth the wait. But usually on weekends :)

Feedback: Comments are my love language. Shower me with your thoughts, theories, and memes. Feel free to scream, cry, or throw virtual tomatoes at me in the comments. Your reactions fuel my writing (and my ego).

Disclaimer: Yes, No Room for Secrets is heavily inspired by New Girl—especially the chaotic roommate energy and the apartment layout. So if you notice similarities… you’re not wrong. But don’t sue me, sue my nostalgia. In writing terms, it’s called “borrowed structure.” But any resemblance to real people(besides idols) or events is purely coincidental. (Except the latte addiction. That’s painfully real.) This is 100% fiction, and I’m so glad you’re here for the ride. 💞

✨jjungkookii’s Main Masterlist✨

Extras: Drabbles , Banners/Apt Blueprint , Bathroom layout , Polls

(*All .5 chapters are Jungkook’s POV*)

Chapter 1: Meet Cute? - 4.6k

Summary: You move into your new apartment and quickly bond with your roommates(and Taehyung). A deeper conversation with Jungkook about life sparks subtle flirting and an unexpected connection.

Chapter 2: And They Were Roommates - 6.2k

Summary: A new roommate initiation gone sour. Or. You go out drinking with your roomies and jealousy is a green monster.

Chapter 2.5: You’re Screwed (jk’s pov) - 2.7k

Summary: When he saves you from the guy on the dance floor. And where he went when he left the bar. Details of Jungkook & Jimin’s past are revealed.

Chapter 3: Trivia Love - 7.8k

Summary: Yoongi keeps secrets. You play trivia with your roommates and a special guest. You unintentionally hurt someone's feelings.

Chapter 4: Seven Days of Silence - 7.8k

Summary: Week-long silent war, Yoongi delivers wisdom(and bibimbap), one rain-soaked almost-kiss, Jimin walks in at the best worst possible moment.

Chapter 4.5: Barely Breathing (jk’s pov) - 2.3k

Summary: Jungkook deals with the fallout of a week-long silent war, questioning everything from his feelings to the promise that’s slowly breaking him.

Chapter 5: Fire, Flour, & Feelings (m) - 13.3k

Summary: Taehyung starts a fire, Jungkook starts a problem. You end up in his lap. God doesn’t answer your prayers.

Chapter 6: Say It Again (m) - 9.8k

Summary: The tension finally breaks—twice. But morning brings more than afterglow: missing underwear, suspicious roommates, & the first crack of jealousy you can’t ignore.

Chapter 7: The Things We Don’t Say (m) - 7.1k

Summary: You spend the day avoiding Jungkook, but a rain-soaked night—and one impulsive choice—pulls you back into his arms, where everything you’re trying to deny only gets harder to ignore.

Chapter 7.5: Always Listening (jk’s pov) - 2.4k

Summary: Jungkook sits with the weight of your silence, wondering if wanting you was always a mistake.

Chapter 8: Rules, Coffee, & Chaos (m) - 11.3k

Summary: You make rules with Jungkook, immediately break them, accidentally host an exes reunion, and try to cook dinner like everything’s normal—spoiler: it’s not.

Chapter 8.5: This Is Totally Fine (yg/jk’s pov) - 4.5k

Summary: Yoongi’s past collides with the present when Jimin walks into the café. Meanwhile, Jungkook returns home hungry—for more than dinner—and breaks the rules in your kitchen.

Chapter 9: Something Like This (m) - 10.3k

Summary: From Monday’s jealous meltdown to Thursday’s domestic bliss, you and Jungkook spiral deeper into your secret.

Chapter 10: Something Like Love (m) - 18k

Summary: You put on the dress. Jungkook loses his mind. And somehow, in a coat closet and a room full of witnesses, something between you starts to sound a lot like love.

Chapter 11: Quiet Kind of Love (m) - 9.5k

Summary: Jimin breaks. You spiral. Jungkook stays soft—through the panic, the quiet, and the Mercedes tension. And for once, you let him in.

Chapter 11.5: Still Yours, Somehow - 7k

Summary: Jimin and Yoongi finally confront everything they’ve been avoiding. It doesn’t end the way either of them expected.

Chapter 12: Lowkey in Love (m) - 11.8k

Summary: Morning chaos, impulsive flirting, dream house revelations, under-the-table tension, quiet confessions, and one very territorial splash.

Chapter 13: Safe (m) - 10.5k

Summary: He calls you baby. Jin starts baking with Hobi. Tae wants to help. You wish the world would stay quiet—but it doesn’t.

Chapter 14: Claiming Season (m) - 11.9k

Summary: There’s popcorn in a heart-shaped bowl, a cake in danger, & one very stubborn boy in sweatpants.

Chapter 15: Fondant, Forgiveness, & Festival Food - 8.2k

Summary: You face Jin’s wrath just to be surprised by his words. You, JK, Jimin, and Yoongi have a cutesy double date. And Yoongi… kisses you? Enter: your ex.

Chapter 16: Not A Secret (m) - 9.2k

Summary: Your ex is a shithead. Yoongi is the only sane one in this conflict. Jungkook… loves you so much.

Chapter 17: The Soft Betrayal - 12.8k

Summary: Love and lies can’t coexist. You attend the gala with JK, Jin, & YoonMin. Your heart breaks.

Chapter 17.5: Silence Breaking (jk pov+more) -4.1k

Summary: Everything that happened after you left the gala.

Chapter 18: Coming soon -?k

Summary:

[bangtan-tee-86]

Oh my god. This series is just so captivating. Get ready to lose sleep. I cannot CANNOT stop reading this. I am only in chapter 8 but I must express my awe. It is just soooo gooood!!! The way @jjungkookii does an exceptional job of capturing the emotions of the characters—every glance, every subtle shift in mood feels vivid and authentic. The banter between them is not only hilarious but also incredibly believable, making the relationships feel real and dynamic. Each character is written with such depth that you’re constantly drawn to learn more about them. They’re not just characters on a page; they feel like real people you want to spend more time with. Just. Incredible. I love them. I love all of them. 😭

[thatgoddamngingerundercut]

To live would be more painful than to die... Do you still want to live, then?

The Most Beautiful Moment in Life Yoongi and Jungkook

[espressojoons]

THIRST TRAP (S) 𐙚 PJM

masterlist ✉︎

SUMMARY. You haven’t been dicked down in ages, and Tinder is your last resort. After an unexpected match, you invite a mysterious handsome stranger to your place only to realize he is not what he is pretending to be.

word count. 8.6k

warnings. dom!jimin x sub!reader, nasty filthy smut, NSFW, spanking, dacryphilia, themes of dub-con, dumbification, pussy slapping, penetration, dirty talking, blood, slight alcohol consumption,  jimin is a poorly disguised vampire, reader is a bit too naive, light mentions of harassment (not related to main story line), huge cock jimin (canon), oral sex

note. hi !!! this is my first time writing any smut/ any fic.  i am so excited to share this story because i literally poured my heart and soul into this randomly overnight. so sorry in advance for any grammatical errors, i was literally bubbling with excitement while editing this and i feel like i missed major things. please make sure to read warnings before you read, everything that happens in this fic is consensual but some wording can be considered odd or jimin being a bit forceful. goes without saying the story does not reflect any real person, but is rather using them as inspiration. 

comment to be on taglist!! 𐙚

“Fuck, fuck, fuck...” You trailed off, blowing air through your nose as you pressed your palms flat against your top. The polka-dot halter neck clung to your breasts, but you couldn’t tell if it was in a flirty way or an “I’m desperate to get dicked down” way. You ruffled and re-ruffled your hair, trying to arrange the mess you’d attempted to blow-dry to look intentional. The rain pelted your window as if trying to drown out the sound of your thoughts.

This wasn’t your first rodeo, despite the way you were acting, but it had definitely been a while since your last Tinder hookup. Your two-and-a-half-year-long relationship, as unfulfilling as it was, had left you successfully off the scene for a while now, and you felt like you were truly starting fresh. College you would be so disappointed.

It had been a good three months since your relationship ended. It wasn’t that things were bad between you two, but you both just wanted different things in life eventually, and after much deliberation you drew the courage to put things to an end. Since then, you were on a dry spell. No one had touched you since your relationship had ended.

Trust me, you had tried. Last weekend, you went out with your friends and saw a decently attractive guy. He waved you over with a grin, holding up his credit card. Your excitement came to a quick end when, with each drink he bought you, he grew ever more persistent about bringing you home, his hand wandering and groping far too aggressively for your liking. You excused yourself, gulping back the remainder of your cosmo as he cussed you out for wasting his time.

Your friends encouraged you not to be too disappointed.

“There’s always going to be creeps out there, babe,” your best friend, Sheila, had said with a sympathetic glance. “That doesn’t mean you shouldn’t put yourself out there.”

You sulked but nodded. Sheila cleared her throat and whipped out her phone, manicured finger flicking through apps. “How about you try apps again? Tinder’s a classic; maybe you might find something.”

You really hadn’t had that much hope from Tinder. Tinder was the infamous breeding ground of horny men who worked exclusively in the hopes of obtaining your Snapchat to send you proof of their raging erections. But lo and behold, you came across Park Jimin.

His profile was everything a girl could dream of, and also nothing at all. You weren’t sure what it was that drew you in so much. Was it his impossibly plump lips, or the way you could almost visualize the feeling of running your hands through his dark hair? The further you scrolled through the handsome man’s profile, the less you knew about him. All you knew was he’s 26 and “looking to meet new ppl :).” Whatever that’s supposed to mean.

You swiped right instantly and bit back a smile when the screen lit up, “It’s a match!” It took a couple of minutes before your screen pinged with a message, “you’re really cute. :)” Your conversation had shot off from there, only taking a couple of days till you played your master card: “Would you like to come over to my place anytime?”

To say you were nervous was an understatement—you were a wreck. An incredibly handsome man was about to arrive at your apartment at any moment, and you still weren’t sure if your top was a touch too vulgar despite your vulgar intentions. Your thoughts were interrupted by the singsong of your front doorbell, and you scrambled to shoot a text to Sheila.

“he’s fucking here, hope he doesnt kill me text u later bye x”

You took a deep breath, hands reaching for the doorknob, and you yanked it open. Part of you had convinced yourself, despite Park Jimin’s multiple pictures of himself that he had sent after you matched, that he was maybe a catfish or was editing his pictures to give him the otherworldly handsome glow that he seemed to possess in every picture. But you were most definitely wrong—this man was otherworldly. It was like he had a separate halo to him, standing bright against the dark alleys of your apartment hallway.

He grinned and licked his lips, running a ring-studded hand through his hair. “Hey there,” he said.

Your cheeks heated up instantly, the warmth traveling down your body. “Hey...” You couldn’t help but let your eyes trail over his slim figure, appreciating him silently for wearing a form-fitting black tee and slouchy grey sweatpants that his hands were stuffed in. You wished you were stuffed with his hands.

“You look beautiful,” he said, his gentle voice almost dancing off the walls. You glanced up, coming back to life from your trance, to see his eyes discreetly glancing at your chest. You thought you were going to combust. You didn’t even notice the scrunched brown bag he was holding in one hand, with the golden-foiled top of a wine bottle peeking out.

“Thank you, is that for me?” you said, extending a hand out.

He laughed. “Yeah, no, it is.” He extended it out to you, and you took it from him, your fingers brushing against his cool ones. You jumped, and if he noticed, he didn’t say anything.

“You’re so sweet—you didn’t have to, you know,” you said, biting your bottom lip.

“But I wanted to,” he emphasized. You ushered him to come in, balancing the bottle on your hip as you turned to walk back into your apartment. You paused and looked over your shoulder to see him still standing at the doorstep.

You furrowed your brow. “Sorry, is something wrong?”

“No, no. You just didn’t tell me to come in, so I didn’t want to make you uncomfortable,” he said, with a smile too soft to be considered mocking and too predatory to put you at ease.

“Oh! No, of course. Come in, come in,” you gasped. He chuckled and stepped inside, bending a little under the low ceiling of your doorway. Odd. You swore you had gestured for him to come in. Maybe he was just super respectful, you thought to yourself. He probably didn’t want to seem too forward.

Outside, the rain grew a rhythm, sounding like bullets.

You got a proper look at him under the lights of your apartment. His skin had a beautiful soft glow to it, almost like the sparkle of snow under the sunlight. His eyes were the color of honey. How did you get this beautiful man to come to your apartment?

He looked around your apartment as he brushed off the rain that had wetted his hair. “I hope the rain wasn’t too bad,” you said softly after a beat.

“Oh no, not too bad at all. I actually enjoy this weather,” he said. You offered him a glass of water, which he graciously accepted.

“Really? But the storm is so bad today.”

“Well,” Jimin tilted his glass but didn’t take a sip right away, just watched the water swirl. “Storms make things feel… invigorating to me. They make the night feel alive.”

You huffed out a laugh, eyes flickering to the window. A large bolt of lightning lit up the room. “Alive? I feel like the sky’s having a panic attack.”

That earned you a small grin. His teeth flashed when he smiled—sharp and perfect—and you instantly blinked, catching yourself staring too long at him again.

“You get used to it,” he said, finally setting the glass down untouched. He didn’t explain what he was referring to, and you didn’t push.

Instead, you opened the bottle of wine into your own glass, trying not to notice how his gaze followed the movement of your hand. “So, I remember you said you don’t drink? Not even a little?”

He shook his head lightly. “Not usually. But don’t let me stop you.”

“So you got this all for me?” you said, lifting the deep red glass to your lips.

His lips curled up in a light, teasing smirk, and he said almost under his breath, “Anything for you.”

You took in a deep inhale at the flirty statement, and you tipped the glass back.

His eyes flickered down as you swallowed, lingering a little too long on your throat before darting away like nothing happened. You tried not to choke on your sip, his gaze intense, burning bullets into your thin skin. Heat bloomed under your neck—whether from the wine hitting your empty stomach or his gaze, you couldn’t tell.

“You’re easy to talk to,” he said suddenly, the sincerity in his tone catching you off guard.

Your laugh came out soft. “You’ve barely said anything. I’ve just been rambling like an idiot.”

“That’s what I mean.” His expression was unreadable but warm. “I like listening.”

The air between you shifted, carrying a sudden depth and dark—like the roll of thunder before a rainstorm. You shifted and turned to fuss with the wine bottle again, even though it didn’t need fussing.

You cut the silence, noticing that you both were awkwardly standing at the kitchen island still. “God, I’m being a bad host—would you like to sit down?”

“Would love to.”

Sitting next to him, nearly knees touching on your couch, brought along a different set of sensations. You could feel your stomach churn, the growing proximity fogging your brain more than your little sips of wine. His smoky cologne mixed with the scent of fresh laundry detergent, settling like a blanket at the back of your throat, taking over your senses. His coppery eyes studied your face and swooped down to take in your fingers running up and down the thin stem of the wine glass.

“What do you think of me?” he asked suddenly.

You met his eyes, surprised by the sudden question. “As in...?”

He leaned back on the couch and tilted his head to the side. “As in, do I live up to what you expected?”

“You look better than your photos,” you spoke before your brain could even process what you should say.

He let out a breathy laugh. “You’re very cute.”

Your heartbeat quickened at the compliment—God, you wished you could text this live to Sheila. You almost didn’t notice the way his Adam’s apple bobbed up and down and his eyes darkened.

“Maybe cute isn’t the word—you’re tempting,” he continued.

“You’re... more intimidating in person,” you breathed out.

“Yeah?” He leaned towards you this time, savoring his words. “What’s scaring you?”

“Not scared—just feels like I can’t figure you out,” you acknowledged.

He hummed and nodded, not denying or affirming you about his confusing nature, just taking in your words.

Outside, the wind howled, and you could feel your window groan under the weight of it. The rain seemed to find sudden motivation, and it pelted your window, blurring your view of the outside. All you could see were the darkened skies and the light haze of streetlights.

Your apartment was nice but not fancy, and you knew that your electricity was soon going to start succumbing under the weight of the weather. Maybe this wasn’t the right night to call a stranger to your place.

As if on cue, the lights flickered morbidly before shutting off. You screamed as you were engulfed in darkness and instinctually reached over and gripped Jimin’s cool, muscled arm.

“It’s okay, it’s okay,” he cooed, and scooted closer.

Your heart thumped wildly as if it was about to pop out of your chest. You could hear the branches of the large tree outside your window scraping as if trying to seek shelter from the brutal storm. Your instincts were on fire, and you swore you could smell your own fear and anxiety in the air.

What helped, though, was Jimin’s arm engulfing you, pressing you into his body. You couldn’t even deny the comfort, and you pressed into him. His body was unusually cool to the touch, like leather but still soft. Perhaps it was the AC and the rain he had suffered through to get to your apartment.

“I’m sorry, I—” you began to apologize for encroaching on his space.

“Don’t, it’s okay. I’m here.” His thumb rubbed circles on your upper arm, and he leaned down, pressing a cheek to the top of your head. “I’m here,” he repeated.

You melted at his sweet actions, your touch-deprived body having a mind of its own, seeking comfort in the stranger. You did feel safe with him. His grip wasn’t rough, but firm in a way that made you realize how effortlessly strong he was. Unusually strong, you thought, for his slim but toned physique—almost like you couldn’t even fight your way out.

Your thoughts were cut short by Jimin nuzzling his face into your neck and inhaling deeply.

“W-what are you—” Your words stuck in your throat when he pulled back slightly.

“Sorry,” he murmured, voice velvet-smooth. “You smell... really good.”

He didn’t pull back fully, though. Only enough so his nose was still lightly brushing the shell of your ear. His body was steady against yours, not even shifting to take breaths. Your thoughts were beyond jumbled now, the sudden intimacy making your brain run a mile a minute. You suddenly became all too aware of how good he felt next to you, and you pressed your thighs together in restraint.

“Maybe it’s my perfume?” you offered up weakly.

“No,” he said firmly, in a sort of certainty you hadn’t heard from him yet. “No, it’s you.”

The wind wailed louder. God, you hadn’t seen a storm like this in ages.

He was so close to you, you could smell his sweet, honeyed breath on your face. You stayed frozen in place, like prey that had just been caught. Your insides churned, and a low heat started building up at the pit of your stomach.

“Am I making you uncomfortable?” he spoke.

Was he? Well, no, he wasn’t. You were liking this feeling, of being at his mercy, of him pushing you around like you were his little prey.

Your throat bobbed as you swallowed, the word tangled somewhere between your chest and lips. “No,” you said, “not uncomfortable.”

“Good.” He was so close you could make out the movement of his lips. You couldn’t help but notice how sharp his shadow was in the dark. His eyes glimmered, like copper sinking into molten gold, and his lips twitched at the corners. “Can I kiss you?”

Your eyes widened, and you finally fully looked into his eyes. Your fingers went a little unsteady, and your wine glass teetered. He wrapped a hand around yours, the sensation of his hand like polished stone.

You didn’t even need to answer, not with your eyes giving away how eager you were to finally feel him more. Your quick nod was sufficient for Jimin, and his eager mouth found its way to yours. You felt like you were in the storm outside. No kiss had felt like this before. His mouth moved against yours with a smoothness you had never felt, his plush lips fitting perfectly between yours like lock and key. His kiss was smooth, practiced, like he’d had centuries to perfect the art of it. His hand took the wine glass from you and set it down, only to move to the back of your head to keep you cradled against him. The taste of him was electric, like static in the air, dizzying and addictive. His wet tongue pushed into your mouth, exploring and prodding, and you moaned against him, the sensation almost too much.

It was embarrassing how much a kiss was getting to you. Your nipples stiffened against the cloth of your top as you arched your back to press into his chest, involuntarily hoping for some friction. Your panties were growing damper by the second, your arousal starting to stick to you and coat you under your jeans. Even if Jimin couldn’t see it quite yet, you knew he could sense how worked up you were getting, only encouraging him further. His kiss grew cockier, deeper, more dominant. His hand shifted from the back of your head to around your neck, his slender fingers wrapping around your neck, his index finger resting right at your jugular vein. A deep, animalistic groan resounded from him, vibrating his chest. You wanted to pull back for air, but his hand pulsed around your neck, keeping you in place.

When he finally drew back from you, a string of saliva connected your lips. He looked down at you with hooded, heavy eyes, hand still wrapped around your neck. He looked drunk, which was strange, because you were the one who had downed nearly a glass on an empty stomach. He panted, eyes boring into yours, which somehow were electrifyingly bright even in the darkness of the room. You felt a sort of haze in your brain that you had never felt before. His cologne felt like it was coating your body; you could feel his lips still on yours, and all of your senses screamed for only one thing: Jimin. You just wanted his lips on you again. What was he doing to you? Your body felt heavier than the wine alone could explain, like every inhale pulled you deeper into him.

“You need more, don’t you?” he hissed out, his voice an octave lower than normal.

“Yes, yes, please.” You weren’t one to beg, but you needed him to know you needed more. His essence clung to you, syrupy thick and sweet, as if you were breathing him instead of air.

He didn’t chuckle like he usually did at your ditzy responses. “Where’s your room?” he asked firmly.

“End of the hall,” you whispered, surprised at how hoarse your voice sounded.

Jimin didn’t hesitate. His hand slipped from your neck to your wrist, his grip unyielding yet careful, guiding you up from the couch as though you weighed nothing at all. The ease of it, the strength coiled in his slender frame, sent another dizzy rush through you.

You both reached your bedroom at a speed unknown to man, and soon you were trapped in the corner of your dark room as Jimin pressed a hand against your door, pushing it shut.

His eyes settled on you once more, watching you cling to the small corner of your room out of a mix of fear and excitement. He stalked up to you, slow and deliberate, eyes trained on your smaller figure. You pushed yourself into the corner further, palms flat against the wall. You could feel more arousal pool in your panties, your sweet slickness starting to cause them to stick to you. You didn’t even want to see the mess you were starting to make of yourself.

His frame blocked out what little glow of the storm seeped through the blinds, the room dimming with every large step he took toward you. The steady sound of the rain and the occasional rumble of thunder filled the silence, each beat of it syncing with your racing heart.

He moved like water—too smooth, too silent—and the closer he came, the more your chest tightened. You pressed your palms harder into the wall behind you, as if the drywall could steady your trembling limbs.

Jimin’s lips curved faintly, though his eyes never softened. They roamed over your flushed face, down the length of your body, lingering at your plush breasts straining against the deliciously low neckline of your top.

“You’re shaking,” he observed, his voice a velvet rasp. He sounded pleased.

You were trembling like a leaf, in anticipation. You somehow knew he didn’t want a response; he was toying with you, testing you to see how you would react to his words.

He braced one hand on the wall beside your head, boxing you in completely now, his cool breath feathering across your cheek. You peered up at him through your lashes, doe-eyed and eager.

“You want me to ruin you, don’t you?” he murmured, voice low, taunting. His fingers brushed your jaw, cool and steady, tilting your head just enough that your throat bared to him without thought. You gulped—what were you doing, letting someone you barely knew speak to you like this?

You nodded, blinking up at him. He hummed, satisfied. “Such a sweet girl.”

The words barely sank in before his mouth claimed yours again, hungrier this time, his lips crushing against yours with a desperate precision. His tongue pressed past your lips, demanding, coaxing another needy sound from your throat that had escaped last time. He had seemed to drop his gentlemanly demeanor now, one hand starting to freerun your body without even asking for permission. Not that you would have said no.

His hand traveled up the curve of your waist, fingers digging into any exposed skin your top offered. He reached his hand back, pushing your frame into his as he devoured you. His hand slipped up under your shirt, and you gasped, surprised. The pads of his fingers ran up and down your spine, pressing firmly—almost possessively—against every dip and curve. His cool touch was welcomed by your heated skin, which seemed to simmer under him. You arched into him without thinking, the gasp tumbling from your lips swallowed whole by his kiss. His hand pressed into the small of your back completely, holding you where he wanted you, your body pliant under the pressure.

His lips finally disconnected from yours, and he ran his thick tongue over his lips, savoring the flavor of your mouth.

Suddenly, like the sick man he was, he pulled away from you and stepped back. You whined at the loss of contact and looked up at him with parted lips.

“Strip,” he said simply.

The word landed heavy, like a command meant for your body more than your ears. Shame and want twisted together low in your stomach. Maybe you should have asked him to slow down, but your hands seemed to have a mind of their own.

Eager to please, your fingers trembled as they worked with the button of your jeans. You undid the flimsy button and pulled your jeans down to your ankles. You stepped out of them and brought your hands up to your neck, undoing the satin knot that was keeping your top upright. You took in a breath, letting the top fall off you, leaving you bare-chested in just your black panties. You felt vulnerable and small, feeling his gaze still on you.

“Panties too, beautiful,” he spoke.

Your teeth dug into your bottom lip, nearly drawing blood. It took a couple of seconds for you to build the nerve, and Jimin waited patiently, arms crossed over his chest. He drummed his fingers against his forearm. Your thumbs locked into the side of your simple black panties, and you pulled them off, letting them fall uselessly on the floor. You could feel his eyes crawl over your skin, slow and deliberate, like hands without touch.

Your arousal clung hot between your thighs, the sticky proof of your want making your skin slick where it touched. The apartment’s cool air teased over your bare body, pulling a shiver from you as you squeezed your legs together, desperate to trap the heat.

His eyes flicked down, catching the way your thighs pressed together, trembling with the effort of keeping them closed.

“Why are you hiding from me?” he asked, his voice low, taunting. He walked up closer, repinning you against the wall. Your shoulder blades pressed into the wall, and you trained your gaze back up at him. His hand pressed against your bare waist, and he dragged it down to the sides of your thighs. You jolted at the touch.

“You know,” Jimin continued, his tone dark silk. He leaned in close, his lips grazing your ear. “I can smell how sweet you are.”

His hand slipped down from your waist, fingers ghosting over your hip before dragging lightly across the curve of your thigh. The cool pads of his fingers sent sparks up your skin. Involuntarily, you squeezed your thighs together even more as if trying to deny the proof of his weighted words. He chuckled, but darkly, without any sign of amusement.

“You’ve been dripping for me since I got here, you don’t think I can tell?” His fingers made their way up, and his large hand cupped the swell of one breast. His grip was firm and greedy. He squeezed your breast, and one ragged gasp escaped your lips. You needed him to touch you; you were going to die of need.

His fingers found your nipple, pinching lightly, rolling it between his thumb and forefinger until your back arched off the wall. Then his head dipped lower, and his hot mouth captured your breast whole as he gave it harsh sucks. You were euphoric. When his teeth grazed your nipple—sharp, too sharp—you gasped in shock, eyes squeezing shut. But the sting melted instantly into an ache that radiated down to your pussy. The way Jimin was moaning against your breast, he was enjoying it more than you were. He switched his attention to your other breast, leaving a trail of wet spit on the other one. His tongue danced in circles around your erect nipple, and he relished your little jerks whenever it felt particularly good.

The sounds he was producing from the wet suctions of his mouth and his deep groans of arousal were obscene. He sounded hungry—starving, even—like this was the first meal he had had in months.

You felt yourself suddenly lifted in the air, his hands digging into your ass.

“Oh!” You gasped, your hands finding a quick place on his shoulders to steady yourself. His mouth lost contact with your breast as he laid you flat on the bed and hovered over you. The mattress dipped beneath you as your back met the sheets, and he followed, hovering above with a gaze so intense it made your breath stutter. Your eyes were wide yet again, eager to see what else he gave you.

Your windows rattled with the storm, the only sound filling the still air of the room as Jimin once more loomed over you with a predatory amber gaze. “I want more,” he rasped, his eyes gazing down at your soft skin and creamy curves.

Your legs shifted, and he intercepted your knee with one hand. He backed up, getting on his knees, and used both strong hands to pry your legs apart to see his real meal.

“Fuck,” he muttered under his breath. He lay flat on his belly, hands still keeping your legs pried open almost painfully far.

“Jimin...” You trailed off, nervous in anticipation, not sure if you were pleading for mercy or asking for more.

“Shhh...” he said. “Don’t fight it, sweet thing.”

His mouth descended, lips brushing gently against your inner thigh. You jumped, gasping loudly.

“So jumpy.” He chuckled. Finally, his long, flat tongue ran a stripe up your pussy, stopping to nudge only at your clit. He groaned deeply, savoring your taste. “Even better than I fucking imagined.”

A broken cry escaped you, and you arched upwards. His stone-like hands pinned your hips in place. He wrapped his thick lips around your swollen, poor little clit, giving it an immediate, harsh suckle. You whined and couldn’t help but thrash more out of delight.

No matter how you squirmed, his grip didn’t budge—you were pinned, helpless under his mouth.

He started devouring you like a man starved, lapping and suckling with harsh precision. He licked up your arousal from all corners of your soft, warm folds and sucked your clit with a harshness you had never felt. His teeth occasionally brushed against your sensitive clit, sending shivers down your spine. Your hands were twisting and clawing at the sheets in despair, not able to do much else under the attack of his hot, delectable mouth.

When Jimin had enough of your squirming, he delivered a sharp slap to the side of your thigh, making you squeak out his name.

“Stay still,” he said, his voice laced with venom. You whimpered and pressed your head back into the sheets. His lips sealed around your clit once more, sucking with merciless pressure as his tongue flicked and prodded at the swollen bundle of nerves. Tears pricked in your eyes in pleasure. One of his hands slipped away from your thigh and found its way to your fluttering right hole. Your arousal dribbled on your sheets, and he scooped up to collect it before pushing one long, ringed finger in. The sudden intrusion had you clenching, and he nipped at your abused clit in response.

“Jimin, Jimin, Jimin...” All you could do was chant his name pathetically as his finger dove in and out of you, paired with his cruel mouth. His finger met little resistance, your slick arousal acting like perfect lubrication. Jimin quickly added a second finger, hissing when he felt you tighten.

“So fucking tight,” he muttered, his eyes glancing up, drinking in your flushed expression—your mouth hanging open as he made use of you. His fingers curled deep in your gummy walls, his cool silver rings dragging slightly in you. It was too much too fast, and you loved it. Your thighs shook, trying to close around his head, but his broad shoulders kept you pried open.

A familiar, deep, heated coil started tightening in you, and as if he knew, his fingers started moving faster. The sound of your own wetness made you blush, and you could feel your juices gush on the sheets more and more. In an attempt to ground yourself, your hand flew to his head, and your fingers gripped his dark hair.

“I’m gonna... I’m gonna—” You didn’t even have it in you to finish what you wanted to say. He groaned against your clit, sending delicious vibrations as you yanked at his hair, your fingers deep enough to pull from the scalp. Jimin clearly enjoyed the light burn as he swirled his tongue in circles around your clit and sucked at your folds.

“Cum for me,” he growled out. That’s all you needed. The coil inside you snapped violently, your entire body jerking as white-hot pleasure tore through you. Your vision blurred, tears spilling as your climax ripped you apart, drenching his fingers and mouth. You panted desperately, lying flat on your bed as Jimin lapped up the remainder of your orgasm. You winced as his tongue prodded at your hole.

“Jimin, I can’t,” you whined.

“Shut up,” he said. “I’m not finished with you.”

You watched with tired eyes, chest heaving, as Jimin got off the bed. His chin was coated in your juices, and his lips looked wonderfully swollen. His eyes never left you as he pulled the shirt over his head, movements deliberate, slow, like he was unwrapping himself just for the kill. The fabric fell away to reveal pale, cut muscle—his chest and stomach sculpted like something out of marble, unearthly in the stormlight. He tossed the shirt aside carelessly and reached down to undo the string of his sweatpants, and yanked them down. His cock sprang free, heavy and thick, and your eyes widened at the sheer size of him. Your mouth went dry, a startled noise catching in your throat. You’d never seen anything so intimidating, and yet the sight made your pussy flutter with shameful need.

His cock was... beautiful, to say the least. The tip was an angry, blushing pink, and a single, thick vein ran up the side of his cock, pulsing faintly. Precum dribbled freely from the head, proof of how affected he already was.

He followed your eyes, and his lips curled up in a sneer. “Scared?” You couldn’t help but nod—he was huge. Bigger than anything you had ever taken, and from the way Jimin was behaving, he wasn’t going to be nice about it.

Still, your mouth salivated as he drew closer to you. His hand fisted his cock rough, letting the white dribbles of precum spread across his cock. He squeezed the base, and you sat up.

“Can I taste you?” you asked quietly, and Jimin’s eyes visibly softened. He reached a hand out, stroking your cheek with his knuckles. The touch was startlingly tender, a contrast to the brutality of moments before.

“You want a taste?” he murmured, his thumb brushing the corner of your mouth. “Then open up for me.”

You opened your mouth obediently, peering up at him with wide, deceitfully innocent eyes. Clearly, Jimin loved it. His sharp teeth dug into the bottom of his lip as he dragged the plump head of his cock across your lower lip, watching it glaze. Jimin’s eyes darkened, his jaw flexing as he watched your lips shine with him.

“Pretty little mouth,” he rasped, his voice thick with arousal. “Open wider.”

Your jaw slackened, preparing for the intrusion. His cock pushed past your lips—heavy and hot—dragging across your tongue. The salty tang of his precum made your hole clench. Jimin hissed as you wrapped your mouth around his cock. He was so girthy you were finding it difficult to keep him in your mouth. His hands found your hair, and he started rocking his hips lightly, letting his cock slide in and out of your wet mouth. The sight was so hot. His head threw back as he groaned into the air, voice loud and guttural enough to drown out the storm. His tip hit the back of your throat repeatedly, and you gagged lightly. Your spit dribbled out of your mouth and down your chin.

Your hands sneaked under you, between your thighs, fingers starting to play with your pretty folds again—desperate for some sort of relief, some sort of friction while Jimin fucked your mouth for his own pleasure.

Jimin’s gentle rocks started growing more forceful by the second. He pushed your head deeper and deeper down his length, as if your mouth was his personal flesh toy. You gagged, spit accumulating and dripping from the corners of your mouth as he pushed your head in enough for your nose to nudge at his pubic bone. The musky scent of him was all you could smell.

“Urgh... fuck,” he groaned out, and his other hand delivered a sharp slap to the side of your cheek, leaving a sting that you were sure you would see tomorrow. You whimpered against him, your poor little hands starting to rub furious, determined circles on your oversensitive clit.

One hand flew up to grip onto his thigh; you dug your nails in as he gripped the back of your head, nuzzling his cock as deep down your throat as he wanted to go. He paid no mind to your gagging or the teary, pleading eyes you kept giving him.

“T-take it—fuck, that’s it.” He rutted into your throat and squeezed his beautiful eyes shut. Your spit and salty tears dripped onto your bare chest and down your bruised nipples. A fresh gush of juices between your thighs made you slip a useless finger in—nothing compared to Jimin’s. His bullying was clearly getting the best of you.

His thrusts grew erratic and sloppy, and his groans grew sharper. You knew he was close; your eyes fluttered closed as he used you as his cocksleeve, now giving thrusts rather than savoring the way your throat constricted on his mouth-splitting length. Your little hole was not satisfied by your fingers, craving the stinging feeling of his cock.

He suddenly pulled out of your mouth, leaving you choking and gasping. His fists pumped his cock furiously as he milked himself, looking down at you with hooded, venomous eyes.

“Show me your tongue,” he demanded. And you, eager to please, did what you were asked. He almost grinned, seeing you stick your tongue out like a bunny. Ropes of thick white cum shot out of his veined length and coated your tongue. You moaned at the feeling of the hot liquid and tried to catch as much as you could, greedy for the salty flavor.

Some dripped on your chest, and Jimin cursed under his breath watching his seed paint your body. It smeared over your breasts, dripping down the curve of your tits until it coated your sore, swollen nipples. You gasped at the obscene heat of it, watching helplessly as his release decorated your body like a mark you couldn’t erase. He reached a hand down and spread the mess, letting his palm give your breasts tender squeezes, relishing the way your eyebrows furrowed in pleasure.

“You’re so fucking hungry for anything I give you, aren’t you?” he said.

Your eyes fluttered open. “I—I’ll take anything you give me.”

He seemed satisfied and flicked his charged gaze down to where your fingers were deep in your pussy. His eyes flickered in amusement.

“Lie down, pretty human,” he said slowly. If the phrasing was odd, you didn’t care to put your mind to it. You shuffled back onto the bed, letting your hand abandon your heat and dipping back flat into the mattress.

He tutted. “Face down, ass up.” You scrambled forward, pressing your face into the sheets. The cool fabric of your sheets welcomed your heated skin, and you trembled as you arched your back up. Your pussy was on full display, and you were sure you felt strings of your arousal now drip thickly onto the sheets.

You glanced over your shoulder as you felt his palms knead the soft flesh of your ass before delivering a sharp blow. You cried out, arching up and away from his touch. His hands pulled you back in place and delivered another sharp slap, this time on the aching, tender flesh of your pussy.

“O-oh my God!” you cried out as the unexpected slap sent electric shocks down your spine. Your thighs trembled, the sting blooming into a strange, unbearable pleasure that made your pussy clench around nothing.

His large palms soothed the sting across your ass, only to wander lower, spreading you open. His fingers found your soaked folds easily, and without hesitation he drove two thick fingers inside you to the knuckle.

You whined out, back arching as you instinctively pushed against his hand, desperate to feel him deeper. The sudden fullness made your cunt flutter helplessly around his intrusion, slick spilling down his hand.

“Fuck,” Jimin muttered. “I’ll give you what you want, baby. Just need to make sure you can take me.” The new nickname made you tighten around his fingers.

He twisted his wrist cruelly, curling his fingers up into your walls while his thumb pressed hard against your abused clit. Your cry muffled into the sheets, hips rocking back in frantic little jerks, chasing every sensation he gave you. You couldn’t take it anymore; you needed to feel him completely, fully sheathed in you.

“J-Jimin, please...” You were begging into the sheets, teeth nipping at your soft pillow. “Please m-more, I need more.”

“Yeah?” he rasped. “You’re ready for more?” Your body trembled in response, walls spasming uselessly around his rough touch.

“Mmm, I think you are,” he growled, leaning over you, his breath hot on your ear. “You’ll take me. Every inch. Until this tight little cunt knows who it belongs to.”

You nearly moaned at the filthy words he was filling your brain with. His fingers slipped free suddenly, leaving you clenching around nothing, dripping and needy. You felt your juices slip out and make a mess even worse than before. Your cheeks burned as you watched him look at your juicy pussy before using the same hand he had stuffed in you to fist his heavy cock. He smeared your wetness across his cock with deliberate cruelty, coating himself in the mess he’d pulled from you.

He stroked his cock once more, slow, before guiding the tip to your hole, letting it rest there for a beat. He circled lazily at your entrance, brushing and retreating, coaxing you open while watching you gasp for air in preparation. He prodded at your hole, his heated tip already starting to leak again. He pulsed hot against your skin.

You pushed back again, lightly, not wanting to piss him off by your insolence. “J-just put it in, please,” you murmured, your eyes glassed with need.

He caught your eye, snapping out of his trance of watching your dripping pussy. He hummed in agreement, and before you could process, his hips snapped forward, driving into you hard.

The stretch was brutal, your walls spasming around his thickness as a strangled cry tore from your throat. He gripped your hips like a vice, dragging you back onto him as you pushed forward, running away from the sharp stretch. He didn’t wait, didn’t let you adjust.

His hips snapped forward with merciless force, splitting you wider, deeper, each thrust rougher than the last. Your gummy walls clenched and unclenched against his punishing length, begging for relief. The sheets muffled your sobs as he used you, your nails clawing into the mattress while your body betrayed you, dripping and clenching around every punishing stroke. It was too much, too fast. Your mind was in a haze from the sharp pain and overwhelming pleasure of being taken to his liking.

“Too much?” he growled low, his pace unyielding, voice laced with dark amusement.

You nodded quickly. “T-too much, Jimin, please.”

“I don’t give a fuck,” he snapped back. The noises of your pussy getting pounded were obscene, and if your mind wasn’t being fucked into a haze, you would be embarrassed at how loudly you were squelching.

“Take it,” he growled, bullying his cock into you. “Face down, ass up. Just like I told you.”

His hand pressed into your already arched back, driving you deeper into the sheets. Each thrust rocked you into the mattress, your fists clutching the sheets as tears pricked your eyes from the sting and the overwhelming fullness. Every rough stroke fed the fire curling in your stomach. The sound of skin slapping skin overwhelmed even the violent thunder outside. You could feel Jimin growling and hissing behind you, like a wild animal feasting on its prey.

His pace slowed after a couple of punishing strokes—but not to ease you. Each thrust was rough enough to bruise. He pulled almost all the way out, leaving you aching and empty, before slamming back in with a force that made you choke into the sheets.

You sobbed at the force, tears pooling and coating the pillow. You trembled beneath him, your hands clawing uselessly at the mattress. “Jimin, please. I—I can’t,” you gasped, your voice ragged and broken.

He leaned forward, his chest pressing to your back, his breath ghosting hot against your ear. His hips rolled slowly, grinding his cock into you until you whimpered at the fullness.

“Huh?” he hissed, his lips curling into a cruel smirk. “You can’t?”

His teeth grazed your shoulder as he drew his hips back again. He groaned low, savoring the way your cunt clenched around him, greedy even through your sobs. Uncharacteristically, a hand reached forward and wiped at the tears wetting your cheeks. He brought the hand back and licked the salty tears off.

“You begged me to give you more, pretty human,” he said, rolling his hips in a smooth motion in and out of you.

Your walls clamped down impossibly tight around his thick cock, his hips stuttering at the resistance. You whimpered, not able to control your body.

“Shit, so impossibly tight,” Jimin growled, his voice vibrating low in his chest. His fingers dug into your hips as if trying to pry you open, but when your cunt fluttered stubbornly around him, he clicked his tongue in irritation.

“Relax for me,” he muttered darkly, one hand leaving your hip. His fingers snaked down between your thighs, cool against your overheated skin, until they found your tender, swollen clit.

You cried out the instant he rubbed the sore nub, his touch both gentle and brutal, circling and pressing until your body jerked beneath him. The sharp pleasure melted into the ache, loosening the grip of your walls just enough to let him slide deeper.

“That’s it,” he rasped, his thumb flicking your clit in tight circles as his cock pressed forward inch by inch. “There you go,” he cooed.

Your thighs trembled violently, caught between the sting and the relief, shame burning through you at how quickly your body softened under his touch.

His thumb drew slow, lazy circles before pinching your abused clit roughly. You yelped, jumping and digging back into his cock. You almost saw stars, the head of his cock brushing against your cervix. You dripped uselessly around him.

“Good girl,” he rasped, his voice gravel-rough. “Can’t fight me forever.”

His thrusts resumed their previous pace—so brutal, so rough—that the headboard was slamming against the wall. Your cries melted into mewling, savoring the pain of getting fucked at Jimin’s will.

He slammed forward without warning, burying himself deeper with a brutal thrust that knocked the air out of you. Your cry tore through the room, half pain, half desperate need.

It was torture and bliss tangled together, your body writhing between the sharp sting and the unbearable relief of finally being stuffed full. You were losing yourself with every thrust, your brain numbing, and Jimin noticed the way your mouth hung open. He truly was fucking you dumb.

“My stupid little human,” he cooed. “Say it—you’re my stupid little human.”

“I’m your stupid l-little human, Jimin, fuck...” you moaned out, your brain not even processing the oddly supernatural phrase he was using. He groaned in approval.

He shimmied a large hand under your belly and pulled out lightly before flipping you over so you were on your back. He leaned over you, his presence looming and clouding your brain as he sheathed you once more fully. You threw your head back, arms reaching up and nails digging into his shoulders. Your body shook with each jolt, breasts jiggling, tummy taut—all for him to see. Every nerve in your body seemed to chant his name, like he was drilling his memory into your DNA. The storm outside cracked the air with white light, reminding you of your brewing orgasm. You couldn’t take it anymore—his thrusts were oh so precise, the head of his cock starting to push against the perfect spongy spot deep in your pussy.

“J-Jimin. Fuck, I’m gonna come, I’m gonna come, I’m gonna—” You breathed out, unable to stop your rambling as his cock bullied you to a breaking point you weren’t sure you could come back from.

Suddenly, Jimin stilled. Out of shock, you opened your eyes. But Jimin wasn’t Jimin at all—his eyes glowed a deep wine red that couldn’t belong to any creature of this century, the veins in his neck were pronounced and strong, and you could see two sharp teeth pushing into his lower lip you wanted to suckle at badly.

Your brain tried to make sense of it, but surprisingly you weren’t scared. Rather, you were in awe of the beautiful creature with pearlescent skin that was buried deep in you. His hand slid up your spine, flattening at your shoulder blades as he brought you up, pressing your chest to his. His handsome features softened, bearing down at you. You felt his breath fan your face, hot, uneven, like he was holding himself back by a thread.

You didn’t even need to ask what or who he was. You just knew. You were hooking up with a vampire.

“Let me,” he rasped, trembling with a hunger and need you hadn’t seen in him yet. You shivered as he lowered his head into the crux of your neck, the sharp points of his fangs grazing your soft, easily breakable skin. “Let me taste you.”

For the first time this night, Jimin wasn’t demanding or commanding, but requesting. He was begging to taste you. And you knew what he was really asking of you. Jimin wanted to drink your blood.

Your glassy eyes fluttered, overwhelmed. Yet nothing in you was screaming to say no. Even in your haze, you felt yourself clench around him.

“Say yes,” he growled, low and desperate. “Please. Say yes, and I’ll make you feel everything.”

The promise was intoxicating and confusing. You couldn’t imagine what “everything” meant, yet you needed to find out.

“Yes,” you whispered so softly you almost missed it.

“What was that?” His ear dipped closer to your lips. “Say it again.”

“Yes,” you said a little louder, your voice breaking at the end. “Bite me.”

“Say it again,” he begged, trembling, the mask of dominance slipping into pure hunger. “Tell me I can have you.”

“You can have me, Jimin,” you said, nose nudging at the soft skin of his jaw.

“My beautiful human,” he murmured, and that’s all he needed from you. He pulled out, drawing a gasp from your tender lips, and pushed back in. His eyes screwed shut as he nuzzled deep into your neck, drawing in the scent of your clean, sweet blood. His strokes were deep as he kept you cradled to his porcelain body, touching your soul.

Your arms wrapped around him, savoring feeling him impossibly close. You moaned into his ear as he lifted one of your legs up, balancing at the dip of his hip, and pushed into you till his balls slapped against your ass. His hips stuttered as he hissed, drawing out his long, sharp fangs. Your eyes were squeezed shut, but you could feel the fangs graze the tender bend of your neck.

“Jimin...” you begged. “Please.” You felt your orgasm approaching with him melted into your body. Your nails scratched at his back in a desperate plea. Please, just bite me.

When his fangs sank into you, you didn’t know if you were going into shock from the blinding pleasure or the sharp pain of the intrusion. Your veins were on fire, and you thrashed in his hold, but his grip was strong and stubborn, keeping you where he needed you to be to drink. The noises that came from Jimin were not human—groans and moans that mocked the thunder outside, rumbling from so deep in him it had to be centuries old.

You felt your orgasm crash like a tidal wave—maybe from the feeling of his cock nuzzling your cervix, or his fangs piercing through your plush veins, you weren’t sure. Your senses sharpened into a hum, a hum of Jimin’s essence overwhelming all you ever knew. Your brain chanted his name, your body molded to take him perfectly and wholly.

He drank like a man possessed, yet there was reverence in the way he held you, as though feeding and worship were one and the same. His Adam’s apple bobbed against you as he slurped and slurped, and as you felt your consciousness start to slip from the blood loss, you felt a certain warmth between your legs as Jimin came in you deep, filling your poor hole to the brim. Your body slackened, every thrash losing force as the fire in your veins gave way to a heavy, intoxicating fog. You were slipping away as Jimin consumed you. Your weak fingers clawed at his arms, and you tried to wrap your legs around his waist, but you simply couldn’t.

You chanted his name as your consciousness left you, and you were lulled into a deep, heavy, dark sleep.

The last thing the storm saw was Jimin’s mouth whispering into your skin, “Mine,” as he cradled you in the bloody mess beneath you.

[bangtan-tee-86]

I am soo glad I stumbled upon @espressojoons 😍 because Thirst Trap is a true gem!!! I mean, the banner alone is the epitome of a thirst trap. No other than Park effin Jimin!!!! I remember this live years ago, where he had this same vibe and he was devil incarnate sitting at the edge of the bed, then lying down manspreading! 🥵 my oh my!!!!!

Anyway!!! This fic captured Jimin’s shy at first and ever so respectful personality, but he is a fuckin menace in the sheets. I sooooo see him being a total dom, unlike what most fanfics portray him as. So thank you @espressojoons and i love you!

💜

[here2bbtstrash]

look down on me like that - masterlist (explicit)

genre: slow burn enemies to lovers hatefucking coworkers au, smut (w some eventual angst)

pairing: yoongi x reader ft. chaotic bestie jimin & cutie coworker jungkook

summary: your asshole coworker min yoongi has made it his personal mission to ruin your life.

contains: explicit sexual content - enemies/coworkers to lovers, hate sex, accidental voyeurism, semi-public sex, dirty talk, mutual teasing, slow burn, a whole lotta general banter, truly excessive alcohol consumption, & prepare for extreme secondhand embarrassment

🖤 each individual chapter will have its own warnings! please read them and proceed with caution where appropriate 🖤

✨ read on AO3 ✨ main masterlist ✨

chapter one 7.2k - “I still can’t believe you actually lied your way into this job.”

chapter two 6.1k - “Do you like tteokbokki?”

chapter three 8.2k - “If I didn’t know better, I’d think you liked what you saw.”

chapter four 8.2k - “Yeah, you like that?”

chapter five 11.4k - “Do you want to hear a funny story?”

chapter six 6.2k - “If you want it so bad, then beg for it.”

chapter seven 8.9k - “Oh my god. You do have a weakness.”

chapter eight 15.3k - “I’m sorry, is this a booty call?”

chapter nine 16.0k - “And the Grammy goes to…”

chapter ten 13.1k - “I just want you to be happy.”

chapter eleven 23.1k - "You broke my heart. And now I'm just like you."

[bangtan-tee-86]

Dear M,

I just wanted you to know that I am such a big fan of yours. Have you ever read something that just stayed with you for many years? Like, you would just randomly think about it? LDOMLT is that to me (along with 3tan 🍊🍊🍊😉). It is such a smooth read, not pretentious, and i am not surprised that a lot of your readers binge reread it! It is definitely one of the best out here.

The ending could not have been more perfect. They needed to grow and we saw their different layers in character. I was crying, I was smiling, it was just the way to go.

Thank you for all the time and masterpieces you’ve shared with us.

💜

[theharrowing]

Devil with the Mint Hair 🍃 1: It’s euphoric. You gotta try it.

You get way too high and finally have sex with your brother’s best friend—and your sworn enemy—Min Yoongi.

INDEX | NEXT

🍃 Yoongi x Female Reader

🍃 word count: 3.4k 

🍃 enemies to fuck buddies, brother’s best friend, explicit smut, nsfw, 18+

🍃 warnings: use of marijuana; dubious consent at first (mc is very high and says no and Yoongi is pushy); groping; being too rough; spitting; teasing; cunnilingus; Yoongi calling mc easy; unprotected sex on a bedroom floor; multiple orgasms; post-nut regret.

🍃 you hate him, and yet…lol. oneshot requested by @blog-name-idk​: “Mint Yoongi dubcon where he sort of coerces/seduces an initially reluctant reader? Maybe he’s like a runner or something and MC is reluctant to get involved until she gets a taste of his poison. And not the drugs. Eyebrow waggle.“ thank you for your patience, dear mango!

🍃 note: i am currently not accepting new requests. 

🍃 beta read by @neoneunnajimin​

🍃 posted oct. 2022 | read on ao3

Your eyelids feel heavy, and the air around you feels like too much—thick and sticky but too thin to fill your lungs—and there’s an unfamiliar haze to it that makes you wonder if you’re even awake at all. 

If it weren’t for Min Yoongi—the devil with mint hair—gazing at you like an amused child holding an ant hostage beneath a magnifying glass in the scorching sun, you would think that for sure you were in dreamland.

But Yoongi is no dream. Yoongi is a nightmare. 

A beautiful, cunning nightmare, but a nightmare no less. With his crooked smirk and his feline eyes, Yoongi can spin shit into gold and make anyone bend to his will, and you had done a valiant job of holding out for years, feigning annoyance and giving him nothing to work with. That is, until he turned up on your doorstep at ten in the morning, claiming to be looking for your brother, with a gift. 

"No sweat,” he had muttered with a shrug when you mentioned your brother was out of town until the evening. “I’ll let you have it instead.”

Whatever it is that your dumbass brother’s dumbass drug dealer best friend had to offer, you were certain you wanted nothing to do with it. Unless it was weed; Yoongi always had the best weed.

“Have what?” you asked against your better judgment.

The smug grin that tugged on Yoongi’s lips sent a knowing chill down your spine, settling heavily in your guts as he lifted his hand, holding up a perfectly rolled joint. “This new strain I got. It’s euphoric. You gotta try it.”

Keep reading

[bangtan-tee-86]

Bad boy yoongi??? Um, mother may I!?!??

[wwilloww]

sh. | jjk | chapter one

PAIRING: Jungkook x Reader ft. OT7

RATING: Explicit.

GENRE: NonIdol!Au. Wilderness!Au. f2l. Smut. Fluff.

WC: 6k

SUMMARY: How could you say no to a month away in the mountains with your friends after six months of grueling quarantine?

WARNINGS: YN is a cuddling fiend. Untimely boner. Handjob. Nipple play. Fingering. Unprotected sex. Size kink. Slight voyeurism. Power play. Dirty talk.

Keep reading

[bangtan-tee-86]

This is a treasure!!!!! A gem. I have been losing sleep because I just CANNOT stop reading this. The story telling, the banter, the flow is just so captivating. So beautifully written. Thus, I sink deeper into my delusions.

[elusivecagedmockingbird]

Not In The Same Way

[jin x reader] [1k+ smut, angst; lovers to strangers, toxic relationship, celeb couple; prequel to Now That We Don't Talk]

Now That We Don't Talk | Not Warriors

We fuck, then we fight, then you call me a psycho I walk out the door, but you won't let me let go

-

“Fuck you, Jin,” you seethe. Your eyes sharp and accusing as you hold his stare, daring him to deny the obvious. Reddened eyes are poorly returning your fiery gaze.

Jin soon huffs and ends your staring contest with a roll of his eyes and walks past you to the fridge. “You’re acting like a crazy girlfriend, y/n.”

“How is being concerned for your well-being crazy?” You fist your hands and let your nails sink into your palm to calm yourself. You never shouted at Jin, but tonight just might be the first time.

He’s never been this callous. And you know this ugly change is from his new friends—wannabe A-listers and washed out celebrities.

“You can be concerned, but you can’t go around barging on my friend’s door,” he reasons with a pout. It’s cute and disarming, if only what comes out of those lips didn’t make your blood boil. “The last thing I want them to think is I’m dating someone psychotic. And what if the paps or fans saw you leaving with me? What then?”

“Then your fans will thank me for dragging you away from a toxic group. Jin, everyone knows how problematic those people are.”

He scoffs this time as he opens a packet of soft cookies.

You breathe in and out, in and out, in and out. You calmly approach Jin as you reason with him. “Jin, they’re not good comp—”

“Quit it, y/n. My mom doesn’t even police who I hang out with,” he fusses, flicking crumbs of cookie. “Why are you acting like a bitch towards my friends? Maybe you should get your own and bitch about them.”

Oh.

So that’s how it is.

Fine.

You snatch your thrown purse on the kitchen counter and make a beeline to the door, making sure to bump your shoulders with his.

“If I’m a bitch, then you’re a dick, Seokjin,” you hurl, making sure each word was loud and clear for him to hear. You’re outraged he would say those against you. Clawing at your skin wasn’t enough to keep you calm anymore.

It must be because you were drowning in your emotions and focusing on slipping your shoes through your teary eyes that you didn’t notice Jin followed you. Just as you managed to open the door a smidge, it closes with a thud and a lock. You physically jump and look up to see Jin’s hand on the door, leveled to your face. You feel his hot breath on your neck before you hear him.

“Don’t,” his tone was soft yet commanding. You turn sideways to get a glimpse of him while your shaky hands still clutches the door knob.

Despite his drowsy demeanor and slumped stance, Jin still intimidated you.

“Fuck off, Jin.” You turn back around to face the door—afraid that if you look at him at close proximity, he’ll chip away at you and he’ll weasel himself out of trouble. Again.

Jin’s palm on the door slides down to pull your hand away from the knob; his other hand slithers its way inside your open coat, splaying his broad palm on your stomach and pulls your body closer to his by your waist.

You mewl in disagreement but your body stays pliable under his hold. This is nothing new, you both know. You can’t remember an argument you had that was resolved like two grownups in a committed relationship.

Recently, your arguments started with heated words echoing around four walls and ended with your heated bodies weaving between sheets.

“M’sorry,” Jin mumbles, still clearly inebriated and high. His palm rubs your stomach before he slowly slips his hands into your pants.

“Let me make it up to you.” He runs the tip of his tongue from your lower neck to your ears, then uses his teeth to tug at the lobe.

“Jinnie,” your mewls of protest turn to moans. Your hand leaves the knob to cup his hardening cock through his sweats.

“I’m here now, sweetheart,” he appeases. His thumb stops flicking your clit and dives two fingers straight into your hole. Your body jerks back into him and your hand clenched on his cock.

You slip your hand under his sweats and you immediately feel him. You brush the nagging pang at the thought that he met friends without underwear. For now, you want to relish at the feeling of his fingers pumping in and out of you. You grab what you can of his cock and faintly scratch your nails at his balls.

Jin smashes his cheek to your temple and lets out a breathless groan. He only needs to utter one word: bed, and you’re both begrudgingly pulling away to head to his bedroom. 

The bed frame shakes as your boyfriend plunges his cock into you at quick intervals. Each time his body smashes into you, a squeal escapes your lips, all of which Jin silences with his mouth.

You feel your climax approaching so, you lock your hooked legs around his waist and push him into you by his ass.

Jin grunts as he brings you to the edge—he’s thrusting his hips nonstop and pulling you into him with a firm hold of your hips. You’ll worry about the bruises later or just like old habits, you can call your manager to move your photoshoots at a later date.

“Gonna cum in you,” Jin pants. His choppy sweaty bangs sticking to his forehead, and yet he still manages to look like a sculpted Adonis. “Should teach you to not doubt me,” he stutters between breathy pants.

You unbutton your sweater, just open enough to display your perky tits. Your free hands knead your breasts, thumb brushing your hardened nipples. Jin ogles at the sight. If possible, he quickened his pace even more. His hard thrusts jostles you around the bed, fresh sheets crumpling and dampening with your sweat and arousal.

Whispers of I love you’s leave yours and Jin’s lips as you come undone consecutively—feeling you squirt and wet him pushed him to ejaculate inside you.

You pull your boyfriend closer and he nuzzles his head to your neck, wet kisses and love confessions muting your doubts from earlier.

You love Jin. And he loves you.

But you believe it’s not the same way.

-

[bangtan-tee-86]

Re-reading this masterpiece because Seokjin is just so irresistible.

[moni-logues-deactivated20250110]

Dead Man Walking

Pairing: Hoseok x reader (afab, she/her)

Genre: friends(?)-to-lovers, older sister's best friend

Summary: Call my doctor, call my lawyer

Call my brother, call my priest

There's paperwork to fill out

'Cause a dead man walks the streets

'Cause my sister has a best friend

That I've known since I was three

And now I'm gon' get strangled

'Cause we tangled in the sheets

Word count: 2.6k

Content: oral (f. receiving), protected piv sex, drinking, one (1) joke about necrophilia

A/N: I wanted to have this ready to post for Hobi's Return Day 😭😭 but studying got in the way and now, yes, my midterm is tomorrow but fuck it, we ball etc. This is basically a song fic based on Dead Man Walking by Jon Bellion because he just released his first new song in years and I remembered how fucking great his music is. Unbeta'd and unedited PEACE

* * *

Hoseok felt electric. Overwhelmed. As if he could feel every single hair all over his body standing on end. He had performed before, but there was something different about this show. Something that made him feel like he had made it. The crowd was loud; they knew the words; he knew a few people in the crowd from back home.  

One of those people was you.  

Hoseok had grown up with you; you and his older sister had been glued to one another’s sides since you were 5 and Hoseok could barely speak. He was witness to so much of your childhood as you were to his. It made it easy between you, familiar. 

“Hobi!” you shrieked when you saw him, arms extended wide. You were one of only a few people who ever called him that. 

He smiled and wrapped you in a hug, not caring and knowing you wouldn’t either that he was drenched in sweat, wet with it, pressing it against you.  

“Oh my god!” you continued. “I can’t believe your sister didn’t warn me! She’s getting a stern word tomorrow.” 

“Warn you about what?”  

“You! I’ve never seen you like that! You looked cool.” 

“Hey!”  

See? Easy. Familiar. The kind of teasing that made him feel warm inside. Because you were right: he was cool. On-stage, he felt cool. He felt powerful. He felt completely in his element. It was almost absurd: that doing something as simple as performing in front of a, let’s be honest, fairly modest crowd a couple of hundred miles from home could make him feel like a king. In the grand scheme of things, hardly anyone knew who he was, but for the hundreds of people at the venue that night, Hoseok was god.  

“We’re going for a drink, right? Do you need to change or whatever first?” 

“Yes, we are; Ji would kill me if I didn’t take you out while I was-” 

“Take me out? Absolutely not! Drinks are on me. We are celebrating you tonight.” 

“Well, ok, but make sure you tell her you said that. I’m going to need a shower and a change.” 

“Yeah, no worries. I’ll wait at the bar.” 

He didn’t keep you waiting long. It had been some time since he’d actually seen you in person and he was thrilled by the opportunity to catch up.  

Over drinks, you filled him in; he filled you in. The spaces that Jiwoo left between getting patched up over cheap beer and soggy chips. The adrenalin that Hoseok had assumed had been responsible for the electricity coursing through him had dissipated and he couldn’t explain why he still felt it: electric. He felt almost as alive sitting with you in a dark corner of a bar as he had on-stage. He found himself watching your lips as you spoke, as you drank from your bottle, as your tongue peeked out to lick at a stray droplet. He watched your eyes when he spoke, attentive to your reactions, wondering why he hadn’t remembered just how fucking beautiful you are.  

Perhaps a little time and distance was all it took. To take someone whose face he knew like the back of his hand and make it new. Make it suddenly magnetic, unable to tear his eyes away. He had the sense of a building quiet around the table, the other customers returning to their homes, bar staff starting to clear up around them, but he had no intention of leaving. If this night could be 36 hours long, that might be enough.  

“I mean, I’ve got wine at mine?” you suggested when the owner finally burst the bubble and told you to get out.  

“Wine sounds great.” 

Hoseok hated wine, but he’d have drunk arsenic if it meant more time with you.  

“Make yourself at home!” you called as you made your way to your kitchen and Hoseok sank into your sofa cushions. Your home was lovely, just as you were, and he felt a sense of pride looking around it: this house that you bought, this home that you had made. He knew you when you were a gawky teenager (shortly before he was a gawky teen himself) and now you were a woman of the world, achieving things, living a life he now knew all about, that he would always be a part of even if he wasn’t really quite a part of it.  

“You know you’re so beautiful,” he said, words slipping out without permission, as you walked towards him with a bottle of wine and two glasses in hand.  

“Oh no, Hobi’s drunk.” 

“Shut up! I’m serious.” 

You sat next to him and set the glasses on the table, filled them up, handed one to him. 

“No, you’re not,” you argued. “You’re just saying that because I’m the first chick to pay you attention in a while.” 

He snorted. That was partly true. The reason for it, though, was that he wasn’t interested in fucking around. This was his first proper, legitimate tour. He was not about to get a reputation for himself as someone who fucked groupies or even had groupies. The tour was all business. This was the first time he’d been able to let that go; it was the first time he’d seen you for a long time; in some ways, he felt like it was the first time he’d ever really seen you. 

“I’m serious,” he insisted, no dramatics, no laughter. “You are fucking beautiful and I’m sitting here wondering why I never kissed you before.” 

Your eyes met his, uncertain, hesitant. 

“Ho-” 

He placed his hand over yours, his wine glass back on the table. He shuffled himself closer to you, saw you swallow, the pink tip of your tongue roll over your lips—a nervous habit he hadn’t forgotten.  

“Tell me to stop,” he whispered, his face inches from yours.  

You didn’t. You looked at him, slowly dipped your gaze to his mouth, then raised it. Before you could do it again, he kissed you.  

It could have been weird. There was a tiny part of him that expected it to be strange, to kiss someone he knew so well—one of the first people he had ever known—when kissing had never been a part of your relationship before. It could have been awkward. It could have felt wrong. It didn’t. 

He put a hand to your face, pulled you closer, felt your hand on his thigh. The adrenalin was surging, that electricity he had been feeling all night peaking again, crackling between the two of you. He murmured your name quietly, his face still close to yours. You rested your forehead against his, found his fingers with your own and tangled them. Then your eyes met.  

“Is this crazy?” you asked, voice barely a whisper. 

“Maybe. Want to be crazy?” 

You swallowed. 

“Yes... But what’s Ji going to say about this?” 

Hoseok swallowed a laugh. His sister was the last person he wanted to be thinking about right now. 

“Maybe we just don’t tell her.” 

He saw your eyes glitter as you fought a grin and he knew you were in. He wasted no more time, brought your lips to his, found your hips with his hands, then your waist, dared to sneak them underneath the top you were wearing. Moaned because your skin was so soft, so warm, sent a zap of electricity to his cock. You lay yourself back, pulling at his T-shirt to bring him with you.  

“Fuck,” you breathed. “Sorry, are you ok?” 

And none of it was weird. If anything, it was weird how normal it felt, how completely unremarkable that you were biting his bottom lip, wrapping a leg around his back, running your hands over his flushed skin. There was a disbelief in Hoseok: he couldn't believe this was the first time. The first time he was kissing you, sucking marks into your neck that he knew would get him into trouble later. His first time watching your nipples stiffen, running his hot tongue over them and feeling your back arching beneath him. In all the many years he’d known you, he’d never known this part of you, never even really considered its existence but now it was all he could think about, his entire focus. He had gone almost his entire life with you on the sidelines, his cheerleader, his sister’s best friend, his something-or-other that he couldn’t have put a name to and now he was glad he hadn’t. Because it left an opening for this. For his mouth on your cunt, tasting secret parts of you like forbidden fruit, lapping at your slick hole because you were wet, for him, because of him, and he couldn’t stop himself rutting against the sofa, his cock trapped and straining in his jeans, so fucking hard that it ached; it sent its discomfort radiating inwards, the heavy drag in his abdomen pleasurably painful or painfully pleasurable. But he couldn’t stop, couldn’t take his lips from you, wanted you to keep moaning like that, keep moving against his face, chasing your high, using him for it. When you uttered his name in a broken cry, he gasped, almost came because it sounded so good, wanted to hear it again and again. So he worked. Until his jaw ached and he almost couldn’t breathe, until your legs clamped around him and you twisted, pulling him off the sofa with a bump. 

He could only laugh. He was so much better than ok.  

“Are you?” he fired back, hands smoothing the hair from your face.  

You laughed then, hauled him back onto the sofa and kissed him, his mouth sticky and sweet. 

“Yeah, I think I’m ok,” you answered eventually, your voice light and breathy, dazed. 

It was at that moment that your hand brushed against his dick and he shuddered. Your chuckle was dark and you did it again, almost floated your hand over his trousers; his hips jerked of their own accord.  

“Want to get out of these jeans?” you asked, coy, smirking.  

He didn’t need telling twice. Clambering ungainly from the sofa once more, he shoved his jeans and boxers down at once, stepping out of them and kneeling over you on the sofa. 

“Got a condom in your pocket?” you asked. 

“Fuck, no.” 

“No worries. Give me one sec.” 

And he got to watch your naked, retreating form as you left the room. Got to fist his flushed, leaking cock and imagine his hand was yours. His eyes fluttered closed as he thought about your cunt, your sweet, soft, wet cunt tight around him. He swallowed hard, tried to take a few deep breaths, ground himself a little because the last thing he wanted now was to embarrass himself in front of you by coming too fast. It hadn’t been a problem for him since he very first forays in the field, but he could picture it happening, ruining this.  

Fortunately for Hoseok, this time, the nerves made him a little less desperate. When you sat him back on the sofa and sank down on him, and his eyes rolled back in his head, and his heart skipped over several beats, he didn’t immediately come and put an abrupt end to the evening. He moaned, your name coming hoarse and strained from his throat. He put his hands on your hips, not moving you, just holding. He dared to open his eyes and watch your tits bounce. 

“Fuck,” he panted, tipping his head onto the back of the sofa, eyes still trained on you.  

You returned your agreement in breathy, whined affirmations, sounds that reverberated in Hoseok’s head, that he hoped would ring like tinnitus forevermore. You brought your face to his and kissed him. It made him hungry, made him greedy, his fingers dimpling in your flesh, his teeth biting down on your lip. It made him want to fuck you till you walked sideways. 

When his thighs felt both leaden and twitchy, he pulled his arms tight around you, halted your movement, kissed you deeply for longer than he’d intended to.  

“Can we switch it up?” he asked and you nodded.  

You, on your knees, Hoseok sliding in behind you. Your backside in his hands, skin soft, supple, warm. Your back stretched out before him, your hair like a dark-water splash around your head, your face turned sideways so he could see you: eyebrows drawn together, mouth open with your fist shoved into it, as if it could drown out the change in pitch of your voice, the loud cries that accompanied each spasm of your walls around him. 

He snapped his hips fast and hard, his muscles starting to cry out, too, but his fingers were softer when they slipped around your hips, found your clit. Your back arched further, a strained squeal rising from your throat as he increased his pressure, rubbing over it in tight circles until your cunt, vice-like, spasmed tight, your legs wobbling, your voice cut off completely. Hoseok swore, racing to fuck you through it until he could let go, let it all go, come, sudden and strong, hips and breath both stuttering. 

It was quiet for a moment after that, just the rush of your heavy breathing and the tick of a clock somewhere out near the hallway. Hoseok removed himself carefully, disposed of the condom, asked if you wanted to shower with him. 

“Didn’t you already shower tonight?” you ask, prone on the sofa.  

He laughed. 

“Yeah but somehow, for some reason, I feel like I could do with another one. I’ve got no idea why,” he teased, extending a hand to you.  

He wouldn’t usually make such an offer, not unless he was planning to have more sex under the water, but it was you, and somehow that made it ok. Somehow, that meant it wasn’t weird to be naked with you, in a way that wasn’t really sexual, though he took every opportunity he could to kiss you again, put his hands on your body. He just wanted to be closer to you, as close as he could. The intimacy of the shower made the sex seem almost prudish. It was a different heavy feeling in his gut that let Hoseok know that this, for him, wasn’t a one-time thing. This was a cat out of the bag thing. This was a worms everywhere situation.  

* 

That was almost three months ago.  

Hoseok was washing up at the kitchen sink of his parents’ house. His sister was drying and putting things away. 

“Hey, Ji!” 

Hoseok dropped the plate he was washing with a loud clang. He swore under his breath and turned with his heart in his throat, to see you enter the room. 

“Oh! Hobi, I didn't know you’d be here.” 

He thought he saw confusion in your eyes, maybe the slightest hint of hurt.  

“It was a last-minute thing,” he said, cheeks flaming and praying that Jiwoo wouldn’t notice anything.  

Because it had not been a one-time thing. Or a two-time thing. It was a thing that could no longer be counted. Jiwoo lived closed to his parents in their hometown, but you didn’t and he didn’t. That had made it surprisingly easy to feed this thing, tend to it, keep it, grow it, let it embed itself in his heart like ivy.  

But he hadn’t told his sister. And neither had you. And he knew that, when she found out, heads would roll—notably, his. He was a dead man walking and you both knew it. He didn’t mind though, he kept saying. He’d be a dead man walking or a dead man, whichever way it went, as long as he got to keep you, he’d be happy. You told him you weren’t keen on the idea of necrophilia. 

[hobidreams]

Everything Slow | KNJ {M}

your boyfriend catches you missing him with your hand between your legs, his name a moan on your tongue. it looks like you need a little help…

pairing: namjoon x reader genre: smut, fluff words: 2.0k contains: unprotected sex, dirty talk, light spanking, soft, pwp, inspired by ‘forever rain’

Sitting alone in Namjoon’s room, the cologne of him subtly infiltrates your system with each breath you take. It’s the closest you’ve been to him in weeks, and god, how you miss him. You’ve replayed the short voice clip he sent you over messenger about two dozen times, memorized the way he whispers your name so despite his exhaustion. He’s said sorry so many times it doesn’t even sound like a word anymore, but you don’t want apologies.

You just want him in your arms again. Want his full lips on yours, softly devouring with need. Want his hands wrapped around your waist, holding you still. Want his forehead pressed to yours while he’s sliding inside you, lovingly feeding you every inch of his cock until your voice is hoarse from moaning his name.

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[bangtan-tee-86]

Never looking at Forever Rain the same way again 🥴 🫣