𝓑𝓣𝓢 𝓢𝓜𝓤𝓣𝓢 18+ 𝓜𝓐𝓢𝓣𝓔𝓡𝓛𝓘𝓢𝓣
Namjoon Kim
-𝒹𝑜 𝐼 𝓌𝒶𝓃𝓃𝒶 𝓀𝓃𝑜𝓌?
Seokjin Kim
-𝒶𝒻𝒻𝒶𝒾𝓇
Yoongi Min
-𝓈𝓁𝑒𝑒𝓅𝑜𝓋𝑒𝓇
Hoseok Jung
Jimin Park
Taehyung Kim
-𝒸𝒶𝓊𝑔𝒽𝓉 𝒻𝓉. 𝒥.𝒥𝒦
Jungkook Jeon
-𝒸𝒶𝓊𝑔𝒽𝓉 𝒻𝓉. 𝒦.𝒯𝐻
© 2021 𝖇𝖔𝖘𝖘𝖇𝖎𝖙𝖈𝖍444 . All rights reserved.

⁂

Kiana Khansmith
Xuebing Du

titsay
Jules of Nature
he wasn't even looking at me and he found me

★
cherry valley forever

祝日 / Permanent Vacation
"I'm Dorothy Gale from Kansas"
occasionally subtle

#extradirty
No title available

Janaina Medeiros
will byers stan first human second
Alisa U Zemlji Chuda

Love Begins
ojovivo
hello vonnie
Peter Solarz
seen from United States

seen from Malaysia
seen from United States

seen from United States

seen from Singapore

seen from Austria

seen from Malaysia

seen from United States
seen from Brazil
seen from United States
seen from United States

seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from Indonesia
seen from Switzerland

seen from United States
seen from United States

seen from Malaysia

seen from United States
seen from United States
@bossbitch444
𝓑𝓣𝓢 𝓢𝓜𝓤𝓣𝓢 18+ 𝓜𝓐𝓢𝓣𝓔𝓡𝓛𝓘𝓢𝓣
Namjoon Kim
-𝒹𝑜 𝐼 𝓌𝒶𝓃𝓃𝒶 𝓀𝓃𝑜𝓌?
Seokjin Kim
-𝒶𝒻𝒻𝒶𝒾𝓇
Yoongi Min
-𝓈𝓁𝑒𝑒𝓅𝑜𝓋𝑒𝓇
Hoseok Jung
Jimin Park
Taehyung Kim
-𝒸𝒶𝓊𝑔𝒽𝓉 𝒻𝓉. 𝒥.𝒥𝒦
Jungkook Jeon
-𝒸𝒶𝓊𝑔𝒽𝓉 𝒻𝓉. 𝒦.𝒯𝐻
© 2021 𝖇𝖔𝖘𝖘𝖇𝖎𝖙𝖈𝖍444 . All rights reserved.
Sinners | JJK
Summary: Based on the concept from the movie “Sinners,” music has the ability to shred the barrier between planes of existence and draw creatures of the underworld to the land of the living, and Jungkook’s heavenly voice ends up bringing hell right to his doorstep.
Pairing: Idol!Jungkook x Demon!Reader
Genre: Fantasy in the Modern World AU, Temptation & Corruption, Strangers to Lovers, Angst, Smut
Word Count: 15.2k+
Warnings: demons, religious lore, hell, fantasy elements, mention of lucifer, temptation, corruption, manipulation, trespassing(??), threats, going missing, mention of death, life-altering decisions. SMUT: kissing, neck kissing, hair pulling, doggy, dick riding, oral sex (both receiving), spitting, titty play, cum feeding, cum eating, choking, crawling, slapping, body worship, sub!koo 🤭, mild degradation, use of the term “good boy,” scratching, gagging, orgasm denial, creampie, okay I think that's it?
Author's Note: y'all I’m so sorry for making you wait so long. I lost motivation during bts ticketing season bc I was so damn stressed, but I managed to secure tix AND finish the story lol. all I have to say about this one is that it's basically pure smut. there is an underlying plot but the whole point of this fic is to see koo get his shit rocked, I'm not even gonna lie. plus my time jungkook is literally my favorite jungkook ever. speaking of, I highly recommend watching the performance before reading this bc it gives you a very nice visual for the story 😏 also if you haven’t seen sinners you better go watch that too bc it’s the best movie of 2025 (after you read this lmao). all in all, I hope you enjoy this one and thank you for being so patient while I finished it! ilysm :)
-> 201010 Jungkook “My Time” Performance
“There are legends of people... born with the gift of making music so true, it can pierce the veil between life and death, conjuring spirits from the past and the future.” — Sinners, 2025
ೀ⋆。˚ worst behaviour — jeon jungkook , series
˚ ༘ click here to join the taglist ! navi , masterlist
❝ summary: everyone knows you as the good girl ; the one who never does anything reckless. except you’re so fucking tired of that image. (and you’re also very… horny.) so when you decide to be bold and finally go after hoseok — your nice study partner but frustratingly oblivious fuckboy — things don’t really go as planned. instead, you end up tangled in a fake relationship with the campus favorite fuckboy ; jeon jungkook .
❝ pairing: grumpy wannabe fuckgirl!oc x smug fuckboy!jk
❝ genre/tropes/au: smau + written , fake dating / fake relationship , slow burn , strangers to friends (a little bit of frenemies?¿) to fuckbuddies to lovers
❝ warnings: no love triangle , university au , frat house / frat boys / frat parties , mentions of alcohol / smoking / drugs , alcohol consumption , bts members + side characters involved , fluff , humor / rom-com vibes , good girl gone bad , judgy!oc ; oc is lowk mean, fuckboy jungkook who’s full of himself , mutual pining , messy feelings , bad decisions , petty moments , sexual tension , jealousy , misunderstanding , arguments , sexting , eventual written smut !
❝ note: i’m finally rewriting fuckboy!jk, and i couldnt be more excited to start this fic. this time, we have more lore, more chapters, more characters, and all the chaos & sillyness it deserves <3
start: jan 6 / 2026 end: . . .
❝ index ;
𑣲 teaser
𑣲 ch: 01 — been on my worst
𑣲 ch: 02 — don't need no savior
𑣲 ch: 03 — way outta line
𑣲 ch: 04 — kinda like the way i feel
𑣲 ch: 05 — don’t give a fuck
𑣲 ch: 06 — i’ll be there in five
𑣲 ch: 07 — talk too much
𑣲 ch: 08 — show each other
𑣲 ch: 09 — other ways to catch you up
𑣲 ch: 10 — do it on the phone
𑣲 ch: 11 — can you keep it secret?
𑣲 ch: 12 — ain't no game
𑣲 ch: 13 — i’ll stay with you
𑣲 ch: 14 — promise you won’t say nothin’
𑣲 ch: 15 — no phone, no pics, no postin’ us
𑣲 ch: 16 — just in my nature
𑣲 ch: 17 — be a littlе troublemaker
𑣲 ch: 18 — so wrong but so right
𑣲 ch: 19 — you really likе the way i
𑣲 ch: 20 — when we kiss , you reminisce
𑣲 ch: 21 — what we know
𑣲 ch: 22 — don’t you be actin' like that
𑣲 ch: 23 — just take what’s yours
𑣲 ch: 24 — don’t run from it
𑣲 ch: 25 — don’t you be actin' like that pt.2
𑣲 ch: 26 — won’t play with you
𑣲 ch: 27 — postin’ us
𑣲 ch: 28 — but baby,
𑣲 ch: 29 — forgot to mention
𑣲 ch: 30 — worst behaviour
© 2026 luvi. all rights reserved.
OVERDRIVE ʲᵉᵒⁿ ʲᵘⁿᵍᵏᵒᵒᵏ ₊ ⊹₊ ⊹
chapter 1
SUMMARY: After discovering her brother's secret life as the leader of an underground racing crew, Y/N is pulled into a world of speed, danger, and rivalry. That's where she meets Jeon Jungkook - the fearless leader of the opposing crew, the one her brother can't stand, and the last person she should ever get close to. But Jungkook is impossible to ignore. And Y/ N is impossible for him to forget. Because in a world where every choice could end in flames...falling for each other might be the most dangerous race of all.
PAIRING: racer!jk x model!reader
WARNINGS: brother's enemy, somewhat forbidden love, smut, angst, fluff, obsession, jealousy, possessiveness, masturbation, unprotected sex, sexting, bodily fluids, rough sex, multiple positions, public sex, degradation kink, dirty talk, sexual tension, sexual teasing, smoking, violence, illegal activities, mentions of blood, control
PLAYLIST ₊ ⊹₊ ⊹ (REALLY listen and plan the music to be IN THE VIBE)
GLOSSARY: teaser / chapter 1 / chapter 2 / chapter 3 / chapter 4 / chapter 5 / chapter 6 / chapter 7 / chapter 8 / chapter 9 / chapter 10
SERIES M.LIST ₊ ⊹₊ ⊹
W.C: 10k
SHAI'S NOTE: so...this is kinda my first series here on tumblr. i got inspired to write this after relistening to ohmami by chase atlantic (i love ca to death) and also afterrewatching culpa mia hehe. i'm hella scared to see how this turns out cus tumblr is filled with incredible writers and i'm a newbie. please be nice to me 🥹🙏💗
TAGLIST: @brokebitch-101 , @annpeachy , @ecwipsecoffee , @sky-23s-world, @pradaheeseung , @mar-lo-pop , @kookienooki , @lolakacie , @httpjeonlicious , @anabeatrizal-blog1 , @azxher , @valiantlyrunicmutant , @skycache , @afoluvztmblr , @zaf3ira , @fml3486 , @jiminsmassivebooty , @justletmeread601 , @strawberriesss34566 , @nellbyy , @goawaysha , @alwaysbethinnerlookbetter , @punchbug9-blog
ENGINES & SECRETS ₊ ⊹₊ ⊹
Life was never complicated for the Mins.
Their father owned a flourishing international investment company, a name that carried weight in boardrooms across continents. The eldest son stood beside him, groomed carefully to inherit the empire, sharp-eyed and immaculate in every sense of the word. And the youngest, Y/n, had slipped effortlessly into the world their late mother once belonged to, signed under a prestigious modeling agency, her face familiar on campaigns for Chanel, Vivienne Westwood, Chrome Hearts, just to name a few.
On paper, it was a life others only dreamed of.
They were fortunate. Obscenely so. Their paths already drawn in clean, confident lines, as if doubt had never been invited into the household. There were no wrong turns to take, no room for hesitation. The Min family was perfect.
Or at least, that was what Y/n had always believed.
The first crack appeared quietly—almost politely—when her older brother began to drift. Not away from her alone, but from the idea of family itself. Y/n wondered if they could even still call themselves one. Their mother was gone, after all, and the house had never quite learned how to breathe without her.
Yoongi had always been his mother's son.
That was what Y/n told herself when his behavior changed. He had always been disciplined, relentless, incapable of imperfection. Long nights at the office were nothing new. Responsibility clung to him like a second skin. But lately, the excuse of work felt stretched thin, worn down by repetition. As if he'd been abusing it.
He missed dinners. Movie nights passed without him. Even at business events. When he did appear, he slipped away moments later, a ghost in a tailored suit. He would arrive, nod, offer a fleeting presence, and disappear before anyone could ask him to stay.
It felt as though he had never been there at all.
And Y/n couldn't ignore it anymore.
Curiosity settled into her bones, restless and sharp. She moved carefully, like a cat—quiet steps, ears pricked, senses attuned to every shift in the air. She watched, listened, followed the spaces Yoongi left behind, convinced that understanding would soothe the unease coiling in her chest.
It didn't.
Because the moment she started looking closer, Y/n realized why curiosity had always been warned against. Why curiosity killed the cat.
Some truths weren't meant to be uncovered. But maybe
Y/n got something out of it for herself.
The mansion was quiet. Not the comforting kind of quiet, but the kind that rang in your ears if you listened too closely. The walls remained dark despite the floor-to-ceiling windows that let sunlight spill in freely, long orange streaks melting into the marble floors. Hidden lights glowed faintly in the crevices of the ceiling and beneath the staircase, outlining the architecture like veins under pale skin. A fireplace sat unused, cold stone watching the room like an unblinking eye.
The air was sharp, chilled in a way that had nothing to do with the air conditioner. Sitting bare-skinned against the black leather couch sent a jolt through Y/n, like static electricity snapping against her nerves. The house looked the same as it always had—pristine, expensive, untouched.
Nothing out of the ordinary.
Y/n used to like the peace. After days spent under studio lights where everyone either barked orders or scrambled to obey them, the quiet felt earned. Sacred, even. Home was where she could exhale, where she didn't have to hold a pose or a smile.
But lately, she wasn't sure this place deserved to be called home at all.
There was no sign of her father—no echo of his footsteps, no phone calls conducted in clipped tones behind closed doors. No older brother passing by, no teasing remarks, no annoyed sighs when she invaded his personal space like she used to. And certainly no mother, filling the kitchen with clanging metal and warmth, humming while pretending she wasn't watching over them both.
There was only Y/n. And the housekeepers, who moved through the mansion like careful ghosts.
Y/n let her head fall back against the sofa, a groggy groan slipping past her lips. Her arms spilled lazily at her sides, fingers limp, legs folded awkwardly with her knees angled to one side. She felt boneless, like all the weight of the day had settled into her muscles at once.
"Can I do anything for you, Ms. Y/n?"
Yeongmi paused mid-motion, feather duster hovering as she tilted her head toward the young girl. The vases on the low wooden coffee table gleamed under her careful attention, already spotless yet polished again.
"No, Yeongmi. I'm fine," Y/n replied, voice soft. "But thank you."
Her chest rose and fell in a tired sigh.
Yeongmi nodded gently, almost imperceptibly, before retreating from the living room and disappearing upstairs. The sound of her footsteps faded quickly, swallowed whole by the mansion. Y/n's forearm draped over her forehead as she closed her eyes, lashes resting against her cheeks.
The silence crept in.
What once felt like peace slowly twisted into something else. Loneliness, thick and heavy, settling over her like a blanket she couldn't shake off.
Her agency had given her a six-month break. No photoshoots. No fashion weeks. No runway lights or flashing cameras. Two months ago, she'd blown kisses toward the sky, whispering thank-yous to whoever was listening for granting her a temporary escape.
She hadn't realized the break would come with this.
Endless days stretched out before her, time moving too slowly, hours melting into one another until they felt indistinguishable. The mansion became too big, its rooms echoing with absence rather than luxury.
She had friends—of course she did. But they were models, actors, celebrities. People whose lives existed in airports and hotels, whose schedules were scattered across continents. Plans were always tentative, conversations always cut short.
Jin had been the exception.
Jin—her stylist, her savior, her best friend. They'd met two years into her career, and he'd known instantly how to dress her. What colors loved her skin. What silhouettes made her shine. He understood her without explanation, turning fabric into confidence. He was the reason Y/n’s Oreo hair had become a trend, the reason editors still whispered her name with admiration.
He was constant.
Until he wasn't.
Not so ironically, Jin had been granted a break too and unlike Y/n, he seized it. Milan, he'd said, eyes bright. "Ideation and inspiration," he'd joked, as if that explained everything.
So now, Y/n was alone. Truly, undeniably alone.
And in the echoing stillness of the Min mansion, she couldn't help but wonder how long she could endure the quiet before it started answering back.
Before Y/n could sink any deeper into her dramatic spiral, a sound cut through the stillness.
An engine—low, feral, unmistakable—rolled up the driveway, its growl echoing against the iron gates like a lion announcing its territory. It was a sound anyone who lived in the Min mansion would recognize instantly.
Her spine straightened.
Y/n pushed herself upright on the still-cold sofa, the leather clinging to her skin for half a second too long. Her feet carried her toward the main door, steps light but purposeful. The walk felt unnecessarily long, the mansion stretching itself between her and the entrance as if it enjoyed the anticipation. Too much space. Too many corridors for a family already spread thin.
She rounded the wall of marble pillars just as the front door swung open.
Sunlight poured in behind him, framing his silhouette like a spotlight he hadn't asked for. Jet-black hair caught the glow, neat yet effortless. His dress shirt was unbuttoned at the collar, pristine and sharp without a single crease, as though stress dared not wrinkle him. Black shades rested casually on the bridge of his nose, one hand tucked into his pocket like he owned not just the house—but the world outside it.
Intimidating. Familiar.
Y/n's expression softened despite herself.
"Yoongi-ah," she said, voice gentler than she intended. "You're back."
"Hm."
That was it. No glance her way. No pause. He passed her like a breeze—light, fast, impossible to hold onto—patting the crown of her head in a gesture so brief it barely registered as touch. It felt less like affection and more like an afterthought, like the brush of air when a door shuts too quickly.
Something in her chest tightened.
Dissatisfied, irritated, her patience snapping back into place, Y/n spun on her heel. "Uh—hello to you too."
Her brows knit together as her eyes followed his retreating figure toward the living room. A scoff slipped out before she could stop it, sharp and bitter.
She followed him loudly, heels tapping with intention.
"Yes, my afternoon was splendid," she announced. "Hung out with myself. The silence. The solitude. A real party." Her pitch climbed higher with every word, sarcasm dripping thick. "How about you?"
Yoongi rubbed at his eye with his thumb, a soft chuckle escaping him as if she amused rather than annoyed him. He stopped at the foot of the staircase and finally turned around.
Grumpy suited her, he decided.
Jaw clenched. Nose twitching. Eyes wide and dark, round like glossy boba pearls ready to spill over. A ghost of a smile tugged at the corner of his lips—barely there, but real.
"That's great," he said evenly. "Just keep doing that for another four months."
He jerked his chin toward the hallway and immediately took the stairs two at a time.
"Oh, no," Y/n scoffed. "Hey— I'm talking to you!"
Her voice sharpened as she chased after him, irritation crackling through her veins. Her footsteps thundered behind him, deliberate, defiant. He didn't slow. Didn't look back.
She followed him straight into his room.
"Hey!" she snapped. "I said I'm talking to you!"
"Yeah," Yoongi replied calmly, already moving past her, "and I answered. Didn't I?"
He drifted through the room like a man untouched by urgency, straight toward his walk-in wardrobe. Hangers slid aside. Fabrics whispered. He pulled out a white shirt, black ripped jeans, and a leather jacket—all unmistakably expensive. Even his casual clothes carried price tags that could pay rent for months.
Celine. Prada. Always.
To Y/n, he moved like lightning—there, then not.
"Couldn't you tell I was being sarcastic?" she shot back.
"Of course," he said easily. "I know you too well, sis. Just matching your energy."
"UGH!"
Y/n grabbed at her hair near the roots, frustration spilling over. Yoongi laughed—short, quiet, clearly entertained—before reaching for the grey towel hanging beside the wardrobe.
That's when she noticed. Her posture stiffened.
"Now where the fuck are you going?" She crossed her arms over her chest, chin lifting as she stared him down, suddenly all bite and bravado.
"Out."
"No. You just came back." The word left her mouth firm, unyielding. "It's Friday. It's movie night. You're not going out."
Her tone—sharp, commanding—hit something deep in Yoongi's chest. Too familiar. Too much like her. Their mother. His steps slowed. Then stopped.
Yoongi turned slowly, clothes draped over one arm, eyes dropping to study Y/n's expression. The resemblance struck him harder than he expected. The same stubborn set of her mouth. The same fire behind her eyes. It twisted something painful in his chest.
He'd always been protective of her—instinctively, irrationally so. He loved the women in his family too fiercely, as if loving them enough could make up for what he'd failed to do before.
In a gentle, brotherly gesture, he cupped her cheek, thumb brushing hair away where it clung to her skin.
"I'm sorry," he said quietly. "But I have work."
"You always say that," Y/n shot back, gaze unwavering, sharp as claws beneath long lashes.
Yoongi exhaled a soft chuckle. "I know."
She didn't budge.
"And you're not doing shit about it."
He adjusted his grip on her cheek, thumb smoothing stray strands with care that betrayed him. "I can't. I'm swamped. Like... crazy."
"You're swamped and Dad's not?" she challenged. "It's not adding up."
"I'm the future CEO, sis."
"Bullshit." Her brows arched, lines forming on her forehead. "That makes even less sense."
Yoongi ducked his head, laughing quietly, shaking it like she was trouble he'd chosen to keep anyway. "You're such a smartmouth." He pushed her forehead lightly with a single finger, catching her off guard. She hissed, clicking her tongue in annoyance. Then he turned away.
"I'll be back late," he said. "Tell Dad not to wait." He paused again, glancing over his shoulder. "You too."
And with that, he disappeared into the bathroom, the sound of running water sealing the conversation shut. Y/n stood there, arms still crossed, staring at the closed door.
"Fucking asshole," she muttered.
🏎️. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ .
Y/n had always thought the dining table was a ridiculous waste of money.
It stretched far longer than necessary—an elegant slab of polished wood capable of seating twelve, maybe more. It looked like it belonged to a banquet hall, meant for loud conversations and overlapping laughter. Yet most nights, only three chairs were ever pulled out.
Tonight, only two.
Her father sat at one end, her next to him. The space between them felt exaggerated but not, the empty seats like silent witnesses to everything unsaid. Her chopsticks hovered longer than usual before finally delivering food to her mouth, as if even they hesitated to break the stillness.
The silence pressed in.
Steel tapped lightly against glass. Porcelain kissed wood. Small, ordinary sounds grew uncomfortably loud in the absence of conversation. Her father noticed immediately.
"What's with the pout?" he asked gently, eyes—so much like hers—studying her over his glasses. "You like eel, don't you?"
"Yeah. Love it." Her brows lifted as she answered, not bothering to look at him. The chopsticks found her lips again. Dark, silky strands of her hair slid forward, framing her face as she leaned in for another bite of rice and unagi.
She ate mechanically, barely tasting her favorite dish.
Moments later, soft pats echoed from the living room—footsteps approaching, familiar and unmistakable. Her father turned, face brightening.
"Yoongi," he called warmly. "Come eat. Yeongmi prepared you and your sister's favorite—unagi and rice." His eyes crinkled as he smiled, voice affectionate. "Dig in before it gets cold."
Yoongi paused at the threshold, drawing in a sharp breath. Regret flickered briefly across his features before he masked it. He stepped behind the chair beside Y/n—the one he always sat in. His usual place. He gave the cushioned seat a firm pat, like a silent apology, before speaking.
"I'm actually heading out," he said. "I've got a dinner meeting about the East Mall investment."
Their father frowned, brows knitting together. "I thought that was settled last week. It shows as completed on the system."
"It is, but..." Yoongi hesitated, choosing his words carefully. "There are a few final confirmations I need to attend to. Just in person."
It wasn't entirely convincing. But then again—when had Yoongi ever lied?
He had always been reliable. Responsible. The kind of son any father would trust without question. A role model. An anchor.
After a moment, their father sighed.
"Alright."
Yoongi offered a faint smile, barely there. A single nod. Then his gaze dropped to his sister, quiet now, pushing her eel around the plate like she was dissecting it.
He reached out, palm sliding gently down the back of her head.
"I'll be back," he murmured.
Y/n clicked her tongue and swatted his hand away. "Whatever."
Yoongi chuckled softly, unfazed, before turning and leaving. His footsteps faded, swallowed by the house once more.
Their father stared at the untouched plate beside Y/n—the steam slowly thinning, the food cooling in Yoongi's absence. After a moment, he waved Yeongmi over and told her to eat it instead, since she hadn't started her own dinner.
Then his attention returned to Y/n.
"I have good news, angel."
She lifted her eyes.
"I cleared my schedule for the next two months," he said, smiling widely. "That means I get to spend more time with my kids."
It was the smile she recognized instantly. The same wide, gummy grin both she and Yoongi had inherited.
A faint smile tugged at her lips—but it didn't last.
"You mean kid," she said quietly.
His brows rose in confusion. "What?"
"You can only spend more time with one kid," she replied, gaze steady now. "Yoongi's always busy. With what? Work." She emphasized the word work, irritation flashing in her eyes.
Her chopsticks stabbed into the eel a little harder than necessary. The thought made her chest tighten—like the food might feel the same frustration she did, even though it was already dead.
Her father leaned back, sighing.
"I don't know what your brother's up to half the time," he admitted. "Truth is, I barely see him at the office. He moves like a ghost—gets everything done without ever being seen."
Y/n swallowed.
A ghost. She thought.
The word fit too well.
"He's there," she murmured. "But not really."
Her father nodded slowly, concern softening his expression. "It's not alright," he said gently. "I'll try to clear his schedule. He needs to be more present. With us." Hope filled his eyes—sincere, unguarded.
Y/n met his gaze and softened. "Thanks, Dad."
He nodded, then leaned in, one hand cradling the back of her head as he pressed a kiss to her forehead. Warm. Familiar. Safe.
She leaned into it instinctively.
When he pulled back, he studied her face for a moment longer than usual. "You look just like your mother," he said softly.
Her lashes fluttered.
"Just with my eyes," he added, smiling, "and my smile."
She giggled quietly, something loosening in her chest.
"Come," he said, standing. "Finish your food. We'll continue movie night."
Y/n nodded—but as she lifted her chopsticks again, her eyes drifted toward the empty chair beside her. And for reasons she couldn't yet explain, the absence felt louder than ever.
🏎️. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ .
The sheets didn't do their job.
Y/n lay wrapped in a black, silky duvet meant to trap warmth, but it only clung to her like a second skin, useless against the chill seeping into her bones. The cold wasn't physical—not really. It settled deeper, in the hollow spaces of her chest. The kind that didn't respond to blankets.
The silence was worse.
It pressed against her ears until it rang, sharp and high, like the echo after a gunshot. She rubbed them repeatedly, desperate to drown it out, but it only left them burning red, sensitive, useless. Frustration surged. Both fists slammed into the mattress beside her hips as an irritated groan ripped free and bounced off the ceiling. She exhaled hard, cheeks puffing out, making her look ridiculous—like a chipmunk on the verge of tears. Hopeless. Y/n wasn't ashamed to admit it. She missed her brother.
They had been inseparable since the day she was born. Her parents used to tell the story like a family legend—how Yoongi had begged for a baby sister, tugging at their sleeves with stubborn determination, promising he'd take care of her. And somehow, as if the universe had listened, Y/n arrived. Healthy. Loved. Claimed fiercely by her older brother. Yoongi had been there for everything. First scraped knee. First nightmare. First heartbreak. Now? Now she felt like an afterthought.
So much for wanting a baby sister.
She cursed under her breath, rolling her eyes into the darkness. Then, the unmistakable roar of an engine tore through the quiet. Low. Powerful. Familiar. Her heart jumped.
A sports car. One of Yoongi's. The sound thundered from the driveway, vibrating through the mansion's bones. No one else owned cars like that. Ridiculously expensive, impractical, excessive. He had several—each louder than the last.
Everyone questioned it.
Why would a future CEO need sports cars? He wasn't a racer. He wasn't reckless. He should've been chauffeured in something sleek and respectable—black limousines, tinted windows, quiet luxury. But no. He chose machines that screamed. Whatever the reason, Y/n knew exactly who it was.
She kicked free from the cold duvet and padded out into the hallway, bare feet silent against marble. The mansion was dim, shadows pooling in corners like secrets. She descended the wide staircase, stopping halfway when she spotted him below.
Yoongi walked in with his head down, shoulders rolling with each step, jacket slung loosely over his arm. He looked tired. Worn in a way no suit could hide.
"You're back," she said.
He lifted his head, finally registering her presence. "And you're awake." His voice was flat. "I told you not to wait up."
She scoffed, eyes rolling. "Don't flatter yourself."
He raised a brow. "Then why are you awake?"
"Oh, I don't know," she snapped, leaning forward over the railing, fingers curling tightly around it, knuckles whitening. "Maybe because a sister is fucking worried about her brother who's out at—" she glanced at the clock behind him, "—three in the fucking morning. And apparently for work. Work?" Her voice echoed sharply through the open space.
Yoongi laughed, short and incredulous. "So you were waiting for me."
"Oh, shut up." She waved him off, expression sour "Whether I was waiting or not doesn't change the fact that you weren't working."
He scoffed, irritation flashing. "And how would you know that?"
"I called Hyunseo," she said simply.
That did it. Yoongi froze.
"Hyunseo said the East Mall project was wrapped up last week," she continued, head tilting slowly, eyes wide and unblinking—those same boba eyes he knew too well. "No follow-ups. No confirmations." The air shifted.
"You called my PA?" His voice dropped. Dangerous. "You meddled in my work stuff?"
"I didn't meddle," she shot back. "I asked a question."
His eyes closed slowly, chest rising and falling as he fought for control.
"So what were you really doing?" she pressed, her voice quieter now—but sharper. "Tonight. And the nights before. The past few months."
Her gaze darkened, hooded, lips parting slightly. She looked like their mother. It unsettled him.
"That's none of your goddamn business," he snapped.
"Oh?" Her voice rose. "Funny how my life is always your business."
"Because you're my sister!"
"And you're my brother!" she shouted back.
The words cracked—raw and broken. She wasn't someone who screamed. Sarcasm, sure. Attitude, always. But this? This hurt.
Her voice trembled, but she didn't stop.
"Is it wrong," she demanded, "to care about my own brother?" Silence swallowed them whole.
"Y/n..." he started.
"Tell me the truth," she interrupted, steadying herself, forcing the words out slowly. "Where. Were you."
Yoongi jabbed his tongue against his cheek, eyes darting away, then back.
"At a restaurant," he said. "A meeting."
A lie.
She blinked once. Twice. He couldn't read her expression—anger, disappointment, exhaustion, all tangled together like wires sparking in her eyes.
"I swear to god, Min Yoongi," she said quietly, dangerously calm, "I'll find out what you're hiding." No sarcasm. No emotion. Just a promise. She turned and stormed up the stairs, hair whipping behind her like a blade, bare back prickling where her tank top didn't cover. Yoongi watched her go, chest heavy. He knew she wouldn't be capable of figuring him out. Nobody was.
A tired sigh fell from his lips.
What am I gonna do with you?
And for the first time that night, he didn't sound so sure he had the answer.
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Y/n let the days pass.
They slipped by quietly, one bleeding into the next, softer now that her father was home more often. The mansion felt less cavernous with his presence—less like a museum and more like a place meant to be lived in. He still visited the office, of course. Still locked himself away some evenings with stacks of files and hushed phone calls. But he tried. He lingered longer at breakfast. Sat beside her during movie nights. Asked her questions and actually waited for the answers.
Y/n noticed. And she appreciated it. What she didn't let slip through her fingers was Yoongi.
On the surface, she did exactly what he expected—nothing. No confrontations. No snooping. No accusations. If Yoongi thought she had dropped it, that was his first mistake.
Y/n might have been known for speaking before thinking, for filling rooms with chatter and laughter, but she was observant in a way people often underestimated. Quietly so. Her eyes followed Yoongi like a hawk's—tracking patterns, timing, inconsistencies.
She noticed when things shifted in his room. A jacket gone. A drawer left slightly ajar. The faint scent of gasoline and smoke clinging to his clothes when he returned late at night. She noticed when he came back.
And when he didn't.
One afternoon, Y/n headed out with her father and Yeongmi for groceries. The garage buzzed faintly with activity—water dripping, cloths swiping metal. Eric, their other housekeeper, was there polishing one of the many cars the Min family owned. He'd been with them since New Zealand, back when both kids were still small, accents thicker, laughter louder.
English came easier to Y/n than it ever had for Yoongi. She'd grown into it, wielded it effortlessly—sharp, playful, charming. It made flirting dangerously easy. Made people lean closer.
Y/n and Yeongmi followed her father as he approached Eric.
"Did you manage to wash all of them?" Mr. Min asked kindly.
He always did—soft voice, gentle posture. A man who never fit the ruthless CEO stereotype people expected. To Y/n, he was warmth given human form.
"Yes, sir," Eric replied, then hesitated. "Uh... however, one seems to be missing."
Her father froze. Brows furrowed like he'd just been told gravity stopped working. "Missing?"
Eric gestured toward the neat row of cars. All polished. All gleaming. Every spot filled—except one.
"Mr. Yoongi's car," Eric continued. "It wasn't here when I came down. The Bugatti, sir."
Y/n's stomach sank. Yoongi was home. So why wasn't his car?
Another night. Y/n lay sprawled on the couch, binge-watching a painfully predictable drama. The plot was ridiculous, but the lead actor was pretty enough to keep her invested. Mostly, though, she was awake because sleep refused to claim her. Insomnia clung to her like a curse.
Her chin rested on her fist, cheeks puffed, eyes glazed over. The living room echoed only with dialogue from the TV until footsteps approached—slow, uneven. She pushed herself up slightly, palms sinking into the cushions, and looked back.
Yoongi. But not the Yoongi she knew. Blood streaked from his nose, already drying. Dark bruises bloomed beneath his eyes like storm clouds. His knuckles were scraped raw, skin split and angry.
Y/n stared. She said nothing. No scolding. No sarcasm. No questions. She knew better. He would brush her off. Laugh it away. Lie. And even he wouldn't know what excuse to feed her this time. Dinner meeting gone wrong didn't cover blood and bruises.
Yoongi avoided her gaze and disappeared upstairs.
Y/n leaned back into the couch, heart pounding, silence swallowing her scream.
Then came the next night. Yoongi had his friends over. Hoseok. Jimin.
Men she'd known for years but never closely. College friends who'd gone their separate ways—Yoongi, the future CEO. Hoseok, owns a motor shop, grease-stained hands and easy laughter. Jimin, a stunt coordinator whose body moved like controlled chaos, sought after by filmmakers. All successful. All stable. No reason to hustle.
They gathered on the rooftop, smoke curling into the night air, laughter low and guarded. Their voices dissolved into the cool Seoul breeze.
Y/n's father asked her to call them down for dinner. She obeyed. Her steps were light as she climbed to the top floor. The rooftop door stood slightly ajar, and the voices slipped through the crack like secrets begging to be overheard. She slowed.
"...What are we gonna do about Black Reign?" Jimin's voice—quiet but tense. "He wouldn't hesitate to beat our fucking asses again."
Y/n's breath caught.
"Then let him," Yoongi replied coolly. "I'm not letting that cunt take another one of my babies."
Hoseok laughed, a little too forced. "Yeah... wouldn't wanna lose your Koenigsegg Jesko like you did with your Bugatti."
Lose?
The word echoed in her head like a gunshot. Y/n's fingers curled slowly at her sides.
What did he mean...lose?
The past few nights had been filled with so many clues. The missing car, the bruises, the conversation at the rooftop.
A car, a fight, and...losing?
"What the fuck are you up to, Yoongi..." Y/n muttered under her breath.
The words barely survived the air before dissolving into the quiet hum of the house.
Sundays were always like this—too quiet, like the walls were holding their breath. Yeongmi and Eric had the day off, which meant the responsibility fell onto her. Laundry, folding, pretending everything was normal.
She climbed the stairs slowly, the basket of freshly dried clothes pressed against her waist, the warmth of them seeping into her shirt. Cotton, detergent, heat. Domestic shit. The kind of life they were supposed to have.
But her mind wouldn't shut up.
The late nights. The excuses. The way Yoongi's eyes never really met hers anymore—always sliding past her like she was furniture. "Jimin wanted to show us the movie set," he'd said earlier, voice smooth, rehearsed.
Bullshit.
Her feet stopped in front of the nearest room to the staircase. Of course. Yoongi's.
She stared at the grey wooden door like it might talk back. Like it might tell her to turn around and mind her fucking business. Instead, she nudged it open with the toe of her sock.
The room greeted her with his scent. His cologne lingered heavy in the air—warm, smoky, expensive. It clung to the space like a ghost that refused to leave, like he'd just been there seconds ago instead of gone for hours. The windows were shut, curtains half-drawn, the room slightly suffocating. Nine p.m. and he still wasn't home.
Figures.
Y/n dropped the basket onto his bed with a dull thud, the mattress dipping under the weight. A sharp click of her tongue echoed as irritation crawled up her spine. She dragged a hand through her hair, fingers combing roughly as if she could pull the thoughts out with it. That's when her eyes drifted. Nightstand. Something was there. Her fingers froze mid-motion.
A note. Just sitting there. Careless. Like he'd forgotten it—or worse, like he didn't think anyone would dare touch his shit. Her heart started acting stupid, beating louder, faster. She let her hair fall loose as she reached out, picking up the folded piece of paper. It felt heavier than it should've been, like it carried more than ink. She unfolded it.
10:45 PM
Pier 07
Warehouse District
— Black Reign
Her stomach dropped. Not metaphorically. Physically. Like gravity suddenly decided to double down on her organs.
"What the fuck..." she whispered.
Pier 07? Warehouse District?
He wasn't at the company. No shit. He wasn't stuck in meetings or entertaining clients with overpriced whiskey and fake smiles. All those nights—every time he came home past midnight, smelling like smoke and metal and something she couldn't place—he was meeting someone. In secret. Consistently. Her eyes burned as they traced the words again, then fell to the signature.
Black Reign.
Her brows pulled together sharply. "Who the fuck calls themselves that?"
The name felt wrong. Heavy. It sat in her chest like a bad premonition.
A laugh bubbled out of her, breathless and strained. "Jesus Christ... don't tell me you're doing some gang shit now."
It sounded stupid the second she thought it—but not impossible. Yoongi came home bruised. Cuts he brushed off. Bandages he changed quietly. A split lip once. He said it was stress. Long days. Accidents.
Yeah fucking right.
Black Reign didn't sound like a business partner. It sounded like trouble dressed in black and blood.
Her grip tightened around the paper. And just like that, the decision was made. Not thought through. Not smart. Just instinct—raw and reckless and very her.
She checked the time.
10:10 PM.
Y/n moved fast. She grabbed an hoodie from her wardrobe—Chrome Hearts, oversized, worn soft at the cuffs. Threw it on like armor. Low-rise black shorts, boots heavy enough to hit the gas hard. She caught her reflection in the mirror for half a second—eyes sharp, jaw set, lips pressed thin.
Her mother would've scolded her. Her brother would've lost his shit. She didn't care. She snatched Yoongi's Ferrari keys off the hook downstairs. The metal was cold in her palm, familiar. The note was shoved into her pocket like evidence.
The engine roared to life the moment she turned the key, loud and angry, slicing through the quiet neighborhood. The car peeled out of the driveway, tires kissing the asphalt like a promise.
Streetlights blurred past her as she drove, the city stretching awake around her. Neon signs. Empty intersections. The kind of night where bad things happened quietly.
Pier 07. Warehouse District.
Her pulse synced with the engine, adrenaline flooding her veins. Whatever Yoongi was hiding, she was done being left in the dark.
And if curiosity really did kill the cat—Then she was already halfway to the grave.
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The warehouse district was flooded with crowds, neon lights, smoke, and cars. Lots and lots of cars. Y/n drove slightly slower, admiring or more likely studying the atmosphere.
An open garage clouded with smoke and colourful yet dark lights. People dancing, grinding on one another. Some were drunk on their drinks, some were drunk due to the loud ass music that made the whole ground vibrate, possibly the reason for the next earthquake. But what stood out were the number of cars. Fords, Ferraris, Porches, the list could go on and on.
"What in the world?" Y/n frowned.
She knew once she saw the place that she wasn't going to find her brother in the sea of drunkies. She parked the car at the side where there were barely anyone. Just parked cars.
Y/n already had her hood over her dark hair that fell straight in front of her shoulders. Her boots stomped onto the ground. It used to be the loudest thing in the room but in this environment, it was the last thing anyone was going to hear. Her arms swung by her sides as she started diving into the swarm of people.
Next thing she noticed, bandanas. Everyone had one on themselves. On their head, in their hair, on their wrists, on their clothes. Y/n found four colours. Red, White, Blue, Black. Was this some kind of group, gang thing? Then, people making out. And no not just lips to lips but fucking sucking off alcohol from people's boobs. Y/n squeezed her nose and brows at the unsightly scene.
"Fucktards,"
Y/n quickly ignored whatever that was going in around her as her mind went back to searching for her brother.
The place felt wrong the moment Y/N stepped into it.
The air was thick—oil, smoke, sweat, something electric that buzzed under her skin like a warning she didn't ask for. Engines growled in the distance, revving like impatient animals, headlights cutting through the dark in sharp white slashes. People laughed too loud, moved too close, like they belonged to the chaos.
She didn't.
She smoothed her hoodie down, straightened her spine, and did what she always did when she was out of place—look composed. Untouchable. Like she had every right to be there.
Y/n's eyes then caught a car in the midst of the chaos. It wasn't parked where the other cars were. It had its boot opened along with three men sitting and drinking on the edge of it. Y/n didn't have an answer as to why she decided to ask them. She approached with ease—chin up and spine upright.
"Hi," she said, voice calm, polite. "Don't mean to intrude your little drink and get drunk time but—have you seen Min Yoongi around?"
All three men snapped their heads towards her. Suddenly all three stopped laughing. Their drinks in their hands as they paused like statues.
One looked really tall, blonde and intimidating. His eyes were hooded and he had a slice on one of his brows. The other had caramel coloured hair. He looked extremely handsome with his pink lips and alluring almond shaped eyes. He looked a little buff. Then, the one in the middle.
Tall. Lean. Still. He stood apart from the guys next to him. Combat boots planted wide, dressed in black from head to toe—jacket on one side, jeans, gloves shoved into his back pocket. His arms were bare. A tattoo sleeve wrapped around one arm, ink crawling up his skin like it had grown there instead of being put there—dark, sharp, alive. Silver glinted at his ears, small hoops stacked along the cartilage, and a lip piercing caught the light when he turned his head. His hair was jet black, strands falling perfectly over his forehead, like he didn't even try and still got it right.
Dangerous, she thought distantly. Annoyingly attractive.
None of them answered right away. Instead, they looked at her. Really looked. Not in a leering way. Not obvious. It was worse—slow, deliberate, like they were committing her to memory. The guy's eyes dragged from her face to her posture, the way she held herself like she'd never had to ask permission to exist. Then his lips twitched.
"Yoongi?" He cleared his throat and cocked his chin up. He straightened off the car, the movement unhurried, predatory. Took a step closer.
"Depends," he added, sweetness laced in his tone. "Who's asking?" His hands stuffed into his pockets as he smiled. Something about the question made her shoulders tense. Still, she kept her tone neutral.
She smiled politely. Fake. Social-trained. "Someone who doesn't enjoy standing around inhaling exhaust fumes."
That earned a chuckle. He leaned closer, voice dropping.
"That so?" He tilted his head. "Most people don't come looking for him unless they've got a reason."
There it was. The interrogation. Her patience snapped like a thin wire. She crossed her arms, chin lifting a fraction.
"Do you always ask twenty fucking questions, or is tonight special?"
That got him. Even his friends behind who snorted at Y/n clap back. Fists to their lips as they faced each other.
The guy in front of her lifted his brows, surprise flashing across his face before melting into something far more dangerous—interest. Amusement. Hunger, maybe. He laughed, this time full and unrestrained, sound warm and rough like gravel under tires.
"Wow." He shook his head. "Okay. Didn't expect that."
"Clearly," she shot back. "Now, are you going to answer me, or keep pretending you're a detective?"
The handsome one from behind chuckled, "damn, Kook. She's a tough cookie."
The tall man ignored him. Just remained his gaze on the women. He stepped closer again—too close now. Not touching, but invading her space like he knew exactly what he was doing.
"You always talk like that," he asked quietly, "or only when you're nervous?"
Her eyes flashed.
"I'm not nervous," she said flatly. "I'm irritated. There's a difference."
That did it. Something clicked behind his eyes. Recognition. His gaze sharpened, scanning her face again, slower this time. The angle of her jaw. Her eyes. The familiarity he hadn't placed before.
"...Wait." He leaned back slightly, studying her like a memory resurfacing.
"You're that model."
She stilled.
"What?"
"I've seen your face on half the city." A crooked grin tugged at his mouth. "Min Y/N." Her stomach dropped half an inch.
"And you are?" she asked coolly. He didn't answer right away. Instead, he smiled—wide, unapologetic, like he'd just found something far more interesting than racing.
"Someone who didn't expect you to sound like you could ruin a man's life," he said. Then, softer, amused: "Kinda hot, honestly."
She scoffed. "Get over yourself."
"Working on it," he replied easily. "But uh...—" He squinted his eyes, looking diagonally upwards and tucking in his lips. "—you're not helping." He gazed back, eyes now full.
She rolled her eyes, stepping back. "If you've seen Yoongi, say it. If not, don't waste fucking my time." He watched her like he was enjoying every second of her irritation.
"I've seen him," he said finally. Her breath hitched before she could stop it.
"Where?"
Before he could answer—
"Y/N?" The voice cut through the noise. She turned—and froze. Hoseok stood a few steps away, jaw tight, eyes sharp. Not the Hoseok she knew from home. This one looked ready to fight. He moved fast, placing himself between her and the tall man, hand settling firmly on her arm. The man casually watched the two, slightly annoyed at how he budged in.
"What are you doing here?" he asked, low and urgent. "You shouldn't be here."
Her confusion showed. "Hobi—what are you—"
His eyes flicked towards the tattooed man. Still staring. He sexily arched a brow at Hoseok. A warning.
"Relax," the man said. "She just asked a question."
Hoseok shot him a glare sharp enough to draw blood. "Don't talk to her."
Then, to Y/N, quieter. "Come with me." She let him pull her away, heart racing, mind spinning. She looked back once. The tattooed man was still there, arms crossed, head tilted, watching her like she'd just walked out of his favorite scene.
Their eyes met. His smirk deepened. Like this wasn't the end. Like it was just the beginning.
"Y/n, do me a favour and stay away from Black Reign. They're...unpredictable." Hoseok whispered sternly into Y/n's with his hand on the small of her back.
"Hobi, do me a favour and fucking tell me where my brother is!" Y/n sarcastically copied Hoseok's tone. He knew she was pissed.
He stopped to slowly close his eyes, Y/n in front of him and watching with a raised brow.
"Y/n...I know you just—you just want to find your brother but could you please look around and see!" Hoseok stretched his arm, pointing at the whole lot of people and cars. "It's not a fucking playground. You don’t just go up to punks and make friendship bracelets."
Y/n scoffed. "Yeah—I see. I also see that my brother is somewhere in this 'not a fucking playground'—and I need to find him now!" She lost her cool as she leaned her face forward like a lion ready to pounce. Hoseok held her shoulders to save himself.
He nodded repeatedly. "Okay, okay—I get it." He groaned followed by Y/n rolling her eyes. "I'll bring you to him, okay? Just..." He sighs. "—if anything happens, follow me and don't ask questions. Got it?" He arched his brows.
Y/n despised being treated like a child. She puffed her cheeks, letting out some air through her slightly parted lips.
"Y/n..."
"Yeah—yeah. I got it." She groaned.
Hoseok gave her a lazy glance before lightly pushing her forward, making sure that she walked in front of him where he could see her. Cause if she were to get into some mischief, Yoongi was going to introduce him to his fist.
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"Min Y/n," he drawled, voice lazy but eyes sharp, cutting through the salty night air like a blade dragged slow. "International model. Brand ambassador. All those glossy, overpriced names you see on billboards." He paused, lips curling into something ugly and amused.
"And"—his tongue clicked—"that fucktard Yoongi's sister."
A low whistle slid out from the back of the truck.
"Yo, you're bullshitting," Taehyung said, leaning forward, elbows on his knees. His brows shot up. "You're fucking with us, right, Kook?"
Jungkook laughed—short, breathy—shoving his hands deeper into his jacket pockets. "Nuh uh."
The third man hummed slowly, tongue pressing to the inside of his cheek as his gaze flicked toward the warehouses. "Damn," he muttered. "That's... unexpected." His lips tugged upward. "What's little Miss Vogue doing here anyway? Fashion Week take a wrong turn?" He smirked. "Did they send her on a field trip to hell?"
"No fucking clue, Joon" Jungkook replied. "She just... showed up." He scoffed, shaking his head. "Didn't look like she knew where the hell she was either."
His eyes drifted again—unconsciously—to the maze of steel containers where Hoseok had dragged Y/n away, laughter faint now, swallowed by distance and metal.
Namjoon tilted his head, studying Jungkook more than the scene. "She looked lost."
"Yeah," Jungkook muttered. "Like a puppy." He corrected himself immediately, jaw tightening. "No—more like a kitten. One with claws she doesn't know how to fucking use yet."
A beat passed.
"I tried to help her, alright?" he added, defensive without meaning to be. "But that little ray of psycho sunshine"—he jerked his chin toward the containers—"straight-up kidnapped her."
Taehyung barked out a laugh, lifting a glass filled with something clear and aggressive. "Classic Hobi." He shoved it toward Jungkook. "Drink. You look tense as shit."
Jungkook dropped onto the tailgate between them, metal biting cold through his jeans. He took the glass and knocked it back. The tequila burned like a warning shot—sharp, unforgiving, leaving fire in its wake.
"So," Taehyung drawled, leaning back, boots grinding against gravel. "Yoongi's sister." He grinned. "That explains the face."
"What face?" Namjoon asked.
"The I'm cute but I'll stab you if you say it face," Taehyung replied easily.
Jungkook snorted despite himself. "Yeah. That one." He tipped the glass again, slower this time.
He hadn't meant to stare earlier. It wasn't intentional—it just happened. She'd stood there beneath the warehouse floodlights like she'd stepped into the wrong fucking movie. Hair whipping around her face, bare legs against the night cold, hoodie maybe thick enough for a place like this. Eyes sharp but overwhelmed—like she was holding herself together with sheer will. Too innocent for this place. Too soft. Too pretty. Like silk dragged through oil. She didn't belong. Which was exactly why she'd caught his attention.
"Think Yoongi's gonna shit his pants?" Jungkook said suddenly.
Namjoon snapped his head toward him. "What?"
"Yoongi," Jungkook repeated. "I don't think he knows his own sister's here." He laughed under his breath, shaking his head. "Man's probably losing sleep over some deal while his baby sister's wandering around Pier fucking Seven."
Taehyung let out a low chuckle. "That's insane."
"That's stupid," Namjoon corrected flatly. "This isn't a playground. This is our territory. Fragile girls don't just roam around here."
Jungkook's jaw clenched. Yeah. He knew. He stared into the empty glass like it might give him answers. "If he knew," he said slowly, voice dropping, "he'd already be losing his goddamn mind."
Namjoon exhaled, rubbing his hands together as his eyes swept the shadows. "That girl has no idea where she walked into."
"She shouldn't be here," Jungkook muttered.
Taehyung smirked sideways at him. "Then show her."
Jungkook shot him a look. "The fuck does that mean?"
Taehyung shrugged. "You know. Put her in her place in the goddamn studio posing for magazines before she starts terrorising this place and we get busted."
Jungkook's lips twitched. "Think Yoongi would flip the fuck out?"
"Relax," Taehyung said lightly. "You'll beat his ass."
Namjoon nodded once, eyes still scanning the dark. "Still," he said, voice measured, "this night just got a whole lot more interesting."
Jungkook leaned back, elbows braced behind him, gaze fixed on the stretch of concrete where Y/n had disappeared.
Interesting wasn't the word. Dangerous fit better. And for some fucked-up reason he couldn't shake, his mind kept replaying the way she'd looked at him earlier—not scared, not cocky. Just determined. Like someone who'd already decided the truth was worth bleeding for.
Meanwhile, on the opposite end of the chaos—beneath a flickering banner spray-painted SILVER SERPENTS—Hoseok continued dragging Y/n through the crowd like a liability he never asked for.
"You better be dragging me to my brother," Y/n snapped, boots skidding slightly on oil-stained concrete.
"Oh, I am," Hoseok replied without looking back. "Though, to be frank, I shouldn't be dragging you anywhere. You shouldn't even be here in the first place." He let out a long, exhausted sigh—the kind a father lets out after a call from kindergarten saying his kid bit someone.
"So shouldn't my brother," Y/n shot back, bratty emphasis heavy on every word.
The crowd parted almost instinctively as they passed—whispers rippling, eyes tracking Hoseok. He was known here. Recognised. Which only made Y/n's stomach tighten.
Hoseok finally stopped.
Y/n's smaller frame unintentionally tucked itself behind his broader back, her body reacting before her pride could catch up.
"Hyung! You're late!" Jimin's familiar voice rang out, bright and boyish, followed by a soft laugh that didn't quite fit the grit of the place.
Hoseok grimaced, rubbing the back of his neck. "Hyung... you're not gonna like this."
Yoongi lifted his chin slowly, one hand occupied with a glass of amber liquid catching the light. His eyes flicked from Hoseok to the space beside him.
Then Hoseok stepped aside. Yoongi froze. For a split second, the world seemed to stall—music thudding somewhere far away, engines revving in the distance, voices melting into static. His face drained of color, eyes blown wide.
"What—" He jerked back instinctively, glanced once to the side like he needed to ground himself, then lunged forward.
"Y/n—what the fuck are you doing here?"
His grip snapped around her wrists like restraints, firm and unyielding as he pulled her away from the crowd as if hiding her. His voice stayed low, but the anger threaded through it was sharp enough to cut.
Y/n tilted her head up, lashes heavy as she met his stare. "I could ask you the same." Her gaze flicked past him, scanning the crowd, lips pursing. "This doesn't really scream Jimin's filming location." A pause. "Too much real action for a stunt set."
Yoongi swore under his breath and grabbed her shoulder, forcing her to look back at him. "I'm not kidding, Y/n," he hissed. "You have no idea what you're walking into." Then he turned sharply toward Hoseok, grip never leaving her. "Where did you find her?"
Hoseok stiffened, arms crossing like a shield. He cleared his throat. "With Black Reign..."
Yoongi's brows clashed in frustration. "What?"
"At Black Reign's area," Hoseok continued, quieter now. "With Namjoon. Taehyung. And Jungkook."
Yoongi stared at him like he'd just confessed to murder "You were with them?" Yoongi's voice cracked—not loud, but dangerous.
"I don't even know them!" Y/n protested, brows knitting. "I was looking for you."
"You think this is funny?" Yoongi snapped. "You think wandering into a fucking underground race territory is some cute adventure?" Veins surfaced at his temples. "They're not harmless, Y/n. They're reckless. Violent. And the last thing I want is one of them even looking at you wrong—How did you even get here?" he demanded.
She shrugged. "Found the address in your room. Took your Ferrari."
Silence. Yoongi leaned back, dragging a hand down his face before gripping his temples. "Jesus fucking Christ."
"Do you have any idea how dangerous this shit is?" he exploded, pacing away from her like he needed distance before he said something he'd regret. "You don't just show up here like some tourist—"He cut his own sentence.
"Bro," Jimin cut in gently. "You're up in seven minutes."
Yoongi inhaled sharply, chest rising. He turned back to Y/n, eyes dark with conflict, then scanned the area until his gaze locked onto someone.
"Marquise," he called.
Y/n followed his line of sight. The girl stepped forward—black and brown curls spilling over bare shoulders, sharp doe-cat eyes catching the light. She leaned casually beside Jimin, forearm draped over his shoulder like she owned the place.
"Take care of my sister," Yoongi said firmly. "Please."
Marquise smiled—warm, effortless. "Yeah. I got her."
Yoongi crouched slightly, lowering his voice to Y/n. "You stay with her. If anyone fucking goddamn touches you—" His jaw clenched. "—I won't be responsible for what happens next."
Y/n rolled her eyes, groaning. "God, you're so dramatic."
Marquise laughed softly and took Y/n's hand, her grip gentle but assured. "Come on, pretty girl. You'll be safe with me." As the girls walked away toward Marquise's car, Yoongi stood there watching, chest tight, jaw locked.
Jimin leaned closer. "You really think Marq's a good influence?"
Yoongi didn't hesitate.
"Nope."
His eyes flicked once—briefly, involuntarily—toward the darkness where Black Reign's crew lurked. And for the first time that night, unease settled deep in his bones.
Marquise sat comfortably in the driver's seat, one arm slung over the wheel, posture loose like she belonged exactly where she was. Y/n sat beside her, nerves still buzzing beneath her skin. Inside the car, the chaos dulled—bass muffled, engines reduced to distant growls—but outside the windows, bodies still moved like waves, grinding and jumping under flickering lights.
"So," Marquise drawled, turning slightly in her seat. "You're the famous model sister."
Y/n smiled politely, chin dipping. "Guess so."
Marquise's brows lifted, amusement lighting her eyes. "Damn. Yoongi didn't mention you'd look like that."
Y/n let out a small laugh. "Like what?"
Marquise shrugged, grin widening. "Like zero trouble with a face card and all the audacity to match."
Y/n laughed properly this time, shoulders relaxing. "I'll take that."
"Good. Because," Marquise continued, starting the engine just enough to hum, "you're my problem now."
Y/n chuckled awkwardly. "Wow. Nice to meet you too."
Marquise laughed and extended her hand over the console. "Marquise. Your brother's right-hand girl and—apparently—the person he dumps his responsibilities on when he fucks up."
Y/n shook her hand. "Y/n."
"Oh, I know." Marquise's gaze lingered, not shy, not subtle. "Cars are my first love, but fashion's my side bitch. I've seen you. Runways. Campaigns. You clean up dangerously well."
Y/n smirked. "Flatterer."
"I don't waste compliments." Marquise winked. "I like you already."
She leaned back, tapping the steering wheel with her fingers. "Since you're new, here's the crash course. Four gangs. Ours is red." She lifted her wrist, bandana wrapped tight—matching dozens scattered around the lot. "Silver Serpents. We race. Loser pays."
"Pays how?" Y/n asked.
Marquise tilted her head. "Money. Cars. Favors. Pride." A shrug. "Whatever hurts most."
So the Bugatti was lost in a...race?
Marquise pointed past the windshield. "What you really watch out for is the crew Hobi mentioned." Her voice dipped. "Black Reign."
Y/n frowned. "They're just another racing gang."
Marquise laughed under her breath. "That's cute."
She leaned forward, resting her forearms on the wheel. "They don't race for clout. Or fun. They race to claim shit."
"Claim?" Y/n echoed.
"That asphalt? The route? The night?" Marquise nodded toward the shadows where men sprayed champagne like war trophies. "They want everyone to know it's theirs."
"They don't look that scary," Y/n scoffed.
Marquise chuckled. "You're a menace." She shot her a look. "I like that."
Y/n hesitated, then asked, "Who's the one with the piercings?"
Marquise's fingers stilled for half a second.
"You don't need to know him."
"That bad?" Y/n pressed.
"That dangerous," Marquise corrected quietly. She leaned closer, voice dropping. "He's sharp. Calculated. Knows exactly how far to push before shit blows up."
Y/n's lips curved despite herself. "Sounds charming."
Marquise scoffed. "He is." Then, with a dry smile. "That's the problem."
Then the idea invaded her head. Y/n tilted her head. "You attracted?"
Marquise laughed, dropping her head back. "Fuck no—okay, maybe once." She exhaled. "We dated. Briefly. Before all this." A beat. "No romance. Mostly fucking."
Y/n blinked. "Oh."
"Yeah." Marquise smirked. "Welcome to my bad decisions era."
"So," Y/n asked slowly, "who is he?"
Marquise sighed. "Jeon Jungkook. Black Reign's leader. Your brother's rival."
Y/n straightened unconsciously.
"He calls the shots," Marquise continued. "Routes. Stakes. Racers. If he says stop, it stops. If he says go, the world moves."
She nodded toward the track behind them. "Aggressive but clean. Doesn't crash unless he means to. Never panics. Ever."
"So he's just... good?"
Marquise laughed. "Good?" She shook her head. "He's stupidly good."
"Photographic memory for tracks. Knows every turn, blind spot, escape route. Can drive half-drunk and still come first."
"And Black Reign?"
"Precision. No flashy colors. Fast." She lowered her voice. "They don't lose often. And when they do, they remember. And it becomes a bloody fist fight." She laughs.
Y/n swallowed. So Jungkook was the reason behind Yoongi's bruises that night.
"And," she asked carefully, "the rivalry?"
Marquise sighed. "It wasn't personal at first."
"Then what?"
"Ego. Skill. Timing." She glanced sideways. "Your brother rose fast. Natural talent. Calm hands. Jungkook saw him and thought—finally."
"They raced the same circuits. Won back-to-back. Pushed each other until it stopped being fun."
"And then?"
Marquise shrugged. "When two men both think they're the best, it stops being about racing."
"Then?"
"It becomes control." She paused. "And neither of them handles losing well."
Y/n's jaw tightened. "Jungkook doesn't forget."
Marquise nodded. "Neither does Yoongi." A small, knowing smile. "Same disease. Different symptoms."
Y/n leaned back in her seat, eyes drifting toward the darkness beyond the windshield—where engines roared and reputations burned.
Suddenly, the low growl of engines cut through the night like predators announcing their territory. The vibrations from the cars rolled through the asphalt and into the soles of their boots, shaking the car as though it were alive. The air smelled of burnt rubber and gasoline, sharp and intoxicating.
Marquise's eyes sparkled with a feral excitement as she leaned toward Y/n. "The race! It's starting! Come on!" She threw open the car door, and the roar of the crowd spilled in like a wave.
Y/n froze for a heartbeat, the adrenaline in her veins colliding with a twinge of fear. She wasn't here for racing. She hadn't even come close to signing up for this adrenaline-soaked chaos. Yet, the sheer energy of the crowd—cheering, shouting, hollering—pulled at her stomach, making it twist like a live wire.
Marquise didn't wait for hesitation. She grabbed Y/n's arm and practically yanked her out, dragging her toward the edge of the track. The lights from the warehouse reflected off the polished hoods of the cars, catching on chrome rims and glossy paint like liquid fire. Sparks of light danced across the asphalt, hypnotic and dangerous.
next ❯❯❯❯
↳ Index [Day 08 - Sex Magic]
Pairing: Soft Dom!Jungkook x sub f.Reader
Genre: married life!AU, Wizard!Jungkook, Fantasy!AU
Kinks: love making, vaginal penetrative sex, creampie, vaginal fingering, blowjob, cunnilingus, spit, multiple orgasms (f.receiving), edging (m.receiving), praise, body worship, sex magic & toys aka he enchants a crystal wand so it becomes a vibrator, size & strength kink, cuddly aftercare
Wordcount: 7.4k
a/n: someone gave me these kinks and i went “what if KOOK was the one with magic for a change?” and then this was born. also, i say this with pride, he is 100% and proudly inspired by Howl Pendragon from Howl’s Moving Castle, like, this is basically a Howl!AU with Kook. i also wholeheartedly fell in love with this Kook oh my lORD he is so dreamy and perfect <3
Jungkook Pendragon was many a things. Healer of the sick. Protector of the weak. Traveller of worlds. Wizard of one’s trust. Lover of animals and nature. An introvert rarely happy about small talk. Connoisseur of good foods. And man of immaculate beauty. He possessed the wits and intelligence to escape many a dicey situations. His bravery and courage was known just as well as his kind and empathetic heart. His humour never stooped down to insult other people, instead it so very often came down to making a fool of himself for the sake of a good laugh. But as funny as he was, he was also serious. He was intense and stern and scary if one dared to cross him. He was powerful and those who wronged the innocent felt his strength to its fullest.
In his daily life however, Jungkook rarely showed off his strength. He helped flowers bloom anew or lit a fire for a desperate baker, he filled the bowl of a hungry stray cat or showed curious children a harmless but wondrous magic trick. Whatever his little show of strength might be, in his daily life, Jungkook wanted to bring happiness to the living beings around him with it.
You were no exception from people he wanted to make smile. Perhaps you were the one whose happiness was most important to him. His beloved and cherished wife. Only human and terribly weak against the dangers of dark distant lands. And he loved you more than he had ever loved another before.
“Taehyung and Hoseok are throwing a house party. You and Jungkook want to spice up your relationship and pretend to be strangers meeting there for the first time. It works well at first until you both get way too drunk and needy for each other. So you and he sneak away to take care of each other's problems.”
Pairing: Jungkook x f.Reader
Genre: married life!AU, houseparty!AU, Smut
Warnings: switch!Kook, switch!Reader, the switching in this is so good, they get drunk together & dance their hearts out, he is so effortlessly attractive, ah yeah they also have a lil roleplay where they pretend to be strangers meeting at the party (they last ten minutes bahhaha), Jungkook’s tiny waist, he wears body chains + a crop top and oiled himself up, I’m literally foaming at the mouth, Wednesday!JK levels of devoted & needy vibes from him, drunk giggles & making out, he is a very giggly and vocal drunk, he is also a goof <3, consensual & mutual drunk sex, thigh riding, dry humping, cumming in her panties, dirty talk, mutual stripping, nipple play & licking for him, whiney Koo <3, a very quick blowjob ofc, the bodychains stay ON during sex, rough penetrative vaginal sex in Mating Press & Deep Missionary, clit play, his chains hit her clit as he fucks her, creampies, sappy & cuddly aftercare, ah yeah they do all that in Tae's bed JFAJDFJ & he has no idea bruh
Wordcount: 9.4k
a/n: this is based on anonie's idea. But listen. this is lowkey a story about his waist jsjsj like i kept thinking of all the dainty waist koo pics which exist and you besties have no idea how feral i feel for his waist like i am OC in this story, this is practically me jjajaja either way, have fun besties 🧡
You are at Jimin’s place today, getting ready for Taeseok’s (that’s how Hoseok and Taehyung like to jokingly call themselves to your friend group) annual summer party. Most of the town’s party folk is going to be there and you have been looking forward to it for weeks. You still remember how you and Jungkook snuck glances at each other when you weren’t a thing yet and how he got jealous of Taehyung “hooking up with you”. Oh times were so much spicier back then. Not that you would ever want to trade the safety and comfort you have with Jungkook these days, but sometimes you miss the sparks of being in the getting to know each other stage.
This is why you are currently at Jimin’s place, while Yoongi is at your place. You and your best friend are going to go to the party together, while Yoongi and Jungkook will go there as a duo. You plan on meeting each other there and pretending to be strangers meeting for the first time.
The plan is perfect and so sexy.
Jimin is singing loudly, dancing to the song on the radio as he is putting on his eyeshadow. You sit on the floor in front of the mirror, busy with your own eye makeup. You join him in song every now and then, dancing in your seating position and laughing loudly whenever Jimin twerks way too aggressively.
Your days of youth might have passed already, but mentally you still feel like a late teen getting ready with your best friend for the best night ever. Especially this year around where you pretend to get ready to meet “your potential new boyfriends” at the party. Oh it is so much fun to play this silly little game of pretend.
You and Jimin already shared a bottle of sparkling wine, feeling giggly drunk.
“What do you think? Red or peach?” Jimin asks, holding up different kinds of blushes against his cheeks.
“None of them. Pink. It fits with the top.”
“You know what? You are so right, girly”, Jimin says and switches the blush to a pink one. He smiles so his cheeks stick out and applies a generous amount on his face. You busy yourself with applying mascara, pulling a silly face for it.
Jimin finishes first, posing in the mirror.
“Do you think that there’s gonna be cute boys at the party?” he asks for the sake of the roleplay.
“I hope so. I really wanna make out tonight.”
Mutual Help | 60 pt. 1
↳ 𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬; in order for you to pretend to be his girlfriend, he helps you with your sexual desires ⏤ he calls it mutual help
⇢ 𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: jungkook x reader
⇢ 𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞: fake dating au, fluff, angst, smut, slow burn
⇢ 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: explicit language, explicit content
⇢ 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 21.7k+ (both parts)
⇠ 𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐯. | 𝐢𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐱 | 𝐧𝐞𝐱𝐭 ⇢
The dessert you've chosen to taste tonight must be the sweetest thing you've ever tasted. Your date tonight’s persuasion that it’s the best thing he’s ever tasted shouldn’t be listened to.
Despite the high amount of sugar the dessert you can't even pronounce right contains, the taste on your tongue remains bitter with each second. That’s still not the reason why your little spoon digs in it like it's not worth the price. In reality, it's probably not – perhaps only for the people who love sugar a little too much.
take and take and take (click for quality!)
ko-fi ☕ patreon 🥪 merch ❇️
non-writers will never understand the mental illness of writing an entire conversation in your head while doing dishes and then forgetting every word the second you open a blank doc
THE T8 TRILOGY ! ™
a three-part series inspired by tate mcraes discography.
pairing. jeon jungkook x fem!reader genre. hockey au. college au. angst. smut. toxic situationship. infidelity.
warnings will be established on each part.
⌗ prod. @voyter
01. hurt my feelings
your situationship ends things when he decides to pursue a real relationship. she might wear his number at his hockey games, but you got what he really likes.
READ HERE ★ LISTEN HERE
02. dear god
you can’t seem to escape the eyesore of jungkook and his girlfriend, especially since you’re stuck in the same circle. and when it finally hits you that you’ll probably never have him again, all you can do is pray for god to just erase every memory of him.
COMING SOON ★ LISTEN HERE
03. uh oh
after swearing off jungkook, it only takes a few texts and calls for you to come running back. he’s turned you into a pro at making bad decisions.
COMING SOON ★ LISTEN HERE
© VOYTER 2025, all rights reserved.
What a View | JJK x f.Reader
“Sometimes – when the weather is hot – Jungkook likes to workout shirtless in the garden, giving you the perfect opportunity to watch from your hammock and get needy for him. He obviously knows that you are watching and can’t wait to take care of you. Doesn’t matter if the neighbours hear.”
Pairing: Jungkook x f.Reader
Genre: married life!AU, Slice of Life, Smut
Warnings: Dom!Jungkook, sub!Reader, sweaty shirtless!Jungkook working out, wet haired!Kook cause he swam in the ocean, she unapologetically stares, strength & muscle kink, "public" sex because they do it in their backgarden, she sunbathes in nothing but bikini bottoms, nipple licking & play, he eats her out on the lawn, "nose job" cause he rubs it against her clit, using of a hammock as a makeshift sex swing, praise, dirty talk, messy creampies, the sex just kinda happens without being asked for, yk? this is just something they both needed, i just wanna say that i'm a dog fr
Wordcount: 4k
a/n: i don't know what happened, i'm scared and confused and i need to run against a wall. have fun my sluts 🧡
Jungkook owns an outdoor punching bag. Sometimes, when the weather is especially warm, you can watch him train with his shirt off. You are nestled in your hammock with a glass of alcohol free mojito, watching him sweat and exhaust himself. This might very well be a religious moment. His tanned skin glistens. His back and arms ripple with each impact and his pecs and abs are fully engaged. Every now and then, droplets of sweat drip from his face. His hair, dark and messy, hangs into his brows. And sometimes when his pecs twitch especially aggressively, his nipple piercings swing back and forth.
God damn, you really hit the jackpot with him. Your tongue searches for the straw of your drink because your eyes refuse to look anywhere other than your husband.
God damn.
God fucking damn.
Jungkook finishes the set, jumping on the spot to shake out his muscles. His pecs bounce. What a view. He rolls his shoulders and neck before getting back into position. He attacks the other side of the punching bag, giving you the perfect view of his sculpted back.
Your entertainment begins anew. His shoulders are broad and his back is visibly strong. His waist is so small in comparison. And to make matters even worse, he has such a nice ass sitting on huge muscular thighs. The shorts he is wearing are just a little bit too tight around them, hugging his ass so well that you can watch it tense as he engages his legs with each punch. You would give your right kidney for a grab of it. He ends the set with a left-handed uppercut, exhaling sharply for it.
He jumps on the spot, shaking out his muscles. You suck on the straw aggressively, wishing for it to be something else. Look at his ass bounce and, fuck, now he is turning again. Look at his pecs bounce! Goddamn. God fucking damn.
You actually had a plan. You wanted to read outside, but how could you when Jungkook looks hotter than the sun.
yow we don't have Mutual Help by @personasintro Chapter 60 yet?
Destiny Calls
ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ You have always had a secret crush on Kim Seokjin, the handsome, world-famous idol you know through a mutual friend. Despite having seen him at various gatherings over the past couple of years, you haven’t really spoken, daunted by his celebrity status and choosing to keep your distance. When he accidentally turns up at your apartment for dinner one evening, things turn from fantasy to reality...
Pairing ❤︎ Kim Seokjin x (f)reader Rating ❤︎ 18+ (MDNI) | W/C ❤︎ 11,584 ❤︎ MASTERLIST ❤︎
A/N ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ Yep, my bias wrecker strikes again, giving me inspiration for this one. I hope you enjoy reading this as much as I loved writing it, and as ever, please excuse any errors I may have overlooked.
It had started the moment you had first laid eyes on him.
From then on, it had all been occasional brief glances in one another’s direction, the kind that barely registered, yet sometimes you liked to believe they lingered a little longer. Yeah, you were no different from the hoards of ARMY in the end, just another one to surrender to their charms −but what could you do against the irresistible power of BTS’ infamous visual, WWH?
Kim Seokjin radiated with a glow that just wasn’t ordinary. From his tall, lean frame, broad chest and shoulders, pink puffy lips that were made to kiss −to the sweet smile made to melt the hearts of many and that goofy humour you wished you could bottle and save up for those lonely nights alone.
You had been in one another’s circles through a mutual friend you had known since school, who had introduced you at a game night a couple of years ago. Since then you’d seen him at cookouts, gatherings and the occasional birthday.
From afar, it seemed like he gave hugs as though he thought he might be contaminated by something. It made you chuckle in secret −although you were much the same. Contact with strangers, or indeed anyone, was done with a strictly when necessary basis −or when you actually wanted to.
It had been so long since you had actually wanted to touch someone, like that anyway −but whenever you saw Seokjin smile, you felt that urge to reach over and touch his mouth all the way from the tips of your toes to the top of your head, and your heart fluttered as though it were home to a thousand restless butterflies.
But you always shook the feeling off. The likes of Kim Seokjin weren’t for you. This was a world class superstar who would definitely not be short of offers. He was a prince, and the kinds of women princes should be with were princesses. Not regular women like you. Not that there was anything wrong with being somebody just normal −but you were a realist. Come on.
Even though you had seen him a few times now at various gatherings, you had never actually spoken on a one-to-one basis with him. There had never been any opportunity or need. Seokjin was popular as one might expect being a member of one of the hugest bands ever, so he was continually surrounded by people.
It suited you in all honesty, what on earth would you say to each other anyway? It’s not like you knew much about the world of K-pop, nor he about your world.
But now here he was, standing at your doorstep looking debonair in a black fitted shirt and pants, holding a bottle and one of those smiles that yet again threatened to buckle your knees right there at the doorway of your apartment. You can hardly look away, and from this close he seems to radiate more brightly than you had initially thought.
“Y/N, right?” he greets, smile broadening and accompanied by a small bow. “I’m not sure if you remember me, but I’m Seokjin.”
You feel your head nod acknowledgment at him, but you’ve gone into some sort of trance.
“Uh−hi,” he says, sounding a little awkward at your silence. “−They let me come right up, I hope that’s okay?”
“What?” you reply a little breathlessly, finding your voice although you’re still dazed. “−Who?”
Seokjin seems confused, gesturing with one hand behind him as though there was something to show you. “The concierge,” he explains, “−They recognised me I guess?”
He shuffles his feet, a rosy-pink colouring staining the tops of his cheeks and ears now. You shake your head as your brain finally catches up to what he’s actually saying. “Oh, right. I see,” you say. “Okay.”
You both stand there for a beat, and an awkward silence starts to build before you decide that your first real encounter with Seokjin can’t go down in both your memories as this. “So what can I do for you?” you enquire. “Are you looking for someone?”
You sound too formal, like a school headteacher offering help to a new pupil who has gotten lost. It sounded lame. Why would Kim Seokjin of all people turn up to your doorstep looking for someone else at this hour? He never has before. He hasn’t even been to your place before now that you think about it, so why was he even…?
Then the penny drops, and you suddenly recall the dinner you’re meant to be hosting tomorrow. But hold on, Seokjin was supposed to be coming? It was tomorrow, right? For a dreaded second, you contemplate whether it’s you who has it wrong and start having a mini panic that you have nothing in to cook. You aren’t even dressed for a dinner party.
Too many thoughts start to swirl around in your mind, and you can’t focus. You lean against the frame of the door in an attempt to pull yourself together and think straight, mentally trying to conjure up the items in your wardrobe for a hasty change.
Seokjin’s face flushes and he retreats a hasty step back. “Oh fuck,” he says, and then bites his lips and looks at you in a way that suggests he didn’t usually swear in front of women in situations like this. He lifts a hand up apologetically. “I’m sorry.” He gives a succession of two quick dips of his head in your direction. “I think I might have messed up. I’m so sorry.”
Again, it’s taking you a couple of seconds to keep up with this man. You’re still having a hard time coping with the sudden rush of… something… that started inside you the moment he uttered a profanity with those delicious lips, and you swear you’re blushing far worse than he is right now.
“I’ve got the days wrong, haven’t I?” he asks sheepishly, face scrunching up in a manner that can only be described as delectable. “I was supposed to be here tomorrow, not today.”
He runs a hand through his dark, silky hair which falls back into place instantly. How can someone be this good-looking, you think. Then again, he is World Wide Handsome, right? The thought brings a chuckle to you that bubbles in your throat and escapes. Seokjin’s eyes widen in surprise at your sudden outburst.
Focus, Y/N, focus.
“The dinner?” you manage to ask. “You’re coming to the dinner here?”
You didn’t mean for that to sound as shocking as it did. It’s not like he didn’t attend things your mutual friends did sometimes. It was just that Kim Seokjin at your apartment was the last thing you were prepared for, not to mention the fact that nobody told you.
Well, it was a dinner where people were bringing a guest, but no one had specifically said Seokjin was coming. There was no real reason anyone should have, you would be cooking for ten people plus yourself. It shouldn’t matter −except it did. It felt like a big deal, but you didn’t know why.
Seokjin blinks in astonishment. “You didn’t know?”
“Uh, no. I mean yeah,” you stammer, thrown now. “I mean obviously I know about the dinner. I’m hosting it.” No shit. “I just mean I didn’t know you−.”
You’re sounding lamer by the minute, he’s looking at you as though you grew an extra head.
Ground. Swallow. Now.
But that wasn’t going to happen, −it never did −so you straighten up. You may as well try to present an air of someone who knew something at all as opposed to a clueless amnesiac. “The dinner is tomorrow, and aside from the people I invited personally, I have no idea who else would be coming.”
It’s marginally better insofar as it’s a coherent sentence but it’s still coming off as though there is something off about him attending it. You grimace as you take in his expression, which despite his very obvious handsomeness has ultra-confused written all over it.
“You wanna come in?” you offer. It’s the least you can do at this point. Perhaps the man wouldn’t start thinking you have some allergy to him.
His face brightens hopefully for a moment, but he hesitates. “I don’t want to interrupt your evening,” he tells you politely, “Even though I’ve already done that.”
He says the last part more to himself than to you, but you’ve heard it. “Please, come in,” you say firmly. “You’re not interrupting.”
The hopeful expression returns and he tilts his head, smiling sweetly at you. “You sure?”
Jesus. How does anyone around him survive this sort of assault on their senses? Your heartbeat seems to start racing every time the man does or says anything. You question whether having him inside your apartment is the best idea. It might end up with you being whisked to the emergency department with a coronary.
“I’m sure,” you decide. “Come in.”
“Thanks,” Seokjin says, following you in. He takes his black dress shoes off to reveal clean white socks and puts the shoes neatly in the corner before he holds out the bottle he came with to you. “This is for you.”
You take it, looking at the label curiously, thanking him. You have no idea what it says as it’s all in Hangul, so you look back at him quizzically.
“It’s liquor I made myself,” he explains, with a hint of pride. “I thought you could try it at the dinner, which was meant to be…”. He trails off. “Anyway, I hope you will try it. I often get compliments from people who have tried it before.”
“You make your own alcohol?” you ask, genuinely impressed. “That’s pretty cool.”
He beams on your compliment and his face flushes pink at the cheeks again. You fight hard to resist squeezing them as if he’s some cute little thing you need to pet. “Yeah,” he grins. “It’s not sold or anything. Just−just like a hobby I guess.”
You smile back at him. “Thank you for this, I’m looking forward to having a taste.”
You walk through to your open plan kitchen and gesture for him to have a seat in the living room, but you catch his nostrils flare at the scent of the freshly laid out ingredients on the island countertop.
He scrunches his face up again, blinking hard. “I’m so sorry, you were in the middle of something−.”
You catch on quickly this time. It’s pretty obvious from the kitchen scene you were about to cook, and now he thinks he’s interrupted at a bad time. “It’s okay,” you assure him. “I was just about to make myself dinner but there’s more than enough food for two.”
Seokjin stares hard at you and inwardly you’re marvelling at the beauty of his widened brown eyes. “You’re offering me dinner?”
You hadn’t exactly meant to give out a dinner invite, had you? You hadn’t given it any thought, but your words seemed to have come naturally. “Why not?” you tell him brightly, “You did bring a bottle too.”
“Oh no, I couldn’t,” he starts, already protesting and heading back towards the door. “I didn’t mean to gatecrash. I’ll go. You can keep the drink.”
You rush forward, a little too eagerly. “You don’t have to go,” you say. “Really. You’re here now, aren’t you, so you might as well stay, right?”
He pauses, contemplating your face, searching for some clue as to whether you’re just saying that to be polite or you really mean it. You jump at the bit, even if does smack of some level of desperation on your part. “I mean you did come for dinner after all.”
“I suppose so,” he says quietly. Sold. “But I don’t want to put you out or anything on my behalf.”
“You’re not,” you tell him. “I’m not making anything elaborate. It’s been so hot lately and I didn’t fancy working too hard in here, so I thought I’d make some mulhwe.”
“Mulhwe?” he echoes, and you see his eyes shine excitedly, “−No way, really?”
You glance up at him from behind the island as you pick up the cabbage. “You’ve had it before?”
He stares at you incredulously. “Had it?” he pipes up enthusiastically. “I fucking love mulhwe.”
Some little part of you that believes in rainbows and unicorns and all things fantastical and fateful tells you this evening was pre-destined, while the realistic, horny woman part of you is stuck on him saying fucking for the second time and having the same reaction in the pit of your stomach and between your legs.
“Sorry,” he says apologetically, almost instantly. “I can get a little too excited over mulhwe.”
You clear your throat and attempt to resume your cabbage chopping, but no sooner have you brought down your knife across the board, it nicks you and you draw your hand back sharply. In an instant, Seokjin is beside you, somehow with your hand in his, lifting it towards his face and staring intently at your fingers, blowing gently across your fingertips.
You gasp at his sudden proximity, and the shock of his warm touch against your skin, but most of all at the sheer concern clearly visible across his beautiful features. The white spotlights that pepper the ceiling fall across him at just the right angle, highlighting his fair, smooth skin and silken locks, so he appears almost angelic.
Your breath stalls at the vision, your heart forgetting how to beat, and you realise you will never forget this moment until you die. It's the moment you have, right here in your kitchen apartment, given Kim Seokjin your heart.
“There’s no blood,” he says, scrutinising your every fingernail carefully. You’re too shocked by this in addition to your moment of realisation to even move, let alone say anything. “I think you just nicked your nail.” He lifts your forefinger up and shows you the tiny chip at the end of your French manicure, “−See?”
He smiles in relief, softly at first but reaching his eyes quickly, and you fall just that little bit harder. A small nervous giggle escapes you, until you realise he’s still holding your hand. He seems to realise it at the same time as you because he lets go quickly, stepping back around the island, face tinged pink in that adorable way you are starting to find hideously arousing.
“Yeah,” you mumble, “−thanks.”
You turn away to rummage in one of the drawers as though you actually keep anything like a kitchen utensil there −such as a nailfile. How dumb of you. You can feel his eyes on you, burning a hole through your back as you continue to pointlessly sift through items with what you hope looks like purpose.
“You keep your nail files in the kitchen?” Seokjin enquires, as though he can read your mind.
Now you really feel stupid. Modern men, they knew too much. You curse the day they started thinking about manicuring their nails and staying well groomed −did they really need to know anything about nail files? Did they?
“Uh, no,” you reply, trying to keep your voice from squeaking with embarrassment. “I thought I had some scissors here or something.”
“You’re going to file your nail with scissors?”
You wanna scream. Like that’s even possible. And what’s with the questions? What did he care where you stored your nail files, or how you were going to deal with your nails? Why should he?
You force on a smile and close the drawer, facing him. “You know what, I’m just gonna go find a nail file from the bathroom,” you say calmly. “In the meantime, why don’t you pull up a seat.” You waggle your chipped nail towards the tall bar seats that surround the island. “I won’t be long.”
“Sure,” Seokjin says, giving you a strange look. “Shall I pour us something to drink or is it too early?”
You nod hurriedly, eager to get away from any further mortification. A drink sounded like exactly what you needed to steady your nerves, it most definitely was not too early. “No, that would be great,” you agree shaking your head vigorously. “−There’s some glasses in the cabinet.”
You take a little longer than planned to return. There had been the small matter of actually tending to your chipped nail which you had dealt with like a pro. It wasn’t too bad after all, and you smile to yourself as you replay Seokjin’s reaction in your mind. Damn, that man smelled so good.
After that, you had taken a small detour to your bedroom to check your outfit. If you were going to have dinner with someone here, you should at least look remotely dressed for it −as though you pottered around at home in outfits that were ready made for unexpected dinner drop ins with the Kim Seokjins of the world. Even so, this was no everyday scenario. Efforts were necessary.
He probably wouldn’t even notice if you changed anyway, so you would just make some tiny alterations to transform from casual lounge attire to something more like understated elegance. You settled on a white pant twin set that accentuated your body in the right places while remaining modest.
You give your hair a quick brush and apply a natural shade of nude lipstick, nothing too obvious, and spritz on a couple of bursts of your favourite fragrance. You give yourself a final check and shrug your shoulders −it would have to do.
Seokjin is sitting with his back to you but on hearing your arrival, he spins around in his chair. As his eyes settle on you, his expression stills. You hold his gaze steadily, although your heart is pounding with nerves and excitement just from seeing him sat in your apartment as though he actually belonged here. It’s a strange sensation.
You smile just a little and walk past him to the other side of the island. When you look up, you see his attention on you hasn’t been diverted. He has poured two glasses which sit on the counter between you, and you pick one up to study the clear fizzing liquid with a white frothy head that sparkles inside.
It smells like summer. Fresh and apple-y, sweet and delicious enough to coax your mouth and nose closer to the rim of the glass. Seokjin picks up his drink too. “How about a toast?” he suggests, holding it up in the air.
You follow suit, looking to him for the lead on exactly what that would be.
“To dinner intruders!” he grins.
You laugh, but you clink your glass against his. “Alright. To dinner intruders.”
You both take a simultaneous sip. The first bubbly hit on your tongue is sharp and clear, and you were right on the apple. It tastes like a cross between white wine and gin, the flavours clean and fresh −rather like Seokjin himself. You hum in pleasure as you swallow.
“You like it?” he asks cautiously.
“It’s delicious,” you reply sincerely as you take another small sip.
Seokjin beams with pride head to toe happily, and it makes you feel good to see him like that. “Thanks,” he says. “It took a lot of attempts and fails to get exactly what I wanted, but this is the closest to it.”
“I can’t believe you made this,” you say. “It’s truly amazing, well done.”
He grins appreciatively at you. “I’m happy you like it, Y/N.”
“I sure do. Now, I’d better get this mulhwe done, or it would defeat the purpose of dinner,” you tell him, reaching for the knife and cabbage again. “Are you hungry?”
He purses his lips together and swallows with a pout. “I skipped lunch in preparation for this,” he admits, peering over at the julienned vegetables you’ve set neatly to the side of the bowls. “So yeah, I’m ravenous.”
“It won’t be long,” you assure him. “Almost done.”
He takes a deep inhale and lets out a sigh. “Mm, yeah. Looks good already.”
You peer up at him through your lashes. He’s already tapping into his phone, head cast to one side, biting at the corner of those divine lips in concentration. You look away. You don’t want a worse accident than a chipped nail.
“Would you like something small in the meantime?” you offer, “A snack maybe while you wait?”
He looks up. “It’s okay, I’ve waited this long, so I’ll just wait,” he answers. “Can I help with anything by the way? Don’t be afraid to ask, I’m not too bad in the kitchen.”
“Really?” you enquire, eyebrow raised as you try and picture Seokjin in chef mode. It’s a sexy thought, but you were quite anal about your kitchen space, and it wouldn’t do to have such a special guest actually participating in making their own dinners. “Thanks for the offer, but I’ll do it. Mulhwe doesn’t take too long.”
He chuckles. “Will you be okay with that knife?”
You lift it up and point it towards him with false menace. “Hey, Seokjin,” you say, “Just remember I’m the one cooking your food today.”
He holds his hands up in mock surrender. “Yes, boss,” he concedes. “I do have one thing to ask though, if you’ll allow.”
“What’s that?” you ask, placing the cabbage into the bowl and reaching for the next ingredient.
Your knife slices into the fish with ease, cutting it into neat slices, taking extra care with it with your guest in mind. Even if you never had this experience again, you wouldn’t want Kim Seokjin to come away from this dinner thinking you couldn’t even get mulhwe right.
“I’d like it if you called me Jin, if that’s okay,” comes Seokjin’s request.
You stop midway through cutting as something only just occurs to you −he had known your name when you opened the door. Kim Seokjin had known your name, and your chest warmed at the thought. You look at him again, and he stares back at you.
“How did you−?” you start, but you abandon your question. You don’t want to start acting like some lovestruck puppy now of all times. “Never mind, forget it.”
“You okay?” he asks, and there’s that concern in his face again, spreading to the silvery tone of his voice and pulling you in further. This man was seriously dangerous.
“Yeah, I’m fine,” you tell him with a quick smile, returning to the mulhwe.
“Do you like chocolate?” Seokjin asks.
“Chocolate? Yeah, sure −why?” You reach for the sugar and bottle of gochugaru, concentration furrowing your brow.
“I was going to try and order something nice for dessert, assuming you wouldn’t have anything already prepared,” Seokjin says, “−To say thank you, you know, for doing this for me when you really didn’t have to.”
You pause for a beat. He really was trying to kill you, wasn’t he? Good looking, handy in the kitchen, sweet, kind hearted and considerate, with manners to boot. Modern day prince indeed. Someday he was going to make some lucky woman a husband to die for.
A pang of envy stabs at you, and you press a little too hard on the chilli sauce which spurts out over the counter in a small red shower.
“Fuck!” you grumble, salvaging things quickly with a nearby napkin and checking your outfit for any damage.
“I feared for your clothes too,” says Seokjin. “Especially after you had just changed it.”
You are stunned into a momentary silence −just how attentive was this man? Nothing escaped him. You redden considerably. “No harm done,” you mutter. “My other clothes had a stain, so I had to change.”
“I see,” he says, eyeing you suspiciously. “You don’t need to explain anything to me, you know.”
He turned you into a fool so easily, you think as you take a huge gulp of your drink. “Yeah, I just didn’t want you thinking you had inconvenienced me into changing on your account, that’s all,” you tell him with a sprinkle of indignation.
“Got it,” he says quietly with a small shrug, picking up his phone again. “So, shall I order us something?”
“Actually, I’m trying to watch what I eat so chocolate’s probably not the best for me right now.”
You don’t even know why you said that when you’re not even dieting. Why did the thought of the man buying some lovely chocolate dessert to go with dinner scare the life out of you suddenly?
Seokjin looks as surprised as you are. “You don’t need to do that, you look… perfect.”
You blink, startled at his words, and look at him. In the background, the gentle sounds of some old R&B classic fills the air and you feel more alive than you’ve felt in an aeon when his brown eyes hold yours.
You avert your gaze and gather the last of the ingredients which you set out in the bowls, layering everything together until the last delicate piece of fish was in its place. Carefully you begin to pour the chilled broth over the bowls, watching as it glistens invitingly, aware of Seokjin’s mesmerised gaze on you.
“You’re good at this,” he tells you gently. “It really does look delicious.”
“It’s ready,” you say softly without looking back up. You push one of the bowls towards him with steady hands, even though your heart is anything but, and pass him some fresh utensils. “I hope it tastes good.”
“I know it will,” he says, reaching for the sugar.
You raise your head to finally look at him. Seokjin brings the spoon to his lips to take a mouthful, and you hear him let out a low groan. “Wow, Y/N!” he exclaims, “This is unreal!”
“Good?” you ask, tasting a spoonful yourself.
The cold broth with the heat of the chilli was in perfect contrast. It’s flavoured perfectly −spicy and refreshing, with just the right amount of tanginess. He’s right, this does taste pretty good you think proudly.
“Better than good,” he replies, taking another eager bite. “How did you learn how to make it like this?”
“It’s a recipe a good friend gave me,” you explain, “They’d gotten it from a grandmother they met during a trip. I tweaked it a little but it’s pretty much as the original recipe so I can’t take all the credit.”
Seokjin laughed. “You had a hand in it,” he tells you. “Seriously though, I think this might be the best mulhwe I’ve had in years.” He chews with relish. “You really didn’t have to do all this for me.”
“I’d have made the mulhwe anyway even if you hadn’t come,” you state. “This way, we can eat it all fresh. It’s the best way, and nothing gets wasted.”
“Yeah, that’s true,” he agrees with a smile. “Must be fate.”
You freeze, spoon midway to your mouth. It was kind of freaky how it felt like he was in your head sometimes, reading your thoughts. It was dangerous actually, you couldn’t entertain the rising feelings that were gathering like storm clouds inside your heart, and you certainly couldn’t give any real merit to all this being your destiny.
“It’s just coincidence,” you say dismissively, pretending to be engrossed in the contents of your bowl. “I don’t believe in fate.”
Seokjin doesn’t press you, but the atmosphere enters a comfortable yet tension-charged silence, broken only by the faint sounds of music and the clink of spoons in bowls.
“You’d enjoy it, you know,” he says, breaking the calm unexpectedly. “−The chocolate I wanted to order. The desserts are all handmade using chocolate made with Cuban cocoa beans.”
Your mouth waters, but you aren’t totally sure if that’s from the sound of what Seokjin is describing or from watching the bob of his throat as he swallows down some liquor. The vein at the side of his neck works as he puts in a hearty mouthful of food and chews.
You had always had a soft spot for men with hearty appetites, but watching Seokjin eat in front of you turned that soft spot into something that feels like the start of a fetish. You could probably watch that man eat for hours and hours and still want to see more. Heat covers you and you take a refreshing sip of your drink.
“Why don’t I go ahead and order it?” he continues. “If you really don’t want yours, I can take it with me, or you can give it to someone else.” He searches your face, his expression unreadable. “A boyfriend maybe?”
You are spared from responding as his phone rings, a melody which is strangely familiar, but you can’t place it −some classical piece. Seokjin rejects the call without even checking who it is and refills your glasses. He seems a bit quiet, thoughtful even, and you start to feel bad even though you haven’t done anything wrong.
“Go on then,” you say, trying to sound as upbeat as possible, “Let’s order it, I’m quite curious about this chocolate now.”
His eyes brighten. “Yeah?”
“Yeah, go ahead. What’s the worst that can happen, right?”
Seokjin hadn’t been lying about how good the chocolate was, as an hour later, you sit together savouring the best mousse you had ever had. Light and fluffy, not overly heavy or sweet, with an almost coffee-like quality about it. It had even served and delivered in cute little silver heart mounds, decorated with sumptuous, tiny red strawberries and flecks of dark chocolate. You send up a silent prayer that you hadn’t missed out on trying this.
You don’t even want to know how much Seokjin paid for this, or how he got it to be delivered at your place so fast. One of the perks of being Kim Seokjin you assumed, but you certainly appreciated the effort and the gesture, and it would have been rude to ask.
“I really am thankful for the food,” Seokjin tells you, dipping his spoon into his own mousse and digging out a chocolatey piece. “It was nice of you to go to the trouble of feeding me. I doubt you’ll want to be reminded that you’ll be doing this all over tomorrow for me.” He lets out a chuckle and corrects himself. “−Not just me I mean, but for, you know, the dinner.”
“You’re still coming tomorrow?” you question before thinking, and you could kick yourself all over again.
He looks straight at you. “Would you rather I didn’t?” he asks, and you see the fleeting dismay shoot across his face as he waits for your answer.
“No, no −it’s not that,” you tell him hurriedly. “I just thought maybe you’d had enough of me without having to be here tomorrow too.”
Seokjin frowns and even that is cute, “Why would you ever think that?”
You’re flustered now, why did you have to open your mouth and say the wrong things when things had been going well?
“I−I don’t know,” you mutter, and you genuinely don’t even know why you said it to give him any sort of answer.
He sighs, pushing his mousse away and regarding you carefully. He brings his glass to his lips and takes not one sip, but some lengthy ones until the glass which had been half full is empty and sets it down quietly on the island top.
“Y/N,” he says, his tone the most serious you had heard it all evening. “I can’t go on pretending like this. Ignoring it.”
Your heartbeat is thumping so hard your heart might jump out of your throat at any moment. You look at him, and it’s hard to keep eye contact because he looks so handsome when he’s being serious −so utterly, heartbreakingly handsome that your chest tightens and it feels like you can’t breathe.
Your throat dries and you swallow like a fish out of water until you remember your own drink, throwing down a few sips gratefully. You know you’ve drank it down too quickly because the alcohol gives you something of a lightheaded rush, but somehow it also seems to give you a sense of bravery, and you grit your teeth together to face him. “Ignoring what?”
“This−,” Seokjin replies, gesturing between you both, “This thing happening here between us.”
Your breath catches. Was this really happening? You don’t respond, not right away, because what can you say to that? You see the sincerity in his eyes as he looks at you like you’re the only thing in the world he has time for. You feel a tremble go through you as the enormity of this situation begins to hit you.
“What?”
“I’ve always had my eye on you,” he admits. “Right from the first moment I saw you.”
Kim Seokjin had noticed you all the way back then! Are you hearing this right? A multitude of missed opportunities flash through your mind as you remember those moments you watched him in secret, stealing glances when you thought nobody would notice, marvelling at how beautiful he was, −and the whole time, he already knew who you were. It was hard to imagine Seokjin watching you in the same way you had been watching him. Famous pop stars who had women falling at their feet didn’t do that sort of stuff, right?
“I−I never knew−,” you croak. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
“You never seemed interested,” he says, his voice low. “You would never come around wherever I was, so you always seemed out of my reach.”
Your breathing quickens. “If you thought I wasn’t interested, why are you telling me this now?”
“Are we still gonna do this?” he asks you a little impatiently. “Let’s make a deal to be honest tonight. Because we’ve wasted enough time pretending not to notice each other, don’t you think?”
“You weren’t exactly easy to read,” you state gingerly. “I had no idea. You’ve just sprung it on me.”
Seokjin leans forward, elbows on the island top, and you can see every fine inch of his gorgeously stunning face inches from yours. “Then let me be completely clear.”
The music in the background faded to silence, chocolate mousses and him being a world-famous celebrity forgotten as your pulse quickened. All you can see is Kim Seokjin as you wait with bated breath for his next words, words you would remember for a lifetime.
“I like you, Y/N,” he announces, “I’ve always liked you.”
The confession is as terrifying as it is enthralling. Your throat dries up all over again, but he’d asked you to be honest, hadn’t he, so you had to be. “I’ve always liked you too.”
Seokjin smiles at you, a warm smile of relief mixed with something else. Victory maybe −elation? Neither of you make any moves, as though waiting for something to break the spell. Suddenly Seokjin is on his feet, walking round the island towards you and holds out his hand like a true prince in a romantic fairy tale.
You take his hand, feeling like a princess as you rise from your seat. Seokjin touches your face gently, his thumb brushing across your cheekbone with a featherlight touch.
“I’ve waited so long to do this,” he whispers tenderly.
He bent towards you, his lips covering yours in a kiss that leaves your knees shaky, and you don’t resist. It’s soft at first, like a question he’s asking or permission he’s seeking, and as your mouth responds to his, it grows deeper.
Your eyes close as you melt into his arms, resting against the hard, warm strength of his chest. His hands snake around your waist, encircling you protectively like he never wants to let you go, the taste of apples from his homemade liquor mixing with chocolate lingering in your kisses.
You had never been kissed like this before, it felt magical.
Seokjin’s lips are soft, plump cushions over yours, and you finally know how it feels to be kissed by him. It’s better than anything you ever imagined. You reach up to curl your hands into his hair. It’s like luxurious silk between your fingers, and you moan into his mouth at the sensation, losing yourself in the kiss and in this moment with him.
He pulls away with a soft grunt, his lips hovering a breath away from your face, his hands travelling from your waist up to cup your face. Your hands cover his, feeling his long fingers under yours, suddenly feeling afraid that he might somehow disappear if you let him go too soon.
Time seems to still as he brushes his thumb across your bottom lip, his attention resting there for a moment before he pins you with an intense stare that leaves you lost in his dreamy brown eyes. “I should have said something earlier,” he tells you.
“I wish you had.”
“I thought someday I might get a good moment, so I waited. But every time we were around each other, it never came. Not until now.”
“Still think that was fate?” you venture.
“If it wasn’t, you and I would have been circling around one another for an eternity, don’t you think?”
Your hands fiddle at back of his shirt collar, allowing your fingers to play with the strands of hair that end at the nape of his neck. You feel the softness of his skin at your fingertips, and it makes you ache with a want you didn’t know you possessed. “Mm-hm,” you reply distractedly.
“I don’t know if I could have handled seeing you for an eternity and not shot my shot, you know?” Seokjin continues.
“Could have happened,” you say.
He looks down at you, his forehead resting against yours. “You think I could have handled seeing you hook up with someone else?” he asks, “I almost lost it when you didn’t answer my question earlier. I was trying to find out if you had someone, you know, when I was asking about the desserts.”
You giggle. “Subtle.”
“Saved by the bell you mean,” he retorts sulkily. “You still haven’t answered the question.”
“No, there is no boyfriend,” you say. “What do you take me for? You think I’d be letting you kiss me if there was?”
“Maybe,” he teases, rubbing the tip of his nose against yours. “I am Kim Seokjin, Worldwide Handsome.”
“Yeah, yeah,” you say, giving his hair a playful tug. “What happens now?”
He shrugs. “Maybe nothing happens. Maybe we just let it be what it is right now. Tonight, this moment.”
“And what exactly is that?”
He tilts your face up and looks deeply into your eyes so you can see he means every word. “Y/N, this is something I have wanted for a very, very, long time.”
Your body weakens against his. “I honestly could never have imagined you felt like this about me,” you say breathlessly.
“I thought you were way out of my league,” he says with a sigh, “−or I wasn’t your type, that’s why you never came around me that much.”
You shift yourself to look up at him. “No way!” you exclaim, “−You are definitely my type.”
He blushes at the compliment and looks stunned, but not as much as you are. The thought of Kim Seokjin, international idol, thinking that way about you leaves you floored.
He grins bashfully, a sweet vulnerability softening his face, and your heart flutters. “I’m serious, Y/N,” he admits. “I’m a person, just like you. Being famous doesn’t mean I don’t have insecurities or fears. There’s a lot that people don’t see behind the scenes, a lot we can’t share with the world.”
“Yeah,” you say quietly, pressing your hands against his chest, “I can imagine.”
You take his hand and lead him to the living room, both of you sinking to the couch beside one another. Everything has taken on an air of the surreal. The confessions, the kiss, the closeness, and the prospect whatever might come next.
Seokjin takes your hand in his, lacing his fingers through yours. It feels like the most natural thing in the world, like your hands fit in his, belonging there.
“I’d like to stay a bit longer,” he whispers quietly, looking hopefully at you. “Would that be okay?”
You squeeze his hand gently. “I’d like that,” you reply, leaning back to rest your head against his broad shoulder. He traces slow, lazy circles across your palms with his thumb, and you close your eyes in a happy delirium.
“Seeing as we’re doing the whole honesty thing,” you begin, “I might as well tell you, sometimes I used to fantasize about what it would be like to come home and find you waiting for me. Like I’d imagine how you’d look in my house, my kitchen, my−.”
“Bedroom?” he finishes, and your face flushes, eyelids fluttering open to see him staring down into your face with a glint in his eye.
You blink, caught off guard as he laughs, a low rumble that you can feel through the material of his shirt that does something to your insides and your heart catches in your chest for the millionth time that evening.
Your stomach tingles with excitement, your entire body buzzing as though every nerve has lit up like a fuse as you inhale the scent of him. You push your body against his in an effort to communicate without words, because if you didn’t feel his lips on yours in the next five seconds, you might scream with frustration.
He takes the hint. “I really wanna kiss you,” he whispers, his tone leaving no room for doubt, and you turn your face up expectantly to meet his lips halfway.
His hands were firmer against you now, confidently placed on your waist as yours slide over his chest. You feel dizzy at the closeness, wanting more, and when the kiss breaks this time, you are both breathing hard, cheeks flushed as you look at one another.
“Are we moving too fast?” you ask hesitantly. Perhaps you had been too forward, you think, as you remember how he seemed to be with touching.
Seokjin pulls back just enough to shoot you a look of disbelief. “Not a chance, we’ve waited how long for a moment like this?”
You smile, but you’re still cautious. “I’m scared.”
“Scared of what?” he murmurs, pressing a kiss at your temple and tucking your hair back from your face.
“What if we regret all this tomorrow, or even an hour or few minutes from now?”
He kisses the top of your head. “I’m not here for a moment I will regret, Y/N,” he says sincerely. “I think we’re exactly where we both need to be.”
You can feel how his words pull you to him like a magnet, allowing you to start to believe what you had only ever imagined in your wildest fantasies might actually be true. You can feel the heat of his thumb tracing your wrist, hear him breathing beside you and still taste his kisses in your mouth −this was real.
Your hand rests on his thigh, marvelling at the lean feel of his muscle beneath your fingers. You steer your head back a bit so you can take a better look at that handsome face that was known all around the globe. He is every bit worthy of his title you muse. World Wide Handsome indeed was, according to your verification, the most handsome you had ever seen.
“What?” he says with a little shy smile, “−Do I have something on my face?”
The only thing on that man’s face is sheer and utter beauty, but you don’t tell him that. You just shake your head. “Nope,” you reply. “I’m just looking.”
“Okay,” he laughs, bringing you closer to him in a snuggle that feels better than rays of sunshine. “I think that’s enough looking for now, you’re making me nervous.”
“You get nervous?” you ask in disbelief. “No way.”
“Not so much in front of millions, but here like this with you, just a bit,” he admits. “Crazy, huh?”
“Hm, not crazy. I think it’s sweet.”
“Could I be handsome instead of sweet?” he jokes.
“You know you’re handsome already,” you tell him with a nudge. “Don’t over-milk it.”
He curls his arm around your shoulder and brings you in. You play with the open button at the top of his shirt, the nailed tip of your forefinger just touching the exposed skin at the base of his throat. You breathe in his scent, letting yourself savour everything in this moment with him.
“So I’m curious,” Seokjin begins, his arm tightening around you, “−what exactly did you imagine about me in the bedroom?”
“Jin!” you exclaim, flustered at his question and burying your face into his chest.
“That’s the first time I’ve heard you say my name tonight,” he says quietly. “I’ve waited all evening to hear you say it.”
“Really?” you say in surprise, but you don’t move from your spot against his chest. It’s so warm and comfortable you think you might want to stay here like this forever.
“Yeah. I’m surprised you actually called me Jin. I thought you hadn’t heard me ask.”
“Of course I did,” you protest.
“You looked miles away when I asked you, like you just remembered something important,” he says. “I didn’t want to be pry.”
“I see.”
“Are you going to answer my question this time?” he asks. “I’d like to hear the answer.”
You resume playing with the button on his shirt “If you want me to tell you about something that intimate, you have to give me something first. Deal?”
He laughs softly. “Alright then. Deal,” he agrees. “What do you want to know?”
You pause a moment, contemplating whether you had the guts to ask him, but you were curious yourself. You take a deep breath, here goes.
“Did you ever,” you start, “−did you ever imagine us− you know?” You stop, unable to get the words out. You wish you had another drink but you’ve both left your glasses in the kitchen.
“Did I ever imagine us what, Y/N?” Seokjin probes knowingly. His tone is deeper, lower now, and it sounds seductive as fuck. He bends down, his lips inches from your ear. “Fucking?”
An audible moan escapes your lips as though the word had been physical, and he had hit you in the chest with it. You press your knees closer together, as a jolt of desire like an electric shock pulsed through you.
He feels you tense up beside him, pressing your face harder into his shirt, face scorching with heat and embarrassment. How could he turn you on so much with one word like this? You can hear just how your breathing has become shallow and quick, and you struggle for air.
“Look at me, Y/N” he orders. Your stomach does multiple somersaults as you slowly raise your head. Seokjin cups your face, his eyes dark as storms. “I imagine it all the time,” he says, “I wondered how it would be between us. How you would feel in my arms, how you would feel to touch.”
“Fuck,” you utter faintly, not caring you swore, not even sure how much more you could take of this verbal onslaught on your senses. You clasp a hand around his wrist, tilting your head to press your lips into his palm.
“You are so beautiful, Y/N,” he tells you. “Since you opened your door, I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you, even though you’re right in front of me.” His warm breath dances over your face seductively. “It’s a miracle I’ve managed to keep my hands off you.”
Your hold on his wrist tightens, knuckles whitening, your blood rushing madly through your veins and the heat between your legs bordering uncomfortable. “Please−.”
“I always wanted to know how it would feel to talk dirty to you,” Seokjin interjects, “Wondering if you would like it or not.”
His voice is driving you crazy, the heat of his body so close to you, the proximity of those lips to yours, his fingers on your skin, and you press your thighs together, desperately trying to push back every fantasy his words were forcing you to conjure in your mind.
“Tell me, Y/N,” he murmurs, “Would you like that?”
“Jin,” you say weakly, your voice cracking.
“Yes?” He places the tip of his thumb on your bottom lip, pushing into your mouth until it rests on the soft flesh inside. “Say it.”
“I would like it,” you gasp, “It would turn me on.”
A low, raw moan comes from his throat that sends your senses into overdrive, and he tilts your jaw upwards. It seems to take so long before his lips finally come down over yours in a hungry, searching kiss. His tongue finds yours as the kiss deepens, and you cling to his upper arm with one hand, feeling the hardness of his bicep beneath your fingertips.
He pulls away to blaze a trail of kisses along your cheek, your jaw and down to your throat. He places tiny, delicious nips at your collarbone between kisses, and you throw your head back to expose the column of your neck to his mouth. Hot, open-mouthed kisses follow over the sensitive skin until he settles on a delicate spot right between your shoulder blade and the bottom of your ear. The kisses are elongated, his teeth dragging deliciously slowly over you until you feel the suction of his wet mouth.
Your breath catches, but you want him to leave his mark on you, and you sigh in ecstacy as you feel him bite at you, the sucking gaining more pressure. You slide your hand from his upper arm to wrap itself around his head, embedding your fingers into the softness of his hair as you call his name like a plea.
His lips claim yours again, tongues and teeth clashing as you kiss with a growing need. When he pulls away this time, just a fraction, you can see the desire in his darkened irises as he pins you with an intense gaze.
When he sticks out the tip of his wet, pink tongue to lick the corner of his lips, you are mesmerised by just how good he looks. His eyes rove over your face to rest on your swollen lips where they linger for a few seconds before coming back to meet yours.
“Is it so bad that I wanna hear you call my name when I’m inside you?” he asks hotly, one hand sliding down over your shoulder. You whimper in his arms, delirious at the sound of his voice that rasps seductively over you, “I want you so much, Y/N.”
You shudder with delight when his fingers pass the end of the sleeve of your top, the warmth of his touch and the coolness of his ring against your bare skin a delicious contrast. His fingers find the tiny rose-shaped buttons of your top, and he looks to you momentarily. “Is this okay?”
You breathe shakily, nodding up at him, and more deftly than you could have anticipated, he begins to undo them. The brush of his fingers on your chest as he goes lower, unfastening as he goes on, sears you, wreaking havoc between your legs, what little left of your composure fading with every touch.
Seokjin’s breath is ragged as he undoes the last one and coaxes you back against the cushion of the sofa, easing the material apart to reveal your white lace bra, groaning as he takes in the rise and fall of your cleavage.
Slowly he dips his head into the valley between your breasts, one hand at your hip as he places a succession of hot kisses against your skin that have your chest heaving with desire. His kisses move over to the top of your breasts and as the rim of your bra cup stands in the way of his mouth, he begins to slide the straps down over your shoulders along with the sleeves of your top.
He looks up at you from his position for any sign of protest, his eyes filled with lust, mouth parted. You moan breathlessly at the visual as you feel your walls clench around nothing, throwing your head back. The hand at your hip snakes up and behind your back to locate the clasp of your bra, and with ease, Seokjin single-handedly unhooks you.
The material comes loose away from your body and it’s enough leeway to allow him access to your breasts, but he pulls the bra down over your breasts to expose them fully. You watch as he takes you in shamelessly, and your face flushes. Before you can react, he takes your breast into his mouth immediately, causing you to cry out with ecstacy.
He closes his plump lips around your nipple, his soft, wet tongue stiffening to tease the peak until it juts out painfully into the heat of his mouth, and when he sucks at your breast, the delirious pull that seems to reach all the way into your core leaves you agonisingly desperate for more. You moan loudly, arching your back almost painfully to push your breast up against Seokjin’s mouth.
He groans throatily, his body pressing against you, his hand under your undone top caressing the skin at your sides and coming up to caress your breast with a gentle squeeze. His mouth is merciless as he works you. Every wet, needy pull against your soft mounds, every flick of his tongue over your nipples and nip of his teeth has you writhing beneath him.
Your back arches upwards to offer yourself up to him, your hands tugging harder at his hair as he extracts endless sighs of pleasure from you.
“Feel good?” he murmurs against your skin, each word laced with pure carnal desire.
“So good,” you sigh. “Don’t stop.”
He comes up, kissing at your throat again, his fingers squeezing harder at your breasts, fingers tweaking at your hardened nipple until your eyes roll back in your head with the excruciating pleasure. He kisses you eagerly and sloppily, leaving a damp trail of evidence along your neck and as he leans further against you, you feel the hardness of his cock press against your leg.
Your body is weak, the need inside you almost too much as your nails claw into Seokjin’s shirt, clutching at the expensive material between your fingers. “Jin!”
“The things I wanna do to you,” he hums in a breathless warning, “I want to touch you, Y/N −are you wet for me?”
Your mind is reeling. You could never have imagined Seokjin was capable of talking this way, but you love it. It’s sinfully arousing. “Yes!”
“You remember the way you said you used to imagine me in your bedroom?”
“Mm-hm.”
“Can we do that for real?” he asks. “I really wanna find out how wet you are.”
Panting, you sit up, eyes flickering over his beautiful face. “Let’s go,” you tell him. “I thought you’d never ask.”
You turn on the light in your bedroom and set it down to a dim glow, removing your top and bra and discarding them on chaise lounge that sits by the dresser. You can feel Seokjin watching you, and you turn to see him lying on your large queen-sized bed, all dressed in black, long legs sprawled out, with one arm behind his head. He looks like he’s shooting some sort of perfume commercial, perfectly sexy, like a model straight from any top magazine.
You want him with an appetite you didn’t know existed. You slide your pants down and step out of them, walk towards Seokjin in just your panties. You can see the raw want in his eyes as you climb onto the bed to lay beside him.
“You look even better than I ever thought,” he tells you as he turns to his side and surveys you, trailing a finger between your breasts. “You’re perfect.” He cups one in his hand, kneading at you before the warmth of his skin leaves you, going lower until his palm presses at your lower stomach, fingers tracing the hollow of your navel. You tremble under his touch as you feel his weight turn into you, one of his legs hooking over yours.
“You too,” you say genuinely.
His mouth finds yours in an urgent kiss as his fingers dip beneath the hem of your panties, and you know what he’s going to find. When he touches your folds, your thighs spread and your hips involuntarily jerk up to his hand, seeking more.
He kisses you heatedly, and you feel him slide a couple of fingers through your wet folds with the lightest touch, leaving your thighs quivering with a delighted anticipation. He swallows your moans with kisses as he does it again, this time a little firmer, his thumb pressing in slow, circular motions over the head of your clit each time.
Bit by bit, he touches you, each one more maddening than the next until you are a trembling mess in his arms, soaking wet and desperate to be penetrated.
“You’re so wet for me,” he groans, sliding his finger into you. “So fucking wet.”
You moan salaciously, your body coming alive in ways you had never experienced from his words as you grind your body up against his hand. He inserts another finger into you, and kisses the moans from your mouth with long, wet caresses from his soft lips. Your body trembles, your legs weak, as the sensations continue to grow, pleasure starting to build under the pressure as his fingers curve against your walls.
Seokjin’s eyes are dark as he watches you react to his exploration, as he continues to work at you with a touch that makes you try not to think about how many times he must have done this before.
“Don’t come yet,” he says in a low voice and withdraws his hand from you, “Not yet.” He takes your hand suddenly and brings it to his crotch, pressing it against his protruding arousal.
You gasp, drawing in a shaky breath as you feel the size under the material of his pants. Somewhere in the back of your mind, you recall hearing various rumours here and there about the size of Seokjin’s cock, and here you were verifying that if anything, those rumours had probably underestimated things. It definitely felt bigger than it should, but it excites you, making you ache to feel him in you.
He moans at the connection, pressing your hand to him harder, and you rub over the sizeable bulge, feeling its spongy hardness under your fingertips. Quickly, he unfastens himself and slides his pants and underwear down in one, not bothering to remove them completely in his eager hurry.
A slight panic seizes you as you watch his cock spring out. You could never have imagined that.
“Touch me,” Seokjin commands, taking your hand and placing it over his hardness.
His cock is hot, smooth velvet in your hand. It’s weighty, rosy, and long, veins evident along the underside, capped off by a curved soft tip that already glistens with the first showing of precum. You find your mouth watering with an impatient urge to taste it, feel it stretch the back of your throat until you’re choking on it.
He draws in his breath sharply as you curl your hands around the base and begin to stroke him. You drag your thumb across the head to smear the precum into his skin, and he lets out the most gutturally sexy groan you’ve ever heard.
You manouver yourself into a better position, your hand still around his cock as you lower your head to take him into your mouth. The taste of his precum hits the tip of your tongue and spreads its saltiness the moment you swallow. Seokjin looks down, watching his cock disappear between your lips as you taste him.
You are cautious as you suck him, taking in more of him as you go at a slow pace, conscious that it might get a little more difficult as you went on.
He hisses, “−Fuck!”
Hearing the way he cursed, his tone taut and strained, arouses you to a different level. Seokjin has the looks of an angel, and the way he had brokenly moaned that obscenity has a wicked, almost decadent appeal to it.
You grasp the base tighter and suck hard, pulling him deeper into your mouth each time. Your tongue traces the long vein that runs along the underside of his cock and Seokjin grabs at your hair, lost in the sensations that overcome him. His hardness strains rigidly against the inner walls of your mouth, screaming to be released.
His balls are tight against him, and you let your tongue explore them a bit before you want to try taking his full length. Instead, you take each of his balls into your mouth for a luxurious suck and you hear him call your name fiercely.
You resume at his cock again, easing it inch by inch between your lips again until you feel the tip at the back of your throat. You start to tear up, but you persevere, wanting to have the sensation of his whole cock in your mouth.
He bucks his hips upwards slowly. “I love watching the way you take me,” he groans.
You allow in a little more, fighting the urge to gag as his cock threatens to cut off your airway.
“That’s it,” he urges hotly. “Take it all in.”
Finally, you have him fully in your mouth, but you know you can’t keep it there long. You start to pull back, but Seokjin prevents you by pushing it back into you. You utter a strangled moan as you feel yourself on the verge of actually starting to choke on it.
You raise a hand in protest, and he slowly pulls out, his cock exiting your mouth with a soft pop. His cock looks even larger than it did before you put your mouth around it, and you wonder how you ever got the whole thing in anyway.
“You looked so good like that,” he groans raggedly, reaching down to take his cock into his own hand, palming it as he speaks. “Like a needy doll.”
You’ve never seen a sight so delicious as Kim Seokjin lying here on your bed, pants open, hard cock in his hands, full pink lips parted with rapture, tousled hair, looking at you through half-lidded eyes like he wants to devour you. The image makes you feel like you could cum on the spot.
You lay beside him on the pillow, placing a kiss against his parted mouth. “It aches, Y/N” he murmurs in complaint as he strokes himself slowly, “−So bad.”
You kiss him again. “Yeah?”
“Yeah,” he confirms. “I need to be inside you. I’ve jerked off imagining how this would feel so many times.” He abandons his cock momentarily and slides off his pants and underwear. “Take your panties off.”
You had no idea he could talk so filthily but it’s making you wetter. You do as he asks, writhing uncomfortably as you lie naked beside him. He turns towards you, removing his shirt and tossing it over the side of the bed. He nudges a knee between your legs to part them, his hips nestling against yours.
You can feel every outline of his hard cock as he grinds against you, and it’s making you feel feral with desire. He drags the head of his cock against your folds, pushing between them to find your wet entrance, spreading your legs apart wider as he kisses you.
The sound he makes as he enters you is almost savage, any restraint quickly fading as he fucks into you bit by bit. You grasp at his back as he starts to fill you, the stretch and burn a beautiful mix of pain and pleasure.
“You’re so tight,” he moans.
“Jin!” you cry out in a helpless moan as he pushes further in. “Fuck, you’re so−!”
He groans into your mouth, kissing your cries away as it goes on, your walls opening up to accommodate him as he goes deeper still until at last, he’s totally sheathed by your walls. It’s an unbelievable pleasure, and your ache grows like a blooming heat beneath him. His hips roll gently against you, grinding into you, and you can’t hold back your moans.
“You want me to stop?” he asks raggedly.
“No!” you cry urgently, wanting even more, your body impatiently crying out for release.
“Can you take it?” he asks, worriedly.
“I want to,” you reply.
He quickens his thrusts in response, eyes on your face as he does.
“Faster,” you plead. “Don’t stop!”
“I want you to come for me,” he moans sinfully as he increases the pace. “I’m not going to stop until I feel you come over my cock.”
The pleasure begins to mount, the pain forgotten about, diminishing with each rut, and you wrap your legs around his waist, hands at his back as you open wider, your walls clenching around him tightly.
“Harder!” you implore, your climax nearing, “−Fuck me harder, Jin!”
He obliges, slamming into you so hard the bed shakes, his thrusting quickening. You love the way it feels, the head of his huge cock hitting you just right in that spot, your slick accommodating him as you both chase your ends.
“I’m close,” you whisper.
“Come for me,” he tells you, “Come for me, Y/N. Come like you’re a slut just for me.”
His words do enough. Your body lets go, the full force of your orgasm almost winding you as you groan loudly, your body convulsing, your thighs trembling around him as you come hard. Seokjin kisses you, fucking you through it until he explodes inside you. You can feel his cock throb and pulse, his hot seed filling you as he rocks his hips against you.
Slowly, you both climb down together from the high, sweat slicking your bodies, the air scented with sex. You kiss him gently, pushing back a damp strand of hair from his forehead, enjoying the sight of him so wrecked.
“That was everything,” you say with a smile.
“Yeah, it was.”
You sidle up to him, and he holds you for a while quietly as you reflect on what just happened in total disbelief. It was the stuff of fantasies.
“Do you always seduce women so easily?” you venture.
“Never,” he replies, “I don’t seduce anyone by the way.”
“You probably don’t have to,” you mutter under your breath, once more feeling jealousy poke at you.
He peers down at you. “Y/N,” he says seriously. “I’ve never done this before, trust me. Not for a first time. I did what felt right with you.”
“Same.”
“What about you?” he asks uneasily, “−Have you ever done this before?”
“Not like this.”
“Good,” he says, pulling the sheets up around you both and adjusting himself to face you. “You think we should shower?”
“Probably,” you laugh.
“Hey Y/N,” he asks suddenly. “So, I know this might seem a bit cringey, but I have to ask before the curiosity kills me −do you like BTS?”
“Hmm, I do like some of your songs,” you reply.
“You do?” He sounds genuinely surprised. He clears his throat, his hand that was playing absently with your hair stills. “And do you have a favourite band member?”
Truthfully, you had never really given the band members much thought. You doubted you could accurately give anyone all their names. Except Seokjin, but that’s because you knew him. “Uh−you?”
He frowns. “You don’t have to say me just because of this,” he tells you. “You can tell me if it isn’t.”
“You are the only one I know, so you’re my favourite,” you say, kissing the smoothness of his chest, entwining your fingers with his.
“Alright,” he says. “But when you meet them, I wonder if you’ll like any of my bandmates better.”
“Do they have bigger cocks than yours?” you ask teasingly.
“Hey!” he complains. “Too much.”
“I’m sorry,” you say with another few pacifying kisses. “But you kind of asked for that one. Why would I like your bandmates better? I like you, okay?”
“Okay,” he concedes, “Just don’t cook for them. You know what they say about the way to a man’s heart and all that.”
You laugh. “Is that why you’re with me? Because I cooked for you?”
He kisses your head gently. “No, it’s because you made me mulhwe specifically if you must know.”
“Ha, ha,” you respond. “I thought this was meant to be fate or whatever.”
He chuckles and you love the way you can hear it through his chest. “I think it is.”
Perhaps he’s right, it did seem like a lot to be just coincidence. You sigh. Whatever it was, you were happy it happened, and you didn’t want things to end just yet.
“So, after showering, do you want to stay?” you ask tentatively, “−for the night I mean.”
Seokjin gives you the most delectable grin and touches your cheek. “I was hoping you’d say that” he replies, “Let’s see if I can ruin you a little more…”.
ˋ°•*⁀➷Thanks for Reading! ❤︎
PINNED BETWEEN THEM ⭒ JJK + KTH
what was supposed to be a study night turns into a dangerous game of domanance and desire when jungkook and taehyung trap you between them in the back of their car.
pairing — dom!jungkook x sub!femreader x dom!taehyung (m/f/m)
genre — friends with benefits au, light BDSM, polyamory, porn with little plot, smut, fluff
warnings/tags — 18+, explicit smut, threesome, car sex, clothed sex, unprotected sex, multiple orgasms, power dynamics, degradation, humiliation, use of terms like "slut" and "whore", makeout, lip biting, slight mention of blood, hickies and marking, bruising, dirty talk, praise kink, oral sex (f. receiving), breast play, lots of nipple play, dual stimulation, clit stimulation, lots of teasing, edging and orgasm denial, fingering, cum play, dry humping and grinding, thigh riding, consensual overstimulation, oral sex (m. receiving), fellatio, cock sucking and gagging, face fucking, double penetration, taehyung fucks her mouth while jungkook fucks her pussy, doggy position, cum swallowing, hair fisting, drooling, spanking, spitting on pussy, extreme stretching and fullness, begging and crying, squirting, riding, slight breeding, literally the sweetest aftercare (they buy her ice cream ugh its so cutee)
wc — 6.8k
a/n — this oneshot is inspired by their insta live, i just had to write it because they looked so sexy there ouff. Hope y'all enjoy! <3
m. list
WH*RE HOUSE │ jjk 18+
at kingston university, the athletes are kings and the girls of the dollhouse (a campus sorority made to please them) — are their comfort queens. you swore you’d never be one of them — until the games turned filthy, the dares turned dangerous, and jungkook turned his obsession on you.
pairing — athlete!jungkook x college!femreader
genre — toxic romance, college au, angst, smut, psychological drama, obsession, slice of life, slow corruption arc
warnings/tags — 18+, explicit sexual content, toxic relationship dynamics, abuse, peer pressure, obsession, jealousy, possessiveness, emotional manipulation, mental health struggles, greed/power themes, substance use (alcohol, smoking, pills), public sex, party sex, dares that turn sexual, fingering, oral sex, marking, hickeys/biting, dry humping, mirror sex, rough sex, praise kink, degradation kink, choking, sex in bathrooms/bedrooms/parties, unprotected sex, creampie, manipulation, angst, betrayal, messy emotions
“at kingston university, the athletes are kings and the girls of the dollhouse are their comfort queens.”
she said.
“smile pretty, pour the drinks, don’t fall in love.”
i swore i’d never be one of them. but everyone has a price. sometimes it’s attention. sometimes it’s obsession.
🎧 now playing: sex on the beach — partynextdoor
Jeon Jungkook Fic Recs [Pt. 2]
First, I want to thank all the talented authors for sharing their incredible stories. I’m really glad I had the chance to read them, as each one was so engaging and full of heart. Happy Reading <3
✦ Mutual Help by @personasintro
↳ in order for you to pretend to be his girlfriend, he helps you with your sexual desires ⏤ he calls it mutual help.
ongoing ║ 520k
reader meltdown: I don’t even need to say much, everyone knows Mimi, everyone knows mutual help. This best friends to lovers fic has the slowest slow burn [isn’t that why we call it slow burn lol] ever, and oh god, I love their friendship so much. I want this freaking Jungkook in my life so bad. If you haven’t read it yet, go freaking read it!
✦ Bitichin’ by @kinktae
↳ The 80s were a time of choices. Which perm was right for you? What color neon would you wear next? None of these choices, however, were more questionable than a certain deal you made with Jeon Jungkook.
completed ║ 49.5k
reader meltdown: Well, this fic was a rec to me, and now I’m recommending it to y’all. The author absolutely devoured the story, the tension, the emotions, everything is just perfect. This is amazing, definitely give it a try!
✦ The Art of Pretending by @ggukivrse
↳ when you and jungkook show up to your much anticipated graduation trip and realise neither of you had the guts to tell your friends about your recent break up, there's only one thing you can do to keep the trip from falling apart: pretend. but somewhere between fake kisses and real feelings, you start to wonder if letting go was ever the right choice at all.
completed ║ 49.5k
reader meltdown: the most delicious exes-to-lovers story. It didn’t have all the drama most ones do with this trope, but it was so emotional and satisfying. April, you absolutely nailed this, keep it up girl!
✦ Make you Mine by @mercurygguk [37k]
↳ your first day at your new college is quite eventful to say the least. but everything seems slightly less chaotic when Jeon Jungkook offers to help you on your way – if only knowing him wasn’t an even bigger mess than the day you first met.
reader meltdown: sooo good, I was hooked the whole time. This was the first fic on Tumblr I’d read and it was absolutely great. Both of them were idiots and I was so mad at them for not communicating properly. It’s definitely the most delicious one-shot ever and the angst had me feeling all the feels. Give it a try!
✦ Cockblocked by @mercurygguk [15.8k]
↳ which a pair of best friends are hopelessly in love with one another but they’re both too dumb to realize, even when everyone around them are dropping hints every five minutes. or alternatively; “you’re an idiot for thinking I wouldn’t love you back.”
reader meltdown: another amazing fic by the same author. This one was just as good, I honestly have no words left. Definitely give it a shot!
✦ One Night Stand by @buryhny
↳ as if the unexpected twist of a one-night stand turning out to be your CEO boss wasn't surreal enough, the situation takes a more challenging turn when both of you discover that you're expecting his child.
completed ║ 200k
reader meltdown: my god, this was so good. I’m not usually into this trope, but wow, this was next level. I loved Jungkook so so much in this fic. The way he took care of her throughout the pregnancy was just so cute. This is a comfort fic, and I loved the whole plotline. The way he pushed his fears aside to adapt and try to be a good father was just muawh.
✦ For Me by @personasintro
↳ A collection of drabbles accompanied with dilf!jk
completed ║ 23.8k
reader meltdown: so freaking cute, my god. I loved the interactions with Ruda and how he was trying to be perfect for her. The date scene was just… so cute, I literally couldn’t handle it.
✦ Bad Decisions by @clubdionysus
↳ it's simple: write your deepest darkest fears on origami birds and string them up on jungkook's ceiling. when they fall-which they inevitably will, thanks to his cheap daiso washi tape —you have to face the fear. set it free. the issue? you've a fear of intimacy. jungkook, a fear of rejection. and you've both got the capacity to make some incrediblybad decisions.
ongoing ║ 560k
reader meltdown: I’m damn sure you all know this freaking fic, and I don’t even have to say how amazing it is. Waiting for the next update so patiently. God, I love them so much.
✦ Meraki by @taegularities [26.6k]
↳ Jungkook finds you irritating; far too energetic and insistent. But his perception of you changes bit by bit, minute by minute, when he's persuaded into spending an entire night with you at places he doesn't know.
reader meltdown: this was so freaking good. The grumpy x sunshine vibe was perfect. I loved everything—the plot, the OC, every single detail. It left me giggling like crazy.
✦ Universal Truths by @wintrbears [19.3k]
↳ You took the risk of falling in love in a world where your perfect match is decided for you by the universe itself. When a name you never could've predicted appears on your wrist, you do everything you can to stop the inevitable.
reader meltdown: ah, no words. This was such a good soulmate AU fic, just great. And oh, I felt so bad for Tae, oops, but I just love Y/N and Jungkook so much. Their chemistry is insane and the writing was amazing too!
✦ Strawberry Lips by @personasintro [2.8k]
↳ it’s not your fault your professor is extremely young and oh, so hot.
reader meltdown: So adorable and heart-melting. I wish I had someone like him in my life [crying over being single].
✦ Sleepover by @personasintro
↳ Jungkook is your best friend’s little brother who invites you to have a sleepover at his place. Nothing can happen, right?
reader meltdown: I loved every second of it, and when Jungkook was jealous, it was just too cute. I wish we could see more of them, like if their relationship had developed, and I also really wanted to see Jina’s reaction and everything.
✦ Quarter Past Four by @dailynnt
↳ You haven’t seen him in two months. Not since that night you told him you wanted more — and he vanished. But tonight, while you’re trying to move on, laughing beside another man in a crowded nightclub… you see him. Those same dark eyes. That same smirk that undresses you with a glance. He used to come to you at 4:15 AM. No calls. No words. Just him, and your body, and that dangerous kind of love that leaves you bleeding. Now he’s back. And you’re about to find out if your heart can survive him a second time.
ongoing ║ 32.5k
reader meltdown: this fic is just amazing, I have no words. It got me so hooked, patiently waiting for part three. I’m so excited to see what will happen next. The chaos, the pregnancy, everything has me so hyped to read more.
Divider credits: from a post by @cafekitsune
Double Feature | jjk (m) | one-shot
One wrong lyric was all it took for Jungkook to catch your secret — you’d never tried 69. And he wasn’t about to let you leave the hotel without a hands-on lesson.
idol!jungkook x songwriter!reader
warnings: smut with veeeery little plot, explicit sexual content (oral sex, 69, missionary), dirty talk & corruption kink (teasing, denial, praise), fingering, clit play, face-sitting, gagging on cock
an: this is a work of fiction: the characters and scenarios are entirely fictionalized and written for entertainment purposes only. The real people mentioned here are not represented accurately, and no disrespect is intended. Please remember to read responsibly and know the difference between fantasy and reality. 🖤
Talking about your current projects had become a kind of ritual in the studio, a tradition you never questioned, because in truth the boys were the reason you even had those projects in the first place.
Most days your work revolved around their songs, but the reach of their success had stretched so far that now other artists, even rival companies, came to you with requests. And while some of them were fairly ordinary, every now and then you were asked for something… unusual.