softobsession

ARMY/Yoongi biased/ a place where fantasy and real emotions meet

[softygloss]

Welcome ♡

She/her

24y/o

This is a space for

soft love and romantic writing

Lots of smut

psychological thoughts

anonymous confessions

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[softygloss]

Burn for me

Warning: switch Hoseok x switch female reader, extreme possessiveness and jealousy, power struggles, rough sex, hair-pulling manhandling, orgasm denial, rough painful handling of genitals, consensual-but-aggressive dominance fighting, creampie, unprotected sex.

Summary: Imagine possessive Hoseok grows furious watching YN laugh and joke freely with others. Once home, jealousy erupts into a heated argument that explodes into raw, angry sex.

Hoseok’s gaze was dark and unrelenting as he watched you from the far side of the crowded room. There was laughter and music everywhere but all he could focus on was you, his yn chatting animatedly with a group of fellow idols. Your head tilted back in genuine amusement as one of them told a joke, your hand lightly shoving his shoulder in that playful, carefree manner that made Hoseok’s blood surge with possessive fury. The man’s fingers brushed your arm casually and you didn’t pull away. You laughed freely, your smile radiant, your body language open and unguarded.

To everyone else, it was harmless banter. To Hoseok, it was provocation. You were his. His to touch. His to make laugh. His to claim in every filthy, obsessive or pure romantic way imaginable. Jealousy clawed at his chest like a living beast, his jaw tightening until it ached. He imagined storming over, pinning you against the nearest wall in front of them all and reminding the room exactly who you belonged to.

But he restrained himself...barely. The ride home would be his opportunity. He had waited all evening, simmering in silent rage, his cock already twitching at the thought of bending you over and fucking the defiance out of you the moment the door closed.

The car journey back to the apartment was thick with tension. You glanced at him a few times, sensing the storm brewing, but said nothing as it was quite fun. Hoseok’s knuckles whitened on the steering wheel, his mind replaying every smile, every touch. By the time the door slammed shut behind you, his control had shattered.

"What the fuck was that?" he snarled, shoving you against the wall with bruising force. One large hand fisted in your hair, yanking your head back so your eyes met his wild ones.

“Laughing and flirting like a little slut in front of them? Letting him touch what’s mine? You’re only mine, YN. Say it. Tell me who the hell you belong to.”

Your eyes blazed with equal fire. You shoved hard at his chest, refusing to yield. “Get off me, Hoseok. I didn’t do anything wrong. We were just joking around. You’re being a possessive jerk again, acting like I can’t even speak to people without you losing your mind.”

“Possessive jerk?” He laughed, low and unhinged, grinding his rock hard cock against your thigh so you could feel every inch of him.

“I’ve been going crazy all night watching you. This body, this smile, everything is mine. No one else gets to see you like that. I’m going to fuck you until you remember exactly who owns this pussy.”

He spun you around roughly, bending you over the back of the couch, yanking your dress up over your ass. His hand cracked down hard on one cheek, the sound echoing. You gasped, but instead of submitting, you pushed back against him, grinding your ass against his bulge.

“You don’t own me like some fucking toy. I love you,you know that. But if you keep acting like a possessive psycho every time I talk to someone...”

That defiance only fuelled him. He ripped your panties down your thighs in one brutal tug, the fabric tearing. Two thick fingers shoved inside your cunt without warning, curling viciously against that spot that made your knees buckle.

You were already wet, soaked, your body betraying how much his crazed possessiveness turned you on.

“This is mine,” he hissed, pumping his fingers fast and deep, thumb grinding on your clit.

“This tight little pussy clenches only for me. Say it, baby. Tell me who the fuck you belong to while I fingerfuck what’s mine.”

You moaned, hips rocking back onto his hand despite yourself, but your words came out aggressive. “Make me, you jealous bastard.”

That snapped the last thread of his control.

He freed his thick cock and slammed into you from behind in one brutal thrust, burying himself balls-deep. The stretch was punishing, deliciously raw, as he set a savage rhythm, hips slapping against your ass with loud wet sounds.

Yet you were no submissive. Twisting suddenly, you shoved him back with surprising strength, forcing him onto the couch. “My turn, you jealous bastard.” You climbed astride him, sinking down onto his cock with a moan, taking control. Your nails raked down his chest as you began to ride him hard, hips rolling and grinding with aggressive need. Leaning forward, you bit sharply into his shoulder, teeth sinking in hard enough to leave marks, tasting the salt of his skin.

Hoseok groaned, hips bucking up wildly to meet you, but his hands gripped your waist possessively. “Shit Yn...you’re driving me insane. Bite harder, baby. Mark me while you fuck yourself on what’s yours.”

You did, biting along his neck and collarbone as you rode him faster, your walls clenching tightly around his throbbing length. The power struggle intensified, your bodies slick with sweat, breaths ragged, each of you fighting to dominate. He thrust up forcefully, trying to regain control, but you pinned his shoulders, grinding down deep and slow, teasing him mercilessly.

“You think you can just bend me over and put me in my place?” you panted, riding him with feral intensity, your clit rubbing against his pelvis with every motion. “I’m not some fragile thing, Hoseok. I’ll fight you every time you act crazy.”

With a guttural growl, he flipped you suddenly, bending you over the arm of the couch. “And I’ll remind you why you’re mine.” He drove into you from behind again, even deeper this way, one hand fisting your hair while the other smacked your ass repeatedly. His thrusts were punishing, raw, and animalistic, each stroke claiming you completely. “This cunt is mine to ruin. Say it while I fuck you stupid.”

You pushed back against him just as fiercely, meeting every thrust, your moans mixing with curses. The fight continued through the sex, biting, scratching, flipping positions in a tangle of limbs and raw desire. He pulled you to the bedroom, throwing you onto the bed before you rolled him onto his back again, riding him with renewed aggression, your breasts bouncing as you took what you wanted.

The intensity built unbearably, your orgasm approaching fast as you ground down on him. Hoseok’s eyes darkened with cruel possessiveness. “Don’t you dare cum,” he growled suddenly, his voice rough and commanding. “Not until I say so. This pussy doesn’t get to finish until I decide you’ve earned it.”

Without warning, he pulled out completely, leaving you empty and aching.

The denial hit you hard. Frustration and rage boiled over, and tears of angry need pricked at your eyes, spilling down your cheeks as your hips twitched uselessly, desperate for friction.

“You absolute bastard” you snarled through the tears. Your hand shot out, wrapping around his slick, throbbing cock with brutal roughness. Your grip was punishingly tight, fingers squeezing hard enough to make him hiss in pain, your nails digging into the sensitive skin as you stroked him roughly, almost viciously.

“Make me cum right now, Hoseok,” you demanded angrily, voice shaking with anger and lust, your eyes locked on his with unyielding fire wanting to slap him.“Or I swear I’ll make this hurt worse.”

Hoseok’s breath hitched sharply at the rough treatment, a mix of pain and overwhelming arousal flashing across his face. He was weak for your aggression, for the way you fought back and claimed him right back. With a loud groan, he grabbed your hips and slammed back into you, fucking you with new savage force.

The battle raged on through deep, feral strokes and desperate grinding until you shattered first, crying out as your walls pulsed violently around him. The sight and feel of you pushed him over the edge. He buried himself to the hilt, spilling hot, thick ropes of cum deep inside you with a broken groan of your name.

Panting heavily, bodies still joined, the anger began to fade. Hoseok collapsed over you, his face buried in your neck. You wrapped your arms around him, fingers threading through his damp hair.

“Calm down, okay?” you whispered, voice softening despite the lingering fire. “We only love each other. I didn’t mean anything with them. You’re the only one I want, Hobi."

He lifted his head, eyes meeting yours with raw vulnerability beneath the obsession. “I know… I’m sorry, baby. I just go crazy because I love you so much it consumes me. You’re my everything. Let’s calm down. No one else matters. Only us.”

You kissed him deeply, tenderly now.

He stayed buried inside you, holding you close as the storm passed, their fierce love reaffirming itself in the quiet after the raw, angry passion. Yet even in the calm, his arms remained tight around you and you loved it.

A:n I love cute endings 😌

[yeskookii]

Clingy bf jungkook hc ❀˖° nsfw ver. sfw ver

Tags: explicit content, hes a pervert 🤷🏻‍♀️, idk if jk is a sub or dom here.

Mdni 18+

I know one thing abt clingy jungkook is he loves laying between your thighs when watching tv together. Not only cuz he finds comfort there, but he also would be able to smell ur scent and feel how warm and soft your pussy feels under his neck.

He would pretend to adjust his head just so he takes a small whiff.

He’s unfortunately a pervert when it comes to you.

Jungkook was honestly worried you would be mad at him for being too perverted, but one day when you caught him sniffing your panties in your bedroom, eyes closed, a faint blush on his cheeks as he jerked off. it made you feel some type of way. You ended up riding him all night as you rub your panties over his face.

Jungkook was gone that day, he knew you were the one. He stopped hiding his desires and completely let go.

It’s still surprising to you how much of a clingy horny pup he is. especially when you’re chopping vegetables, you feel him snick to his knees, pressing his face between your thighs and breath you in.

You try to be unfazed by his actions, but it turns you on so much knowing you got this big, muscular man so down bad for you and you’re not even trying.

He’s so obsessed with your touch. pls touch him. It doesn’t matter if it’s an innocent touch , jungkook will get a boner from it.

He gets jealous of your clothes. He’ll peel your jeans down just enough to bite the very top curve of your ass, leaving a mark only he knows is there.

Also he would eat your pussy for hours. He doesn’t even care abt his release, just pls sit on his face and let him do all the work.

He also loves creampies, he loves watching his cum dripping out from your ruined pussy. He would pull u by your hips, arching your back just to push his cum back inside with his fingers. Feeling your gooey walls squeeze his fingers making him hard again.

And on other days, After he comes inside you, he refuses to pull out. He’ll stay locked in place for ages, soft but still there, dozing lightly. “I like feeling you keep me,” he slurs, half-asleep.

Cockwoming.

Jungkook wants to be inside your skin if it was physically possible, he wanna feel every inch of your body on him.

His favorite position is always missionary. Cuz that’s the closest he feels to your soul and body, seeing your eyes dizzy and unfocused, your mouth hung open desperately reaching out for his mouth is jungkook’s favorite thing in the entire world.

And you barely get to breath during missionary, cuz jungkook can’t stop kissing your soft lips. His teeth biting your lips, sucking on your tongue. He kisses you so deeply, sharing breath and spit, that you forget to pull away for air. You only remember when he finally breaks for a gasp, his forehead resting against yours, both of you breathless and shared.

Also he loves to explore anything that got to do with your pussy. One time he made you drink a whole bottle of pineapple juice just to see if the taste would actually change.

he’ll push you against the counter, hook your leg over his arm, and lick between your folds with a soft hum. “Just wanted to see if the juice changed your taste,” he’ll say after he made you cum twice, then kiss you so you can taste yourself on his tongue.

He loves giving you hickeys where no one can see—the inside of your thigh, under your breast, the small of your back. A map only he can read. He traces them with his tongue later, proud of his work.

You wake up in the middle of the night to him fingering you gently, his face buried in your hair, breathing evenly as if he’s asleep. He’s not trying to wake you or make you come. He’s just touching you because he can.

If you wear a skirt, his hand is always on the bare skin of your thigh under the table. He draws patterns with his fingertips, high up, near the edge of your underwear. A silent, public claim.

Jungkook’s worst nightmare is being away for a tour or a really busy schedule. His texts never stop even though hes very busy and barely can hold a conversation, but he will ask for a pic every time just so he could touch himself to your pretty cute face.

After a fight, his clinginess turns desperate. He’ll fuck you with a heartbreaking tenderness, kissing every inch of your skin, whispering “I’m sorry” against your lips, your collarbones, between your legs. He needs to be inside you to feel forgiven. ♡ྀི

A/N: i hope this was to ur expectations!! I tried making it less freaky but what can i say… iam freaky.

Tags: @daddyyy88 @stillillies @hopeonysus

[softygloss]

This is crazy

I LOVE it

[softygloss]

I've been feeling so tired for no reason? Not being able to write anything

Is it the weather or what lmao

[minyoonjin]

just as you are, I am also grateful that YOU are still walking with us, my precious seven...💜

(cr. movewithsope)

[minyoonjin]

truly an angel, the most beautiful 💜 (for @jung-koook 🌌)

(cr. movewithsope)

[tetsur0-1]

How i be reading smut wth a straight face in bed

[softygloss]

After writing my own fantasies down,this is what my face looks like 😭

[academic-vampire]

𝔟𝔩𝔬𝔬𝔪𝔦𝔫𝔤 𝔦𝔫 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔠𝔦𝔱𝔶

[softygloss]

Thank you lot for 100 subscribers 💖💖😭

[defendingwarrior]

2026 BTS FESTA Family Photo

[softygloss]

Look at our handsome boys

[gimbapchefs]

two eggs in this economy 💸

[softygloss]

Mind to Filth

Tags: MDNI, needy Jungkook X shy female reader who becomes filthy asf, it's mostly all sexting, online best friends to sex friends, oral sex(both receiving), anal sex, nipple sucking, breastfeeding

Summary: Jungkook and Yn start chatting about more than daily topics

Jungkook lived alone in his sleek Seoul apartment, enjoying the privacy his fame afforded him after years in the spotlight. He and Yn had been close online friends for over a year. They first connected in a BTS fan Discord during late-night gaming sessions, then moved to private KakaoTalk. What began with memes, music recommendations, and light banter evolved into profound conversations about philosophy, art, music, dreams and hidden desires. Yn lived abroad, which made everything feel safe and unreal,like a private fantasy.

Her sharp intellect fascinated him. The way she dissected complex ideas with clarity and wit made his pulse race in ways he had never expected. One humid summer night, after a particularly deep discussion on repression and human urges, Jungkook could no longer hold back.

Jungkook: Yn, the way your mind works is properly fucking sexy. So intelligent it makes my cock throb just reading your words. That brilliant brain of yours… I need it filthy. Ever thought about sex chatting? No pressure, but I’m already hard imagining you letting that clever mouth run wild for me.

Yn: Jungkook… you’re serious? We’re just friends. I’ve never done anything like this before. It feels so sudden.

Jungkook: Dead serious, baby. I want to hear every dirty thought that smart head of yours can come up with. I’ll start if you’re nervous. Tell me what you’re wearing right now. I’ve been wanking for the past hour thinking about your last message on impressionism. My cock is leaking like a tap.

Yn:Just a thin t-shirt and knickers… This is all new to me. Feels dangerous. I shouldn’t even be typing this. My face is burning.

Jungkook: Good. Touch that pretty cunt for me and send a voice note moaning my name while you do it. I need to hear how wet you get for me.

Jungkook: [Dick Pic] Close-up of his thick, veiny cock gripped hard in his tattooed fist, swollen head glistening with precum. *Your brilliant fucking mind did this to me, Yn.*

Yn: Oh my god… you’re massive. I can’t believe you sent that. My heart is racing. Alright… first time ever doing anything like this. [Tits Pic] A clear photo of her full, soft breasts, heavy and round, with stiff, dark nipples begging for attention.

Jungkook: Jesus Christ, Yn. Those perfect tits. I’m going feral. I want to suck them raw until they’re bruised and swollen, like I’m breastfeeding from you while I ruin your holes.

Yn: I… I don’t know what to say. This is so embarrassing but I’m really wet now. No one’s ever talked to me like this.

Chat – 2:19 AM

Jungkook: Fuck, those tits are going to live in my head rent-free. Pinch your nipples for me and tell me how it feels.

Yn: They’re so sensitive… I did it. It sent a jolt straight down there. This is too much. I feel shy even admitting that.

Jungkook: Shy looks good on you, but I want you dirty. Imagine me on my knees sucking those tits hard, biting them while I finger you. I’d drink from you like I’m breastfeeding.

Yn: that sounds intense. I’ve never thought about someone sucking my breasts like that. It’s making me squirm but I’m too nervous to say more.

Jungkook: Don’t hold back, smart girl. I love how your mind works, but right now I need it dirty.

Yn: Okay… maybe I’d let you. If you were gentle at first. But I shouldn’t be saying this.

A few days later – 11:47 PM

Jungkook: Been thinking about you all day. Your last smart take on existentialism had me stroking in the shower. Send me something. Anything.

Yn: I’m still shy about pictures… but I touched myself earlier thinking about your message. Just light circles. Nothing crazy.

Jungkook: Tease. I want more. I’d eat your pussy from behind until you shake, then move to that tight little ass with my tongue.

Yn: ass? You mean… anal? I’ve never tried that even in my head. It sounds scary but the way you describe it… I’m getting wet again. Don’t laugh at me for being shy.

Jungkook: Not laughing. I’ll go slow. Tongue-fuck that tight hole first, get you sloppy wet, then train it with my fingers before I bury myself balls-deep. You’d love it.

Yn: Maybe… I’m imagining it now. Your tongue there. It’s dirty but turning me on.

One week later – 1:55 AM

Jungkook: I’m so hard it hurts. Your intelligence is foreplay. Now be a good girl and describe sucking my cock.

Yn: I… okay. I’d kneel and lick the head slowly. Like a lollipop. But then I’d get shy and stop. Is that okay?

Jungkook: Filthy tease. I’d grab your hair and force it down your throat until you gag. But first those tits. I’d suck them like I’m breastfeeding, leaving marks all over.

Yn: The breastfeeding thing… it’s weirdly hot. I’d let you suck hard. Bite my nipples. I’m touching myself properly now. Two fingers.

Jungkook:[Voice Note] Deep moan of her name while stroking. “Yn… fuck, those tits.”

Yn: Your voice is so hot. I’m close already.

Days like these passed and yn was getting more and more confident, sending Jungkook pictures and acting like nothing happened.

Jungkook: Send another pic. I need those tits again. I jerked off three times today thinking about you.

Yn: Alright… here. [New Tits Pic – nipples pinched and red] I did this for you.

Jungkook: Good girl. Look at those hard nipples. I’d pinch them while fingering your cunt and ass at the same time.

Yn: I want that. Your fingers stretching both holes. And… anal. I keep thinking about your thick cock pushing into my arse while you play with my clit. Making me full.

Jungkook: YES. I’ll train that tight ass until you’re begging. Tongue first, then fingers, then balls-deep pounding.

Yn: Fuck… I’m dripping on my sheets now. I’d clench around you so hard.

8:34 PM

Yn: I’ve been bad today. I edged myself for an hour thinking about you sucking my tits raw while you fuck my arse. I want bite marks all over them. Bruised and swollen after you have been breastfeeding for hours.

Jungkook: Holy shit, Yn. You’ve gone full filthy. I love this side of you.

Yn: yes, baby, just for you. I want you to slap my tits while you thrust into my pussy or maybe ass? . Make them jiggle. Then pull out and feed me your cock straight from my dirty hole. I’d suck it clean like a whore.

Jungkook: [Dick Pic – mid-stroke, veins bulging, precum everywhere] This is what you do to me now.

Yn:Mmm, that fat cock. I’d deepthroat it until my eyes water, then pull back and tease the head with my tongue. Edge you until you’re growling. Then I’d beg you to cum on my tits and make me swallow every drop.

Jungkook: You’re feral now. I’m obsessed.

Yn:[Voice Note] Wet squelching sounds of fingers plunging in and out of her cunt, moaning loudly: “Jungkook… fuck my ass harder. Suck my tits dry. I’m your cumslut.”

Jungkook was so obsessed, he would text her randomly even in public. He couldn't think about anything else. She was so beautiful to him, he would hug her and never let go.

Jungkook (3:12 PM): Can’t focus on anything. Your smart little analyses turn me on so much my cock aches. I miss you. Need to bury my face in your cunt and smell how wet you get for me. Then tongue-fuck your ass until you squirt.

Yn: I’m at work and now I’m soaked. I’d sit on your face and grind my arse on your tongue while you finger my cunt. Then I’d make you suck my nipples so hard they leak for you. Breastfeed fantasy is stuck in my head now.

Jungkook (2:07 AM): Woke up throbbing again. Can’t stop thinking about breastfeeding from those tits while I finger your arse. I need the real thing, Yn. I’m going insane without you.

Yn:Come here and do it then. I want your mouth latched on my nipples for hours, biting and sucking while you stretch my pussy with three fingers. I’d cum just from that. Then I’d swallow your entire load straight from the source, no wasting a drop.

Jungkook: Fuck, you’ve become such a dirty girl. I love it.

Yn: I was shy at first but now I crave it. I want you to cum deep in my ass, then make me push it out so you can watch. Or feed it to me from your fingers while you suck my sore nipples again. I’m touching my clit right now just typing this.

Jungkook: I’m so fucking close. Imagine me sucking hard on your tits, leaving deep bite marks all over, while I pound your gorgeous arse raw. Balls slapping against your wet cunt.

Yn:Yes- harder. Bite them until I scream. I want my nipples raw and sensitive. I’m riding my fingers pretending it’s your thick cock in my arse. I’d clench so tight around you.

Jungkook:I’d pinch your clit at the same time. Make you squirt while I’m buried balls-deep in that tight hole.

Yn: I’m cumming-shit-I want drink your cum straight from your cock. I’d swallow it all, then lick your balls clean like a greedy slut.

Jungkook: [Voice Note] Raw, growling moan of her name as he explodes: “Yn-fuck-take my load.”

Yn: I came twice. First riding my fingers like a whore, then licking them clean pretending it was your thick semen. I want the real thing so bad now.

꧁꧂

The chats continued like this for months, daily filth, voice notes, more pics, and increasingly dark fantasies. Yn had transformed from the shy girl who hesitated at every message into a confident, feral partner who matched Jungkook’s hunger step for step. Their conversations never lost the intellectual spark, often starting with deep talks before descending into pure depravity.

Months after their chats had spiralled into pure depravity, Jungkook flew to Yn’s city in complete secrecy. As a famous idol, he moved like a shadow, mask, cap, and private transport ensuring no one knew. He had told her only the day before that he was coming, but the reality hit her differently when the knock sounded on her apartment door.

Yn opened it with trembling hands. There he stood: Jungkook in the flesh, taller and more intense than any video call could capture. His dark eyes burned with unrestrained hunger the second the door clicked shut and he locked it behind him. Yn stepped back, heart hammering. This had always felt safe online, distant, imaginary. But now he was here, real, breathing hard, looking at her like he wanted to devour her whole.

“Jungkook… I—” she started, voice shaky, still processing.

He didn’t let her finish. His gaze locked onto hers, dark and feral, pupils blown wide with lust. “Don’t be surprised by what I’m about to do,” he growled, voice low and dangerous, stepping forward until she was backed against the wall. “Every single filthy thing we talked about in those chats, I’m doing it all. Right now. No holding back.”

Before she could respond, he crashed his mouth onto hers in a brutal kiss. His tongue invaded her immediately, fucking her mouth with the same hunger he’d described so many times. One hand gripped her jaw, tilting her head exactly how he wanted, while the other ripped her thin top open with a sharp tear. Her bare breasts spilled free into the cool air. Jungkook pulled back just enough to stare down at them, groaning like a starving man.

“These tits… the ones I’ve jerked off to in every picture you sent. Finally mine to destroy.”

He shoved her onto the bed, crawling over her with predatory grace. His eyes never left hers as he latched onto one nipple with savage hunger. He sucked greedily, tongue flicking and swirling rapidly over the stiff peak, moaning deeply into her skin as if he were truly breastfeeding. The wet, obscene sounds filled the room. His teeth grazed and bit down, leaving red marks that made her gasp. His tattooed hand mauled the other breast, pinching and twisting the nipple hard, rolling it between his fingers until she cried out.

“Jungkook… oh god…” Yn moaned, back arching, fingers threading into his hair. She loved every second, the intensity, the way his eyes flicked up to meet hers while he sucked, watching her reactions like he was addicted.

He switched sides, sucking even more violently on the second nipple. He pulled it deep into his mouth, hollowing his cheeks, moaning louder as if trying to drink from her. His free hand slapped the first breast lightly, watching it jiggle before pinching the sore bud again. Yn’s hips bucked involuntarily; she was soaked already, loving how feral he was, how he claimed her exactly as promised.

Jungkook stripped them both fully naked in record time, his heavy, veiny cock springing free, rock hard, thick, and leaking precum down the shaft. He forced her legs wide apart, eyes locked on her dripping cunt. “Soaking wet for me already. This cunt and ass belong to me now.”

He buried his face between her thighs with feral intensity. Long, sloppy licks dragged from her swollen clit all the way down to her tight arsehole. He sucked her pussy lips into his mouth, tongue plunging deep inside her cunt while two thick fingers slammed in and out. Then he moved lower, his tongue pushing insistently into her rear hole, tasting and stretching her as he moaned against her skin. His eyes kept flicking up to hers, watching her face contort in pleasure.

Yn came violently within minutes, thighs clamping around his head as her juices flooded his face and tongue. She squirted messily, crying out his name, loving every filthy second of it.

He flipped her onto all fours without warning, spreading her arse cheeks wide. “You wanted anal, yeah?” he growled, voice rough. “Beg for it.”

“Please… fuck my ass, Jungkook. I need it,” she whimpered, pushing back against him desperately. She loved this, how real it felt, how he made her beg just like in the chats.

He lubed his massive cock generously and pressed the fat, leaking head against her puckered hole. Inch by agonising inch he sank in, stretching her burning ring wide open. The intense burn mixed with delicious fullness made her eyes roll back. When he bottomed out, balls-deep, he groaned gutturally, eyes squeezing shut for a moment before locking back onto hers over her shoulder.

“Jungkook… fuck!” Yn cried out, back arching deeply.

“Your arse is choking my cock so perfectly. So fucking tight and hot,” he rasped, staring into her eyes as he started thrusting,deep, relentless strokes that made her whole body jolt. One hand reached around to rub her swollen clit in tight circles, the other mauled her swinging tits, pinching and twisting her sore nipples. He leaned over her back, biting her shoulder hard as he pounded her. Yn shattered again, squirting around his fingers while her arse clenched rhythmically around his thick shaft, loving the overwhelming fullness and the way his eyes stayed on her the entire time.

Jungkook pulled out slowly, watching her hole flutter. He flipped her onto her back and straddled her chest, his cock still glistening with her ass juices, hovering over her face. “Open that smart mouth wide for me.”

Yn obeyed eagerly, eyes locked on his as he shoved deep down her throat. She gagged and drooled messily, tears streaming down her cheeks, but she loved it, the taste, the roughness, the way he fucked her face while staring into her eyes with pure possession. At the edge, he pulled out and erupted across her tits in thick, hot ropes of cum, painting her breasts and nipples white.

“Swallow what you can, baby,” he ordered, voice hoarse.

He scooped up his semen with two fingers and pushed them into her mouth. Yn licked them clean greedily, moaning at the salty taste, her eyes never leaving his. Then Jungkook lowered his head again, sucking his own cum off her nipples with filthy, wet sounds. He moaned loudly while doing it, grinding his still-hard cock against her thigh, eyes half-lidded in bliss.

“I’ve needed this so badly,” he rasped between greedy sucks, tongue flicking her cum-covered nipples. “Your brilliant mind. Your slutty holes. All of it. You’re mine now.”

He moved down and fucked her cunt next in deep missionary, pinning her legs over his shoulders so he could slam against her cervix with every thrust. He pounded so hard and deep she felt him in her stomach, her eyes rolling back in ecstasy. Jungkook watched her face the entire time, growling, “Look at me while I ruin this cunt.”

Then he flipped them, making her ride him reverse cowgirl. His hands spread her ass cheeks wide, thumbs teasing her freshly-fucked hole as he thrust up brutally. Yn bounced on his cock, loving the way he filled her, the slap of skin, the feral grunts he made.

Finally, he pulled her off, made her kneel between his legs, and fed her a second massive load straight onto her waiting tongue. “Swallow every drop like the good girl you are.”

Yn did exactly that, looking up at him with teary, satisfied eyes as she swallowed every thick spurt, licking her lips clean. She loved every filthy second of it, the claiming, the mess, the intensity.

Jungkook collapsed beside her on the bed, pulling her close into his arms. His cock was already twitching against her thigh, ready for another round. He kissed her deeply, tenderly this time, stroking her hair as they caught their breath.

“This isn’t fantasy anymore,” he murmured against her lips, eyes soft but still hungry. “You’re mine. I’m going to keep stretching every hole, sucking these tits dry, and feeding you my cum until you can’t think straight.”

Their chats never stopped after that night. They only grew filthier, now laced with vivid, detailed recaps of exactly how incredible it felt in the flesh,every thrust, every moan, every swallow. What started as online words had become an addiction they both craved in reality.

[girltalk]

June will be filled with joy.

June will be filled with love.

June will be filled with trust.

June will be filled with peace.

June will be filled with clarity.

June will be filled with miracles.

June will be filled with blessings.

[softygloss]

I've been writing a fan fiction about Jungkook but something feels off about it😭

Ig fk it off, Ill just post it

[lovetales]

JIMIN in G.C.F Las Vegas

[softygloss]

One Stolen Summer Day

pairing: Boyfriend! yoongi x girlfriend! Reader genre: angst, smut, fluff, long distance, reunion inspired by: long-distance love, tour life loneliness, “missing you across time zones” trope word count: ~5k

warnings: explicit sexual content, oral sex (f receiving), fingering, multiple rounds, overstimulation, dirty talk, praise kink, possessiveness, light hair pulling, marking (hickeys/bruises), public teasing, long-distance relationship, emotional vulnerability, crying during intimacy

summary: Your birthday starts off quiet and disappointing until an unexpected knock turns everything upside down. What follows isn’t just a sweet reunion, but a chaotic, emotional whirlwind of stolen time, buried confessions, and moments that feel almost too intense to be real. Just when it seems like the day might rewrite everything between you, reality crashes back in leaving behind a goodbye that hits harder than either of you were prepared for.

You woke up to the soft hum of your air conditioner fighting against the early summer heat already pressing against the windows of your small apartment in Yerevan. Sunlight spilled across the wooden floor like liquid gold, catching on the scattered notebooks and highlighters that had become your permanent roommates these past weeks. Today was your birthday. And instead of cake or candles or the man you loved whispering filthy promises against your neck, you had three exams looming like storm clouds and a heart that felt too heavy for the bright blue sky outside.

Yoongi was halfway across the world. Again. His world tour had swallowed him whole rehearsals, soundchecks, sold-out arenas that roared his name while you sat here buried in textbooks, too many time zones away to even catch a live stream without your eyes burning from exhaustion. You’d begged the universe to let you fly to him for just one night, but finals were non-negotiable.

Your professors didn’t care that your boyfriend was Min Yoongi, the same man whose voice had lulled you to sleep through a thousand late-night calls, the same man whose hands had mapped every inch of your body like it was the only melody he ever wanted to play. You rolled over in bed, grabbing your phone. A single text from him waited, sent hours ago from whatever city he’d performed in last night.

Yoongi ♡: Happy birthday, baby. Wish I could be there to ruin you properly. Study hard. I’ll call after the show. Love you more than you know.

Your stomach flipped. You typed back a quick heart emoji and a pathetic miss you, then forced yourself up. No time for moping. The summer day stretched long and empty ahead until it didn’t. You spent the morning in a haze of flashcards and iced coffee, the kind you’d learned to make extra strong just to survive Armenian summers. By early afternoon the heat had thickened, turning the air syrupy. You’d thrown on a thin white tank top and loose cotton shorts, hair piled messily on top of your head, when a sharp knock rattled your front door. You froze. No one ever knocked. Your landlord texted. Friends messaged. Delivery guys buzzed from downstairs.

Another knock, softer this time, almost hesitant. Your heart slammed against your ribs as you padded barefoot across the cool tiles. You cracked the door open, chain still latched, and the world stopped. There he stood Min Yoongi in the flesh, duffel bag slung over one shoulder, black mask pulled down just enough to show the sharp line of his jaw and the tired but bright eyes that always looked at you like you were the only person on the planet.

A small bouquet of deep red roses and a paper bag from your favourite local bakery dangled from his other hand. His hair was freshly dyed that soft mint you loved, slightly damp from the flight, sticking to his forehead in the heat. Black hoodie, ripped jeans, sneakers that had clearly seen airport floors. He looked exhausted. He looked perfect.

“Surprise, birthday girl,” he said, voice low and rough from singing for thousands the night before. You slammed the door shut on instinct, then immediately yanked it open again, chain clattering. “Yoongi—what the fuck—how—your concert—”

He stepped inside before you could finish, kicking the door shut behind him with his heel. The roses and bag hit the floor. His hands were on your face, thumbs brushing your cheeks like he was making sure you were real. “Finished the show at midnight. Cleared a single free day before the next leg. Flew straight here. Couldn’t miss your birthday, baby. Not when you’re stuck studying and I’m the idiot who keeps leaving.”

You stared up at him, tears pricking hot behind your eyes. “You’re insane. You have a tour. You need rest. You—” “I need you.” His mouth crashed into yours before you could argue, hungry and desperate, the kind of kiss that tasted like jet lag and months of longing. He backed you against the wall, one thigh sliding between yours, hands sliding down to grip your waist hard enough to bruise. You melted into him, fingers tangling in his hair, tugging until he groaned against your lips. The summer heat outside had nothing on the fire licking up your spine.

When you finally broke apart, gasping, he rested his forehead against yours. “Missed you so fucking much. Every night on stage I kept looking for your face in the crowd even though I knew you were here buried in books.” His voice dropped, dark and velvet. “Tell me you have time today. Tell me I get to have you all to myself until I have to fly out tomorrow morning.”

You nodded frantically, already pulling him toward the living room. “Exams can wait one day. You’re here. You’re actually here.” He grinned that rare, boxy smile that made your knees weak then scooped you up like you weighed nothing, carrying you to the couch. “Good. Because I have plans, and none of them involve you wearing clothes for very long.” The afternoon unfolded like a fever dream you never wanted to wake from.

First, he made you sit while he unpacked the bakery bag fresh honey-drenched pastries, and a tiny birthday cake with “My girl” written in shaky icing he’d clearly bullied the staff into adding. You laughed until you cried, feeding each other bites between kisses that grew slower, deeper, tongues sliding lazy and filthy. His hands never left your body tracing your bare thighs, slipping under the hem of your tank top to palm your breasts like he’d been starving for the weight of them. “You’re so warm,” he murmured against your neck, teeth grazing the spot that always made you shiver. “Summer looks fucking good on you.”

You dragged him outside anyway after changing into a sundress, because it was your birthday and the city was alive with golden light. Yerevan in summer was a riot of colour street vendors selling chilled tarragon soda, the Cascade steps glowing under the sun, fountains sparkling in Republic Square. Yoongi kept his mask on and a baseball cap low, but his arm stayed locked around your waist like he was daring the world to try and take him away. You walked the treelined streets, fingers laced, stopping every few blocks so he could pull you into a shaded alley and kiss you stupid slow drags of his tongue, hands squeezing your ass under your shorts, whispering how he’d been hard for you since the plane took off.

Then Yoongi kept his fingers laced with yours, thumb brushing slow circles over your skin like he needed the constant contact to believe you were real. Every few steps he’d tug you closer, pressing a gentle kiss to your temple or the top of your head. At one point you bought ice cream cones from a tiny stand near the park yours pistachio, his dark chocolate and he licked a drip from your wrist with deliberate slowness, eyes locked on yours. “Tastes better on you,” he said, voice low enough that only you heard. The heat between your legs flared hotter than the pavement. You leaned your head on his shoulder,trying to change the topic which worked. “Tell me about the tour.”

He was quiet for a long moment, staring at the sky as if the answer was written in the clouds. His free hand found yours again, squeezing gently. “It’s everything I dreamed of when I was a kid scribbling lyrics in Daegu. The crowds… they sing every word back, even the ones that hurt to write. The lights, the energy, it fills me up in a way nothing else does. I feel powerful out there. Like Agust D can say all the things Min Yoongi keeps quiet. But then the show ends, the lights go down, and I’m just… me again. Tired. Alone in another hotel room that all looks the same. I miss being myself with you. The version who doesn’t have to perform all the time. The one who can cook ramen at 2 a.m. and talk about dumb stuff or just sit in silence without feeling like I have to fill it with something impressive.”

His voice dropped lower, vulnerable in a way he rarely let show. “I don’t want to go back tomorrow. Not really. Part of me wants to stay right here, disappear into this city with you, walk these streets until the tour forgets I exist. I’m so fucking tired of leaving. Every time I board that plane, it feels like I’m ripping a piece of myself away. You make me feel like me again, y/n. Not the idol, not the rapper, just Yoongi who loves lazy afternoons and your laugh and the way you look at me like I’m enough even when I’m quiet.”

You turned to face him fully, cupping his cheek with your free hand. Tears pricked at your eyes, but you smiled through them. “You are enough. You’re more than enough. I see all of you the performer who lights up stages and the soft guy who flies across the world for one day because it’s my birthday. I’m so proud of what you do, but I miss you like crazy too. The real you. The one who holds me like this.”

He leaned into your touch, eyes glistening as he searched your face. Then he kissed you slow, deep, and full of everything words couldn’t carry. It wasn’t rushed or desperate this time. Just tender, tasting of chocolate ice cream and summer air and months of missing each other. His hand rested at the small of your back, pulling you closer as the saxophone from a nearby musician floated around you like a private soundtrack.

The walk back to your apartment felt endless. The sun dipped lower, painting the sky in pinks and oranges, but the air between you crackled. Every touch, his hand on the small of your back, his lips brushing your temple was foreplay. By the time your door clicked shut behind you, you were both shaking.

He didn’t even make it to the bedroom. Yoongi shoved you against the wall again, yanking your sundress over your head in one rough motion. His mouth latched onto your breast immediately, tongue flicking your nipple while his hand shoved your panties down your legs. You kicked them off, fumbling with his hoodie zipper until he growled and tore it off himself, black t-shirt following. Skin on skin. Finally.

“Fuck, look at you,” he breathed, dropping to his knees right there in the hallway. He hooked one of your legs over his shoulder and buried his face between your thighs like a man possessed. No teasing this time just his tongue sliding through your folds, sucking your clit hard, two fingers curling inside you instantly. You cried out, hands fisting in his mint hair, hips rocking against his mouth as the summer heat and months of separation crashed over you. He moaned like you were the best thing he’d ever tasted. “So wet already. All for me?” His fingers pumped faster, curling against that spot that made stars burst behind your eyes.

“Come on, baby. Give it to me. Want to feel you fall apart before I fuck you.” You shattered with his name on your lips, thighs trembling, vision whiting out. He didn’t stop, kept licking you through it until you were whimpering, oversensitive and still aching for more. He stood, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, eyes black with lust. “Bedroom. Now.”

You barely made it three steps before he had you bent over the edge of the bed, ass up, face pressed into the sheets that still smelled like him from his last visit. He freed himself from his jeans, thick and hard and leaking, and rubbed the head against your soaked entrance.

“Tell me you want it,” he growled, one hand fisting your hair.

“I want it please, Yoongi—need you inside me—”

He slammed in to the hilt in one thrust, both of you groaning at the stretch. He didn’t give you time to adjust; he fucked you hard and deep, hips snapping, the sound of skin on skin filthy in the quiet apartment. “Missed this pussy so much. So tight. So fucking perfect.” His free hand reached around to rub your clit again, relentless. “Gonna fill you up, baby. Make you feel me for days after I leave.” You came again, clenching around him, and he followed right after with a broken moan of your name, hips stuttering as he spilled deep inside you. But he wasn’t done.

He flipped you onto your back, crawled between your legs, and ate you out again tasting himself mixed with you until you were sobbing with overstimulation. Then he pulled you on top, guiding you down onto his cock once more, hands gripping your hips as you rode him slow and filthy under the golden evening light filtering through the curtains. “Look at me,” he demanded, voice wrecked. “Want to see your face when you come on my cock again.”

You did staring into those dark eyes as the third orgasm ripped through you, his own release following in hot pulses. You collapsed onto his chest, both of you slick with sweat, hearts hammering in sync. For a long time you just lay there, his fingers tracing lazy patterns on your back, the summer breeze drifting through the open window carrying distant city sounds. He pressed soft kisses to your temple, your eyelids, the corner of your mouth.

“Best birthday ever,” you whispered, voice hoarse.

He chuckled, the sound vibrating through his chest. “Not over yet. I’ve got all night, and I’m nowhere near done being crazy for you.” His hand slid down to squeeze your ass possessively. “Gonna take you in the shower next. Then maybe the kitchen counter. Then back here until the sun comes up. I want every inch of you marked before I have to fly out.” You shivered, already feeling him harden again against your thigh.

“Insatiable,” you teased, nipping his jaw.

“Only for you.” His voice softened, but the heat in his eyes stayed. “Happy birthday, my love. I’d cross oceans every single day if it meant waking up next to you even if it’s just for twenty-four hours.”

You kissed him slow and deep, pouring everything you couldn’t say into it. The distance, the tours, the exams they all faded under the weight of his body, his touch, the way he looked at you like you were his whole universe. Outside, the city summer night bloomed with stars and the faint scent of night-blooming jasmine. Inside, Yoongi rolled you beneath him again, lips brushing your ear as he sank back inside you with a groan.

“Round three, baby. Let me show you how much I missed you.”

And he did slow and sweet this time, then fast and desperate, until the only sounds in the apartment were your mingled moans, his whispered I love yous, and the creak of the bed that would remember this night long after he was gone. By the time the first hints of dawn painted the sky, you were tangled in sheets and each other, exhausted and sated and happier than you’d been in months. He held you close, one arm locked around your waist like he could keep the world at bay a little longer.

“Next break,” he murmured against your hair, already half-asleep, “you’re coming with me. Exams or no exams. I’m not spending another birthday without you in my arms.” You smiled into his chest, heart full to bursting. “Deal.” And as the summer sun rose over the city, you drifted off wrapped in the only thing that mattered him, here, yours for one perfect, spicy, unforgettable day.

The alarm on Yoongi’s phone buzzed like a cruel intruder at 7:45 a.m., slicing through the fragile cocoon you’d built together in the last golden hours of your birthday. You were still tangled in the sheets, skin sticky with sweat and the remnants of too many rounds of desperate lovemaking, your head pillowed on his chest where his heartbeat had finally slowed to something almost calm. The summer morning light in Yerevan filtered soft and warm through the thin curtains, catching on the faint red marks blooming across your collarbones and the possessive bruises his fingers had left on your hips. For a moment neither of you moved, pretending the world outside didn’t exist. Then reality crashed in.

Yoongi’s arm tightened around you instinctively, his nose burying deeper into your hair as if he could inhale every last trace of you before the plane stole him away. “Fuck,” he whispered, voice gravel rough from hours of moaning your name and the raw confessions he’d spilled in the dark. “I don’t want to go.”

You lifted your head, eyes already stinging with the tears you’d been holding back since the shower. His face, those sharp features softened by exhaustion and love looked wrecked in the best and worst ways. The mint hair was a mess from your fingers, lips still swollen from kissing you senseless, and those dark eyes that had burned with lust all night now glistened with something heavier. Vulnerability. Longing. The same tour emotions he’d laid bare between thrusts and whispered promises. “I know,” you murmured, cupping his cheek, thumb brushing the faint shadow of stubble. “But you have to. Thousands of people are waiting for you tonight. Another city, another stage. You’re Min Yoongi, they need Agust D.”

He let out a shaky breath that sounded dangerously close to a sob, rolling you both so he was hovering over you, forearms braced on either side of your head. “They need the performer. I need this. You. The way you feel under me. The way you look at me like I’m not just the guy spitting fire on stage but the idiot who flies across continents for one fucking day.” His voice cracked on the last word, and a single tear slipped free, tracing a path down his cheek before it dripped onto your lips. You tasted salt his pain, his love, the weight of the life he’d chosen. You surged up to kiss him, slow and deep and trembling, tongues sliding together with the kind of desperation that came from knowing the clock was ticking mercilessly.

Tears welled in your own eyes now, spilling hot and silent as your fingers threaded through his damp mint strands, tugging him closer. The kiss tasted like goodbye and I-love-you and please-don’t-go all at once. He groaned into your mouth, hips instinctively rocking against yours even though you were both sore and spent, his cock twitching half-hard against your thigh as if his body refused to accept the separation. When you broke apart, foreheads pressed together, both of you were crying openly quiet, messy tears that mixed on your skin. “I’m so proud of you,” you choked out, voice thick. “Every night you step on that stage, you’re carrying dreams for so many people… including mine. But it hurts, Yoongi. It hurts knowing you’re out there feeling empty when I’m right here waiting. I wish I could be in the front row every single time.”

He kissed you again, harder this time, teeth nipping your bottom lip as fresh tears slipped down his face. “I wish that too. Fuck, I wish I could pull you on stage with me, kiss you stupid right there under the lights so the whole world knows who keeps me sane.” His hands roamed your body one last time possessive, reverent, palming your breasts, sliding down to squeeze your ass, dipping between your legs to feel the slick evidence of the night you’d shared.

“Last night… this morning… it’s going to keep me alive out there. Every lyric I spit, every beat I drop, I’ll be thinking about how you rode me like you were trying to brand yourself into my soul. How you listened when I told you how lonely the tour gets. How you made the hollow parts feel full again.”

You sobbed softly against his mouth, legs wrapping around his waist to pull him closer, even though there was no time left for another round. The friction of his body against yours sent sparks through your oversensitive skin, but it was the emotion that overwhelmed everything the raw, aching love that made the distance feel both unbearable and worth every mile.

“Come back to me soon,” you whispered between kisses, tears streaming freely now. “Text me after the show. Call me when you’re alone in the hotel. I’ll be here, no matter how late. I’ll send you voice notes of me saying your name the way you like… the way I moan it when you’re deep inside me. Just… don’t forget you’re allowed to be soft. Allowed to miss me. Allowed to cry if the tour breaks you a little.”

Yoongi nodded, kissing away the tears on your cheeks, then your eyelids, then the corner of your mouth. His own tears kept falling, silent and steady, as he memorized every inch of your face. “I won’t forget. You’re the only thing that makes the roar of the crowd feel like home instead of noise. I’ll be up there tonight, giving everything I have, and when the lights go down and the adrenaline crashes… I’ll let myself feel it. The missing you. The ache. And then I’ll remember this—your tears, your kisses, the way you held me while I spilled my guts about how fucking hard it all is. It’ll fuel me for the next city, the next show, until I can steal another day like this.”

He forced himself to pull away, rolling off the bed with a groan that was half pain, half reluctance. You watched him dress—black hoodie, ripped jeans, the same cap and mask he’d arrived in—each piece of clothing a painful reminder that the dream was calling him back. When he was ready, duffel bag slung over his shoulder, he turned to you one last time. You were sitting up in bed, sheet clutched to your chest, tears still tracking down your face, looking every bit the girl who’d just had her world rocked and then ripped away again.

“Come here,” he said, voice breaking.

You scrambled out of bed and into his arms. The hug was fierce, bodies molding together like they were trying to fuse. Then the kiss..god, the kiss. It started soft, reverent, lips brushing with trembling tenderness. But it deepened fast, turning messy and desperate, tongues sliding wet and salty with tears, hands clutching hair and clothes and skin as if letting go would make the other disappear. You tasted his tears. He tasted yours. Both of you were crying harder now, quiet sobs muffled against each other’s mouths, breaths hitching, foreheads knocking together when you pulled back for air only to dive in again.

“I love you,” he whispered against your lips, voice wrecked and raw. “More than the music. More than the lights. More than any stage. You’re my real encore, baby.”

“I love you too,” you sobbed, clinging tighter. “Go shine tonight. I’ll be watching the fancams later, pretending I’m right there in the front row. And when you get off stage… come back to me in your mind. I’ll be waiting.”

One final, searing kiss teeth clashing, noses bumping, tears mixing freely then he tore himself away, eyes red-rimmed and shining as he backed toward the door. “Happy birthday again. Best one I’ve ever given you… even if it was only twenty-four hours.” The door clicked shut behind him.

You stood there in the empty apartment, the summer morning suddenly too bright, too quiet, the scent of him still lingering on your skin and in the sheets. Your lips tingled from the salt of his tears and the ferocity of his goodbye. Somewhere across the sky, Yoongi would be on that plane, staring out the window with red eyes, replaying every second of the night the confessions, the shower, the way you’d ridden him while he poured out his tour-weary soul. He’d step onto the next stage tonight with the ghost of your kisses on his mouth, the memory of your tears on his tongue, and when the final lights dropped and the crowd’s roar faded, he’d let himself cry again in the privacy of the dressing room or the back of the van.

Not from sadness alone, but from the overwhelming, beautiful ache of loving someone so much it hurt to leave, and loving the dream enough to keep doing it anyway. Later that night, thousands of miles away, under blinding stage lights in whatever city the tour had carried him to, Yoongi would perform with a fire that felt brand new. The verses would hit harder, the melodies would cut deeper, because every word carried the echo of your voice saying “I’m proud of you” through tears. And when the encore ended and the house lights rose, he’d slip backstage, pull out his phone, and find the message you’d already sent a simple voice note of you whispering his name, soft and filthy and loving, just like he’d asked. He’d smile through fresh tears, press the phone to his chest, and whisper to the empty room, “I’m coming back soon, baby. Wait for me.”

The distance stretched on, but the love fierce, messy, tear-soaked, and unbreakable bridged every mile, every show, every lonely hotel night. Your birthday had ended in tears and goodbye kisses, but it had also given him the strength to keep chasing the lights, knowing the best part of every concert was the quiet promise that one day soon, he’d be back in your arms, crying and kissing and loving you all over again.

[softygloss]

Riding Back to You

Warning: M4F, best friends to lovers, sudden physical intimacy, smut, fluff, oral sex, protected sex, reunion, strong language

Words counting: ≈2500

Summary:YN reunites unexpectedly with her childhood best friend, now a biker, after nearly being hit by his bike one night. Years of distance melt away as they reconnect, and what begins as an emotional reunion quickly turns into something far more intense than either of them expected.

a/n: I can't move on from his biking video, it was too damn hot😭

The summer you turned five, your mum dragged you along to the neighbourhood barbecue, clutching a tray of slightly burnt fairy cakes in your small hands. The garden was alive with the scent of grilled sausages, freshly cut grass, and cigarette smoke drifting from the adults gathered near the fence. Laughter and chatter filled the air, but none of it eased the knot of shyness twisting in your stomach. You hovered near your mum’s legs, half-hidden behind her summer dress, eyes darting around at the unfamiliar children running wildly across the lawn.

That was when you first saw him.

Jungkook, two years older and already noticeably taller, stood by the old wooden swings at the bottom of the garden. His knees were scraped and dirty from some earlier adventure, grass stains smeared across his shorts, and a bright red plaster clung crookedly to one elbow. His dark hair was messy, sticking up in every direction as if he’d been running his hands through it all afternoon. A lopsided grin lit up his face as he pushed an empty swing absently with one hand, the chains creaking rhythmically.

He spotted you almost immediately. While the other kids chased balls or screamed during games of tag, Jungkook’s sharp, curious eyes locked onto your nervous little face peeking out from behind your mum. Something shifted in his expression determination mixed with that easy, friendly warmth. Without hesitation, he abandoned the swings and marched straight over, trainers kicking up small clouds of dust.

Your heart beat faster as he stopped right in front of you. Up close, he smelled like sunshine, sticky sweets, and the faint metallic tang of the dirt on his knees. He tilted his head, studying you for a brief second, then reached out and grabbed your smaller hand in his. His palm was warm and slightly sticky from whatever he’d been eating earlier.

“She’s my best friend now!” he declared loudly to no one in particular, but loud enough that several nearby adults turned with amused smiles. His voice carried that confident, bossy tone only young boys seem to master so naturally. “We’re gonna play together. Come on!”

Before you could protest or retreat further behind your mum’s skirt, he was gently tugging you towards the swings. Your mum and Mrs Jeon exchanged delighted glances over their cups of tea, already whispering excitedly. You stumbled along beside him, surprised at how firmly yet kindly he held your hand, as if he’d decided your friendship was simply a fact of life.

From that moment, it was decided. Jungkook appointed himself your protector, playmate, and constant companion. He showed you how to pump your legs properly on the swings so you could soar higher, catching you carefully when you jumped off. He shared his melting ice lolly without being asked, wiping your chin with the back of his hand when the juice dripped. When another child tried to take the toy spade you were playing with in the sandpit, Jungkook stepped in with a fierce scowl. “That’s hers. Get your own.”

Your mums became inseparable too. Mrs Jeon and your mum would sit on garden chairs with cups of tea, watching you both chase each other across the lawn. “They’re soulmates,” Mrs Jeon would sigh. “Look at how he shares his toys with her.” Your mum would nod vigorously. “Wedding in the church hall, I reckon. We’ll do the flowers ourselves.” The two women treated it like a done deal, teasing you both mercilessly even when you were ten and Jungkook twelve and protested loudly that “girls are gross” (except you, apparently).

Memories piled up like autumn leaves. Jungkook teaching you to ride a bike without stabilisers in the park, his hands steady on the seat until you wobbled off laughing. You forcing him to attend your teddy bear tea parties, where he sat cross-legged, sipping imaginary tea and pulling funny faces to make you giggle. Sleepovers where you’d fall asleep to him reading comics aloud in silly voices. The time he punched a bully who pulled your pigtails, earning himself a week’s detention but a hero’s welcome from both mums.

As teenagers, things shifted subtly. Jungkook at fifteen had shot up, voice deepening, messy dark hair falling into his eyes. You were thirteen, awkward and aware that your childhood best friend made your stomach flip when he smiled. He’d walk you home from school, hands brushing. Your mums’ teasing grew bolder. “When are you two going to stop pretending?” Mrs Jeon would wink. Jungkook would blush furiously and change the subject.

One rainy afternoon when you were sixteen, you sat in his room listening to music. He strummed his guitar, a new hobby, fingers calloused. “You’re my favourite person, you know that?” he said quietly. Your heart raced, but neither of you crossed the line. Fear of ruining the friendship, fear of what your families would say if it went wrong. So you stayed best friends, close, but never quite close enough.

University pulled you apart. You moved to another city for your undergraduate degree, then stayed on for a Master’s in literature and cultural studies. Jungkook tried music production in Seoul and poured his savings into a second-hand motorcycle, and discovered freedom on two wheels. The mums kept in touch, of course. Their messages were relentless: Jungkook asks about you. YN, that boy is still single. When are you coming home?

At twenty six, you were back in the city for a year-long research programme at the university library, buried in archives and late-night essays. Life felt steady but lonely. Jungkook, twenty eight, had built a name for himself in the local custom bike scene. You’d seen blurry photos on mutual friends’ social media leather jacket, intense gaze, inked arms. He looked like a stranger and yet exactly like the boy you’d loved in secret.

You never expected the universe to throw you back together so dramatically.

༺༻

It was a Thursday night past midnight. Rain had fallen earlier, leaving the roads slick and reflective under orange streetlights. Your library session had run long; the dissertation on urban folklore wouldn’t write itself. Headphones in, mind elsewhere, you walked the familiar route home through the quieter industrial edge of the district. Phone dead. Shoes damp. Mind on autopilot.

The roar came out of nowhere.

Headlights sliced through the darkness. You looked up too late. Tyres screeched on wet tarmac as the motorcycle swerved violently. For one terrifying second, death felt inches away. The bike missed you by centimetres, fishtailed, and came to a stop just ahead.

Your heart thundered in your ears. You stood frozen on the pavement, legs shaky.

The rider yanked off his helmet. “Fuck! Are you alright?!” He swung a leg over the bike and strode towards you, voice raw with panic. Tall, broad-shouldered, leather jacket gleaming under the light. “What the hell are you doing out here alone? Are you hurt? Did I hurt you?”

You looked up into those familiar doe eyes wider now with shock and the world tilted.

“Jungkook?”

He stopped dead, helmet dangling from one hand. Recognition crashed over his face like a wave. “YN…? Holy shit. YN?”

A stunned beat passed. Then he closed the distance and pulled you into a crushing hug. One large hand cradled the back of your head, the other pressed against your back as if to reassure himself you were real. He smelled of rain, warm engine oil, and something deeper home. When he pulled back, his palms stayed on your shoulders, eyes scanning you frantically for injuries.

“I nearly hit you. My heart’s still trying to climb out of my chest. What are you doing walking alone at this hour? Have you lost your mind?” The words tumbled out, concern laced with that deeper timbre you barely recognised.

You laughed shakily, adrenaline making you giddy. “Library. Phone died. Dissertation deadline. Jungkook… you ride bikes now? Like, properly?”

He exhaled a disbelieving laugh, running a hand through messy dark hair. “Among other things. Been a while, huh?” His gaze lingered tracing the changes in your face, the way you’d grown into yourself. “You look incredible. Different, but… fuck, really good.”

Heat flooded your cheeks. He looked different too. Sharper jaw, broader frame filling out the leather jacket, a silver hoop glinting in one ear. Tattoos peeked from his collar and cuffs. The boy who once stole your crisps had become dangerously attractive.

“Come on,” he said, already guiding you towards the kerb. “Sit down for a minute. Catch your breath.” He crouched in front of you, one hand resting lightly on your knee. The casual touch sent sparks up your leg. “I can’t believe it’s you. After all this time.”

You talked there on the damp kerb for twenty minutes halting at first, then easier, like slipping back into an old favourite jumper. He told you he’d been out riding to clear his head after a long day in the workshop. You admitted the research programme had you working ridiculous hours.

Eventually he stood, offering his hand. “There’s a 24-hour café two streets over. My treat. No way I’m letting you walk home alone after that.”

The café was quiet, fluorescent lights buzzing softly. Jungkook ordered without asking, your old favourite latte with an extra shot, chips with too much salt, and a slice of chocolate cake to share. “You always used to steal half of mine,” he said with a wink.

Conversation flowed like it had never stopped. You spoke about your Master’s, the pressure of academia, the quiet loneliness of returning to the city without old friends nearby. He told you about music production burning him out, the freedom he found on bikes. “Building customs now,” he explained, eyes lighting up. “Each one’s a piece of art. No two the same. It’s honest work. Gets my hands dirty.”

His hands did look capable, strong, veined, calloused. You tried not to stare.

He asked about your dating life. You shrugged. “Nothing serious. Too busy.” When you returned the question, his smile turned wry. “Same. Mum still sends me articles about settling down. Keeps mentioning you, actually.”

You both laughed, but the air thickened. The old shipping jokes hung between you, heavier now with adult awareness.

By 3 a.m. the owner was politely ushering you out. Jungkook insisted on taking you home. “Spare helmet’s in the box. I’m not arguing.” He helped fasten the strap, fingers brushing your chin, lingering a second too long. The ride was exhilarating, his solid warmth between your thighs, the engine’s powerful thrum vibrating through you, city lights streaking past. You held him tighter than necessary.

At your building door, the goodbye stretched.

“You gonna invite me up?” he asked, voice low. “Or are we pretending we’re still just the kids our mums tried to marry off?”

Your pulse raced. “Come up, Jungkook.”

The door had barely clicked shut before he had you against it. The kiss was desperate, years of unspoken want pouring out. His mouth claimed yours, tongue sliding hotly as one hand tangled in your hair, the other gripping your waist. You melted into him, fingers clutching his leather jacket.

“Been thinking about this since I saw your face under that streetlight,” he growled against your neck, teeth grazing sensitive skin. “Fuck, YN. You have no idea.

Clothes shed in a frantic trail to the bedroom. His jacket hit the floor, then his shirt, revealing the full extent of his tattoos: a fierce dragon on his ribs, intricate sleeves of roses and machinery, more disappearing beneath his waistband. You traced them reverently. He shivered under your touch.

He took his time undressing you, kissing every newly exposed inch like your collarbones, breasts, stomach until he knelt between your thighs. The first slow lick against your centre drew a sharp moan from you. Jungkook groaned in response. “So sweet,” he murmured, then set to work with devastating focus. Two thick fingers curled inside you while his tongue circled your clit. The pleasure built rapidly; you came hard, thighs trembling around his head, his name on your lips.

But he wasn’t finished. He shed the rest of his clothes, revealing a thick, hard cock with a small silver piercing at the tip. Your eyes widened.

Jungkook smirked, stroking himself once. “Surprise. Got it a couple years back. Thought you might appreciate it.” He rolled on a condom (he always has one just in case lmao), then positioned himself. “Tell me if it’s too much.”

It wasn’t. The stretch was perfect, the piercing adding a delicious drag as he sank in slowly. You both moaned at the sensation. Once buried deep, he paused, forehead to yours. “Been waiting years for this,” he confessed softly. Then he moved deep, steady thrusts that quickly turned harder, more desperate.

The piercing rubbed relentlessly against that sensitive spot inside. Combined with his thumb on your clit, you shattered again, clenching around him. Jungkook followed with a guttural groan, hips stuttering as he came while looking at your eyes deeply, going crazy at how beautiful you were.

After, he pulled you against his chest, fingers tracing lazy patterns on your bare skin. “Not letting you go again,” he whispered.

༺༻

The weeks that followed blurred into a whirlwind of rediscovery. Jungkook introduced you properly to his biker life. One sunny Saturday he took you to his workshop on the city outskirts. The converted warehouse smelled of oil, metal, and fresh paint. Half a dozen bikes in different stages of rebuild lined the walls. Tools hung in meticulous order.

“This is my world,” he said, almost shyly. He showed you his latest project which was a sleek black café racer with custom chrome work. Watching him work, muscles flexing under his tight t-shirt as he tightened bolts stirred heat low in your belly. You ended up bent over his workbench, his hands gripping your hips as he took you from behind, the thrill of possibly being caught heightening everything. The piercing made you see stars.

He took you on longer rides too. Proper gear, open roads, coastal routes where the sea sparkled under sunlight. Stopping at quiet viewpoints, he’d pull you close, kissing you deeply while the bike cooled beside you. “Never thought I’d have you on the back of my bike,” he’d murmur. “Feels right.”

His crew welcomed you warmly at The Iron & Throttle. Taehyung, with his colourful tattoos and easy laugh, clapped Jungkook on the back. “Finally. The mums were right all along.” Jimin teased you both mercilessly but ordered you a drink and made sure you felt included. Stories flowed near-misses, epic rides, the brotherhood of the road. Jungkook kept you close, hand on your thigh, pride evident in his eyes.

There were quieter moments too. Late nights when he’d come back from a rescue ride, grease on his face, adrenaline still humming. He’d slide into bed after taking a shower, wake you with slow kisses down your body, then fuck you deep and slow until you both trembled. The piercing became your favourite secret each thrust a reminder of the man he’d become.