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[dreamersparacosm]

under the mistletoe ᯓ★ jeon jungkook

a dreamersparacosm holiday special .ᐟ.ᐟ

SUMMARY. Every Christmas, since you were six years old, Jeon Jungkook gave you a kiss under the mistletoe. But when you were fifteen, you were replaced by a revolving door of girlfriends. Thus began your decade-long aversion to the holiday—this year, however, you’ve been tasked with hosting the annual Christmas soirée, and there’s no telling what might be waiting for you under the mistletoe this time around.

pairing. jeon jungkook x reader

word count. 23.8k

warnings/genre. childhood best friends to lovers (aka idiots to lovers if you squint!!!), slight angst, fluff, reader is the grinch reincarnated, jungkook is oblivious, alcohol consumption, smut, oral and fingering (f receiving), multiple orgasms, big dick jungkook bc what else, unprotected sex sorry she’s on the pill, crying during sex (but in a cute way), it’s all just really cute i kinda hate them

note. welcome to the dreamersparacosm golden era… two one-shots over 15k words in one month. my fingers are tired. but it’s all fine n dandy bc it’s the HOLIDAYS!!! and what better way to celebrate than with a friends to lovers fic? believe it or not, this was originally going to be enemies with lovers, but i had a long talk with myself and realized that theres no way in hell i could ever do justice to a e2l in under 304949k words, but rest assured there is enough pining and angst to keep you well-fed 🥰 oc is yearning final boss, jungkook is a slowburner who’s also an idiot. my favorite kind of couple! i hope you all had a wonderful holiday! p.s: stay tuned for an extra special treat from these two later today :)

▶︎ •၊၊||၊|။|||| last christmas by wham

banner creds | masterlist | epilogue blurb

The Grinch has always been your favorite Christmas movie. 

Not because it’s particularly funny or thrilling, but because you can relate to that pessimistic green ball of fur. He despises the holiday just as much as you do—and that’s generous, considering your animosity towards the day has reached unfeasible levels. You might be worse than the aforementioned ball of fur. 

There’s really no one else to blame for your aversion to the holiday… besides Jeon Jungkook. 

Jeon Jungkook has been your best friend since cradle. Your mother and his shared a room at the hospital, and since then, have kept a tight-knit relationship. Growing up, you and Jungkook shared more life experiences than siblings would. Conjoined birthdays, first day of school, puberty, heartbreak. It was hard not to imagine him in your life, when he had already invaded every part of it with his infectious smile and doe-like eyes.

Every Christmas, since you were six years old, Jeon Jungkook gave you a kiss under the mistletoe. It started innocently enough, with your parents cooing sweetly as he pressed his little lips to your warm cheek. Your face burnt like a volcano shortly after, your hand pressing up to touch the spot where his lips met your skin every few minutes. 

When you were nine, he upped the ante. He grabbed your face with his grubby hands, and smushed his lips onto yours with a peck. It was precisely three seconds and two milliseconds long (you know because you held your breath). When he pulled away, he smiled that big bunny smile and ran off to play with your toys. Life continued on as such, leaving you behind to pick up the pieces of everything you thought you knew. 

At the age of fifteen, he got his first girlfriend, Haeun. They met in Science class, paired up by accident, but the crush he had on her was with such certainty it took you by storm. That Christmas, he didn’t give you a peck on the lips or the cheek. That year, your body felt empty. That fateful holiday, you watched as Jeon Jungkook gave Park Haeun a big, sloppy, romantic kiss under the mistletoe, one that rivaled any one he ever gave you. 

And so, Christmas went from your favorite day of the year, to your nightmare. 

Even when his and Haeun’s puppy love died out by high school graduation, she was swiftly replaced by Eunji. And then Chaeyoung. And then Sana…and the list went on, and on, and on. 

So, yeah. Christmas. Not your best day. In fact, it’s pretty low on the totem pole, right next to the anniversary of your grandfather’s death. 

All this to say—this is why you’ve been ignoring your best friend’s pleas for the past thirty minutes on hosting the annual Christmas soiree at your apartment. Your humble abode. Your sanctuary. There’s no way in hell you’ll be stringing red and green lights from your ceiling, singing ‘ho, ho, ho’ and passing around jell-o shots that were crafted by the devil himself. And you most definitely, certainly, will not hang up a mistletoe. 

“But why not?” Jungkook whines again, bouncing up and down on your couch cushion like a puppy. His bottom lip juts out slightly, which would be endearing if he was a teenager and not a 28-year old man. 

“Because I don’t want to. I don’t like Christmas.” You ignore him as best as you can, thumbing through your Instagram feed. Engagement posts, pregnancy announcements… god, the holidays are the worst. No, you won’t be blowing ‘baby dust’ to your friends trying to get pregnant. 

“Since when?” He gawks, pausing his movements to stare at your side profile intently. 

“Since forever. You know this,” you say calmly. “The Grinch is my favorite movie.”

He scoffs. “So? It’s mine too. That doesn’t mean I hate Christmas.”

You don’t have the heart to tell him that your abhorrence for the holiday stems from his inability to give you a kiss since the age of fifteen. Thirteen years later, you can’t help but want one still. 

You roll your eyes. “You don’t hate Christmas because you like giving gifts and receiving them.”

“That’s not true,” he argues, snatching your phone out of your hand and tossing it on the coffee table. You finally turn to look at him, and he’s all red cheeks and wide eyes, and it makes you want to die. “You have the nicest apartment out of all of us. We can’t do Namjoon’s because they just had the baby, we can’t do Jisoo’s because Tae is allergic to dogs, and we can’t do mine because I’m renovating. Yours is the best option.”

All true points, but none that you want to confront head-on. “Might it also be that you don’t want to do yours because then people will know you haven’t moved on from Hana?” 

Jungkook’s face contorts, and for a split second, you feel guilty for sinking that low. You didn’t mean to, but it’s true. His most recent ex-girlfriend, Hana, doesn’t live in that apartment anymore, but it almost feels like she does with the amount of her stuff lingering around. They were together for a year, but mysteriously broke up after Christmas last year. 

“Not cool,” he mumbles, playing with his sleeve. 

“I’m sorry,” you sigh, “I just really don’t wanna host, Koo.” 

“C’mon, do it for me,” he pouts, and it becomes even harder to say no to him. You’re putty in his reliable hands. 

“What will I get out of hosting?” You cross your arms over your chest. A hint of a smile creeps onto his face as he realizes you’re slowly beginning to cave. You always do when you start asking questions. 

“Namjoon and Dahyun will cook. Taehyung will make the drinks. And I, your trusty best friend, will task myself with decorating the entire place,” he says proudly, chest puffed out like he’s the Superman of Christmas or something equally as idiotic.

“Jeon Jungkook is going to decorate my apartment?” you question, dumbfounded. “The one who put the star on upside down last year?” 

The memory plays as vivid as ever, a reel of images flashing through your mind of Jungkook proudly grinning at the miniscule tree he helped construct in your living room. The lights barely worked, the ornaments were hanging on by a thread, and the star was upside down, but he swore Michaelangelo would’ve thought it was abstract art.

He rolls his eyes. “Why can’t you let anything go?” 

“And tangled the lights so bad Namjoon had to come over and cut them with scissors?”

Jungkook pouts the same way he used to when he was three. “But—”

“And ate the gingerbread house before we could even display it?”

Jungkook’s mouth opens to defy you, but decides it’s best not to go up against your vicious truths. “I was hungry and you had nothing but expired Chinese food in your fridge,” he grumbles. It’s annoying how easily he can disarm you when he’s boyishly upset at the world. 

In the grand scheme of things, hosting the Christmas soiree at your house is nothing. Nada. Zilch. A blip on your radar. It’s not like he’s asking you to loan him a million won, or donate a kidney to his brother (albeit those are all things you would do for him). He’s simply asking you to open your home to your closest friends to spread holiday cheer. 

Somehow, some way, it feels like the hardest thing you have to do.

Maybe because in the grand scheme of things, you’re also hopelessly, relentlessly, disgustingly in love with Jeon Jungkook, and the word no is not one that leaves your lips often when he’s around. 

“Fine,” you relent. His entire face lights up, and your heart does the same dance it always does. “I have conditions, though.”

“Anything you want.” He scoots closer. You can smell his cologne, a pine and bergamot scent he wears for the holidays. “I’m at your service.”

“We’re gonna do classy Christmas. I’m talking silver decorations, maybe some gold. None of that tacky red and green shit from the dollar store.”

“Uhu.” He nods. “Aligned, captain.”

“All the food will be catered. I’m not making poor Dahyun cook. She has enough on her plate already.” 

He salutes you, which makes you snort. 

“Lastly, and most importantly, no mistletoe.”

His smile falters. Tips downward so that it’s almost unrecognizable. The light in his eyes dims, and now you almost feel guilty. “Wha—why not?”

See, if this were a Christmas romcom broadcasting on Hallmark, this is the pivotal moment where you’d confess everything. How you’ve been in love with him since you were old enough to feel that feeling of warmth in your chest, how watching him kiss other girls made all your kisses seem foolish, how every Christmas without his lips on yours (even platonically) makes you want to move to a foreign country. He’d probably gasp, pull you close, and kiss you right there on your sofa while snow fell cinematically outside your window. Credits would roll over a montage of you two ice skating and baking holiday cookies, all set to some Kelly Clarkson cover of “Last Christmas.”

But this isn’t a Hallmark movie, and you’re not that brave. 

So, instead, you say, “It’s tacky and overdone. I don’t want it in my apartment.”

Jungkook seems genuinely concerned, as though you just informed him you have four days to live and your final wish is to jump out of a plane. “But it’s tradition. Every year, there’s a mistletoe.”

You huff, hugging the blanket wrapped over your legs tighter to you. “Well, I don’t care. That’s my conditions. Take it or leave it.”

He watches quietly for a moment as you inspect the fibers of the blanket. He knows you well enough to not pry further, but he also knows that he’s the only one you’ll talk to if he does decide to investigate. There’s no sound except the rattling of your heater and the sound of cars honking past your window. The television screen remains paused on a scene from The Grinch you could probably recite by heart. 

“Okay,” he finally says. “No mistletoe.”

“Good. Glad that’s settled.” You stand up, desperate for distance. “Now get out. I have work to do.”

“First of all, it’s Sunday. Second of all, we’re watching the Grinch. That’s not work,” he points out.

“I’m sure I could find something to do. I’ve been meaning to dust my bookshelf,” you counter. 

“Oh, really? You walking your squirrel after that?” he teases, smirking. 

“I am actually.” You cross your hands over your chest, the signal you make when it’s time for him to exit your apartment. 

He stands, stretching his arms above his head. His shirt rides up slightly, exposing a sliver of toned stomach, and you have to look away. You’ve been down this road too many times.

“I’ll text you tomorrow about picking up supplies,” he yawns, heading for the door. “We’ll need to grab stuff from my place anyway. I’ve got extra string lights in storage.”

You trail behind him. “Fine.” 

He pauses at the threshold, turning back to look at you. “Thanks for doing this. I know it’s not your favorite thing.”

Oh, If only he knew it was his fault. “Yeah, well. You owe me.”

“I always do,” he grins, and then he’s bounding down your staircase, leaving you alone with the Grinch and the hollowed feeling in your chest that never really goes away.

When you’re certain he’s finally gone, you lock the door and sink back into the couch, pressing play on the remote. On screen, the Grinch is plotting to ruin Christmas, and you can’t help but think to yourself, same, buddy. Same.

He’s probably got the right idea. If you steal all the decorations before he can hang them, accidentally forget to buy eggnog, or come down with the Black Plague on the day of the party, you could ruin the whole thing. 

But you won’t. Despite everything, you can’t actually hurt him. You’d host a thousand Christmas parties, hang a million strands of lights, bake cookies until your hands cramped, if it meant making Jeon Jungkook happy. That’s the real bittersweet tragedy of your situation. Not that he doesn’t love you back, but that you love him enough to pretend you don’t.

Jungkook likes to call his apartment his ‘modest mancave.’

He’s called his bedroom that since you two were old enough to be in school. However, one spring day during Sophomore year, you’d barged in unannounced and found him scrambling to hide a bottle of lotion and suspiciously large pile of tissues. He came up with some daft excuse about allergies, but you knew what the option meant. He knew that you knew. It became just another shared moment in the encyclopedia of your friendship, because that’s what you two always did. You witnessed each other’s embarrassing moments and life continued on.

Which is why his apartment’s state right now doesn't deter you. It's a little messy (okay, a lot messy) with random moving boxes he’s never unpacked stacked haphazardly in corners and furniture pushed against walls at odd angles. There’s a pile of paint swatches on the coffee table, each one a slightly different shade of beige that all look identical to your untrained eye. 

He had texted you earlier in the day to get started on Operation: Un-Grinchify Christmas, as he referred to it. You weren’t really up for it, but he sent you three crying emoji’s and then you were halfway out the door with mismatched socks on. 

Jungkook swears he has a box of light-up reindeer somewhere when you first arrive to his home. Something about them looking like they’re having a seizure when they’re plugged in. He's so entranced in his search he’s completely forgotten about your own holiday dilemma. 

“Koo?” you yell down his hallway. You venture down, stepping over a stack of books and what appears to be a broken lamp, following the sound of muffled cursing.

You find him in his bedroom, halfway inside the closet, ass up in the air. Boxes and random junk are scattered around him—old magazines, a deflated basketball, what looks like his matching Halloween costume with Hana from two years ago.

“I know it’s here somewhere,” he mutters, voice echoing from deep within the closet. Leaning against the doorframe, you cross your arms over your chest, utterly amused by his same old childish ways. 

“Need help, or should I just enjoy the view?” 

“Shut up,” he says, but you can hear the smile in his tone. “I’m finding an ancient artifact.”

“How ancient is it? We talking middle school? Elementary?”

“I don’t know, all I know is—aha!” He backs out, brown hair flopping around, and cracks his head on the closet rod with a thunk. “Fucking fuck—ow—”

You can’t stop the giggle that falls from your lips, and it turns into full-blown laughter when you catch wind of his appearance. He’s rubbing his head, hair sticking up in five different directions. 

But then you see what’s in his hands, and all laughter ceases with a wheeze. It’s the most hideous collection of green and red tinsel garland you’ve ever witnessed. It looks like it’s gonna shed all over your home, and there’s no way you’ll let your cat named Ginger anywhere near that. 

“Ta-da!” He holds it up proudly, grinning brightly. 

“Are you insane?”

“What?” he gawks, inspecting it for himself. “This is the epitome of Christmas.”

“Jungkook, I said classy Christmas. Elegant. That looks like a drunk elf threw up.” You gesture at the…thing, deeply perturbed at the fact he would even show it to you. 

He shakes the garland at you like it might change your mind. “But Christmas needs a little green and red! That’s literally the symbolic colors of the holiday.”

“I don’t care if it was sent down by Santa himself. It’s not going in my home,” you argue. 

“But why?” he pouts, and you can already tell which direction this conversation is going. But you’re standing your ground this time, because if you don’t you’ll fold like papier mache. 

“It looks like it has dust mites from 2014,” you grimace. 

He moves closer, forcing you to look at the grimy strings. “C’mon, just one strand? For your old pal?”

“No.”

“Please?” 

“I will leave, Jungkook.”

He sighs, defeated, and holds the garland out to you anyway. “Fine. But you have to be the one to throw it away. I can’t bear to part ways with her.”

Rolling your eyes, you take it from him, and your fingers brush his. Softly, gently, barely even there to the naked eye. You doubt he even notices it. But heat crawls up your spine and nestles a home in your chest. 

You snap out of it, tossing the garland in the trash in his bedroom. “Why do you even have that anyway?” 

“It was Hana’s.” 

You freeze in your tracks, hand hovering over the trash bin. When you look back at him, his ears are pink, eyes trained on some shadow on the wall behind you. “Oh.”

“Yeah.” He clears his throat, rubs the back of his neck. One of his nervous tics from childhood. “I’ve been meaning to get rid of her stuff. What you said yesterday... it kind of stuck with me.”

Guilt settles in your bones. “Koo, I didn’t mean—”

“No, you’re right.” He finally catches your gaze. “I’ve been holding onto things I shouldn’t. Not even because I miss her, really. It’s just—I don’t know. Easier to keep it than deal with it, y’know?

You do know. You know all too well. You’ve been keeping your feelings in a box for years for the exact same reason. 

“But I’m trying now,” he continues. “To move on. Actually move on, not just say I am. It still feels weird, throwing away a part of my life. Even if I know it’s the right thing to do.”

Throughout your life, you have continuously kept a square of people in your life that you care about. It mostly consists of your parents, Jungkook, his parents, and your friends. You don’t ever really rearrange it to make space for others, because you already have the ones that matter. You hope that when Jungkook rearranges his square, maybe removes Hana, you take up a bigger chunk of it. 

“I’m proud of you,” you smile. Even if the selfish part of you has been waiting for this moment since last Christmas.

He returns your smile with a feeble one of his own. “Thanks.”

For a moment, you two stand there, soaking in the silence. But just like that, it always falls back into place the way it’s meant to be. “I need your silverware for my kitchen, by the way. I’m not using mine for this party.”

“What? Why not?” He furrows his brows. 

“Because I don’t want Taehyung's drunk ass dropping my good forks down the garbage disposal like last New Years.”

Jungkook rolls his eyes. “He apologized and paid for new ones.”

“But it wasn’t the same exclusive ones I had,” you sing-song, leading him back down the hallway to his kitchen. “Show me what you’ve got, mister.”

For the next hour, you two bicker over everything. He wants to bring the fork set with wooden handles, but you object with the fact that they look like they belong in a cabin in the forest. 

Then it’s the string lights. He’s insistent on multicolored ones, big bulbs of green, yellow, and red that would look outdated against the rest of your apartment. You opt for the warm white ones, and he sticks his tongue out at you and says you’re boring. 

He’s a child. You make sure to tell him that about five separate times. On the sixth time, however, he retorts, “You take that back.”

“Make me.”

He waves a serving spoon at you. “I’m not playing with you, young lady.”

“Oh, please,” you wave him off. “You’re the one who begged me to host.”

It’s comfortable, the way it always is. The bickering, the back-and-forth, the way you can read each other’s expressions before the words even come out.

At some point, while you’re debating whether his punch bowl is too tacky (it is), he wipes his hands on a dish towel and tosses it over his shoulder. “You should check the closet in case you see anything else you wanna take.”

“The old shit in there?” 

He smacks you with the towel. You yelp, leaping back a few inches. “There’s goodies in there too, I’ll have you know.”

“Sure, Koo. Goodies, otherwise known as old shit.” But you’re already laughing, walking back into his room and diving into the closet.

You push back the ugly garland’s former neighbors. There’s a box of tangled charging cables, some old textbooks from college, a pair of busted headphones. It’s very standard Jungkook chaos. His mind is also disorganized, so it’s no wonder he has the room to match. 

You rummage around a bit more, sighing as you wave the dust from your face. 

On the top shelf, shoved way back in the top corner, you come across a box. 

Small, cardboard, duct-taped on the bottom half into oblivion. There’s a piece of paper taped to the front, and even in the dim closet light, you can make out your name written in his messy handwriting. [Y/N].

For a moment, you blink at the box, heart pounding, and then realize you have no idea what to do. 

If you open it, maybe he’ll know. Then you’ll look like a stalker. On the other hand, he’s been your best friend since birth, so finding out you have stalker tendencies might not be a dealbreaker. 

You stretch up on your toes, tugging the box toward you just enough to peek inside. A flash of worn brown fur catches your eyes, and then you see the teddy bear ear flopping out. Your teddy bear. You lost it in middle school, and you assumed it was gone forever, donated or thrown away during one of your mom’s delirious cleaning sprees. 

He kept it. 

“Find anything good?” Jungkook’s voice migrates from the kitchen. You jolt, almost dropping the box. Your hands shake as you shove it back into place, blood whooshing through your eardrums. 

“Nah,” you call back. Your voice sounds a bit shaky, but you hide it behind several coughs. “I was right. Old shit.”

You back out of the closet, closing the door carefully. What else is in there?

Later that night, when sleep proves itself to be unfeasible, and you’re tossing and turning underneath your comforter, you ponder what else might be in the box, and if he keeps it for the same reason you’ve kept every birthday card he’s ever written you. Tucked away in your own closet, in your own box, with his name on it. 

Apparently, hosting a Christmas soiree is not as straightforward as you’d hoped it would be.

First, there’s Jisoo, who texts a novel about how she’s trying this new clean eating thing and can there please be gluten free and dairy free options? You respond with a thumbs up, and then run to text Jennie to see if she’s actually serious. She sends back a skull emoji, which 1) you’re not sure what that implies and 2) you guess it’s confirmation that yes, she’s serious, but also yes, she’ll quit and eat regular food after two glasses of wine. 

Then Taehyung calls to inform you he’s trying to maintain a vegetarian lifestyle, and not the kind that occasionally eats fish, but the kind that will know if you used chicken stock in any recipe. You add “vegetable stock” to your growing shopping list, since catering cost more than your rent, and resist the urge to bang your head against the counter.

Namjoon sends his regrets that he and Dahyun can’t stay long because baby Haewon is ‘in turmoil right now,’ which translates to ‘we’ll be there for an hour max.’ You’re not even annoyed about that one—you’ve seen the bags under Namjoon’s eyes, and honestly, you’re impressed he’s coming at all.

The point is, you’ve given up. By Wednesday, your Notes app looks like a grocery list written by someone having a mental breakdown, and you’re seriously reconsidering this whole thing.

To his credit, Jungkook tries to help as much as possible. Inevitably, this means dragging him to your apartment on weekends, even though you do that often enough already. Saturday morning, he shows up with boxes, four different sets of more lights, some ornaments, all of them white, all of them looking functionally identical.

“Okay,” he says, holding up the first strand. “Which one screams ‘this is a classy Christmas’?”

You squint at it from the couch, hugging your mug of hot chocolate. “Hmm. I don’t know. That one kinda screams dollar store.”

“Cut.” He drops it and holds up the second. “This one?”

“Hmm, uglier than the first.”

“How can someone be so picky?” He holds up the third, and you can see him struggle to hold a straight face. “Fine. This one. Final answer.”

Tilting your head, you study it. It has a warm hue, the bulbs delicate and tiny. It’s kind of pretty, sans the scratches on some of the bulbs. “I think we have ourselves a winner.” 

“Sold.” He drops the others in the pile he’s been gathering. The ones on the right are the takers, the ones on the left are getting deposited in your dumpster at 5PM sharp. “See? This is why we make a good team.”

You have to fight not to let your mind wander off when he says things like that. “Barely. When we were five, we were on the same team for kickball and you nearly broke my ankle.”

He frowns, “Okay, but then I patched you up good as new with a Hello Kitty bandaid. That shit wasn’t easy to find.”

It was over two decades ago, but still remains a permanent fixture in your brain. You were sprawled on the playground, crying so hard you’d given yourself hiccups, convinced your ankle was shattered and your legs would be cut off. Jungkook had run to get the teacher, but came back before she did, sliding on his knees beside you like some action hero. He’d pulled a crumpled Hello Kitty bandaid from his pocket (you have no idea why he had it, he’d never explained) and stuck it on your ankle with the utmost seriousness, tongue poking out in concentration. “All better,” he had promised. Miraculously, you’d stopped crying. It wasn’t because the bandaid helped, but because Jungkook looked so proud of himself, you didn’t have the heart to tell him your ankle still hurt. 

“You’re still a pain in my ass.”

“Yeah, yeah, but who’s doing this home renovation for free? Me.”

You can’t argue with that. 

He continues pulling things from the boxes. More tinsel, garlands, ornaments in muted golds and silvers. Each item gets held up for your approval, and you find yourself less focused on the decorations and more on him. His cheeks flush crimson when you compliment one of his choices. A bright smile overtakes his features when you agree to something halfheartedly just because it makes the smile grow tenfold. 

You’d fallen for him a long time ago, but even now you realize how far down you’ve already gone. 

“Oh shit,” he exhales, freezing midway through a box. “No way.”

“What?” You shift excitedly on the couch, trying to peer into the box.

He pulls out a photo album, the edges frayed and the cover dusty. You recognize it as soon as you see it. It was one of the many your moms had compiled over the years, chronicling every significant (and insignificant) moment of your joint childhood.”

“I forgot I even had this,” he says incredulously, flipping it open. He moves to the couch, dropping down beside you, and his knee brushes yours.

Your body knows to jerk back instinctively, heart jumping into your throat. He doesn't notice, too absorbed in the photos, but your knee burns where it touched him.

“God, look at us,” he laughs, pointing to a picture of you both at around 7 years old, covered head to toe in mud. “Your mom was pissed at us.”

“Yeah, she was pissed because you pushed me into the puddle,” you remind him.

“And then I got you out of it.” 

“You said ‘watch this’ and then did it. I don’t think you really won brownie points with Mom,” you laugh at the memory. 

He flips through the book, oohing and aahing everytime you stumble across a cute picture. They’re reminiscent of a time when everything was easy, when you didn’t have to worry about adult things like taxes and bills and groceries. It was just you and Jungkook, conquering the world one playdate at a time. 

Jungkook flips to the next page. There’s a photo taped to the page, with your mom’s handwriting underneath. “Christmas, 9 years old, Busan.”

You're both standing under a mistletoe that looks comically large above your small heads. His lips are pressed to yours in that brief, earth-shattering peck you still think about once in a while (or more precisely, when it’s late at night and you’re missing his presence).

You take a deep breath. Your chest feels tight, like someone’s tugging on it by the ends of a string. 

Jungkook stares at the photo for what feels like forever, an unreadable expression crossing his face. “I remember this,” he quietly says. 

You can’t speak. Your tongue feels like deadweight. 

“You held your breath and everything,” he reminisces, and you suddenly feel breathless. Like you’re drowning and gasping for air, but even when you hit the surface, it’s not enough. 

He flips the page again, and there's another one. Age 10. Same mistletoe, different living room. It was the year your parents moved homes, but remained down the street from Jungkook’s. You’re wearing a red dress your mom made you wear, and he’s in a sweater that's too big. His hand is on your cheek, and you can see, even in the photo, how red your face was.

“We did this every year,” he notes, and there’s a nostalgic edge to his voice that wasn’t there before. 

“Yeah.” The word comes out hoarse. You clear your throat. And then the words are out before you can stop them, tinged with wistfulness, "Until we didn’t.”

Jungkook doesn’t acknowledge that. Just flips again. Through age 11, age 12, age 13, age 14. Each photo is a documentation of a tradition that meant everything to you. 

Then he turns the page, and the mistletoe is gone. Age 15.  You’re standing stiffly next to Haeun, who’s tucked under his arm, beaming at the camera. You look like you want to disappear.

“Hm,” he hums, frowning. “I guess we stopped here.”

It’s so juvenile, so high school it’s almost embarrassing. He hadn’t cared for the absence of your kiss. For him, it was a silly thing your families let you partake in. “You had Haeun. The mistletoe thing was for kids anyway”

“Was it though?” He studies the photo, and you wish he would stop, wish he would close the album and move on to anything else. The question isn’t meant to be flirtatious but a selfish part of you wishes it was. “I always thought it was fun.”

“Our parents got so excited over it.” He flips back to the earlier photos, running his finger over the vintage picture. “We’d be right under the mistletoe and she’d count down with her camera ready like it was the New Years countdown.”

“She was probably hoping to plaster us on some kids’ Christmas ad.”

“It was cute.” He lands on the photo from when you were six—the very first one. His tiny self kissing your cheek, your hand frozen mid-reach to touch the spot. “Look how tiny we were. Little babies.”

He says it so innocently that something inside you stumbles. 

You cover your face with your hands, as if he could see the adoration written all over your face. But even if he could, he probably wouldn’t say anything “I’m mortified. I didn’t realize my mom took so many pictures of us kissing as kids.” 

He scrunches his brows, looking over at you. “Was it really that bad?” 

Yes. No. It was the best and worst thing that ever happened to you. “Kinda. I mean, I survived, didn’t I?”

“Barely, from the looks of it.” He taps the photo, where baby you looks seconds away from a panic attack. “It’s not like I had cooties.”

You smile. “Oh, yes you did. If anyone had cooties, it was definitely you. You ran that playground like it was your personal dating pool.”

“Rude.” He bumps your shoulder, turning the page slowly, lingering on each mistletoe photo. “I can’t believe we did this for almost a decade.”

“Used me for practice?” It doesn’t feel like there’s enough air in your apartment, even with the window cracked open. It’s taking tremendous effort to breathe.

“Worked well for us, I think.”

“Why’d you stop?” 

Oh god, you’ve really done it now.  

Surprisingly enough, the embarrassment comes belatedly, but it settles in your stomach all the stronger. 

Surprise flashes across his face. “What?”

“After Haeun. I guess… I don’t know. You never—” You wish you could say the words, wish you could be brave, wish you could be six years old again with Jeon Jungkook’s lips on your cheek. “Why’d it just… end?”

He’s quiet. The sound of your space heater rattling and Ginger purring fills the room, but not enough to quell the anxiety that’s rumbling in your stomach. He’s going to let you down gently, you hope. Quick and painless, like a bullet to the head.

“I don’t know. I guess I thought you didn’t want to anymore. We were older. I thought it would feel weird to you.”

Weird. 

And this whole time, for you, his kiss was nothing short of ethereal. 

“Plus,” he continues, oblivious to the way your heart is splintering, “I figured it’d be uncomfortable doing it once I had girlfriends. Like it would be... I don't know. Inappropriate or something.”

He was being considerate. Somehow, and you know you’re being irrational, that makes it worse.

“It makes sense.” You force a smile. “Relax, Koo. I’m not writing sonnets about your lips every night.”

He snorts. “Oh, please, you wish you could have lips as luscious as mine.”

You push his shoulder, and then it’s just you and Jungkook again. Nothing more, nothing less. 

He flips through a few more pages, ogling at pictures even you’d never seen before. He points to one where you're both wearing matching reindeer antlers. “Now, this should be on a Christmas card.”

“I’m shocked my mom didn’t have cards made. I would’ve burned them”

“You’re such a Grinch.” He closes the album but keeps it in his lap, fingers tracing the worn cover. Jungkook is quiet for another moment, and you catch the look on his face, the one he makes when he’s struggling to choose his words correctly. Decisively, he says, “Did you really hate it? The mistletoe thing?”

Your heart hammers. This is it, you think. This is where you could tell him. Where you could say actually, I loved it, I lived for it, I died a little every year you stopped.

But he’s looking at you with curiosity, as if he’s pondering what your favorite color is or what you had for breakfast. As if the answer doesn’t matter beyond satisfying his momentary interest.

You lie. “It was fine. Just a stupid kid thing.”

He sets the album aside, wiping his dusty palms on the front of his pants. “Yeah. Totally.” 

Jungkook moves back to the decoration boxes, and you remain frozen on the couch. You grip your safety blanket as tight as you can, until you think you feel your blood flow cutting off. You just want to feel numb. 

“You know what is crazy, though?” He pulls out a string of garland, examining it for tangled bits. “You used to be obsessed with Christmas.”

Your stomach does a somersault. “I was not.”

“Yeah, you kinda were.” His eyes linger on the garland, although you’re certain it’s in perfect condition. “You made us watch Rudolph the Red Nosed Reindeer and Frosty the Snowman on repeat. You also made us build snowmen every single time it snowed, even when it was like, two inches.”

“Everyone loves those things when you’re a kid.”

“Yeah, I guess.” he sighs. “But I don’t know. You had a countdown, you’d call me everyday in December to tell me how many days were left. That was your favorite holiday, and now I’m the only one who likes it.” 

You shrug, hoping to come across as nonchalant, but you know he can read your face like an open book. “People change.”

“When did you even stop liking it?” He picks up a few string lights, untangling them as he’s doing to you currently. 

Your throat tightens. “High school, maybe?”

“Cause of stress or something? School shit?” 

“Sure.”

“It’s a yes or no question.”

“That’s the answer you’re getting.” You really, really wish there was a sinkhole that could swallow you entirely right now. 

He studies you, and you can see him thinking, piecing together something you don’t want him to figure out. But despite it all, he just shrugs, letting it go. “It's depressing. You used to light up the whole room when Christmas came around. Now you look like someone killed Ginger."

She purrs in the corner. 

“Sorry, Ging.” He throws the lights to the yes pile. It’s surprisingly larger than the no pile. “I just want you to be happy this Christmas. That’s all I care about.”

You half-smile at him, nodding. You don’t know how to tell him that you could be happy, could be ecstatic, if just this Christmas, you felt his lips on yours again.

Turns out, it’s a lot easier to throw yourself into party planning when you’re trying to distract yourself from something.

This whole debacle makes you realize you’ve never actually hosted a Christmas party. You actively avoid Christmas. What made you think you could pull this off? (Granted it’s all Jungkook’s fault, but that’s neither here nor there.)

The group chat you made for the attendees is already chaos—Jisoo asking about the playlist, Taehyung confirming he’s still vegetarian (yes, still, it's been four days), Dahyun asking if she can breastfeed in your bedroom. Your anxiety spikes with every notification.

So it’s no surprise that the day before the party, you wake up in a cold sweat at 6AM with the horrifying realization that you have no idea what you’re doing. By the time Jungkook arrives at noon, you’ve managed to rearrange your furniture three times and stress-clean your bathroom until it’s sterile enough to perform surgery in. 

“Wow,” He steps inside, taking in the boxes of decorations you’ve laid out for him to tackle. “Did you even sleep?” 

“I would, but Jisoo and Jennie are blowing up my phone like this is the fucking MET Gala or something.” You huff, not pausing your incessant scrubbing of your kitchen sink. 

“They know it’s just the annual Christmas party… right?”

You puff another exasperated breath. “Yes. But none of that matters to them because they’ve sent me 30 different outfit options like I’m going to be judging them personally or something.”

He bites back a smile. “It’s time to call in the big guns. Where can I get my hands dirty, sergeant?”

You really are grateful he’s here. And exists. And all those other sentimental things that your heart sings about constantly. 

You two go full decorator mode, moving through your apartment like a well-oiled machine. He hangs the garland while you untangle lights, arrange the ornaments while he figures out how to make your bookshelf look “festive but not icky.” His words, not yours.

It’s disgusting how much Christmas is invading your space. Your minimal, clean apartment now looks like Santa threw up in it. There are silver bells on your kitchen counter, a wreath on your door that's so aggressively pine-scented you can taste it. There are candles labeled things like “Winter Wonderland” and “Cinnamon Craze” that you know will take weeks to burn through after this is all said and done.

But you keep going, because if you stop, you’ll think. If you think, you’ll remember the photo album, the mistletoe pictures, the dumb kid thing.

“Alright, I need my harshest critic.” Jungkook motions to you to survey the living room. 

Standing beside him, you inspect the damage. Warm white lights are strung along your windows and wrapped around your bookshelf. A garland drapes elegantly across your mantle (you don't have a fireplace, but the decorative mantle suddenly feels worth it). There are small golden ornaments scattered tastefully on your side tables, and the wreath on the door is admittedly very pretty, even if it does smell like a forest. 

“Not too shabby, Jeon.”

He looks offended. “Yeah, no shit. I deserve better than that.”

“Subpar at best.”

“I’m gonna punt Ginger like a football.”

“I think the lights are nice,” you finally concede, because they are. They make your apartment look warm, cozy even.

“Told you I was good at this." He's grinning like a Cheshire cat, that proud, bunny-toothed smile that makes your chest hurt. “Admit it. I crushed this.”

You roll your eyes. “You did alright.”

He gapes, blinking frantically. “Okay? Okay? I turned your Grinch lair into a winter wonderland!”

“My abode is not a lair.”

“It was before I arrived.” He sticks his tongue out, and you shove his shoulder. 

“I think we're done,” you say, more to yourself than to him. “This is... yeah. This is enough.”

“Well… almost.” Jungkook looks like a kid who’s just been told he can’t have dessert before dinner but is already plotting how to sneak a cookie anyway.

Your stomach sinks. “What do you mean almost?” you ask, even though you think you already know. 

“I have a surprise.” 

You protest, “Jungkook—”

“Wait right here.” He holds up a hand, jogs back toward the entryway where he’d dropped his bag earlier. You stiffen like you’re made of ice, the only thing moving in your body being your heartbeat that thumps along the walls of your ribcage. 

Please don’t be what you think it is. Please don’t be what you think it is. 

He turns around, and your heart sinks lower than where your stomach sat.

In his hand, dangling from a red ribbon, is a mistletoe.

It’s small, crinkled, fake plastic leaves bent at weird angles like it was shoved in the back of his closet for years. It probably has been. 

“No,” you object immediately. 

“Come on—”

“No. This is a hard no, Jungkook.” And you know you’re being harsh, but it’s the only way you’ll get him to stop whatever efforts he’s decided are worth his time. 

“You said no mistletoe in the apartment,” he argues, walking toward you with that stupid sprig held up. “Technically, this is going above the doorway, which is a threshold. Not in the apartment.”

“That’s the worst logic I’ve ever heard.”

“But it’s tradition!” You can see the hope in his eyes, the genuine excitement, and it makes you want to rip your hair out. “Every Christmas party needs a mistletoe.”

“Not this one.”

“Especially yours. Ours.” His voice softens, and that's worse somehow. “For old times’ sake?”

You hate the tone in his voice, the guilt-tripping, the pity. 

“I don’t want it,” you repeat. “I told you this already.”

His smile falters as he realizes you’re truly serious. “Why not?

“Because it’s stupid and outdated and I don’t want people making a big deal about it.”

“Why would any of our friends make a big deal—”

“Jungkook,” you plead, crossing your arms, putting a physical barrier between you and that mistletoe. “I said no.’

He just stares at you, confusion and hurt flickering across his face. “I don’t get it. It’s literally just a mistletoe. It’s supposed to be fun.”

Fun, weird… a list of words that describe the opposite of what mistletoe makes you feel.

“It’s not fun for me.” You burn holes into your floor, refusing to look at his puppy eyes that would make you feel more guilty than you already do. 

“Why not?”

Because everytime I look at it, I think about you kissing me when we were kids. Because it reminds me of when Christmas was my favorite day of the year. Because seeing it in my apartment, above my doorway, at my party, will make me think about all the Christmases you kissed other girls and not me.

“Because I don’t like it,” you decide upon, “Can’t you just respect that?”

An awkward silence spreads amongst you two, punctured only by Ginger purring in the corner. Jungkook's hand drops to his side, mistletoe dangling limply from his fingers.

“Fine,” he murmurs. “No mistletoe.”

“Thank you,” you sigh in relief. 

He walks back to his bag and shoves it inside, and you should feel relieved. You should feel like you’ve won. But instead, you just feel like you’ve punched him square in the face.

“I should probably go,” he says, not meeting your eyes. “Let you rest before the big day tomorrow.”

“Oh, uh, yeah.” You shift on your feet awkwardly. 

He gathers his things timidly, and you know he’s giving you time to take it back, to say you’re sorry, to explain, to undo the angst you’ve created. 

At the door, he pauses before reaching for the doorknob. Jungkook turns, clutching his bag strap so tightly his knuckles resemble those of a ghost. “I really don't understand what's going on with you.”

“Nothing’s going on,” you mutter. 

“That’s utter bullshit,” he snaps, and you raise your eyes to meet his. The usual warm chocolate shade of his orbs now shifts to onyx. “You’ve been weird about this whole Christmas party thing since day one.”

“I said, there’s nothing going on. I don’t want to talk about it,” you repeat, hoping it’ll stick.

“But I do!” His voice rises, and you flinch. Jungkook doesn’t yell. Not once in your lifelong friendship has he ever raised his voice or laid a finger on anyone. You were never involved in any of his relationship arguments, but you imagine he never argued with them like this. You suddenly feel dizzy, like the world is spinning too quickly for you to catch your breath. “I’ve known you forever. You’re my best fucking friend, and something is clearly wrong, so just tell me.”

Frustration coils in your stomach. Why can’t he ever leave anything alone? “Stop it. Please, just stop. Why can’t you just respect my boundaries? I said no mistletoe. I said I don’t want to talk about it. Why isn’t that enough for you?”

“This obviously is not just about the fucking mistletoe, [Y/N].” He tugs at his hair, rage rolling off him in waves. “Since the moment I brought up you hosting, you acted like I was attacking you.”

“Because you are!” None of it makes sense, not one bit, but you can’t tell between anger and panic and all you can see is red. “Maybe because you just bulldoze through my life, rearranging things, making decisions, assuming you know what's best—”

“We’re best friends. We help each other with everything,” he grits through clenched teeth.

“I’m not Hana, Jungkook. I won’t just let you decorate my life and pretend everything's perfect.”

For a moment, Jungkook seems taken aback by your outburst, recoils a step, landing with his spine against the front door. His face goes pale. “Wow. That’s fucking low.”

“Is it?” You're on a roll now, unable to stop even though you can see you’re hurting him. Maybe you just want him to hurt the way you do. “Because when you kept all of Hana’s things, when your apartment was basically a shrine to her, I never said a fucking thing about it. I just let you deal with it however you needed to. So why can’t you give me the same courtesy? Why can’t you just let this go?”

“Hana and I broke up!” His voice cracks, eyes glassy, “That’s so different and you know it.”

“How is it different? Enlighten me.”

“She was my girlfriend. And it hurt, okay? It hurt to let her go. But I did it. I'm doing it because it’s over and I don’t miss her that way anymore. And you’re the one who pushed me to. So don’t—" He pauses, jaw clenched, and you can see he’s trying to swallow his tears. “Don’t throw that in my face like I’m some pathetic asshole who can't move on.”

Fuck. “Koo—”

“No.” He holds up a hand. It’s shaking. “You want boundaries? Fine. Here’s one: don’t call me until you figure out what the fuck is actually going on with you. Because this isn’t you. The you I know doesn’t make me feel like shit for trying to care about you.”

You swallow around the lump forming in your throat. “Jungkook, I’m so sorry—”

“Save it.” His voice is quieter, and you miss the yelling, because at least then he still cared about you. He’s given up. “I’ll still come to the party tomorrow because I told everyone I would. But after that… maybe we should take a break from each other or something.”

“Oh.”

Throughout the duration of your friendship, you and Jungkook have only ever fought once. It was known as The Great Argument of 11th Grade, and it was so juvenile that even your parents got involved. Now, you don’t really remember the specifics of what went down or who started it, but you do remember that it only lasted a day, because Jungkook said, “you know I can’t stay away from you for too long.”

The concept of space from him is one you’ve never considered. 

He leaves before you can say anything more, the door clicking shut with finality, echoing through your decorated apartment.

You stand there, frozen, staring at the space where he was. The mistletoe is still in his bag. He took it with him.

The rest of your unfortunate day is spent spiraling about your argument with Jungkook. You sit on the couch, crying to some stupid Hallmark movie where the girl gets the guy and everything works out perfectly. Then you cry in the shower, the water mixing with your tears until you can’t tell which is which. You go so far as to cry in your car on the way to the grocery store, because you two were supposed to go together to prepare for this stupid party.

Even the supermarket is taunting you. There’s couples everywhere walking around gleefully, hand-in-hand, debating between red or green napkins like it’s the most important decision of their lives. Meanwhile, you’re shuffling through the aisles in a massive oversized hoodie that’s doing nothing to hide your puffy eyes and red nose.

Sniffling, you round the corner to the next aisle, looking for Taehyung’s stupid vegetable broth. Your cart collides with someone else’s with a loud clang, and you’re thrown, apologizing like crazy, “Ohmygod, I’m so sorry, I wasn’t paying attention—”

“[Y/N]?”

Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck.

Hana. 

The last time you saw Hana was last January after the breakup. She was collecting her things at Jungkook’s apartment, and you’d shown up at the wrong moment. Her eyes were bloodshot, movements solemn as she shoved books and clothes into a duffel bag. She’d barely looked at you, just mumbled a quiet “hey” before brushing past you in the hallway. You had felt guilty then, even though you had no reason to be. 

At least now, she looks radiant. Her skin reflects off the luminescent overhead lights, cart stocked full of fancy cheeses and wine bottles and overpriced crackers. She looks like someone who has her shit together. Someone who’s moved on.

Unlike you, apparently, who looks like you’ve been crying in your car. Which, by all means, you absolutely were. 

“Hana,” you slap a smile onto your face, although you’re 99 percent certain it looks strained. “It’s good to see you.”

“You too!” She seems actually happy about the encounter. It’s not like you two ever had a bad relationship, but you weren’t besties by any means. “It’s been forever.”

“Yeah, almost a year.” You’re too hyperaware of your puffy eyes, your ratty hoodie, the fact that you probably look like you’ve been hit by a truck. But of course, she looks like she just stepped out of Vogue.

“How have you been?” she asks. 

“Good. Busy. You know, the holidays,” You nod at your cart, which contains three different types of cheeses, ten bags of chips, and a bag of chocolate chips for yourself because you need to eat your feelings when you get home. 

“I do,” she laughs. “Work has been insane lately. I barely have time to go outside.”

“Right, you’re at that new marketing agency now?” You remember Jungkook mentioning it once, back when talking about Hana was therapeutic for him.

“I do.” she nods. “It’s a lot but I love it. What about you? Still at the magazine?”

“I am. I actually just finished a pretty big piece, so that’s good.”

“That’s amazing,” she earnestly responds. You want to hate her—it would be easier if you could hate her—but she’s always been kind. Even when you wanted to despise her for being with Jungkook, she made it impossible.

There’s a lull in conversation, and you debate making a run for it until she asks, “How are you and Jungkook?”

You furrow your brows. She could just ask you about Jungkook. You wouldn’t judge her  for wondering. “What do you mean?”

“I just—” A crimson blush creeps onto her cheeks. “I mean, how are you guys doing?”

Why would she ask about you both together? Granted, it’s not that unreasonable. You and Jungkook are attached at the hip; everyone knows that. “We’re… good? He’s good.”

“Cool,” she says, but she doesn’t even look convinced by your answer. 

You don’t know why you feel the need to overshare, but it all comes tumbling out like word vomit. “Yeah, he’s actually been helping me plan this Christmas party. Total nightmare, honestly. He’s been at my place basically every day this week, decorating and—”

She cracks a smile. “That’s so cute you guys are still inseparable.”

“I mean… “ you trail off, slightly confused by her angle. “We’re best friends. So yeah.”

“Of course,” she rushes to say. “Duh. Silly me.”

“Is that... weird?” You clear your throat and shift on your feet. You don’t even know what she’s trying to get at anymore, and honestly, you really need to get as far away from this supermarket (or Seoul) as fast as you can. 

“No! No, not weird. I think it’s sweet, actually.” She pauses before adding, “I'm really happy for you guys”

Either you must be braindead, or she’s undergoing memory loss. “I’m sorry Hana, I don’t think I’m following.”

She laughs softly, but it’s not mocking. “Come on, [Y/N]. You don’t have to pretend with me.”

Your stupid heart skips a beat, your brain struggling to make sense of her words. “Pretend about what?”

“That you and Jungkook aren’t together, obviously.” 

Have you entered an alternate universe? Did you accidentally drive into another dimension in all your sadness, missed the supermarket completely?

“What?” you sputter. “No, we’re not—oh my god, no. We would never, I mean—we’re best friends.”

She reaches out, placing a warm hand over your own. You’re going to die. It’ll be a painful death, but you’ll make it work. Anything to get out of this. “No, it’s okay. You can tell. Honest to god, I’m seeing someone now. I’m not like, jealous or anything.”

It’s confirmed. You’ve entered an alternate world where you’ll soon grow a second head and become the queen of a make-believe land. 

“Hana, I’m dead serious. Jungkook and I are not dating.” You need her to believe you. You need someone to believe you, because if Hana thinks there’s something there, what the fuck does that mean? “We’ve never dated. We’re just friends. That’s all we’ve ever been.”

She studies your face, searching for the lies. Confusion replaces her certainty. “Wait, really?”

“Really.”

“But you…” She trails off, shaking her head. “Wow. Okay. I genuinely thought you guys had finally gotten together.”

Your throat constricts. “W-Why would you think that?”

“Because,” she stops, biting her lip. “Nevermind. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have assumed.”

It gives you pause for a minute, and your heart—that idiotic organ of yours that can never let go of anything—trembles in your chest. 

“No, what were you going to say?” You’re not sure you want to know, but you can’t let it go now.

She casually flicks her hand. “It’s nothing, I swear.”

You exhale a breath you didn’t realize you were holding. “Hana. Please.”  

She sighs, shifting on her feet. “It’s just... when Jungkook and I were together, it was always pretty clear that you were the most important person in his life. Which, like, I totally respected! I did, I get it. But it was also kind of hard sometimes, you know? Like I was always competing with this... ghost. This idea of what you two had.”

Ever since you were young, people had this tendency to group you and Jungkook into this category of fate, as if the universe had done you both a favor by placing you in adjacent hospital cribs. It was always “you’re lucky to have each other” and “what a gift to be so close,” that you had never stopped to consider that your luck, your fate, your happiness, your shining star, might cast shadows on the people who tried to love him.

“Hana, I never meant to—”

“No, no,” she rushes to say, “Trust me, it wasn’t you. You did nothing wrong. Neither did he, really. He tried his best. But I could always tell his heart wasn’t fully in it. At least, not in the way it should have been.”

Words fall short of what you want to say. Hana and Jungkook’s relationship had always felt like something out of reach to you. An enigma. The plot of some braindead romance novel. They met at a concert, an underground indie band that only the two of them liked.  He had stumbled home that night with a smile on his face that couldn’t be erased, eyes bright as exploding stars, talking so fast his words tripped over each other. You remember thinking this is it, the real thing, the love that rewrites him.  You had never imagined that magic would ever run dry. 

“Anyway,” Hana continues, “I just assumed that once we broke up, you two would figure it out. The way he talked about you, the way he’d light up when you texted... I don't know. I thought it was inevitable.”

“Well, it’s not.” The words prick your tongue like thorns. “We’re just friends.”

“Oh. Well, that’s still cool,” she offers, but her eyes have gone all soft. 

For a while, it’s quiet. She’s staring at you intently, chewing on her lip like she has more to say but needs to mash it down. But you really just want to grab Taehyung’s stupid vegetable broth and get the fuck out of here. 

“It was great to see you, Hana. I need to go and—”

“[Y/N], wait.” She latches onto your arm before you get a chance to escape. 

You stare at her, wide-eyed, heart racing, mouth dry. 

“I probably shouldn't be telling you this. Maybe it should be him, I don’t fucking know," she says, rolling her eyes. "But clearly he hasn’t grown the balls yet. Well, that, or his peanut brain hasn’t pieced it together. But I’m gonna tell you anyway.”

Your hands grip the cart handle. “Tell me what?”

There’s a long pause, and you can feel her weighing her words. Until, finally, she admits, “Last Christmas, when we were under the mistletoe… when Jungkook kissed me.” She takes a deep breath. “He was looking at you.”

Your first reaction is to laugh. Which you do, actually, loud enough to bounce off the cans of corn on the shelves. At the sound, Hana raises an eyebrow. 

“What are you talking about?” you giggle. “No, he wasn’t.”

She’s watching you now with something that resembles pity.

“We were under the mistletoe at your friend Jisoo’s apartment. Everyone was there, all your friends. And he kissed me, but…” Hana swallows thickly. “When we pulled apart, his eyes were open, and he wasn’t looking at me. He was looking across the room at you.”

You think you’re going to die in this godforsaken supermarket. 

“I didn’t say anything that night. I thought maybe I’d imagined it, but then it kept happening. He’d be with me, but he’d be watching you. Listening for you, waiting for you to text or call.” She laughs dryly, but you’re not sure either of you find this funny. “On New Years, I asked him about it. I asked him if he was in love with you.”

Bile rises up in your throat. You don’t even think you want to hear the rest of this. If she’s right, if it’s true, if you’ve missed this, if, if, if..

“What did he say, Hana?”

“Obviously, he lied and said no. He said you were just friends, and that I was being ridiculous. But then we broke up two weeks later. We both agreed we needed space, and I said that he wasn’t ready for something serious. And maybe that's true, maybe I was reading into things." She finally meets your eyes again. "But I don’t think I was.”

Last Christmas, you were so drunk on Jisoo’s eggnog that you hardly remember anything. You try to piece together the snippets of the night you have. There was dinner, which you scarfed down in under a millisecond. Then you all played pin the cock on the Santa (not suitable for kids, but luckily, baby Haewon only lived in Dahyun’s uterus at that point). You barely even remember the mistletoe portion of the night. That’s got to be some kind of trauma response to the stupid little leaf. 

“Why are you telling me this?” Your voice sounds far away, like it belongs to someone else.

“Because," Hana’s lips curve upwards into a soft smile, “I spent a year loving someone who was in love with someone else, and it sucked, but you know what sucks more? Watching two people who are meant to be together waste time pretending they’re not.” 

She reaches out and squeezes your arm. “I’m not bitter about it anymore. I’m happy now. I want him to be happy too. I think... I think he could be very happy with you.”

You want to argue. You want to tell her she’s wrong, that she’s misremembering, that she too was poisoned by Jisoo’s eggnog, that there's no way Jungkook feels that way about you.

But then you think about the box in his closet with your name on it. The teddy bear he kept. The way he’s been trying so hard to make you love Christmas again. The mistletoe he wanted to hang in your apartment.

No. It can’t fucking be. 

“I gotta go,” you say abruptly. 

“[Y/N]—”

But you’re already moving, abandoning your cart in the middle of the aisle, heart pounding so hard you can feel it in your throat. You make it to your car before the tears start again, but this time they’re different. This time, you don’t know if you’re crying because you’ve been in love with someone who doesn't love you back, or because you might've missed the entire thing completely. 

There’s not enough wine in this apartment, nor this world, that will get you through this Christmas party in one piece.

It feels like the world is moving around you but you’re just glued to your kitchen, gripping your glass of white wine so tightly you’re surprised the stem hasn’t snapped. Surprisingly enough, everyone arrived on time—even Namjoon and Dahyun, balancing poor baby Haewon on their hip, her tiny Santa hat slipping over one eye. There’s enough alcohol floating around to feed a bar, courtesy of Taehyung’s overenthusiastic mixology skills. 

It’s truly a splendid evening. A roaring success. Everything going exactly as planned. 

Except, there are two minor (major) insignificant, soul-crushing details that are fucking up your perfect evening: 

Hana’s words have been playing on loop in your brain all day. 

When Jungkook arrived, he looked at you for exactly 0.5 seconds, said absolutely nothing, and spent the last hour charming everyone else in the room.

Other than that, splendid evening. Gatsby would be seething with jealousy if he saw the kind of party you were throwing.

Jungkook had walked in, present in hand for Haewon (because he was her godfather and she practically got whatever she wanted when he was around), and he’d met your eyes before looking away. No smile. No “hey.” Not even a nod of acknowledgment. 

Naturally, since torturing you seems first on his agenda, he chooses this night to become the town jester. Jennie has been laughing at his jokes for what seems like ages, her hand on his arm, her head thrown back in delight. Taehyung keeps pulling him into conversations, clapping him on the shoulder. Even Dahyun, who normally has her hands full, is more entranced by Jungkook than her own daughter. 

Everyone loves Jungkook. Everyone always loves Jungkook.

Yet, he won’t even spare you a passing glance. 

It’s what you deserve, you know that, but your heart is cracking at the seams and your brain isn’t faring any better. 

You feel ill. Fucking ill.

Turning to the kitchen sink, you brace your hands on the counter. Breathe in. Breathe out. You’re fine. You just need to get through the next few hours without having a complete breakdown in front of all your friends.

“You alright?”

You jump, releasing an exhale when you see it’s just Jisoo. She’s holding a glass of red wine, matching with her burgundy turtleneck, eyebrow raised in that knowing way of hers that says she sees right through all your bullshit.

“Oh, yeah,” you reply. “Just taking a quick breather.”

“Mhm.” she eyes you up and down, leaning against the counter. “You’re basically hiding at your own party.”

“Could’ve sworn you did this last year at your Christmas party when your lasagna came out burnt,” you point out. 

Jisoo deadpans. “This isn’t about me. We’re talking about you.”

Damnit. You were hoping she would let it go.

“I’m just here making sure everything’s to perfection. Y’know, Taehyung with his… vegetarianism..”

Jisoo takes a slow sip of her wine, “You wanna try that again, or should I just cut to the part where you tell me what’s actually wrong?”

Your heart falls to your ass. Jisoo is the one friend on this planet who has consistently read you down to the bone. She’s going to see right through any lie you try to feed her, so you’re wondering if it’s even worth it. 

It’s worth one last shot. 

“Nothing’s wrong—”

“Bitch just tell me.”

You close your eyes and try to imagine a beach, somewhere tropical with waves kissing your ankles and sand that burns your feet. Try to imagine a world where you don’t have to answer Jisoo's question, where Hana never ambushed you in the grocery store yesterday, where your feelings for Jungkook stayed frozen at age nine, still innocent and within reach.

Unfortunately, when you open your eyes again, you’re at a Christmas party—your Christmas party, in your annoyingly red sweater—and Jisoo is staring at you expectantly. 

“I fucked up.”

Jisoo doesn’t look surprised in the slightest, which, okay. Rude. “With Jungkook?”

You raise an eyebrow. “How did you know that?”

“I mean, you’re not having a fight with any of the girls, or I would’ve heard an earful. That and he won’t glance in your direction and you look like you’re about to throw up. Doesn’t take Einstein.” She places her wine down. “What happened?”

Keeping it bottled up has never done you any favors, so you steady your voice and explain everything.  How you didn’t want to host the party in the first place because Christmas makes you miserable. How Jungkook kept pushing about the mistletoe. How you snapped at him, brought up Hana, threw his grief in his face. How he left and told you he needed space and you haven’t spoken since.

You probably could’ve told her more, but you don’t want to tell her about the mistletoe tradition. You don’t tell her about being in love with him for thirteen years. Those truths feel like just yours. 

When you finish, Jisoo is quiet for a long moment. Then, she sighs, levels you with a look, and says,  “That was a low blow.”

“I know.”

“Like, really bad.”

“I know.”

“He was just trying to help, and you basically told him he’s pathetic for not being over his ex.”

“I know, Jisoo. Trust me, I know.” You press the heels of your palms against your eyes. “I feel like shit about it.”

“Have you apologized?”

“He said he needed space. Hence why he won’t look at me.”

“I mean, space doesn’t mean you can’t say sorry.” She picks up her wine again. “Look, I get it. You were overwhelmed. The party planning, the decorations, whatever else is going on in that head of yours. But Jungkook didn’t deserve that”.

“I know he didn’t.” you reply, now having trouble controlling your voice. “I just... I don’t know how to fix this.”

“The word you’re looking for, my dear, is sorry,” she smiles sympathetically. 

You nod, even though the thought of approaching him right now makes you want to crawl into a hole. 

The party outside seems to pick up in volume, and through the crack in the doorway, you see Jungkook holding baby Haewon, cradling her carefully against his chest like she’s made of glass. He’s wearing a dark green sweater, the color of mistletoe, and his skin looks golden under the string lights he helped set up. He’s cooing at the baby, making ridiculous faces, and Haewon is giggling, her tiny hand reaching up to grab his nose.

Dahyun is standing next to him, saying something that makes him laugh, and the light sound carries over the music and chatter. It’s his real laugh, the one that crinkles his nose and shows all his teeth, the one you thought you only got to see. 

And suddenly you can picture it with perfect clarity: Jungkook, a few years from now, holding his own baby. His and someone else’s, some girl who isn’t you, who doesn’t have years of baggage and unspoken feelings weighing her down. Someone who can give him the uncomplicated love he deserves.

You didn’t even realize Jisoo was talking until you feel her hand on your arm. 

Blinking out of your daze, you snap back to the kitchen, to the party, to reality. “Sorry, what?”

But it’s too late—Jisoo isn’t looking at you anymore. She’s following your gaze to the dining room, to Jungkook and the baby, and understanding dawns across her face.

“Oh,” she says. 

Who knew a single syllable could carry so much weight?

“How long?” Jisoo questions.

“How long what?”

“Do not play dumb with me, missy. How long have you been in love with him?”

You’ve been tiptoeing around the truth for a long time. But you’re so tired of pretending, and the wine has loosened your tongue, and Jisoo is looking at you with such gentle understanding that the truth just spills out.

“Since I was a kid.”

Jisoo's eyes widen. “Jesus Christ, [Y/N].”

“Yeah,” is all you can offer.

“Does he know?” She lowers her voice, leans more into you like he might somehow hear across the room. 

“Absolutely not,” you retort. “He can’t, and he won’t. It would ruin our friendship.”

She opens her mouth to protest, to probably give you some grand speech on how love wins above all, but you hold your hand up to stop her. “I’m serious, Jisoo. You can’t tell him. Pinky promise me.”

She studies you for a long moment, and you can see her debating whether to push. Finally, she sighs and holds out her pinkie. “I promise. But for the record, I think you’re an idiot.”

“I get that a lot.”

From the dining room, you hear Jungkook laugh again, and it feels like someone’s wrapped barbed wire around your heart and pulled tight.

“You really should talk to him, though,” Jisoo repeats. “Like tonight, before it gets worse.” 

It’s already worse. 

“I can’t,” you disagree, taking a gulp of wine. “You saw him. The man won’t even look at me.”

“Because he’s pissed, not ‘cause he hates you.” She squeezes your arm. “This is Jungkook we’re talking about. Your Jungkook. He’s probably just as miserable as you are.”

The words your Jungkook make you shiver. He’s never actually been yours in any way that matters. But god, the way Jisoo says it makes you want to believe it. Makes you want to crawl inside those two words and live there, in a world where your Jungkook means he’s yours the way you’ve always been his. Completely, irrevocably, in every way a person can belong to another.

“I don’t know, he seems to be the fucking class clown tonight,” you mumble into your wine, and Jisoo snorts. 

“I promise you he’s waiting for you to make the first move. He said he needed space, but that doesn’t mean he wants the space. You know how he is—he’s a loverboy. Gets all up in his feelings and shit.”

You do know. You’ve known Jungkook long enough to recognize all his patterns.

Either way, you know just what to say to appease Jisoo. “Maybe later.”

“Later as in tonight, or later as in you’re going to avoid him until you two just forget about it and move on?” 

Yeah, exactly that. 

“We’ll see.”

Jisoo gives you a look that says she knows exactly what “we'll see” means in your vocabulary. “What’s your therapist’s name again? I want to give them a call.”

You hold up your middle finger. 

“It’s gonna be a loooong night,” she exhales a loud breath.

And truly, she must have magical powers or something, because it is nothing short of a treacherous evening for you. 

It all starts with Dahyun intercepting you, forcing you to hold Haewon. “Can you hold her for a sec? I need to use the bathroom and Joon’s three drinks deep trying to explain some conspiracy theory to Taehyung.” 

You’re halfway through your protest when she just plops Haewon into your arms. She settles against your chest with a little coo, her Santa hat askew. She smells like powder, milk, and Dahyun’s perfume. Her tiny fist curls into your sweater, and despite the trainwreck that is your life, you smile brightly. 

“Hi, pretty girl,” you murmur, adjusting her weight. “I bet you don’t know what it’s like to be in love with someone who doesn’t love you back. Because everyone loves you, since you’re perfect.”

Bouncing her gently, you two sway in place, and she makes a happy gurgling sound as if to say “yes, I know I’m perfect.” Someone has put on Nat King Cole, and the crooning voice of “The Christmas Song” fills your apartment with a nostalgic warmth you’ve been trying to avoid all month.

Haewon has the cutest little fingers and even tinier toes, and it amazes you how someone so utterly perfect could exit your friend Dahyun’s body. Before she met Namjoon, she was nothing short of a party girl, but now, her days are filled with Mommy & Me yoga classes and supermarket runs. 

It’s your dream life, you think. One that you would give anything to live with Jungkook. 

You’re so focused on this fantasy, the one you’ve conjured up in your head and dreams for years, that you don’t even realize Jungkook is blatantly staring at you. 

He’s standing near the drinks table, a bottle of beer frozen halfway to his lips. You meet his eyes, and it’s just you and Jungkook (and Haewon). 

Haewon squirms in your arms, breaking your gaze. You look down at her, adjusting her hat, heart hammering against your ribcage. When you look back up, Jungkook has turned away, saying something to Taehyung that you can’t hear over the blood whooshing in your ears.

But his knuckles are white around his beer bottle. 

Later on in the night, after you’ve tended to Taehyung’s vegetarian needs and listened to Jisoo rant about how clean eating relates to consumerism, you retreat to the kitchen under the guise of refilling the snack bowls. No one needs more chips—there are three unopened bags on the counter—but you need a moment of reprieve. 

You rip open a bag of pretzels, and a few go flying everywhere, but you manage to catch them in your hand. 

“Need any help?”

Your body goes rigid. You’re certain even your heart has stopped its beat. 

Jungkook is standing in the doorway, hands shoved in his pockets, looking anywhere but directly at you. The green sweater really is unfair. The golden undertone of his skin shimmers under your fluorescent light, makes his eyes look lustrous. 

“All good here,” you retort. “I’m just restocking.”

He makes a noise of acknowledgment, shuffling closer toward you. 

You pour pretzels into a bowl with more force than necessary, and several bounce onto the counter.

“The party’s a hit,” he offers. 

“Yeah. Everyone seems happy.” 

“The food’s really good too.”

“It was all Namjoon and Dahyun,” you snort. Your dream of getting food catered pretty much died immediately. Then you tried cracking open a recipe book and nearly fainted. 

This is excruciating. You’ve never done small talk with Jungkook. Never needed to. 

“Listen—”

“Jungkook,” you say in unison. 

Words cease to exist. You both stop. A dreadful, awkward silence fills the kitchen.

He clears his throat. “I want us to talk later after everyone leaves. If that’s okay with you?”

Where the idea of talking to him used to excite you, is now replaced by a pit in your stomach that won’t budge. 

Hana’s words crash back into your consciousness. He was looking at you.

But what if she was wrong? What if she saw something that wasn’t there because she was hurt and wanted an explanation that made sense? What if you let yourself hope and it destroys you?

“Maybe, Jungkook.”

Disappointment flashes across his face. He nods slowly. “Cool, yeah, uh, just let me know.”

He turns to leave, and you want to say more, want to stop him from leaving.

Your mind runs back to the grocery store, Hana’s words. 

You open your mouth—to say what, you don't know. Sorry. Wait. I need to tell you something.

“Jungkook.”

Jennie pokes her head into the kitchen, oblivious to everything. “There you are! Tae’s trying to make everyone play some weird drinking game. You have to come referee before I murder him.”

Jungkook looks back at you, a question in his eyes.

“Go ahead,” you smile. “I’ll join in a sec.”

He hesitates for just a second, then follows Jennie to the party.

By the time you make it back to the living room, Taehyung has indeed corralled everyone into some drinking game involving Christmas trivia. You slide into an empty spot on the couch next to Jisoo, who gives you a pointed look that you ignore. 

“Is this a joke?” you ask. 

“Tis not, Christmas hater,” Taehyung jokes. He explains the rules of the game, most of which you spend picking at your fingernails. The game begins with Jennie getting a question wrong about Rudolph and has to take a shot of tequila. Dahyun argues that her answer about Home Alone is technically correct. Jungkook keeps score attentively, tongue poking through his teeth. 

You're almost starting to relax when Namjoon, flushed from wine and dad-exhaustion, looks around your apartment with squinted eyes.

“Wait,” he says loud enough to make Taehyung’s and Jisoo’s current feud halt. “Where’s the mistletoe?” 

Last Christmas by Wham is blaring from your speakers, and you can hear traffic from the street below, but a barrage of red alerts blasts through your brain. 

Shit. 

Your throat goes dry.

“Yeah!” Dahyun laughs, adjusting Haewon on her lap. “Where is it? I thought mistletoe was like, mandatory at Christmas parties.”

“Maybe she forgot,” Jennie offers, and you could kiss her on the lips. 

“Feels like a crazy thing to forget,” Jisoo chimes in, and you shush her with a glare. 

“I didn’t forget.” You can feel Jungkook’s eyes on you, but you don’t look at him. “I just didn’t put one up.” 

“Why not?” Taehyung interrogates, crossing his arms over his chest. “It’s tradition.”

Tradition. That stupid fucking word. 

“It’s not really my thing.” You shrug. 

“Since when?” Jennie arches a brow. “In college, you made us all kiss under the mistletoe in Jihyo’s dorm.”

You were obliterated and desperately trying to create some scenario where kissing Jungkook would happen again, even as a joke. It hadn’t worked. He’d kissed Jisoo on the cheek and you’d kissed Namjoon and everyone had laughed and moved on and you’d gone home and cried into your pillow.

“I was drunk,” you argue. 

Jisoo is studying her drink intensely, and by the sheer force of mind reading, you beg her not to say something.

“I think it's nice,” Dahyun says, attempting to ease the awkwardness. “More elegant without it, you know? Like out of an Ikea catalogue!”

You throw her a grateful look. 

“It does save people from those awkward forced kisses with people they don’t want to kiss,” she adds, and multiple other people nod in agreement.

“Exactly! That’s exactly it.” You practically leap out of your seat. 

But you can still feel Jungkook looking at you. You chance a glance in his direction and immediately regret it. He’s not trying to hide his expression anymore. He looks visibly hurt, with his jaw tight and lips twitching. 

“Should we keep playing?” Jennie asks, and bless her for it.

“Yeah,” Taehyung shuffles his trivia cards. “Alright, next question is for Jungkook.”

The game resumes, clockwise around the room, but even then, neither you or Jungkook care about anything else but each other. 

Jungkook’s not sure when it happened.

There wasn’t a single moment, no dramatic revelation where the clouds parted and you were all grown up. It was more like watching a sunrise, so gradual that he didn’t even notice it was happening until the entire sky was painted in vivid bright colors. One day you were his best friend, the girl who knew all his secrets and laughed at his dumb jokes and fell asleep during movie nights with your head on his shoulder. Then, somewhere along the way, you became something more—flourished into a beautiful flower. 

He thinks it might have started in high school, when you showed up to junior prom in that light blue dress that complemented your eyes. Your mother spent thirty minutes poking and prodding at your dress, noting that you were ‘filling out nicely,’ and it had taken all of Jungkook’s might not to ogle at your growing chest. 

It could’ve also been in college, after you went through your first breakup and decided the proper next step was to cut your hair short, revealing the curve of your neck. He had stared for the better half of a week, and luckily, it went away once winter rolled around and you wore turtlenecks. 

It could have been last year, when you laughed so hard at one of his stories that you snorted wine out of your nose, and instead of being grossed out, he’d thought it was the most endearing thing he’d ever witnessed.

Maybe it’s always been there, lurking underneath your friendship. 

The thing is, Jungkook has always been sure he’s not in love with you. He’s never let himself think about it in those terms, never let the thought fully form before shoving it back down where it belongs. You are his best friend, have been since before he understood what friendship meant. You’re the person who knows him better than anyone, who’s seen him at his worst and somehow still shows up. You’re the constant in his life, the thing he’s never had to question.

But in the quiet of his own mind, he can acknowledge that you are utterly and thoroughly beautiful. 

You’re brilliant too, in ways that constantly surprise him even after knowing you for years. Sharp and funny and creative, with this ability to see people that makes everyone feel understood. You remember things, stupid little details about people’s lives that they mentioned once in passing. You’re the kind of person who makes playlists for your friends based on their moods. 

You made one for him last month. Called it ‘when koo is in his feelings.’ 

He listened to it on the way to the Christmas party.

And yeah, okay, maybe he thinks about you more than a best friend probably should. Like when he’s dating someone, there’s always this small part of his brain remembering things to tell you later, moments you’d find funny or interesting. Sometimes, he compares every girl he dates to you without meaning to… it’s just the way they laugh never quite measures up, their sense of humor is always slightly off, their understanding of him remains surface-level.

But that’s all normal friend stuff, he thinks. 

“Penny for your thoughts?” 

Namjoon sidles up beside Jungkook, hugging a beer bottle tight to his chest. It’s the first time he’s drank in a while, and Jungkook resists the urge to laugh at just how drunk he looks. 

Jungkook takes a long sip of his beer, watching you over the rim of the bottle. You’re laughing at something Jisoo said, but it doesn’t reach your eyes. “It’s nothing.”

“Shut up.”  Namjoon leans against the wall for stability. “Tell me what’s up.”

“Nothing’s up.”

“Shouldn’t you be out there, making my wife laugh harder than I have?” 

Jungkook rolls his eyes. “I’m tired.”

“You have the energy of a bunny, so I doubt that,” Namjoon snickers. “C’mon, fess up. I never get involved with drama anymore after Haewon. Enlighten me.”

Jungkook considers deflecting again, but what's the point? Namjoon's going to stand here until he cracks. “We got in a fight. Me and [Y/N].”

“Oh shit, for real?” When Jungkook meekly nods, Namjoon takes another swig of beer. “What about?”

“I wanted to hang up a mistletoe for the party and she said no.” God, saying it out loud seems so stupid. “I pushed it and then she…”

“She what?” 

“She said some mean things, then I said some things. It got messy.”

“This sounds kinda dumb,” Namjoon jokes, and Jungkook levels him with a piercing glare. He knows it’s dumb, knows this whole thing is stupid, but he can;t shake the feeling that there’s something unresolved lingering underneath. “You’ll be fine.”

“Yeah.”

“That was not a confident yeah.”

“I mean, I told her we should talk after the party. She said maybe,” Jungkook laughs dryly. “Chances of us talking are looking pretty low right now.”

“Dude,” Namjoon exhales a breath. “She’s not going to stay away from you. That girl loves you.”

“I don’t know…”

“You know where she lives. You have a key, for god’s sake.”

Jungkook does have a key. In his defense, you have one to his place too. It’s never not been a thing—you’ve been trading apartment keys since college, back when you lived in that shitty studio with the broken heater and he needed to water your plants when you went home for your mom’s birthday.

“I think she really wants space this time, though,” he frowns. He doesn’t like the idea of it, but it’s part of his fault you’re even in this predicament right now. 

“You guys are idiots.” Namjoon stares at him. “Why do you look so sad about this? It’s just a little fight, right?”

Jungkook opens his mouth to agree, but he chokes on the words forming in his throat. His eyes find you across the room again. You’re holding Haewon, swaying gently, and the baby's grabbing at your hair with her tiny fists. You smile down at her, and even from here, he can see the softness in your expression, and how you’ve adjusted your hold to support her head.

He doesn’t really know why, but his heart seizes.

“Yeah. I think so.”

Namjoon hums. “It’s not like, …anything more, right?”

Jungkook furrows his brows, tearing his gaze away from you. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Y’know what I mean…” Namjoon starts doing some weird vague gestures with his hand, and Jungkook’s beer-soaked brain struggles to keep up. “It’s not like that with you two?”

Oh. 

“No, no. It’s not like that with us,” Jungkook denies quickly, almost too quickly. He knows it’s not impractical for someone to suggest. Ever since he was a young boy, he’s been curbing questions regarding your relationship status. It never annoyed him; in fact, it filled him with pride knowing people thought he was worthy of what sunshine you had to offer. “She’s my best friend.”

“Could’ve fooled me.”

“Excuse me?”

Jungkook’s chest feels tight. 

But Namjoon doesn’t note the way his face goes pale, or the way his fingers flex around his bottle. He continues on, “Bro, I’m not trying to start anything. But I’ve known you since college, and I’ve watched you do this thing where you date someone, it gets serious, and then somehow it always ends. And you know what the common denominator is?”

He really doesn’t want Namjoon to say anymore. Doesn’t want him to vocalize what might actually be true, but has been something Jungkook has been mashing down for decades of his life. Naked, unmistakable fear courses through him. 

“Her.” Namjoon points with his beer bottle. “Every single time, you come back to her. You text her more than your girlfriend, or you cancel dates if she needs you. You measure everyone against her without even realizing you’re doing it.”

Jungkook can’t speak, because it’s true. He knows it’s true. He’s done it countless times, like when it was he and Sana’s one-year anniversary, but you had the flu, so he dropped everything to take care of you. Or when Chaeyoung got upset with him because he had responded to your text before even giving hers a second glance. 

He can’t help it. 

“You’ve been dragging her through your relationships for years,” Namjoon says, “At some point, you need to ask yourself why you keep coming back to her.”

“But she’s my best friend!” Jungkook protests petulantly. “We always show up for each other.”

“Yeah, but do best friends look at each other the way you’re looking at her right now?’

Jungkook hadn’t even realized he’d been staring again. You’ve handed Haewon back to Dahyun and you’re laughing at something, a hand flying up to cover your mouth in that way you do when you think your laugh is too loud. It’s not, Jungkook thinks, It’s never too loud.

“What do you want me to say?” Jungkook mumbles, averting his eyes to his scuffed-up shoes. 

“I feel like you should just be honest with yourself, Kook.” Namjoon claps him on the shoulder. “I’m willing to bet money on the fact that your fight wasn’t really about the mistletoe.”

“I don’t think so,” Jungkook scoffs. He hopes he looks nonchalant, but his hands are trembling.

Namjoon doesn’t utter another word, and for a moment, Jungkook thinks it’s over. Namjoon will let it go and they’ll move on. He shifts weight onto his other foot, taking a swig from his beer.

“Jungkook.”  Fuck, if the way Namjoon’s looking at him right now is any indication of what’s to come, he’s so fucked. “You know she’s in love with you, right?”

It’s out in the open, and he can’t believe Namjoon just said it, doesn’t know where he even got that idea, but he does know that it must be the truth. It has to be, because he would never suggest otherwise. And the notion should be earth-shattering, world-tilting, but it’s not. 

Maybe Jungkook knew this whole time. 

“No-No, she’s not—we’re not—”

But the more he ruminates on it, he realizes: you can’t be. You’ve never—there’s never been any indication—you’ve never said anything or done anything or—

In all the years he’s known you, you’ve never dated someone seriously. Like living together, talk of engagement. Sure, there were a few guys here and there in college, but nothing that stuck. Nothing that lasted more than a month or two. He’d always figured you were just picky, focused on your career, not interested in settling down.

Was there more to that? Jungkook’s heart jolts in his chest. 

Oh god. Oh fuck.

How long? How long have you been carrying this? Since you were kids? Since high school? College? How many years has he been obliviously parading girlfriends in front of you, kissing them under mistletoe, talking about his relationships, asking for your advice about girls who weren’t you?

His hands are shaking. He sets his beer down on the nearest surface before he drops it.

“I think, maybe, you’ve always known.” Namjoon’s voice sounds like it’s coming from far away. 

All those times he came back to you after dates that didn’t go well. All those nights you stayed up listening to him talk about his problems with whatever girl he was seeing. All those moments he chose you over them without even thinking about it because being with you was easy and comfortable and right in a way nothing else ever was.

He can never remember half of those girls’ names. Can’t remember what he saw in them or why he thought any of them were worth it. 

But he remembers every Christmas with you.

He remembers all of it. 

Jungkook looks up, searching for you in the crowd, and finds you emerging from the kitchen with Jisoo. 

Panic claws up his throat. “But she’s never said anything—like, we never—”

“If I were her, I wouldn’t say anything.” Namjoon shrugs. 

Jungkook feels like he can't breathe. “You don’t know what you’re talking about. You’re just—you’re guessing—”

“I am assuming, but I know enough. Dahyun has me watching a ton of kdramas, so I know when someone’s pining.”

His credentials are questionable. 

“That's—” Jungkook runs a hand through his hair, tugging hard enough to hurt. “Fuck. Why wouldn’t she tell me?”

“Probably because you introduce her to new girlfriends everyday.” Namjoon’s words are blunt, but his expression is sympathetic. “Think about it. When has she ever had the space to tell you?”

Never. The answer is never. Because he’s always been with someone or getting over someone or talking about someone, and even when he wasn’t, he was busy treating your friendship like it was sacred. 

Jungkook was so busy protecting what you had that he never stopped to think about what you could be. 

“I didn’t know,” Jungkook admits weakly. 

“It’s fine. You do now.” Namjoon takes a massive gulp of his beer, placing the empty bottle on the nearby table. “By the way, why did you care so much if she hosted? Why did it matter if it was at her place? You knew Dahyun and I didn’t mind.”

Jungkook’s guilt wraps around him like a hug. He does feel guilty about lying, he truly does, but he doesn’t have a good answer. Namjoon’s place would have worked fine, baby or not. Jisoo’s apartment was an option despite Taehyung's dog allergy. They could have figured something out.

But he had told everyone secretly that you needed to host this year. 

For a long, long moment, Jungkook is silent. He pushes through the fear, the nerves, the voices in his head telling him otherwise. He tells Namjoon, “Because Christmas is ours.”

To no one’s surprise, Namjoon and Dahyun are the first to make their exit. Haewon is already fast asleep on her father’s shoulder, snoring peacefully. Then Jisoo leaves, who gives you a long, meaningful look and a whisper of “text me later” that you have no intention of following through on. Taehyung and Jennie linger for a little before they realize they have more pressing matters to attend to (read: their new vibrator they ordered).

You’re certain Jungkook slipped out sometime in the middle of the exodus. You don’t see him leave, but you hear the door close a final time and feel the absence of him.

Wonderful. You can clean up in peace and spend the rest of the night spiraling about Hana’s words, the talk you never had with Jungkook, and how quickly you’ll be able to move countries and change names.

You’re elbow-deep in soapy water, scrubbing at a wine glass aggressively, when you hear footsteps behind you.

What the fuck. Did you leave your door unlocked?

It’s definitely Taehyung. With a gulp, you crane your neck to see behind the doorway. 

And then you scream. 

You drop the glass into the sink, whirling around with your wet hands up like you’re going to fight off an intruder with dish soap.

Jungkook jumps, hands flying up in surrender. “Oh my god, sorry! Sorry, sorry, I’m sorry—”

“Fucking hell, Jungkook!” Your heart tries to escape from your body. “I thought you left!”

“I was in the bathroom.” His eyes are wide, looking genuinely distressed at having scared you. “I didn’t mean to—I thought you knew I was still here?”

Soap suds drip down your arms. He’s pressed against your bookshelf, trying to camouflage into your books. It’s ridiculous, but it’s so like you both that it makes you giggle. 

It’s a soft one, but he notices it and snorts in response. And then you two erupt into endless laughter, your heart soaring at the familiar sound of his timbre. His chest shakes with each laugh, and tears fall from your eyes.

But after a few seconds, the laughter finally fades, and you two stand there, sizing the other up. 

“What are you still doing here?” you ask, reaching for a dish towel to dry your hands. 

“I wanted to see if you were open to talking.”

You turn off the running water, pivoting to face him fully.

“I am.”

He takes a deep breath, swallowing thickly. Jungkook does this thing where his tongue presses against the inside of his cheek when he’s struggling to find the right words. You’ve seen him do it countless times.

His tongue pokes the inside of his cheek.

“I’m sorry.” Jungkook says. “About the fight…about pushing you to host…and the, uh, the mistletoe thing.” He runs his fingers through his hair. “I didn’t mean to hurt you. I just—Christmas has always been our thing since we were kids. It was always ours, and I don’t know… I guess I didn’t want that to change.” 

With him, things are always stagnant. They’re stable, trustworthy, and you know they’ll always be there. You’re not sure where his childlike wonder went—all those times he would drag you to unknown places to explore, or made you try new foods even if you knew you’d hate it. 

But maybe you’re not worth the risk for him. 

“Me neither,” you agree quietly. 

You swivel back to face the sink, tears brimming your eyes. Reaching for another glass, you flick on the water, dousing your hands in soap. The water is frigid but you plunge your hands in anyway. 

“Hey,” comes Jungkook’s calm voice. 

You keep scrubbing. 

“Hey.”

His fingers wrap around your arm, and you let out a sigh. 

“That’s it? That’s all?” 

You can’t look at him. If you look at him, you’ll break. “What else do you want me to say? I forgive you? I do. Jungkook, this is stupid.”

“I don’t know. Something. Anything.” His hand lingers on your bare skin. “Don’t shut me out. We had one fight and for some reason, it feels like I’m losing you and I don’t—” He stops, takes a breath. “Talk to me.”

There’s so much you could say. You could tell him about the mistletoe tradition and how it’s haunted you. You could tell him about watching him fall in love over and over with people who aren’t you. You could tell him about Hana and the grocery store and how you haven’t been able to think about anything else since.

But most importantly, you could tell him the truth: you’ve been in love with him since you were a child, and every Christmas since you were 15 years old felt like getting stabbed repeatedly.

Jungkook’s eyes are red-rimmed, lips quivering. He’s still tethered to your arm, unable to let go as if you’ll disappear. You’re disgustingly terrified of this moment, not of losing him, but because he’s never even been yours to lose. Everything could change. You could say the words and watch your friendship shatter. You could tell the truth and have him look at you with pity, or worse, he’ll look at you and apologize, say he doesn’t feel the same towards you. 

What if what you need to move on isn’t to ignore it, but accept the rejection?

You can do that, you think. 

You swallow, “Jungkook—”

“Please,” he pleads, “I can’t fix it if I don’t know what’s wrong.”

You finally turn to face him, and his hand slides down from your arm but doesn’t let go completely. His fingers catch yours, wet and soapy as they are, and hold on.

“I don’t even know where to begin,” you admit. 

“Start anywhere.” His thumb brushes against your knuckles, and you don’t even think he realizes he’s doing it. “Maybe… start with why you don’t like Christmas anymore.”

That’s the question, isn’t it? That’s the thread that, if pulled, will unravel everything.

“Do you… remember our mistletoe tradition?”

He furrows his brows. You had just reminisced on it a few days ago, but somehow it feels like a lifetime. “Of course.”

“Do you remember when it all started?”

He looks at you like you’re an apparition. “Yeah.”

“We were just kids… but you kissed my cheek and I thought it was the most magical thing in the world. We did it every year, every year until you finally kissed me on the lips.”

Jungkook inhales audibly, nods once, and squeezes your hands tighter. 

“It became my favorite day of the year,” you continue, and you sound out of breath. “It wasn’t because of the presents, or the food, or Santa. It was those three seconds under the mistletoe with you. I lived for it. Counted down the days to it. And when we were 15, you got your first girlfriend.”

Understanding starts to dawn on his face, and it’s almost worse than if he didn’t get it.

“You kissed her under the mistletoe that year.” You swallow back the sob that climbs up your throat. “I watched and I stood there and you gave her this real kiss, this romantic kiss, and I realized that all those years… they were just a game to you. A tradition.”

He opens his mouth, most likely to object, but you speak over him. 

“It just kept happening. There was always someone there, someone who wasn’t me. I smiled and pretended I was happy for you while I was watching you fall in love with people who… who…” Now or never, you think. “....who got to have what I wanted.”

Tears begin to blur your vision, muddling Jungkook’s features. 

“I’ve been in love with you for god knows how long, Jungkook. And every Christmas since I was 15 is just a constant, giant, unavoidable reminder that you don’t love me the way I love you.”

The tears are falling freely, hot and fast, painting your cheeks. 

“That’s why I didn’t want to host. That’s why I didn’t want the mistletoe. Because I can’t—” Your voice breaks. “I can’t watch you kiss someone else under it again. I can’t do it anymore. It’s killing me.”

You remove your hands from his, wiping furiously away at the wetness on your face. When you blink, you notice Jungkook’s also crying. Cheeks ruddy and chest heaving, lips trembling. “[Y/N]. I-I… how come you never said anything?”

“You’re my best friend, Koo.” You wrap your arms around yourself, self-soothing the ache that’s built in your chest. “If you don’t love me like that, I completely understand. I do. You’ve never given me any indication that you feel the same way and that’s okay, that’s fine, I’ll get over it eventually—”

Jungkook’s face falls, softening. “[Y/N]-”

“I don’t want to lose you. I can’t. You’re the most important person in my life and if telling you this means you’re going to look at me differently or feel weird around me or—”

“Stop.” he firmly says, and his hands come up to cup your face. His thumbs wipe at your tears and you know you look like a wreck, but he’s looking at you as though you were sent from the heavens above. “Just stop for a second.”

You hiccup, trying to catch your breath. 

“Can we stand in the doorway?” he asks. 

You deadpan. “What?” 

“The doorway,” he repeats like that’s supposed to clarify anything for you. He takes one of your hands in his, peeling you away from the counter. “Can we stand in the doorway?”

“I–what? Why?” 

You blindly follow him, like you always do. Let him lead you out of your kitchen. Your living room is a mess—empty glasses and crumpled napkins, remnants of your Christmas party.

Jungkook positions you in the doorway between your living room and hallway. His green sweater brings out his sparkling eyes, and your heart flutters in your chest. 

“Jungkook, can you just reject me quickly so we can move on—”

“Look up.” He smiles. 

With shaky breath, you crane your neck. 

Hanging from your doorway is a mistletoe. There’s a red ribbon tied around it, dangling back and forth to the tune of your oscillating fan. 

You snort out a snot bubble, but neither you nor him seem to care too much. “When did that even get there?”

“Well, I had to wait till the end of the night,” he remarks sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck that iss now flushed crimson. “I thought you might rip my dick off or something if I did it earlier.”

You sink your fingernails into your palms to keep yourself grounded, to keep yourself from leaping paces ahead. Behind your ribcage, your heart stumbles. 

He’s the first to laugh—it’s wet and graceless, body shaking in tandem. You’re laughing too, but also crying. 

Your heart soars like it’s trying to escape your chest and fly around the room. 

Jungkook settles down, and something softer crosses his expression. When he speaks next, his voice is steady, sure of himself. 

“You think I don’t feel the same way?” His voice breaks. “You think—Jesus Christ, [Y/N], you’re all I think about. You’re all I ever thought about.”

“Really?” you whisper, voice so feeble you think he can’t possibly have heard it. 

But he nods. 

“I wake up, and the first thing I do is check my phone to see if you’ve texted me. I go through my entire day remembering things to tell you later—stupid shit, important shit, all the stuff in between. When something good happens, you’re the first person I want to tell. When something bad happens, you'’re the only person I want to see.” He wipes a stray tear that’s made its way down his cheek. “You’re the first person I think of when I wake up and the last person I think of before I fall asleep, and most nights I dream about you too.”

“You…” you trail off, shake your head. There’s no words to describe how you feel, no proper sentence to show how your entire body feels like it’s on fire. 

“Let me say this because I should have said it years ago. A decade ago. I should have said it every single Christmas instead of being with people who weren’t you and pretending that was enough.”

Jungkook takes a step forward. His scent envelops you, makes you feel at home. Like you’re six years old again and anything is possible. 

“I kissed you under that mistletoe when we were kids because if anyone was going to be my first kiss, it was going to be you. I didn’t even really understand what kissing meant. But I knew I wanted it to be you.”

He lets out a breathy, quiet laugh. And it feels like you’re kids again, standing under the mistletoe, pulling into each other like magnets. 

“I kept doing it every year because—because those three seconds were mine. They were ours. It didn’t matter that I was too young to understand what it meant or why it made my stomach feel weird or why I’d think about it for weeks afterwards. I just knew that kissing you under the mistletoe was the best part of Christmas… the best part of my whole year.”

“You know, I was never able to understand why my relationships never seemed to work. Why no one ever wanted to stay with me for the long run. And it took me a long time, but I’ve got it all figured out now.” He has to stop to clear his throat, and it’s then, and only then, that you see the tears glistening in his eyes again. “I think… I think I’ve been looking for pieces of you in every girl I meet.”  

Your feet remain frozen to your floor. If you pinch yourself, you’ll wake up from this dream, and you want to live in it as long as life will allow. 

“I’d find a girl who had your hair color, or a similar sense of humor, or the way you scrunch your nose when you’re thinking, and I’d think ‘this is it, this is the one.’ But it never was, because they weren’t you,” he says. “I would be on dates, and think about what you’d say about the restaurant, or the movie, or the conversation. I could be kissing someone and wonder why it didn’t feel the way it felt when I kissed you when we were children.”

He takes another step, hardwood floor creaking beneath his weight. 

He’s so close you can almost taste his woodsy scent. 

“I’m a coward, [Y/N]. I kept dating people, kept trying to make it work with someone else, because I thought if I could just find the right person, I’d stop being in love with you.”

“Koo,” is all you can manage.

“But there is no right person for me. There’s just you, there’s only ever been you. You’re not a piece of the puzzle, [Y/N]. You are the whole fucking puzzle. Every piece, every corner, every goddamn edge. And I’ve been trying to force other pieces to fit for years, but they don’t. They can’t.” His tears are moving faster than he can stop them, and he lets them pour out of his eyes onto his sweater. 

“The only reason I stopped kissing you under the mistletoe was because I was falling in love with you.” He’s grinning through his tears. The kind of grin you’ve been the only person to extract out of him. “I was a stupid kid who was falling in love with their best friend and the first thought I had was: what if you didn’t feel the same way? What if I told you and you laughed in my face? And I know I’m stupid, but I stopped because I needed to tell myself I was over it, that it was a phase, that we were just friends.”

Jungkook takes one final step forward until you’re practically nose-to-nose. 

His voice is no higher than a whisper. “I never got over it, though. I never stopped loving you.”

Your head is spinning. Jeon Jungkook. Your best friend, your platonic soulmate, your everything…

“You… you love me?”

“I love you so fucking much,” he confirms. “I love the way you sing off-key during all our car rides together, and the way you cry during commercials with pets. The way you remember everyone’s birthdays, even if they don’t remember yours. I love how you scrunch your nose when you’re concentrating and how you chew your lip when you’re nervous. I love your terrible jokes and your beautiful laugh and how magical everything suddenly feels when you’re around.”

Inevitably, you’re sobbing too. Not in a pretty way, but you don’t think it matters anymore. Nothing matters but this. 

“I love that I was lucky enough to be born the same day as you, that the universe knew before we knew that there was no me without you. I love that I know everything about you—your favorite color, your biggest fears, how you like your tea. I love that you know me better than anyone else in the world.” 

His hands go to cup your face. “So, yeah, I do love you. And I know I wasted time, but I am telling you now with utmost certainty. If you'll let me, I want to make up for all the time I wasted being too scared to love you the way you deserve.”

Your hands come up to cover his, pressing them harder against your face. 

“I want you to be mine and I want to be yours, in every way possible, [Y/N].”

And you really, really need to stop crying, but it’s impossible. They well up, like all those emotions you’ve been mashing down for decades, ballooning into something too large for your body to handle. 

“Those are happy tears… right?” he chuckles. 

“Yes,” you sob. God, he’s never going to let you live this down. “I love you. I love you so much—”

“I love you too.” He kisses your forehead, cheeks, the tip of your nose. “I love you, I love you, I love you. I'm going to make sure you never doubt that again.”

You laugh, a watery bubbling sound. 

You look up at the mistletoe hanging between you two. It’s a small piece of plastic and ribbon, but somehow it represents years of longing and heartbreak and fear that just needed time to blossom into something ethereal.

“You still remember the tradition?” Jungkook tucks a stand of hair behind your ear. 

You couldn’t forget even if you tried. “When you’re under the mistletoe…”

“You must kiss the person you’re with,” he finishes. 

His thumbs linger over your cheekbones, gazing into your eyes. They’re still the same from when he was little. Wide-eyed, full of childlike wonder and innocence. His pupils are blown. 

“Can I kiss you?” 

You stupidly smile. You nod just as he gets the last syllable out. Nodding so hard and so frantically it’s almost manic, tears streaming down your face, your hands coming up to grip the collar of his green sweater—that goddamn green sweater the color of mistletoe.

“Yes,” you breathe, “Yes, please, yes—”

He kisses you. 

And oh.

Oh. 

You hold your breath, counting the seconds in your head. It’s longer than three seconds and two milliseconds. 

Your knees buckle under the weight of his kiss, with his hands cradling your face gently. Your fingers twist tighter in his collar, pulling him closer, closer, never close enough.

The salt of both your tears mixes on your lips, can feel the way his breath stumbles against your mouth. One of his hands slides into your hair, angling your head just so, and you make a sound you didn’t know you were capable of making. You’re pliable in his arms. 

His tongue outlines your bottom lip, and you grant him access immediately, needing to feel more of him, any part you can grasp to know this is real. You’re both still crying—you can feel fresh tears sliding down your cheeks—but you’re also smiling, laughing into the kiss like idiots because this is insane.

Jungkook’s tattooed hands slide down to your waist, pulling you close to him until there’s not an inch to spare between your bodies. Your apartment, the mess of cups and plates scattered around, the snazzy Christmas decorations you’ll throw away tomorrow—it all fades away until there’s just this. Just him.

“I love you,” he murmurs against your mouth, and then he’s kissing you again before you can say it back. “Love you so much, I’m a fucking loser, I—”

“Shut up,” you giggle. “Shut up and kiss me.”

You don’t know how long you stand there, kissing under the mistletoe like teenagers who just discovered what kissing is. It could be seconds or hours—time feels irrelevant when his mouth is on yours, when his hands are holding you.

At some point, you know it’s not enough. You want more. 

Finally, you think to yourself. 

You’ve never wanted someone this bad. Never craved someone’s brain, heart, and soul like this. 

He’s possibly thinking the same thing as you, and if the way he holds you is any indication, you’re the luckiest girl in the world. His hands travel over your waist, until they reach your thighs. In one smooth motion, he picks you up, and your legs wrap around his waist instinctively.

Jungkook is stronger than you though, even though you know he goes to the gym everyday, even though you’ve watched him rearrange the furniture in your apartment on a random Tuesday after work. But feeling him hold you up effortlessly while kissing… your panties might drop before you even reach the bedroom. 

You kiss him as he tries to navigate with his eyes closed, stumbling slightly down the hallway, both of you giggling between kisses like drunk teenagers. He nearly crashes into the wall, overcorrecting and spinning you both around.

“Smooth operator, hm?” you tease. 

“Shut up,” he mumbles. “I swear to god you switched where your bedroom was.” And then he’s kissing you again, and you forget about his horrible navigation skills. 

Miraculously, you make it to your bedroom. Lays you down on your bed, following you down until he’s hovering over you, weight balanced on his forearms on either side of your head. The lamp on your nightstand casts soft shadows across his features. He chews his lip anxiously. 

“Do you, um—” He stops, tries again. “Do you wanna maybe—”

You can’t help but giggle. Your hand comes up to cover your mouth when you see the way his face falls. “Koo. I know you’re not a virgin.”

“Oh my god.” He drops his forehead to your neck with a groan, and his face is burning hot against your skin. “I know. I know I’m not. But it’s you, it’s so different. I’m nervous.”

Jungkook is experienced—far more than you, that’s for certain. You were never bothered by the difference. You had lost your virginity solely as a means to an end, to just say you did the damn thing so you weren’t a complete and total loser. But Jungkook has plenty of notches on his belt, and your heart melts at the thought of you being the one to dismantle him completely. 

You slide your fingers into his hair, tugging until he lifts his head to look at you. His eyes are dark and vulnerable, full of love it makes you want to cry all over again.

“Hey. It’s just me, Koo.”

“Well, that’s kinda the problem,” he gruffs, playing with the necklace around your neck. “It is you. It matters a lot.”

“It matters to me too,” you rush to agree, cup his face with both hands, thumbs brushing over his scarlet cheeks. “We don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do. We can just—we can just lie here. We can talk. We can—”

He kisses you, cutting off your rambling. Slower, assured. “I want to. I really, really want to. I just… I want it to be good for you.”

Your fingers trace the constellation of moles on his face, and there’s just so much of him you want to uncover, so much golden skin and muscle. “It will be.”

This time, when his lips meet yours, he relaxes into it, earlier nervousness melting away. Your hands slide up under his sweater, feeling the bare skin, the sculpted abdomen you’ve sparingly seen. Your fingers find the hair at the nape of his neck, playing with the soft strands there, and he makes a sound—half-sigh, half-groan—that strikes straight through you. His hips shift slightly, pressing against yours, and now it’s your turn to gasp into his mouth.

“Still nervous?” you mutter. 

“A little,” he says through a moan as you roll your hips to press against his growing length. “What if you think I-I’m, fuck, bad in bed?”

“You won’t be.” You kiss down his sharp jawline, down the vein that protrudes from the side of his neck. 

“You don’t know that. I could be really bad at this.”

You laugh, tugging him closer, wrapping your legs around his waist. “Jungkook, you’re not going to be bad at sex.”

He nuzzles into your neck, inhaling the scent of gingerbread cookies that still lingers on you even after hours of burning them. “But what if I am?”

“Koo. I love you. I wouldn’t care even if your dick was 2 inches.”

He lifts his head from your neck. “Okay, don’t push it.”

Jungkook kisses you, warm tongue swiping against your bottom lip. His calloused hands slide up your red sweater, feeling the black lace bra underneath. His breath stutters at the realization, fondling your breasts in the way he’s always dreamed of. 

Messily, hungrily, your sweater comes off first, then his, a tangle of fabric and laughter as he fumbles with the back of your bra. Jungkook apologizes against your lips, but you don’t care in the slightest, just want more and more and more. He flings your bra across your bedroom, greedily taking your nipple into his mouth, sucking the hardened nub. And you’re so wet, can feel it pooling in your panties, soaking through the fabric. Every roll of his hips, every flick of his tongue sends shocks of lightning through you. 

“So fucking pretty,” Jungkook groans, readjusting your body higher on the bed until your head reaches the pillow. He unclasps your legs from around his waist, making room for himself to wiggle down in between them.

You can’t stop the familiar swell of nerves racing through your body, even as he kisses down the valley of your breasts, down to your stomach, past your navel. His lips hover over the button of your jeans, delicately undoing. Taking his time as though not to miss a single moment. 

You weirdly get the urge to cover yourself, to hide under the strength of his burning gaze. What if he compares me to all the other girls? you think. What if I’m not as beautiful as Sana or Eunji or Hana?

And then Jungkook says, “You’re so beautiful, baby. Most beautiful girl I’ve ever known.”

Tears threaten to appear again. 

He tugs your jeans off, his hair tickling your inner thigh as he goes. His lips follow, pressing chaste kisses along your naked skin. The mattress dips as he adjusts himself, wraps his arms around your thighs and tugs your clothed, soaking cunt to his face. You gasp, your walls clenching around nothing. “Relax, baby,” Jungkook bites your inner thigh, soothing it with his tongue. “Gonna take care of you.”

“Please,” you beg, and you don’t even know what you’re begging for, but when you meet his eyes you know exactly what. More of him, more of his mouth, his tongue, his lips. 

He pushes your panties to the side, and without preamble, you’re spreading your legs further.

Immediately, Jungkook’s eyes go to what lies between them. 

“So wet, baby,” He lets his pointer finger gather your arousal. “You always get this wet for your best friend?”

You gasp, eyes trained on his. His voice has gone husky, eyes hooded and dark. He presses into your sensitive nub, and you jolt forward, hands tightly gripping the sheets underneath. “Answer me.”

“Y-yes, Koo. Always wet for you, just for you.”

That seems to be enough for him. He leans forward, dragging your underwear down your legs until they’re no longer his concern, and then his mouth is on you. 

“Fuck!” You practically scream, body lurching forward, humming violently underneath him. It’s been a while—maybe more than a while, possibly years—since you’ve had someone willingly eat you out, and by the way Jungkook does so, he seems enthralled to get a chance to enjoy the taste of you. His tongue strokes through your folds, wet and wide, working its own rhythm that has you withering underneath his grasp. His hands press into your hip bones, stabilizing your movements. He buries his whole face in it, lets himself soak up every last bit of arousal you’ve produced. Two minutes of this and you’ll be a goner, but you don’t want this to end, not now, not ever. 

“Tastes so sweet, baby,” Jungkook moans into your wetness, licking a long stripe from your hole up to your clit. “Been hiding this from me, hm?”

“I-It’s yours, Koo. Always has been,” You squeeze your eyes as tight as you can, stars blooming in your vision. He taps your thigh, and you know he wants you to look at him, but you can hardly breathe or think or speak. 

He wraps his lips around your clit and sucks, and your fingers fly to his unkempt hair, tugging and pulling until you’re certain it’ll come off his scalp. Without warning, he pushes one finger into you, testing you. He watches as you keen, profanities falling off your lips. Jungkook’s finger crooks into you at an angle you thought only you could reach, and you’re putty in his unrelenting hands. “Fuck—oh my god, yes, right there Koo, oh, yes—”

“Feel good, baby?” He gathers his saliva, spitting onto your clit and letting it drip down to his fingers, a second digit entering you. “Talk to me.”

He’s gentle about it, tentative, as though he’s trying to learn you, teach himself the new side of you he’s unlocked. 

“M-more,” you keen. “Faster, please.”

And he’s so willing, so ready. It’s so wet, unlike anything that happens when you touch yourself. His tongue and fingers fuck you through it, squelching sounds echoing against the thin walls of your bedroom, sweat slicking down the valley of your breasts. You feel your walls clench around him once, twice, and your legs tremble in his hold. You can feel it dripping down your inner thigh, onto your sheets, onto his chin. 

“So tight around my fingers,” he groans, and you watch as his other hand travels down to his belt buckle, furiously trying to undo it. “So hard just thinking about bein’ inside you.”

“I-I want that,” you reply breathlessly. “I want you inside me.”

“Fuck,” he grunts, working his nimble fingers quicker, tongue vacuum-sealed around your clit, milking you entirely. “I want to feel you cum for me. I want to taste it.”

You nod, bunching your bedsheets into little fists of agony. When you look up, you can see Jungkook’s hair spread across your lower stomach, tattooed biceps straining. His free hand strokes his cock, and a swarm of butterflies release in your stomach at the sight. You’ve made him so desperate that he has to touch himself. You have. 

And the sight is just too much for you to handle. “Aghh–Koo, fuck, I’m gonna—I’m gonna cum.”

He doesn’t say anything, just lets his tongue continue at the same pressure, same speed, until you’re coming undone all over him. You feel it everywhere, in your chest, in your core, in your toes. You arch off your mattress, legs quivering and locking around his head. It feels like time is a myth, Jungkook fucking you through your orgasm until you almost collapse. 

You tap him on the head with your foot, falling back onto your pillows tiredly. 

Jungkook peers up at you, still the same wide-eyed expression on his face, except this time, your arousal is glistening on his face, scarlet lips swollen and wet. He presses a few kisses on your thighs, stomach, before dragging himself up on his biceps to hover you. He kisses you, letting you taste yourself on his tongue, and you can’t help but moan into his mouth. It’s so dirty, so scandalous, sends a shock through your spine. 

“I want you to fuck me,” you whisper between kisses. 

His cheeks turn red. 

“M-me too. I want to be inside you,” he stutters, kissing down your neck. “But I might need a second.”

You furrow your brows, suddenly self-conscious. “Why?” 

He kisses your jaw, avoiding eye contact. “BecauseIcamealready.”

“What, Koo?”

Jungkook sighs, dropping his forehead to your shoulder. “Because I came already.”

Oh. 

Your heart won’t be able to handle this much affection tonight. You just know it. 

You giggle, unable to hide the smile on your lips. 

“Stop,” he groaned into your neck. “Don’t laugh, I’m humiliated.”

“No, I’m not—” you laugh, “I’m not laughing at you. You’re so cute, Koo. I love you.”

He grins toothily. “I love you too.”

And then you laugh again, and he laughs with you, and it feels like your heart is blooming, petals unfurling in your chest. 

You wrap your arms around his neck, tugging him to you as close as humanly possible. You kiss him and try to make him understand—through the press of your lips, the desperate grip of your hands—just how completely he owns every part of you. 

You use your weight to roll him over, straddling his buff thighs, letting your soaked cunt linger over his growing length. 

“Hi,” he smiles big and wide, peering up at you like you hold the entire universe in your palms.

“Hi,” you repeat, kissing his cheeks, forehead, jawline. 

Behind you, you reach to grab his length in your hands, trace the veins that protrude. His mouth gapes open, watching as you realize… holy fuck. 

You’ve always been respectful of Jungkook’s boundaries. Never once peeped on him or seen him in his boxers. The farthest you ever got was a pair of grey sweatpants, and even then, it didn’t reveal much. There was no way to prepare yourself for this moment.

But as you stroke his cock languidly, you realise one thing for certain: that is not going to fucking fit inside you.

You don’t even need to vocalize it, because he’s already saying, “We’ll work with what we can. But I think you can take it, baby.”

Gulping, you nod. You want to take it. Want to feel every inch inside of your gummy walls, want to hear him wither underneath you. 

He’s hard again too, you note. You could cry, knowing just how bad he wants this. Wants you. 

You align his tip to your sopping hole, jaw slack as you gather the juices to hopefully make it easier. And then you’re sinking onto him, inch by inch, curses falling from his lips, hands gripping your hips tight enough to bruise. “O-oh fuck, Koo.”

“Keep going, baby,” he moans, guiding you onto him until your clit meets his pubic bone. “Just like that, all the way.”

A sound rips free from the very core of you, both hands landing on his stomach to steady yourself. For a moment, you just sit there, trying to accommodate his length inside you. Feels so painfully good, stings just right. 

“You okay?” He reaches to brush a strand of wet hair from your face. 

“Yeah,” you exhale, rocking your hips gently, back and forth, figure-eights. You can feel him in your stomach, can see the bulge protruding from your body. His eyes lock onto it, bottom lip tucked behind his front teeth. “Feel so full, Koo. It’s so deep.”

“Fuck, baby.” His fingers dig deeper into your hips, directing your movements. A swell of confidence runs through you, and you brace yourself, lifting yourself off his cock to slam back down on it. He all but screams, thighs quaking beneath your weight.

“You’re a fucking goddess,” he moans, head lolling back against the pillow. “I love you so much, my sweet girl, my best girl, fuck.”

“I love you too, Koo.” Your fingernails scrape down his chest, leaving red marks in your wake. 

You can see his abdomen muscles rippling with effort as he tries not to come undone too fast, jaw clenched tightly. His tattoos are slick with sweat. 

Your orgasm sneaks up onto you, but you don’t want it to end, don’t want to know the feeling of separation from him. Falling forward, you bury your face into his neck, and he wraps his arms around you, fucking up into you. 

His cock hits just where you need him, and your moans bounce off the walls, your headboard creaking with each thrust he makes to meet your movements. “I-I’m so close, Koo,” you moan.

“Me too, baby,” he says. His cock plunges greedily into your wetness, and you whimper. “I love you so so much, can’t live without you.”

You can’t help the tears that stream down your face. It’s too much—not just the sex, but that it’s sex with him. Jeon Jungkook, your best friend since birth, since before you knew anything else. You love him so much you don’t know how your heart will contain all this. It might burst any second. 

He feels the tears on his skin, and he’s slowing his thrusts, whispering, “Are you okay, baby? Did I go too fast? Want me to—”

“No, no. I want you to keep going.” You look into his eyes, and his expression softens. “I just—I love you. I can’t believe this is real.”

He kisses you, barely more than your mouths slotting together, and then his thrusts continue, more desperate and sloppy but still full of the same devotion. “I love you,” he murmurs into your mouth. “I-I know I’ve said it so many times tonight, but I love you so fucking much.”

Your warm, wet heat clenches around him. Little moans and whimpers escape you, teetering on the brink of another orgasm. “I know,” he gasps, and he’s crying now too, his whole body shaking. “I know, baby. Me too. I’ve got you.”

You stop moving completely, letting him take over, and the sounds are filthy, but the love that runs between you both is anything but. “My baby. Mine, you’re mine,” His teeth sinks into your shoulder as he thrusts up into you, wetness dripping onto his cock and the sheets below. His hands cup your ass, slamming you up and down his girth.

“Yours,” you cry, clutching him. 

He pulls back just enough to look at you, and his face is soaked with tears, eyes red and swollen and so full of love it physically hurts to witness. “I’m never letting you go,” he says, crying so hard he can barely get the words out.

“Me too,” you promise, “I’m not going anywhere. I’m right here.”

“Shit, I’m gonna cum, [Y/N], I can’t—”

Your fingernails dig into his biceps, mouth ripping open to moan out his name along with i love you i love you jungkook please please, and you feel him release inside you, spurts of his cum painting your walls as you tighten around him. You milk him dry until he can’t take it anymore, until you feel so full you think your DNA has been adjusted to match his. 

You all but collapse onto him, staying like that with your hearts thrashing against your ribs, reaching for each other through flesh and bone.

You want to stay here. Right here, in this specific moment, where his arm is around you and his breathing is shallow and you feel like you’re at home.

It’s a ridiculous thought. Childish, even.

You’ll have to get up soon—your bladder is already making demands, and reality is waiting just outside this bed. But not yet. You’re not ready yet.

Jungkook sighs into your hair. “I don’t wanna move.”

“Me either.”

“Do you… do you want this with me?” His chest rumbles with the question. 

“What do you mean?”

“I just… this meant something to you, right? The fact that we had sex?”

“Of course it did.”

You prop yourself onto your shoulders, brushing the hair out of his eyes. They twinkle and glow underneath your low light. He gulps before speaking, “I want us to be together. Or, at least try. I want us to take the risk because you’re worth every goddamn risk.”

Every birthday candle since you were a child was dedicated to him. Every shooting star, every 11:11 on the clock, every stray eyelash, every penny thrown into a fountain. You wished for this—for him—so many times you lost count. Wished for him to look at you the way he’s looking at you now, like you hung the moon and painted the stars.

You almost want to pinch yourself. But his hand is warm on your waist, heartbeat steady under your palm, and when you dig your nails slightly into your thigh, you don’t wake up to your blaring alarm. This isn’t a dream.

“I want that too. I want to wake up next to you and fight about whose turn it is to do the dishes and learn all your weird habits I don’t know yet.”

“[Y/N],” He cups your face in his hands. “You literally know all my weird habits. Even the fact that I collect Captain Underpants original copies." 

“Well yeah but I want to learn the new ones,” you shrug. 

He chuckles. “I can’t wait.”

Jungkook kisses you again. When he pulls back, he’s smiling that bunny smile that’s been your undoing since childhood. “Your party tonight was awesome, by the way.”

“It was all you.”

He smiles. “We’re really doing this.”

You know he’s not talking about Christmas anymore. 

You laugh, resting your forehead against his. “Having second thoughts already?”

“Not even a little.” He pauses, then his eyes go wide. “Oh my god. Your Christmas gift!”

He shoots up, still naked, peppering your face with a hundred tiny kisses. Forehead, nose, cheeks, chin, eyelids, everywhere he can reach while you dissolve into giggles.

“Koo, what—”

But he’s already scrambling off the bed, running to where his bag is discarded by your front door. You hear his feet padding against your floor as he runs back, jumping onto the bed with enough force to make you bounce. He’s grinning so wide it must hurt, holding something behind his back.

“Close your eyes,” he demands. 

“Jungkook—”

“Close them,” he whines.

You do as he says, and you feel the bed shift as he settles in front of you, feel his warmth as he leans close.

“Okay,” he softly says. “Open.”

Timidly, you open them. 

He’s holding a teddy bear. Your teddy bear. The one he kept in a box with your name on it.

It’s exactly as you remember—worn brown fur, one ear more floppy than the other, the tiny red bow around its neck that you’d tied when you were 7. He even kept it clean, maintained.

“Oh my god,” you exhale. Tears form in your eyes until they’re streaming down your face as you stare at this piece of your childhood, this tangible proof that he’s been carrying you with him all along.

His face falls. “Oh crap, do you not like it? I thought—I mean, I kept it because I thought maybe one day I could give it back to you, but if it’s weird or—”

“No, no.” Shaking your head frantically, you reach for the bear with trembling hands. “I love it. I fucking love it, Jungkook.”

His smile returns, like’s 6 years old again and just kissed you for the first time under the mistletoe.

Jungkook nuzzles into your neck, and you both burrow under your comforter, teddy bear clutched between you. His arms wrap around you from behind, pulling you flush against his chest, and you’ve never felt safer. Never felt more loved. 

It’s quiet for what feels like eternity. His breath syncs with yours, fingers tracing illegible patterns on your hip. 

“What was in that box in your closet, by the way?” you quietly wonder aloud as you stroke the bear’s fur. 

He pauses. Goes completely still.

“You saw that?”

“It has my name on it.”

He’s quiet for a long moment, and then he presses a kiss to your shoulder.

“Everything I love about you. That’s what’s in there.” 

You hug him (and the bear) tighter to you. 

After about an hour or so of intertwined limbs and lazy kisses, his breathing begins to slow, face buried in your hair. Sleep always comes easy when he’s around, and your eyes hang heavily. 

“Can we watch the Grinch tomorrow?” The words come out slurred with exhaustion.

In the darkness, you smile, tangling your fingers with his over your stomach. 

You’d curled up with that green, bitter creature every year, finding solace in his hatred of the holiday because at least someone understood. At least someone else knew what it felt like to watch everyone around you celebrate something that only brought you pain. You’d watch him scheme and plot and try desperately to steal Christmas away, and you’d think yes, exactly, take it all. Because if you couldn't have the Christmas you wanted, the one where Jungkook kissed you under the mistletoe and meant it, then what was the point of any of it? 

The Grinch was safe. The Grinch was yours. The Grinch never asked you to be anything other than bitter and broken and sick of watching other people get their happy endings.

But that girl who needed the Grinch, she’s gone. She got her happy ending, her Christmas miracle. 

Plus, the Grinch is overrated. 

“Actually,” you whisper, “I’m thinking we watch Frosty the Snowman.”

perm taglist. @mimi1097 @AlmatiarAU @absolutelyjeons @Sabrinahiddig @yooniepot @ggukivrse @Deluluvalerie @Sugak00kie134340 @Angelxkoo @yange7l @mellyyyyyyx @Senaqsstuff @jjkkkk15 @likecrazy22 @impossiblecopoaffire @readingbee44 @EyesforJungkook @lvnderdreams @vintagemoonsstuff @mauveliz @allysh @jeontylv @neurospicynugget @jxniana @haniiii @bo-rimmy @j0cgr0c @roseda @ggukreqz @dltyum @xxxxx1415 @annyeongbitch7 @nesha227 @Cannotalwaysbenight @Satisfied18 @m4aimm @Bangtansfav-7 @secretspam699 @Seolhyuningg @ot7girl4l @writesvani @xsyruhh @songbyeonkim @jungkookisthetypeto @rustedaffections @rayyrayy10 @dollyunjinz @fancypeacepersona @bangtans-momma

[matzstar]

Heat in the rain ⟶ p.sw

⤷ In which y/n waits outside her ex boyfriends concert in hopes he'll take her back.

[seonghwa x fem!reader] warnings: smut minors dni 18+ , fingering, oral f!receiving, hand job, angst, p in v, aftercare, unprotected sex, heavy plot, praise, tender love, deep affection, ex/boyfriend seonghwa. wc 5,354

⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⊰⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅∙∘☽༓☾∘∙•⋅⋅⋅•⋅⋅⊰⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅

The rain was beating heavily against the windshield of your car that sat outside the back of the KPSO dome. Ateez are inside finishing up their finale concert of the tour and you decided now was the perfect time to corner your ex and beg for him to take you back.

You and Seonghwa broke up just before the tour because all the two of you did was argue, you hated the way he had to hide the relationship because it would 'ruin how the fans saw him'.

All you ever wanted to do was shout about your relationship and tell everyone how proud you are to be his, but his company wouldn't allow it.

You had gotten into trouble for simply having his hand in an Instagram story post, even though your account was private and had a follower count of 150.

In all fairness he was never the problem, when you weren't fighting he treated you like a princess, cooking you food, bringing home expensive gifts because he thought of you when he seen it, taking you to private events and god the sex was the best you ever had.

So, you sat in your car with your knees tucked onto the seat and your eyes trained to the 'no access' door you knew the group would leave out of.

The clock on your dash struck 10.30 and you could hear the fans starting to leave the venue out the front, so you pulled out your phone and texted Yeosang to convince Seonghwa to come outside.

Sang👑: I'll send him out for air Sang👑: He isn't in a good mood so be ready

You sat biting the skin around your nails, anxiously waiting for Seonghwa to come out. Yeosang specified that he was already in a bad mood so you know this will only make it worse.

The back door opened and Seonghwa walked out in low hanging sweats and a black wife beater.

You sat and stared at him for a few seconds with an anxious feeling stinging your chest. It felt like your heart travelled to your throat and was waiting to burst out.

His eyes darted over to your car when he heard the door open. His jaw hung loose and his lips parted.

The rain drenched your hair immediately and you could feel your hoodie getting heavier. It really didn't help the sinking feeling in your gut, it just added to it. Drenched and heartbroken

Seonghwa moves out into the rain, away from the sheltered space next to the door. His hair started to cling to his forehead while his face stayed dumbfounded, watching you walk towards him.

"What are you doing here?" He questioned when you stopped a few meters away.

You had your heart on your sleeve and thankfully it was raining because it masked the tears already pooling at your eyes.

"I fucked up hwa, this past month has been one of the hardest for a long time" You used your sleeve to wipe the rain streaming down your face. "Not just because you've been away, but the fact I haven't had anyone to speak to. I thought I'd be fine letting you go and thought that maybe I'd feel free, but its been the complete opposite"

Seonghwa comes closer but still an arms length away. His expression showed shock and some sort of guilt?

"I talked to Yeosang while you were away and he said you barley left the hotel rooms, what I'm basically saying is, I know you have been struggling too and I hope we want the same thing" Your breath hitched and you stuttered a few words because that same anxious feeling was starting to swallow you whole.

Maybe this was a bad idea and he would just walk away and leave you here stood in the pouring rain like a misbehaving dog. Yet there was still a glimmer of hope that he'd hold you in his arms and tell you he'd take you back despite his stupid companys rules.

"Take me back hwa, I don't think I can move on from what we had. Your my first and only love"

Seonghwa could see how vulnerable you were right now. Standing in the pouring rain knowing you hate the feeling of wet clothes clinging to your body. Your eyes red and filled with tears, hair stuck to your skin, jeans soaking up the puddle beneath you and your words building up in your throat.

He couldn't help his own emotions break through the mask, his own tears trailing down his cheeks. Everyone was aware of his lingering feelings towards you, he couldn't get over the fact his job got in the way of the woman he loves the most (second to his mother of course).

Even the fans noticed a decline in his energy during the tour, it was trending everywhere but he didn't pay any mind to it because all he could think about was you.

All of your stuff still laid dormant in the dorm, the members didn't even touch your coffee mug in the kitchen in fear he would get mad and lash out. He was mourning the death of your relationship.

It didn't help either when the staff would ask where you are at the lunches and random events. You were a big part of his life and it sucks he had to let it go.

It was obvious he wanted you back too.

He moved closer and didn't hesitate to pull you in to a crushing hug. His hands gripped at the soggy fabric of your hoodie while he inhaled the scent on your neck.

You didn't even think when his body engulfed you. Sudden relief washed over you when your head met his broad shoulder, this is everything you've been waiting for, everything you craved.

"It's been so hard without you, it's like you tore my heart out and kept it" His head nuzzles in further and his arms tighten around you like you'd slip away. "I should've fought to keep you by my side, losing you wasn't worth it"

"I kept your heart safe and waiting for you to come home" you whispered into his shoulder and kissed his exposed skin.

"Be mine again" Seonghwa pulls away and looks down at you with his hair dangling in front of his eyes. You could feel his heart beating through his chest and couldn't help but let out a sob.

"Of course, I love you hwa" You choked keeping your eyes on his.

"I love you too sweetheart"

His lips fall onto yours in a needy and passionate kiss. His plump lips moved at an agonising pace, like he was savouring every movement and taste.

Your hand laced into his hair while the other latched around his neck to pull him closer. You didn't want to let him go and you really didn't care if his crazy fans or paparazzi caught you in the heated moment.

You craved the feeling of his lips on yours and now that you have them an ache between your legs appeared.

"I need you" You said against his lips and it only fuelled his hunger.

He wanted you too and he wanted you now.

Seonghwa pulled away from the kiss and looked back at the door then to you with a fire in his eyes.

"Text one of them to take my stuff home, I don't have the patients to run inside"

Seonghwas hands fell to your hips as his lips met yours again, he gently pushed you backwards towards your car until your back hit the passenger side door.

You didn't know where you were going to take this, all you know is your right where you want to be. Stuck to Seonghwa, making out in the rain and knowing each others true feelings, not carung what everyone else thinks.

Seonghwa opens the passenger door and guides you into the seat. Your lips never parted until a minute after you got in the car.

He was still hunched in the door with his hands running up your thighs. He wanted you now more than ever but he knew he couldn't do it here and risk getting caught by the staff. It didn't really matter if the members came out because they've all caught you at least once.

"We need to get out of here" His voice was husky and full of lust.

"Go anywhere, I don't care" You replied without moving away, his lips were too addicting.

Seonghwa pecks your lips then your cheek before pulling away and closing the door.

Your heart was in your throat as you watched him run around the front of the car to get into the drivers seat.

As soon as he got in he lurched towards you over the centre console and attacked your lips again. He couldn't get enough and was clearly struggling to hold himself back.

But the door opened and slammed behind the staff member carrying heavy bags to one of the black vans. It snapped the two of you back to reality and Seonghwa was quick to sit back in his seat.

He looks over slowly like he'd been caught stealing and started laughing. You joined in, realising how crazy the situation is.

"I couldn't help myself, you taste so good" His hand moved further up your thigh and grazed your crotch.

Your body flinched at the electric feeling and you gripped his bicep in horny excitement.

"Drive now before I jump over there"

He smirked at your warning and turned on the car. Reflections by the Neighbourhood blasted through the radio and you scrambled to turn it off.

"I was in my feels on the way here" You look at him with saucers for eyes feeling like you had just outed yourself.

He just sits and smiles at you, admiring every feature on your face. His hand finds yours and he brings it up to his lips to leave a soft peck on your fingers.

"I'm glad you're mine again, I hated the thought of someone else being with you"

His voice was low as his eyes stared deeply into yours, like he was looking into your soul and read every secret you kept hidden away.

"I'm glad to be yours again too"

He put the car into drive and sped to the exit, keeping your hand in his while he drove.

-

The drive was filled with soft touches, kisses at stoplights and humming to the random music playing from your playlist.

Seonghwa got out first and walked to your side to hold open the door, just like he used to.

He drove you both to his dorm because its closer than your apartment, after you had texted Yeosang he mentioned that the boys were going out for drinks to celebrate the end of tour. So it was a free house for at least four hours.

"We're going to have to rechristen every surface in the dorm" He takes your hand and drags you to the front door. Already shoving the key through the door and eagerly pushing it open.

The door slammed behind you and he was already at your neck, pushing you against the frame and feeling all over your body.

"Can we change first, I hate my clothes sticking to me" Your voice was breathless as your hands worked through his hair.

"I have a better idea" he mumbled against the tender skin of your neck while his hands work their way up your hoodie.

His hands were cold against your back making you jolt at the sensation. He chuckled when he couldn't feel a top or your bra underneath.

"Not even a bra on, you must've knew this was how it would end" His fingers flick and pinch your nipples making your head fall against the door with a thud. The pain didn't even mask the horniness radiating off your body.

Seonghwa pulls the hoodie over your head and throws it to the floor beside your feet. He steps back and looks over your body like a hungry wolf.

"I missed these" He kissed from your neck down to your breasts where he flicks and plays with your nipples with his tongue. "Your gorgeous" He whispered against your skin making you arch into him and grip his hair.

"I need you hwa" You moaned while scrunching your eyes shut at the euphoric feeling of being touched again.

He pulled away and hooked his arms under your thighs to pick you up. He smacks your ass dominantly and throws you down on the couch. He couldn't even wait long enough to get you into his bedroom.

You laid sprawled out on the couch, watching him stare at your half naked body. It was a silent appraisal with his eyes complimenting every inch of your skin.

His soft finger trails from your lower stomach up to the base of your neck. "I don't even know where to start" He mumbled.

You sat up feeling impatient and pulled him down by the neck. You lock your lips with his and messily peeled off his wife beater.

His body glistened from the rain and even a few rain drops slipped between his abs. You pushed him back and flattened your tongue against his lower stomach to drag it slowly up his abs.

Tasting the salty mix of rain and sweat from his concert. He kept his eyes on you the whole time with his chin stuck to his chest and his lips parted sultry.

His head fell back and his hands found your ass, squeezing and massaging you through the soaked jeans. You attacked his neck, nipping and biting leaving small red marks.

The rule was to never mark him where it can be seen but you couldn't care for those stupid rules in the moment.

He bent his legs so his thigh could make contact with your clothed core, your forehead met his chest as you moaned at the feeling.

"Move" He groaned while he held your hips to guide you up and down his thigh.

You left messy open mouth kisses to his exposed chest while grinding against his leg. He pushed your hair back away from your face and moved to massage your tits.

"Your doing so good princess"

His compliment only turned you on more and you found yourself palming his length through his sweatpants. It was only fair he feels pleasure after waiting for so long.

"Oh my god" Your eyes closed at the stimulation and couldn't focus on anything except the friction against your clit. Your mind had gone numb.

Seonghwa released the button of your jeans and started tugging them down. He flattens his leg and sits up which frustrated you. Your face screwed up in disappointment and he laughed at your reaction.

"You won't be making that face after I'm finished"

He pushes you back against the couch cushions and pulled your jeans off to throw them on the coffee table. Your mind was in a daze as he lifts your right leg against the back of the couch and licks his way down to your thong.

Your stomach tenses as his tongue glides over your clothed core.

"Your already so wet" He whispered against your panties before kissing your clit.

"It's all for you" your voice was breathy as you watched him pull your panties to the side and looks at the glistening mess while his mouth watered.

"Exactly how I want it" His tongue slips between your folds and licks up your arousal.

Your hand shoots to grip his hair and you hips buck as soon as he makes contact with your clit.

"Oh my fuck- hwa" You moaned while rolling your hips into his face.

The sensation of his tongue against your core only got you closer to your first orgasm. Rubbing against him before was already enough to make you cum.

His tongue licks around your clit as he introduces a finger into your hole, he curls to perfectly hit the cushioned spot in your vagina. You could feel your orgasm rising in your stomach making your eyes roll to the back of your head.

"Fuck, right there" You feel him chuckle against your clit knowing you were getting close to cumming.

He knew you like the back of his hand, especially when it came to fucking you. He knew all the sweet spots and what tips you over the edge.

"Mmm going to fucking cum" Your hips buck into his face at the feeling of a knot forming in your lower stomach.

He picks up his pace, finger fucking you at an ungodly speed. He nips at your clit and it sends a wave of euphoria over your body.

"Cum for me baby" His voice was husk and sounded so fucking sexy.

It only took one more thrust to send you over the edge and unfolding right in front of him. Your thighs shudder and your back arches off the couch while your hand fists his hair.

Seonghwa licks up your cum and leaves another kiss on your clit sending a rush of electricity through your body.

He kisses his way up to your lips and lays his body on yours while massaging your arms.

"Did that feel good?" He questioned for reassurance event hough he knows he fucked you right.

"Amazing"

You licked your lips and stared up into his hungry eyes. You wanted to continue but the feeling of dryness in your mouth annoyed you.

"Do you need water?" He questioned knowing you where thirsty.

You just nodded and watched him walk to the kitchen. His sweatpants hung lower than before revealing his defined v-line. It gave you a new found rush of energy and you found yourself chasing after him into the kitchen.

He turns from the sink with a glass of water in his hand but he flinches upon seeing you fully naked behind him. You stalk closer and place your lips against the glass. He lifts the base of the glass and lets the water flow between your lips.

He hums in satisfaction and imagines what else he could put in that pretty mouth of yours.

The glass is taken from your lips and you watch him take a sip from the glass. His eyes stay on yours and it turns into a heated staring contest.

"Bend over the island, I want to see that pretty ass of yours"

You do exactly what he asks and look at him over your shoulder. He places the glass on the counter and stalks towards you, eying the round shape of your ass.

His hand palms your plump skin before he pulls it away and sends a firm smack to your right ass cheek. You moan and grip the corner of the island.

He slides your thong down your legs and tucks it into his pocket. His fingers find your clit and he rubs circles. Your head falls to the marbled counter top while your ass backs up into him.

"Soaked again"

You could hear Seonghwa suck the fingers that were just on your clit before pulling his dick out his sweatpants and teasingly gliding it against your core.

"I want you so bad" You moaned and pushed your ass towards him, feeling his tip push into your core, glazing it in your wetness.

You whine as he pulls back making him chuckle at your neediness. He strokes his length pushing the blood to his already pulsing tip thats dripping with precum.

"Stop teasing me" you whine again and lean into him. This time he doesn't pull away and lets his dick slowly slide into your pussy.

"Your so tight" He couldn't help himself but push his entire way in, completely covering his dick with your slick vagina.

Your brain turns to mush and you feel your legs going unsteady, he'd have to hold you up soon or you'll fall to the ground in pleasure.

Seonghwa tensed to control himself from thrusting into you, letting you adjust to his size.

"Can I move" His voice was breathy and he was clearly struggling to compose himself.

"Yes" You basically moaned in response. You couldn't wait for him any longer and started to move on him yourself.

It didn't last long though because he started to pound into you, sending you flying further on the counter, rocking back and forth against the marble.

His fingers dug deep into your hips while he moaned at the feeling of his dick sliding against your walls. You loved the sounds he made, you felt proud that you could make him feel this good.

The room filled with the sound of sweaty skin smacking against each other and shameless moaning coming from the both of you.

Your hands scrambled to grip anything that could ground you, your body was on cloud nine and the euphoric feeling travelled through your veins like a sweet curse.

"Give me ur hands" His words were mumbled and messy as he reached forward and grabbed your two hands in his.

You squeezed around his thumbs when you felt your walls clench around his dick.

"I'm close" You moaned and rested your sweaty forhead against the cool counter.

He let go of your left hand and slipped it between your legs to work your clit. He always prioritised you and wanted you to finish first. He was doing just that with the speed he thrusted and rubbed at your clit.

You clenched around him again followed by a strained scream coming deep from your throat.

The same tight feeling released in your stomach and your liquids coated his dick.

"Your so good baby, already came for me a second time" his words were even more breathless than before as he used his hands to gently massage your back and ass.

A few thrusts of his hips sent him over the edge, he pulled out and you could feel the hot strings of his cum land on your back. You looked behind your shoulder and watched him ride out his orgasm into his hand. His lips were parted and his eyes stared deeply into yours as you enjoyed the view of the man you love fucking his hand.

He bends down and kissed the skin of your ass before grabbing kitchen roll and wiping his mess off your back.

"Your so hot baby, bent over the counter for me"

You smiled and fluttered your lashes at him. He was catching his breath and pushing the hair stuck to his face back.

You got up from the counter and moved into his arms. He placed a kiss to your swollen lips and stared lovingly into your eyes.

"I love you" he whispered and placed another kiss to your forehead.

"I love you too" You replied and rested your chin on his chest, staring up at him like he was chiselled by the gods themselves.

His skin was glistening against the kitchen light making him look more majestic, his lips were soft and plump, you couldn't help yourself but sneak another kiss.

"We should shower to warm up, being wet from the rain isn't good"

You smirked. "I already feel warm enough"

He chuckled and smacked your ass again, ricoshaing the sound around the room. You yelp and move closer to him, feelig your breasts flatten against his chest.

"We're showering" He picks you up bridal style and takes you to the bathroom.

"What about a bath instead? I haven't had one since the last time I was here" You pout, begging him to take a bath instead of a shower, you have a shower at your apartment, but he has a large bath with a big collection of bath salts and soaps thanks to Yeosang.

"Whatever my baby wants, my baby gets" He kisses your lips and places you on the side of the bath before he turns on the taps to fill the tub.

"I'll get you your fluffy robe" He leaves the room and goes to his to grab your darth vader bath robe.

He comes back wearing his storm trooper bath robe and holds your bathrobe open to help you dress. He ties the belt and pats your hips. He sits on the toilet lid and invited you to sit on his lap.

"So what have you been doing since I've been away?" He questions, rubbing small circles on the back of your hand.

"Ah you know, tending to the line of men waiting to get in my pants" you joke and recieve a strong pinch to your sides. You laugh seeing his jealous expression. "I'm joking" You take his cheeks in your hands. and kiss his smushed up lips.

His frown is replaced with a smile as you pull back. "I've just been doing work to distract myself" Your arms lock behind his neck as his face drops again. "What?"

"It'll be different this time, You are my main priority, the jobs comes second. I still want to keep you protected though, I don't know what I'd do if someone hurt you because of me" Your forhead connects with his as you stare into each others eyes.

"Thank you, and I won't nit pick the little things. As long as I have you I'm more than happy"

You both smile and share another short kiss before he gets up and turns off the taps, the bathroom is filled with the scent of lavendar as he poors the soap into the bath an shake it up to create walls of bubbles.

Seonghwa hums as he moves, his robe drops and he gets into the bath. You smile as he holds out his hand to invite you in. You repeat his actions and join him in the bath.

Your body completely relaxed against his chest, you missed him and you can tell he missed you too.

Your toothbrush still sat next to his in the holder, your mug was still tucked in the corner of the kitchen counter and you noticed your hair ties stil laid scattered around the dorm, but your sure some of the boys probably borrowed them.

It made you realise the break was never going to last, your stuff stayed dormant, waiting for you to come back and use them again. It's the same with your apartment, all of the stuff he left the last time he was over never even moved an inch.

You and Seonghwa were made for each other and you were grateful for him taking you back.

Your hand snaked behind you and palmed over his dick. It twitched awake as his hands found your breasts.

"It seems someone isn't tired yet" He whispered into your ear as he nibbled the skin of your ear lobes.

"I thought I'd even the score were 2-1 and I don't like uneven numbers" You turned to move to his side balancing on your hip as your hand worked on his cock.

His hand rested on your lower back as his head hung over the edge of the bath. He humed in satisfaction as you felt his dick harden in your hand.

"He's awake" He laughs at your observation and pulls your face to his, locking you both in an intimate open mouth kiss. Both your tongues fought for dominance as your hand danced up and down his length.

"Fuck" He pulls away to moan and watch your hand through the bubbles.

Your thumb plays with the tip, focusing on stimulating the slit before gliding back down to the base of his cock. He grips your waist and moves closer to your face, biting your lower lip and watching you through his fallen strands of hair.

You smile and push the strands off his face, his cock twitches in your hand and you can tell he's close to cumming.

"Cum for me" you whispered against his lips.

"Fuck your so hot" his hips buck and his hands grip ypur waist and the edge of the tub.

He rides his orgasm and pulls you by the chin to conect your lips. "Your so beautiful" He whispered breathlessly against your lips.

His whole body relaxed as he sank deeper into the water. You sank with him and rested your head on his chest.

"I could stay like this forever" both of his arms hold you tight. You could feel your eyes closing as you fought off sleep.

"I'm tired now" You yawned and nuzzled closer to his chest, enjoying his warm and muscular embrace.

"A few more minutes in here then we can go to bed" You just nodded in agreement and stayed relaxed together in the tub.

-

You stood in Seonghwas room wearing his hoodie and a pair of shorts from your drawer. Your face was glassy with skincare and your hair was twisted in a bun. Exactly as you should be.

Seonghwa had gone around the dorm to pick up the discarded clothes and fold them up at the foot of the bed. Just to save the members sanity when they got home.

Seonghwa held you in his arms in the centre of the room, just standing in each others presence and swaying softly to the show playing on his computer.

His phone had buzzed a few minutes before alerting the two of you to stop fucking because the boys where on their way home.

"Can we sleep now?" You pouted up to your tall boyfriend whos eyes were trained on Alchemy of Souls. He hummed and slowly moved closer to the bed.

He pulled back the duvet and climbed in with open arms. You smile and tuck youself against him, slotting your head against his neck and tangling your legs with his.

You watched him as he stared at the show glowing from his computer screen. His brows were furrowed and he bit his cheek while concentrating, you softly pressed a kiss to his neck which grabbed his attention.

"Are you okay?" He moved a strand of hair behind your ear and smiled. His eyes crossed while he looked at you because of the closeness and you almost melted at the sight.

"I'm perfect" You replied and pulled him into another slow kiss.

The front door opened and you could hear seven heavy footed men stumble through the door.

"The war is over!" You could hear Wooyoung shout from the kitchen which caused the two of you pull away and stare at the door expecting at least one of them to break through.

"Brace yourself" Seonghwa whispered and hugged you closer.

The door shot open and hit the wall behind it causing the wooden door to bounce back slightly. Wooyoung stood at the door with a bright smile adorning his face. His glasses fell down his nose as he came closer to the bed.

"Ah it's good your back y/n, Hwas attitude stunk this whole month"

"Hey" Seonghwa kicked from under the blanket like a child.

Yeosang passed by the door with a smile on his lips. He knew from the beginning it would work out between the two of you. Especially because yo texted him daily to ask how Seonghwa was doing.

"Okay get out now" You groaned while staring at Wooyoungs lingering frame at the end of the bed.

He pouted like a child and stomped out the room followed by the slam of Seonghwas door.

"He's so annoying" Seonghwa readjusted his position to have his head laying on your chest, his hands snuck under your hoodie and he relaxed on you completely.

He was so warm and the feeling of your fingers massaging his hair sent you straight to sleep.

Seonghwa noticed the lack of hand movements and planted a kiss to your lips before he turned off his show. He laid and stared at your peaceful face, all the stress disappeared and your breathing had evened out.

He wanted to do nothing more than scoop you up and lock you away for only him to see. You are and always will be his.

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

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[acphengene]

ANYTHING

☾ pairing: Namjoon x reader

☾ genre: soulmate au, fluff, angst, anxiety, depression

☾ wordcount: 5.1k

☾ note: Damn, I think this might be the longest soulmate au I've ever made - but he is my first ult and your girl had a LOT she needed to be included. As always, please like, reblog, comment and follow if you like the story, and the taglist for this is open so just make a comment if you want me to add you to it

☾ reading order: Namjoon ☾ Hoseok ☾ Jimin ☾ Jin ☾ Taehyung ☾ Yoongi ☾ Jungkook ☾

When Namjoon turned 13 nothing showed up, nothing at all. There were no marks on his body, nor were there any thoughts in his head or pain in his body. And it wasn’t that he didn’t care, but his love had always been music, and the passion he had for that was more than enough to live a fulfilled life. 

So instead of seeing his life as if he was missing out, he instead shrugged and moved on. 

When he joined BigHit, when he met the boys and started living with them he realized just how much most of their lives revolved around their other halves and their marks, and for the first time he felt a ping of jealousy in his chest. 

The initial conversation they had about it explained both quirks and physical attributes that they all had. Jin was looking in every reflective surface to potentially catch a glimpse of his other half, Jimin was a mess once a month from pain, and Yoongi? The scar over his one eye was suddenly less gory. 

And when he told them that he didn’t have one, all they had done was stare at him with pity. As if he was missing out on this incredible thing. He had tried to explain it was a waste of time to miss something you had never had, and even though he knew he was right, he couldn’t help but wonder if he was missing out on something special. 

He didn’t mean to, but as time went on, he started to crave it, the promise of internal love, the promise of a future with someone, crave the one thing that he would never have. 

You had heard the stories from your parents and the adults around you, and the excitement up to your thirteenth birthday was so high that everyone feared it would not live up to your expectations. 

But when nothing came, and hadn’t showed up almost a year later, you had cursed the fates for not deeming you worthy of the one thing you had always dreamed about. 

You had mourned him, mourned the dreams and all that could’ve been, and then slowly moved on. But those that were closest to you could see it, there was a spark in your eyes that was gone, a lightness in your steps that had suddenly become heavy. 

Instead of dwelling on it too much, you dived head first into your work, your passion and those platonic soulmates you found along the way. 

And as they smiled and celebrated when they met their soulmates, you made sure to hide your tears of despair in the dark hours of the night. 

It was a slow Monday morning, and you managed to drag yourself out of bed into the pouring rain to get to work, completely leaving your umbrella behind in your apartment. You didn’t mind the rain, somehow it seemed to make everything slow. 

There was a beauty to it, how the droplets of water hit the pavement and pooled together, how they left the greenery in this otherwise grey city more vibrant than it had been just a few hours earlier. 

You turned your head towards the sky, hoping that it would wash away your sorrows, the loneliness, the depression that had taken root in your heart. 

Maybe all you needed was a forever rain. 

Namjoon was laying in his bed, slowly trying to rewind his mind and body after yet another tourstop, another city, another performance. 

There was this feeling in his chest, one of anxiety he had a difficult time placing, it felt almost foreign, like it wasn’t his. 

He closed his eyes and focused on his breathing, something he had learned helped whenever he needed a bit of grounding, and then he felt a drop of water hitting his face. 

His eyes shot open as he stared up at the ceiling. It fell down his face as a single tear, and when he tried to whisk it away, there was nothing there. 

He slowly sat up in his bed, and then a layer, a silk sheet of emotions, wrapped around his entire body. The feeling was familiar, like something he had always carried around with him, only this time it felt as if it had been magnified. 

The feelings crept in, the sadness and anxiety, the depression and hopelessness, and they were darker than anything he himself had experienced in a very long time. 

It was devastating the feeling of isolation he had inside of him, the feeling of not belonging to anyone. 

There was no doubt, this had to be you, this had to be his soulmate. So he cried silently over the fact that he had left you, that he had given up and just accepted life without you. Had you been able to feel it? His indifference towards you? 

Or had you just assumed, like he had, that those lingering feelings that came out of the blue were just anxiety or random bursts of happiness or sadness? 

Like always he dealt with his emotions by writing it all down, and as the sun started to rise outside of his window the songs he had composed were finished. 

The first songs he had written weren't songs of love and happiness, but an acknowledgement of the pain he had caused you, that he saw the pain there, that he felt it, and that he from this moment on would help you carry it. 

The week following your rainy Monday was different, very different. It was filled with hope, excitement and nerves. It was weird because there was not anything exciting going on in your life, everything was exactly like it had always been. 

Until one afternoon; you had stretched your body, warmed your joints and were now on pointe in front of the mirror as you ran through your routine in your head. 

People were talking, exchanging words of encouragement or just straight out gossiping about something, and then a slow piano started playing somewhere in the room, accompanied by the sound of rain, and your entire world stopped. 

You felt chills running through your body as every hair stood up. A woman ran towards the sound and quickly turned it off, you made a mental note of asking her what the song was when the day was over. 

“Any luck yet?” Yoongi popped his head into Namjoon’s room. He had very impromptu dropped a mixtape in the middle of touring, surprising everyone, his members especially. 

Then he had told them all that he in fact had a mark, he just hadn’t been aware of it which had led to loud cheers and hugs, even a few happy tears from Jimin. After that they had made sure to check in on him every now and then. 

He shook his head with a somewhat sad smile. “No, not yet. So I guess it’s safe to say that she’s not army” 

His older brother nodded with tight lips. “I’m sure she’ll find it” 

The leader only shrugged. “I doubt it. At the end of the day it was a long shot” 

Namjoon stood up and grabbed his phone from the table, flipping it open and then zoning out completely. 

“What if she feels me, what if she has just chosen to ignore it, ignore me, as revenge for not feeling her all these years?” 

Yoongi slowly walked into the room. “You’ve wanted this for longer than you’ve dared to admit, haven't you?” He laid a hand on his leader's shoulder, it was a touch of both support and comfort. 

All he got in return was a small nod. 

“I’ve met very few people in my life that have been as in touch with their emotions as you. You’ve always known how to express yourself, known how to listen to what you’ve felt and rationalized those feelings, hell you’ve even acted on them when that was what was needed. I’m sure that she is similar to that, for some reason your mark just hasn't really shown up before now. That has nothing to do with you, and I’m sure as soon as she feels it, she will be as grateful as you are” 

He didn’t say it often but Namjoon had always valued the way Yoongi always knew exactly what to say, at the exact time that the people around him needed it the most. 

“Thank you hyung” 

All he got was a smile return, and he quickly followed the scarred rapper out of the room to join him and his members for dinner. 

You had gotten the song name, and were now seated in your apartment alone with your hand hovering over the play button. 

“Why am I nervous? It’s just a song” you whispered to no one. 

Your cat made a small noise in acknowledgement, and came to you, gently laying down in your lap as she started to purr, almost instantly calming your nervous system. 

Then you pressed the screen and the sound of both raindroplets and the sound of a piano slowly played, and then a voice started rapping. 

The voice was raspy but at the same time it felt like it had been dipped in honey. It spoke to your soul in a way no music previously had. One song led you to the next and before you knew it you had listened to the entire mixtape. 

You opened your computer and found the translations, and then you cried. It was as if the artist had taken everything you had ever felt, and managed to put it not only into words, but notes as well, as if he could feel your emotions.  

It was beauty and it was art, and you were hooked and absolutely ready to dive head first into this artist's discography. 

The search for the translation had led to a deep dive into the artist and the second he appeared on your screen your heart stopped and for the first time in your life you felt the pull. 

A pull that up until this moment had only ever been described to you. It was a need and a want all at the same time, as if you were both seen and saw him for exactly who you were. 

“Kim Namjoon” you whispered, and as if it was all it would take, for you to speak his name you felt a silk sheet cover your body, and emotions that weren’t your own washed over you like a tidal wave. 

For the first time in a very long time, the tears that now fell from your eyes were of happiness. 

And as beautiful as this moment was, it left a lingering fear. Because how the hell do you get the attention of your soulmate, when he’s in the biggest band on the planet? 

They had been walking around on stage, when he felt you. It was stronger than the days leading up to it, it was a feeling of pure joy, relief and love that rushed over him. 

He had stopped in his tracks and closed his eyes as he flung his hands around his own body, as if you were there with him. Almost as if he just hugged himself and your emotions tightly enough you would be able to feel him. 

Jimin was the first to notice that their leader was no longer with them, and when he looked his way, his eyes disappeared into well-known crescent moons. 

He gave Hoseok a small nudge which led to a squeal and the attention of the remaining members was suddenly on the mess of a man that stood a few meters from them all. 

Jin ran up to him first and wrapped his large hand around his friend's neck which forced his eyes open. 

“I think she found the song” 

It was all he was able to say before the relief and happiness washed over him, all the while his brothers celebrated around him. 

He wellowed in it, soaked every drop of happiness into the very depth of his soul, and despite not quite knowing how this mark of yours worked, he did his best to send every bit of joy he felt, down through that bond that now bound the two of you together. 

You had felt him instantly, which had only made your heart swell even more, and after a long night, a few bottles of wine while you updated your girls on the events that were your soulmate, you had all come up with a plan. 

It still felt weird. Your soulmate. You still had to pinch yourself whenever you felt his emotions, scared that this was all a dream you just couldn’t wake up from. 

The days had turned into weeks, and after having danced so hard your feet almost bled, you were finally ready, ready to leave a trail of breadcrumbs out for him to find. 

You took one last look at yourself before you gave a nod to one of your best friends and as soon as the music started, you danced to the tunes written to you by your soulmate. 

The following days your social media pages exploded, you had uploaded your dance covers on every app you could think of. Hopeful that one of them would make his way to him, and that he would feel the same pull towards you, as you had felt the second you had laid eyes on him. 

Army had been your biggest support through all of this, they had complimented the way you had interpreted Namjoon’s mixtape by sharing it, posting reactions to them, and most importantly tagged every member more than a thousand times in every post. 

Now all you could do was wait. 

Hoseok had been casually scrolling through his Tiktok when he had gotten a dm from a dance friend of his with a link to a series of dance covers by a ballerina, to the song written by his younger brother. 

He had watched them all, over and over again. Studied your movements almost as much as he has studied your expressions. Because there was a dancer who understood in her very soul what the songs were about. 

The second he had felt confident enough, that this was in fact what he thought it was, he had slid into your dm’s with a message as simple, yet significant as: I think I know someone who would love to meet you. 

It was the worst possible timing, they were all slowly getting used to the new city, the new stadium. They were all getting ready for the show that very night, but he didn’t really care much about any of it, because this was more important. 

He found Namjoon sitting in the beauty room, scrolling on his phone as he ignored the chaos around him. 

Namjoon had told them time and time again the past few days that you were feeling nervous as well as excited. 

From what he didn’t know, all he knew was that whatever made you feel this way, would work out, and Hoseok felt a sense of pride having been the one to discover it. 

He gave the wide shouldered man a gentle tap on his arm to get his attention, and as Namjoon looked his way he gently gave him the phone with a subtle little smile. 

Namjoon himself had done his best to scour the internet from any sign of you, but so far he had come up empty handed. 

The second he had gotten Hoseok’s phone in his hand, he had stopped breathing. Because right there on his screen was the most beautiful woman he had ever seen. 

You were elegant, beautiful incarnate, with a subtle hint of both happiness and nervousness written on your face and in your movements, and there was no doubt that you were his. 

He slowly stood from his chair as he scrolled through his entire mixtape, interpreted by your movements and very own form of art. He had never felt more special, nor more proud than in this exact moment. 

When he finished he swallowed once. 

“Where is she?” he said with a lump in his throat. 

Hoseok shrugged once as he peeled his phone out of his brother's hand. “I don’t know yet, but I’ve written her a message” 

Namjoon pulled out his own phone and with shaking hands tried to open the app to hopefully get in contact with you himself. 

A small ping was heard from the sunshine man's phone, and as he turned it towards Namjoon, a small message there read: ‘I think you do’ followed by a phone number. 

With shaking hands Namjoon dialed the number, and the other end of it picked up before it even managed to ring once. 

He didn’t say anything, and neither did you. For 7 seconds, he just stood there as you heard you breath on the other end, as he felt how nervous and excited you were at the same time. 

“Where are you?” He managed to say, swallowing once more to hopefully buy himself some time to think of something a little more original to say. 

A subtle laugh was heard on the other end. “Hi Namjoon” 

He smiled then, wider than he ever had. His dimples were on full display, as his cheeks started to hurt, all the while his heart swelled. 

“Hi baby” he said as the people around him broke out in cheers. The cameras had been turned on and all turned his way, when that had happened he didn’t know, and he didn’t really care, all that mattered right here and now was you. 

He felt the flutters of your heart all the while calmness and pure joy enveloped him in that now well known silk, that he knew as your emotions. 

“Well to answer your question, I’m actually in the same place as you are… Not in the stadium of course, but the city”

He removed the phone a little from his face as he screamed silently. This was perfect. 

“How soon can you get here?” He asked, he knew it was a long shot, but he had to try. 

You laughed and he was certain he had died and gone to heaven right then and there. “I’m pretty sure your concert is sold out” 

He chuckled. “That’s not what I asked” he said back in the most lovingly teasing voice he could. 

He could feel his heartbeat pick up as he awaited your answer. 

“I’m currently at work, but if you have the time, maybe we could figure out how to meet tomorrow?” you said, he could almost feel how you bit your lip in anticipation, oh and how he hated he wasn’t there to see it. 

“Send me the address, I’m coming to get you” 

It was a long shot, he knew that, but he didn’t really care. 

All he heard was that musically laugh, one he knew would be the inspiration for songs to come. 

“Don’t you have more important things to do right about now?” 

He looked at his members, his brothers, and how they all gave him encouraging nods. 

“No, you are the most important thing” 

You were silent for a few seconds. “Okay, I’ll send you the address" 

“Stay where you are, I’m on my way” 

He didn’t want to hang up, if he could he would’ve climbed through his phone and out to you on the other side, unfortunately that wasn’t happening. So instead he hung up, pulled his members into a group hug with the promise that he would be back before the concert started. 

Then he turned on his heel and sprinted towards the exit. 

You were sitting in the lobby at your work, silently bouncing your leg as you felt your heart almost beat out of your chest. In record time you had managed to shower, and make yourself presentable. 

It wasn’t that you had been a complete lost cause, but you wanted him to find you captivating and beautiful. Luckily the women around you had come to your aid, and now your eyes were fixated on the door. 

Like you, Namjoon was completely unable to sit still in the car that was taking him to you. He was constantly fiddling with his clothes, his hair, his phone. All the while his eyes were fixated on the world that passed by around him. 

When he finally arrived at his destination, he took a deep breath before opening the door. His mask was on, no need to give the entire world the possibility of watching this. It was something he wanted to be as private as possible. 

He saw you before you had noticed him. The way you kept twisting your rings, the way your legs bounced, the nerves and excitement that roamed through you. 

It made him lose his breath. 

The second he felt that need, that bond almost snapping into place, the second he felt love run through himself, he saw your eyes snap up from your hands. 

He walked through the doors as you slowly stood up from the chair. 

The two of you were going slow, almost as if you were afraid that the other one would disappear if you walked too fast. 

He towered over you as you stood in front of him. The photos you had seen of him didn’t do him justice. He was huge. Both in hide and in width. 

He slowly peeled off his mask and revealed that dimpled smile of his, as his eyes almost disappeared. 

You had no idea why, but that was all it took for you to throw yourself into his arms. You didn’t know if it was the sheer strength of him, or if he had been able to predict your move, but he didn’t even sway. 

Instead he just flung his arms around you, gently picking you up off the ground as he buried his head in the crook of your neck. 

When he finally set you down on the ground again, your hands came to caress his cheeks, gently poking those dimples with your thumbs, earning you a laugh. 

“Hello there” you said, as you gently brushed away his tears, all the while you did your best to not let your own fall. 

He leaned down and rested his forehead against yours, all the while his arms snaked around your waist, pulling you closer to him. 

The two of you just stood there like that for a few minutes, before he finally pulled himself together, flung an arm around your shoulders, grabbed your bag and slowly walked out of the lobby with you by his side. 

It was this quiet dominance, authority that made your entire spine shiver in anticipation of what else he would be able to do. Especially when the two of you were alone. 

Namjoon laughed. “Baby, pull your head out of the gutter or I will devour you on the backseat of my car” 

You pulled away from him and looked at him with shocked eyes. He just chuckled in response. “I can literally feel your emotions” he bend down and whispered, “that includes lust” 

The blood rushed to your cheeks as you blushed, turning both your cheeks and ears as red as a tomato. 

“Oh my god, I didn’t even think of that” you responded as you hid your face in his shirt. 

“Trust me, I don’t mind it at all, but how about we wait with that part until we’re alone” 

You felt it then, the need and lust he too felt. You pushed him gently. “Stop that” 

He chuckled once more before kissing the top of your head. “Anything for you baby” 

You had arrived at the concert, and he had introduced you to his six brothers all while beaming as if he was the sun itself. 

They had all welcomed you with hugs, questions and overall excitement. Excitement that was so contagious you soon were bussing with it. 

Namjoon made sure to always have your hand in his, an arm flung around your shoulders, or having you leaning against his chest as he gently rested his chin on the top of your head. 

And despite the chaos of dancers, stylists and mua’s, he managed to make it all feel like the safest place you had ever been. 

He had made sure you got a seat where you could see him at all time, and he had made sure his front was towards you every second. 

It was nerve wrecking for him to be on stage. He so hoped that you would feel pride and awe in what he did, in what he loved. Luckily it was only that and deep love and respect he felt through your shared bond the entire concert. 

All those feelings made him give it a little extra, an effort that was definitely appreciated by army as well as you. 

The ride from the venue and back to his hotel wasn’t the longest, and the feeling of having him close was even more amazing than anything you had ever dreamt of. 

The two of you were quiet, not really wanting to speak before you were alone, there was so much that needed to be said, so much he needed to apologize for. 

You could feel the nerves and the guilt eating away at him, but you also knew that just because you were able to know exactly what he was feeling, didn’t mean that he was ready to talk to you about it yet, so instead you waited. 

“It’s cozy” you said as you entered his room, looked around on his exploded suitcase and all the little things that were scattered throughout the room. 

You sat down on the bed and sent a smile his way, hoping it would make him open up. 

He sighed once before leaning his head back, looking into the ceiling. “I’m so sorry,” he said. 

You perked up at that, sitting a little straighter than you had a second ago. 

He ran his hands through his hair before finally looking at you. “I’m so sorry I didn’t feel you before, I’m so sorry it took me this long to notice you were out there. I’m sorry that I’ve put you through so much anxiety, so many nights spent alone thinking I would never come” 

You saw how the tears welled in his eyes, how they threatened to fall any second. 

Instead of saying anything you just reached out for him, and he followed instantly, sitting down on his knees before you on the floor. His arms flung around your waist as you gently ran your hands through his hair as he cried, gently scratching his scalp with your nails. 

You sat like that for a few minutes, until his breathing steadied. The you pulled him away from your chest and rested your hands on his cheeks, once again caressing those dimple of his. 

“It takes two people to share a bond, and I didn’t notice you either, sure you might’ve been busier, but I should’ve been there for you as well, as support on stressful days, as a cheerleader in the back of your head, always cheering you on. We have a lot of catching up to do, both of us, but we also have a life to make it right” 

He smiled, and you returned it before pulling him closer, gently rubbing your nose against his. 

His eyes changed them, from loving and adoring to dominant and almost dragon-like, they got dark and the need he felt for you flushed over you was like a tidal wave. 

“Can I kiss you?” he whispered, teasing you by drawing circles into your hips with his thumbs.

You swallowed once before you nodded. He didn’t hesitate, not even a second. Instead he quickly closed the distance between the two. 

His lips was soft, gentle as if he was savoring something sweet, slowly taking his time to feel every emotion, feeling and taste. 

The emotions were overwhelming, so much that the two of you needed to take a break. He slowly climbed over you, gently helping you scoot back onto the bed. He gave you a small peck as he smiled. 

“I love that I can actually feel how I make you feel” He said as he gently nippled on your bottom lip. 

The lust slowly crept over him, he pulled away once more with a raised brow. “Oh? You like that huh?” 

“You could do anything to me Namjoon, and I would love it” 

He closed his eyes and hid his head in the crook of your neck. “Say my name again” he almost whispered. 

The kind command made you smile and a giggle threatened to spill past your lips but you held it back as you whispered his name into his ear. 

“Fuck, you’ll be the death of me” he said as you saw how his pupils had completely taken over his eyes, somehow making them even more deadly than they already were. 

He gently let one of his hands from your ankle up to your thigh, before he flung it around his own waist, the sheer weight of it pulled him closer to you. 

“The question now is baby” he kissed right below your ear. “If-” a kiss a little lower down your neck, and he kept that going with every word he said. “- you’ll. Let. Me. Devour. You?” 

He felt your need and your want for him, before you pulled him away from your neck and kissed him passionately, slowly letting go, letting yourself indulge in this with him. 

The two of you had been rolling around in the sheets for hours upon hours, only taking small breaks to catch your breaths before starting once again. 

You were curled around his side, your head resting on his giant chest. 

“I think this is my new favorite pillow” he laughed loudly before kissing your somewhat sweaty brow. 

“Good, because I would definitely want you to sleep in my arms as often as possible” 

You turned to look at him, he gently started running a hand up and down your spine, gently caressing the skin beneath his fingertips. 

“It feels like a dream, being here with you” 

You saw how his eyes shone with both sadness and adoration. He sat up and kissed you tenderly. “I promise you it’s not. I promise that I’m here, that I’ll always be here. I promise that I’ll never leave” 

One of his hands rested against your cheek and you leaned into it. 

“Let’s make a deal, every now and then I’ll give you a small pinch, to remind you that this is real, that we are real?” 

“You would do that for me?” 

He smiled gently. “Anything for you baby” 

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As always, please like, reblog, comment and follow if you like the story, and the taglist for this is open so just make a comment if you want me to add you to it

[thatfanficstuff]

Unexpected Vampire - Eric Northman

Eric Northman x Reader

warnings/notes: blood. Fluff. Written as part of my follower celebration. It's been a minute since I wrote for Eric. Hopefully I remembered how to do it. This ended up being a gender neutral reader. Reader is shorter than Eric because who the fuck isn't.

You pushed open the door to your apartment with a sigh. It had been a long day and you were beyond thrilled that it was almost over. Darkness greeted you save for the faint glow from the streetlights shining through your blinds. You flipped the switch as you kicked off your shoes. As the lamp came on in the living room, your breath caught.

You weren’t alone.

A tall figure stood by the window and for a moment panic tightened your chest. The recognition dawned and the fear faded. Eric Northman turned to face you, his blue eyes fixed on you with an intensity that made you take a step back. Six and half feet of unexpected vampire stood in your home.

“I didn’t mean to frighten you.” His voice was low and rich.

You opened your mouth to respond but the words died on your lips as you really took him in. His hands were stained with blood. It soaked into the fabric of his shirt, coloring the chest and up past the collar to cover his neck as well. What the fuck had he been up to?

“Is that blood?” You blamed your increasing panic for the stupid question. Of course it was. “Is it yours or someone else’s?” Your tone shifted between concern and alarm.

Eric glanced down as if noticing the blood for the first time then back to you. An emotion you couldn’t name flashed across his face. He stepped toward you, moving with that predatory grace that always made you feel like prey even when you knew you weren’t.

“Does it matter?” he asked, head tilting slightly.

“Of course it matters,” you snapped.

Another step closer. He was halfway across your living room now. “It’s not mine,” he admitted then paused before adding, “Mostly.”

You swallowed as you processed that information. Your gaze ran over him again. Not his blood. Someone else’s. Many possible scenarios flashed through your head, none of them particularly comforting.

“I should have cleaned up before coming here, but I couldn’t wait.” His voice carried that same careful lilt as always.

“Couldn’t wait for what?” you asked.

He crossed the remaining distance between you with deliberate slowness, giving you time to retreat if you wished.

You didn’t.

You stood your ground as he came to stand before you, close enough that you had to tilt your head back to maintain eye contact.

“There was a moment tonight when I thought it might be my last.” His voice was softer now, almost vulnerable. “Do you know what struck me as the greatest tragedy when I thought I might never see you again?”

You shook your head, unable to speak past the lump in your throat.

His hand rose, stopping just shy of touching your face as he looked in your eyes. “It wasn’t my potential final death after a thousand years of existence. It was the thought that I would never again see the way your eyes change color in different light. Never hear that sound you make when you’re trying not to laugh at something I’ve said. Never feel the warmth of your skin against mine.”

Your breath hitched. Eric didn’t do vulnerability. He didn’t expose weaknesses. Didn’t admit to having them at all. Yet, here he was doing exactly that.

He licked his lips. “We have been dancing around each other for months, älskling. I have enjoyed the game, but no longer. Please.”

“Eric, I—” you started but never finished.

His blood-stained hands cupped your face with surprising gentleness. Your heart pounded against your ribs as his thumbs brushed across your cheeks, undoubtedly leaving rusty smudges you couldn’t bring yourself to care about. Then his mouth descended on yours, firm and insistent.

The kiss wasn’t gentle. It was desperate, hungry, claiming. His lips moved against yours with urgency. One hand slid to the back of your neck, holding you in place as he deepened the kiss.

You should have pushed him away, demanded explanations about the blood, about why he thought he might die tonight. Instead, your hands found his shoulders, fingers digging into the solid muscle beneath his shirt. The coppery taste of blood lingered on his lips, mingling with his own, unique taste.

He walked you backward until your spine met the wall, his body pressing against yours, pinning you there as the kiss continued. His tongue swept into your mouth and a small, involuntary sound escaped your throat. You felt him smile against your lips.

When he finally pulled back, it was only by inches. His forehead rested against yours. “I should have called first,” he murmured.

You huffed a laugh. “Yes. That’s definitely the issue here.”

His kiss had left you dizzy, your lips tingling with the memory of his mouth against yours. You pressed your palms against his chest, creating a small space between your bodies. It wasn’t enough to escape his presence, just enough to catch your breath. The drying blood on his shirt felt odd against your skin.

“You can’t just show up covered in blood and expect—”

“Expect what?” he cut you off before leaning in to trace the line of your jaw with his lips. The sensation of his mouth against your skin sent a shiver down your spine. “That you’d be happy to see me? That you’d missed me?”

You closed your eyes for a moment, steeling your resolve. “The blood, Northman. Explain the blood.”

His hands slid down your sides to rest at your waist, thumbs tracing small circles through the fabric of your shirt. “A disagreement with some associates. Nothing for you to worry about.”

“Nothing to worry about?” You pulled back far enough to look him in the eyes. “You just told me you thought you might die tonight.

Eric’s lips curled into that infuriating half smile that never failed to make your breath catch. His hands continued their exploration, one sliding beneath the hem of your shirt to touch bare skin. “And yet, here I stand very much alive. Well, as alive as I get.”

You tried to focus but the fingers trailing up your spine were distracting. “That’s not an explanation.”

“No, it’s not,” he agreed before bending to press his lips to the sensitive spot just below your ear.

Your breath hitched as his teeth grazed your earlobe, not hard enough to break skin, just hard enough to sent a jolt of sensation straight to your core. His attention continued along the line of your neck.

“Eric,” you tried again. Unfortunately, his name came out sounding more like a sigh than the firm admonishment you’d intended. “I’m serious. If someone is after you, I need to know.”

“They’re not. Not anymore. I took care of it.”

That explained the blood without actually explaining anything. His hand beneath your shirt moved higher, fingers splaying across your back, pressing you closer to him. His lips returned to yours and for a moment you surrendered, your hands fisting in his shirt.

But the questions remained, stealing your attention with their nagging persistence. You broke the kiss and turned your face away. “You can’t just distract me with this.”

“Can’t I?” His smile was knowing as his fingers traced the curve of your spine. “It seems to be working quite well.”

Frustration flared within you. You weren’t some plaything to be manipulated. Not even by a sexy as sin vampire who knew exactly how to touch you to make your resolve waver. “No,” you said more firmly, pushing against his chest harder this time. “It’s not working. I want answers.”

He didn’t step back, but his fingers stilled their distracting movements. “Knowing the specifics would only put you in danger.”

“So you expect me to just accept that you showed up at my apartment covered in someone else’s blood talking about your near death experience, and then, what? Take you to bed without another question?”

Eric’s eyes darkened, pupils dilating as they swept down to your lips then back up to meet your gaze.

“You are not taking me to bed,” you stated, voice firm.

For a moment he was perfectly still. Then his mouth curved into a mischievous smile. “Who said it had to be a bed?”

The unexpected playfulness of his tone caught you off guard and a startled laugh escaped you. His smile widened in response, revealing just a hint of fang.

You shoved his shoulder lightly. “You’re impossible.”

“I’ve been called worse.” He took a half-step back, giving you more space while keeping his hands on your waist. “Just tonight in fact.”

Your smile faded as you studied his face, noting the faint lines of strain around his eyes most people wouldn’t notice. Whatever had happened tonight had taken a toll on him, whether he wanted to admit it or not. You reached up to touch his cheek, his skin cool beneath your fingertips. The playfulness in his expression faded as he leaned slightly into the touch.

“Just tell me if you’re okay,” you said quietly.

Something shifted in his expression at your words. His shoulders lowered slightly. “I’m fine. Nothing that won’t heal by morning.” His hand moved to cover yours where it still rested against his cheek. “I’ll explain what I can tomorrow. I promise. Tonight, I just want to hold you.”

His fingers intertwined with yours, drawing your hand from his face but not releasing it.

“That’s it?” A note of disbelief crept into your tone.

A ghost of a smirk curled his lips. “If you’re offering more, I wouldn’t refuse.”

You rolled your eyes but smiled anyway. “And he’s back.”

His thumb traced circles on your palm. “I never left.”

Your gaze dropped to where his hand held yours, then traveled up his arm to his chest, taking in the crimson swaths as it went. “You’re a mess.”

He glanced down at himself. “I’ve looked worse.”

“I’m sure you have, but not in my apartment. You need a shower.” You gently pulled your hand from his.

Eric’s brows lifted. “Are you offering to help clean me up?”

“I’m saying you aren’t getting anywhere near my bed looking like an extra from a slasher film.” You crossed your arms, trying to look stern and failing miserably, you were sure.

He took a deliberate step forward, invading your space again. His finger traced a path from your collarbone to your shoulder as his gaze ran over the length of you. “It appears that I’ve already gotten blood on you. Quite a bit actually.”

You glanced down noting the smudges on your shirt where his hands had roamed, the faint streaking on your arms. There was probably blood on your face too from his touch and his kiss. “That is entirely your fault.”

“Entirely,” he agreed, not sounding sorry in the least. “It seems we both need to clean up.” His voice dropped lower in invitation. “Showering together would save water. Very environmentally friendly.”

You laughed at that. “Really? That’s your pitch?”

His smile widened. “Would you prefer something else? I have a very convincing argument about the difficulty of washing your back alone.”

“I’m sure you do.”

Eric’s hands found your waist again. “I won’t press, but the offer stands.”

You took a moment to consider, your eyes travelling over his tall frame. Despite the blood, the pull was there. It had always been there. From the first moment you met there was an electric hum under your skin that only intensified the more time you spent together. Tonight, it was stronger than ever, fueled by his sincere confessions.

“I should say no,” you said more to yourself than him.

“You should, but you won’t.”

Your eyes snapped back to his face ready to be annoyed at his arrogance. But that wasn’t what you found there. It was something softer. Something closer to hope.

Without another word, you stepped out of his hold and walked toward the bathroom. You could feel his eyes on you as you moved. At the doorway you paused to flip on the light. You turned on the shower and adjusted the temperature until steam began to rise.

When you turned back to the doorway, Eric stood there watching with an intense gaze. He hadn’t followed you in, waiting for your explicit invitation to join you. You studied him a moment longer before reaching for the hem of your shirt, lifting it slowly over your head and letting it drop to the floor.

Eric’s eyes darkened as they traveled over your exposed skin, but he remained motionless.

“Alright, Northman,” you said finally. “Come clean up the mess you made.”

A slow smile spread across his face as he stepped into the room closing the door behind him with a soft click.

[oncasette]

𝗚𝗥𝗢𝗪 𝗕𝗔𝗖𝗞 𝗬𝗢𝗨𝗥 𝗦𝗛𝗔𝗥𝗣𝗘𝗦𝗧 𝗧𝗘𝗘𝗧𝗛 (𝗬𝗢𝗨 𝗞𝗡𝗢𝗪 𝗠𝗬 𝗗𝗘𝗦𝗜𝗥𝗘)

eric northman x fem!reader

summary: 1.4k

“Still mad?” he asks, moving even slower, if that was even possible, back up your spread legs.

You shake your head hesitantly.

“What’s that?”

“No,” you whimper, trying to force his mouth to your pussy. You’re sure you’d created a puddle beneath you on his desk. 

“Hm?” His brows are raised. He nips at the puncture wounds, his now blunt teeth grazing the holes.

“No, I’m not mad,” you huff. You attempt to squeeze your thighs together around his ears only to be thwarted by two large hands effectively pinning your legs open.

or the one where eric distracts you from your anger with his tongue.

warnings: not beta’d, smut, oral (f!recieving), blood drinking

masterlist 

“What the fuck?” you call out, slamming the door open to stare Eric down from where he’s sat behind his desk. 

“Please,” he says, not even looking up from the file open in front of him. He flips a page. “Come in.”

“You quit my job for me?” you seethe, nearly seeing white as you clench my jaw. 

“You won’t be needing it anymore,” he says simply. Another page flip.

“You don’t-”

“Pam.” He clears his throat as the office door swings closed. Sparing barely even a glance behind you, you just miss it clicking shut. When you’ve turned back, Eric is standing in front of you. Looming, his hands tucked into his pockets as he stares you down. 

“I…” The words die on your tongue. Whatever ire that had burned through your system was quickly dissipating under his scrutiny. He takes one step, then another, the heels of his shoes clicking ominously before his hand roughly grasps the bottom of your chin in his hand. His thumb swipes over your bottom lip, your mouth opening slightly in response, before it slides down your cheek. His other fingers cradle the other half of your jaw. 

He hums, tilting your head back to look him more directly in the eye.

“Do you want to try again?” He asks. His voice is calm, a harsh contrast to the bruising grip he holds you in. 

“Eric,” you gasp with a dazed intake of breath. Almost subconsciously, your thighs tighten together. 

“Hm?” he asks, tugging your face closer. 

“I don’t…”

You don’t realize he’s leading you anywhere until you feel your ass hit the edge of his desk. He knocks your knees open with his own, stepping into the gap created for him. 

“Not so tough anymore?” he mocks you, his groin pressing into your navel. 

“N-no,” you stutter, swallowing, mentally chastising yourself for the rate at which he was able to reduce you to this. He releases your chin, his hands coming down to claim your hips in their unforgiving hold. 

“I simply told your boss you’d found a new… employer,” he says.

“You’re not my employer,” you hum.

“No, maybe I’m not, but that pesky little day job of yours was starting to cut into your time here. With me,” he sighs, flashing you a sarcastic smile that displays his partially extended fangs. “So I handled it.”

A small flicker of defiance kindles anew within you. “I needed that job.”

“You hated that job.”

“So?” you scoff.

“I handled it.” His hands trail up and back towards the zipper of your skirt. 

“I have bills to pay!” Your body moves of its own accord, your ass lifting enough for him to slide the fabric down your hips once he’s gotten it unzipped. 

“I’ve got those handled, too,” he says as he shifts down to his knees. “Now, are you going to stop fighting me or am I going to have to listen to your babbling while I get a taste of the one thing I’ve been waiting all night for?”

You blink down at him, jaw slack. Oh. 

“Eric…” you trail off as he plants firm kisses to your thighs, the fabric of your stockings muffling his touch. 

He hums in acknowledgement, a faint smirk curling the corners of his lips. He looks up at you under a hooded gaze, silently asking for permission as his kisses grow nearer to their apex. His smile widens as you nod, his teeth plunging into plush cotton and plusher skin. Squeaking, you flinch, not expecting the harsh bite but not fighting it. Moments later, he releases his fangs only to latch them into the top of your stocking and pull them down enough for him to reattach his teeth to your thigh without interference. 

“I’m trying to be mad at you right now, stop distracting me,” you hiss. You push your fingers into his slicked back hair, mussing the strands in your wake. 

“Seems you’re not mad enough,” he drawls as he removes his fangs, his tongue laving over the drooling puncture wounds. Eventually, he leaves them in favor of dragging his tongue higher. He pushes two fingers into the seam of your underwear and fiddles with the lace trimming there. His nose bumps your clit through the fabric, jolting your hips forward. 

You say his name once in warning, tugging harder on the strands. 

“These are just darling aren’t they?” he practically purrs. Panting, you more intentionally push your hips into his face. He laughs as he slips his other hand into the fabric wrapped around your opposing hip, forcing you to lift your ass up for him to pull them down. He moves slowly. His eyes are locked on yours throughout, the icy gaze sending a shiver down your spine. It does nothing to quell the heat pooling in your core. A petulant whine crawls out of your throat as you watch his lips follow his fingers, nipping and kissing at the skin as he moves. Thigh, knee, other knee, calf, ankle. 

His name, again, followed by another one of his infuriating laughs.

“Still mad?” he asks, moving even slower, if that was even possible, back up your spread legs.

You shake your head hesitantly.

“What’s that?”

“No,” you whimper, trying to force his mouth to your pussy. You’re sure you’d created a puddle beneath you on his desk. 

“Hm?” His brows are raised. He nips at the puncture wounds, his now blunt teeth grazing the holes.

“No, I’m not mad,” you huff. You attempt to squeeze your thighs together around his ears only to be thwarted by two large hands effectively pinning your legs open.

“Pantience,” he grunts, only to lick a stripe up your cunt with the flat of his tongue. The squeak you let out sounds nearly inhuman. He moans into you, the tip of his nose pressed firmly against your clit as his tongue circles your dribbling entrance.

He starts fast, a harsh contrast to the way he’d undressed you, and he leaves you breathless in the span of a few short licks. Your chest heaves, your eyes lidded and cloudy with lust as you watch him devour you. Unravel you. Unspool your very essence. 

“Where’s that mouth, hm?” he asks between laps and sucks. “You were so feisty a moment ago.”

Your tongue feels heavy against the bottom of your mouth. Words form somewhere in the back of your mind, but they dissipate long before they have a chance to even make it out. He pinches your clit between two rough fingers, trying to force an answer out of you. 

“Eric,” you whimper.

“‘S not an answer, sweetheart,” he chuckles, but he refrains from pushing the subject much more. He does, however, pinch the swelling bundle of nerves again before he goes back to pinning your legs open. 

“Please,” you beg, your head falling back limp as you chase your impending orgasm. He doesn’t answer, his own eyes shutting as he works you closer. “Please.”

Your lungs gasping, thighs twitching, fingers tightening their hold on his hair. Your body moves of its own accord, driving itself into the white hot pleasure eating its way through you. He swipes up the slick dripping from you with lithe fingers before he brings the fingers to your mouth. He taps twice before he slides the digits between your parted lips. You swirl your tongue around the intrusion, swallowing down the tang of your own arousal as he fills you from both ends. You feel lightheaded, your teeth pressing into his knuckles to keep his fingers in your mouth. 

It isn’t long before you feel the tell-tale signs of your orgasm, your pussy clenching around his tongue. He groans, his other hand moving to rub tight circles against your clit. It washes over you in earnest, hard and fast. Your legs trembling, your cunt pulsing, your breathing shallow and uneven. He continues to work you through it, albeit slower and a tad gentler, before he retracts his fingers from your mouth and presses a chaste kiss to the throbbing bundle of nerves. 

You pant as he moves to stand, smoothing chilled hands that raise goosebumps across your quivering thighs. 

“‘m still not happy with you,” you heave, a childish pout on your bottom lip.

“We can talk more about it later,” he says as he slides his arms around your frame to pull you into his chest. He moves around the desk, gently placing you in his lap as he flips through the previously abandoned paperwork in front of him. You curl against him, your nose pressing into the crook of his neck and inhaling. His arm latches around your waist and keeps you locked against him tight. Maybe you’re not that mad at him. 

[siriusly-yoongi]

Unwanted series masterlist

Main Masterlist

Pairing: alpha BTS × omega reader

Warnings: I don't know how to tag these properly, read at your own risk I guess, mean BTS, abuse, self-harm, BTS ages aren't explicitly specified but reader is significantly yonger than them (like 18-20ish I haven't picked a specific age and I might never pick one), torture, tags to be updated, tags are missing, dead dove: do not eat, dead dove but the bag isn't labeled

Omegas are pretty uncommon. When the boys find they have another mate, they're surprised. But they're absolutely shocked to find it's a little omega. Unfortunately, because they're not very common, omegas aren't treated very well. Most people dislike them or at the very least believe many negative things about them. The bangtan pack is no different. their dislike of omegas is just as strong as most other packs. Can their new mate change their minds?

⚠️I don't know how to properly tag shit, BTS is mean and abusive and do things that are unforgivable if it were real life. It is not real, don't tell me it's not realistic or that the reader should've reacted differently. It's fictional. If you don't like it don't read it. I do not care if your feelings are hurt. Recommendations for tagging changes are welcome and appreciated, but don't be a dick⚠️

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1 The Bangtan Pack

2 The Basement

3 coming soon

❗️This fic isn't abandoned (as of June, 2026) My life and my health fell apart and I've been extremely preoccupied. Updates will come eventually. Promise.❗️

The current situation

Updates on progress are on my page occasionally

[denofstay]

Stay with us masterlist

Pairing: Poly!OT8SKZ x Fem!Reader Universe: Omegaverse/soulmate AU summary: After spending most of your life searching for your mates you discover that they all found eachother first Series info Prologue Chapter One Chapter Two Chapter Three Chapter four Chapter five Chapter six Chapter seven Chapter Eight Chapter Nine Chapter Ten Chapter Eleven Chapter Twelve Chapter thirteen Chapter Fourteen (coming soon)

[velvetvisionsaurora]

Alpha ATEEZ x Assistant Omega Reader

Warnings: omega reader, alpha ateez, scenting, heats, ruts, slow burn, eventual smut, forced command, more to come!

When Y/n accepts a position as assistant to alpha K-pop group ATEEZ, she's prepared with professional skills and scent blockers to hide her omega status. What she's not prepared for is the immediate, inexplicable connection she feels with all eight members—a resonance that defies her careful boundaries.

As Y/n becomes eerily attuned to their needs, her suppressed omega nature begins to emerge: purring for the first time in years, responding to alpha growls, feeling safe in ways she never has before. When a protective incident reveals the depth of the members' attachment to her, Y/n must confront the possibility that what binds them together is something ancient and profound.

Chapter 1: New Beginnings

Chapter 2: The Decision

Chapter 3: First Day

Chapter 4: Finding Your Place

Chapter 5: Unspoken Connections

Chapter 6: Unexpected Reactions

Chapter 7: Ripple Effect

Chapter 8: Rising Heat

Chapter 9: Breaking Point

Chapter 10: Unveiled

Chapter 11: Walls Fall Down

Chapter 12: Awakening

Chapter 13: Omega Eyes

Chapter 14: Recognition

Chapter 15: Overwhelming Need

Chapter 16: Instinct

Chapter 17: Breaking Point

Bonus: Alpha’s Downfall

Chapter 18: The Wooyoung Effect

Chapter 19: New Boundaries

Chapter 20: Hidden Pages

Chapter 21: Pack Cardio

Chapter 22: Forever

Chapter 23: Taking Control

Chapter 24: Nurturing Fire

Comment on this post to be added to the taglist!

Taglist is closed again 😞

💜 Thank you all for the love on this! Please reblog and recommend this fic if you love it! I update every day or every other day!💜

[siriusly-yoongi]

She wants to be saved series masterlist

Main Masterlist

Pairing: alpha BTS × omega reader

Warnings: I don't know how to tag these properly, read at your own risk I guess, eating disorders, self-harm, violence, sexual assault, Rape/Non-con, abuse, Dead dove: do not eat, Dead dove but the bag isn't labeled

They thought they were complete, having been a pack for years they felt like they had everything- even as a pack of 7 alphas. But fate has a funny way of proving people wrong.

⚠️This fic is not tagged properly. I really struggle with tagging. I get the big triggers but beyond that, my ass is clueless.

Read at your own risk. Some chapters are heavy/fucked up and quite graphically described. If you don't like my work, don't read it. I do not write for your comfort I write for my own enjoyment. Whoever else happens to enjoy it also are just very appreciated added bonuses.⚠️

❗️The rape scene(s) and the self-harm are quite graphic in some chapters. I've gotten multiple complaints about it so here's your warning. Fuck off if you don't like it❗️

Enjoy🖤💋

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1 I don't want this

2 Meeting the pack

3 Restless

4 Drop

5 Resuscitation

6 Hiss

7 Stitches

8 I only meant to scare her

9 Minjae and Hana

10 The only reason you're still here

11 I'm a monster

12 Building a pool

13 Building a deck

14 Bath

15 Flower crowns

16 Fever

17 Clover tea

18 Raspberry lemonade

19 The nest

20 Lost

21 "Scenting"

22 Teething

23 sick

24 It's not a pack shower

25 Bracelets

26 What ifs

27 The fire

28 Therapy

29 Marking

30 Baby

[gguksprincess]

𝐟𝐚𝐧 𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐯𝐢𝐜𝐞 𝜗𝜚 𝐣𝐞𝐨𝐧 𝐣𝐮𝐧𝐠𝐤𝐨𝐨𝐤

SUMMARY -> in which your bias falls for you.

WORDS -> 6.7k

WARNINGS -> idol!jungkook x fan!reader, power imbalance (?), fingering, semi public sex, degradation if you squint, dom!jungkook x sub!reader, please lmk if i missed anything because this is long😭

now playing: lady in my life - michael jackson˚.⋆♪

you didn’t know how you were able to meet jeon jungkook.

was fate playing an elaborate joke on you? was it meant to be? that was what you were wondering the moment you saw him.

you had been a bts fan for years. your friends and family rolled their eyes every time you rambled on and on about song meanings, interviews, and just how amazing your bias, jungkook was. how his voice was so beautiful, how infectious his laugh was, how you could get lost in his eyes even through a screen. 

though you struggled to admit it, jungkook helped cure your chronic loneliness. it was almost pathetic—weverse lives were warped by your mind into one on one conversations, your lovesick eyes gazing into the screen as you ate dinner, pretending he only had eyes for you.

two nights before you met him, you saw him at bts’ concert in your city. it was fun, the most fun you’d had in a long time. you were in the front, something you ridiculous amounts of money for. it was harmless, low stakes entertainment.

one night before you met him, you were laying in your bed, face mask on, humming the song normal as you tried to forget how perfect he looked under those stage lights.

the night you met him, you were at a club. the harsh, skunk-esque scent of marijuana filled your nostrils and bass-heavy music filled your ears. your friends were distracted, gossiping as you stared at him wordlessly.

that couldn’t be him, you thought. he had to have moved on to another city. he couldn’t still be here. he couldn’t be in the same room as you. this handsome, brunette boy in this club couldn’t be your bias.

but his piercings were too identical to jungkook’s. this man was dressed just like jungkook, and when his right hand reached up to scratch his face—

holy shit. it was him. 

you could recognize those tattoos from anywhere. the ARMY, the heart, the various colorful tattoos that you recognized one by one as your eyes trailed up his arm. your mouth went dry.

you had to sit down in your friends’ booth before your knees buckled. this can’t be happening. this can not be happening. you immediately felt self conscious about everything. you didn’t spend enough time on your hair. your dress was so boring. did your makeup melt off? you really hoped it didn’t. you frantically reapplied your lip gloss just in case.

your friend tapped you on the shoulder, “are you okay?”

you tried your best to sound natural, “of course, why?”

“you look like you just saw a ghost,” she giggled.

“i’m fine,” you insisted.

she turned back to the rest of your friend group.

you glanced at jungkook again. he was with some friends, ordering at the bar. he yawned. 

you looked away, staring at the wall as you yawned. you swallowed, really hoping he didn’t see that. your fingers fumbled with the hem of your dress.

you couldn’t do this. you needed a walk. “i’m gonna go… get some air,” you blurted to your friends, your voice cracking on the last syllable.

“want me to go with you?” a friend asked.

“no,” you said too fast as you got up and practically ran to the exit.

as you turned to get up, you made direct eye contact with jungkook.

he was staring. not in your direction, not at your booth. at you.

this can’t be happening.

your eyes widened. you scurried towards the door, the number of people around you getting smaller and the music getting fainter the closer you got.

you felt a big hand grab your arm. you almost gasped when you turned to him.

jungkook. 

you froze like a deer in headlights, “hello?”

he looked more handsome in person, his silver lip piercings slightly reflecting the dim light. his eyes glistened so perfectly your heart ached. he was everything you thought he’d be and more.

he broke the silence, “you were staring at me.”

“no.” you lied, turning to leave.

“you yawned right after me,” he grabbed your arm again.

“i was tired,” you muttered, “who are you?”

you didn’t know why you asked that. you definitely knew who he was.

his eyes narrowed, “you don’t know who i am?”

you forced a scoff, “should i?”

he shrugged, “you stared at me like you did.”

you tried to step to the side to pass him. he mirrored you.

“i said i was tired,” you muttered.

“and i said you were staring at me.”

you huffed, looking up at him.

big mistake. he was close. your heart pounded.

his skin looked so perfect. don’t stare don’t stare don’t stare—

“what do you want?” you tried to use a demanding tone, but your voice was too shaky.

he looked at you up and down, “still trying to figure that out.”

you bit your lip. he stepped closer. you backed into a wall. big mistake.

“you know, most people just come up and say hi.”

your heart dropped.

“i-i’m not most people,” you softly shot back.

his expression shifted to something softer, more intrigued.

“you just looked…” you started.

breathtaking. divine. amazing. 

“weird,” you finished.

“weird?” he echoed.

“yep.”

he stepped closer into your space. you could smell his cologne. 

he had a smug glint in his eyes, “you’re nervous.”

your eyebrows furrowed, “i’m not.”

he chuckled, “you are such a bad liar, you know that?”

his eyes shifted down to your lips. your breath hitched. he brushed his thumb against the corner of your mouth, “your lip gloss smudged.”

you didn’t speak. you couldn’t.

“you say you’re not nervous,” his fingers slid from your lip to your wrist, “but why are you shaking?”

you hadn’t noticed until he said it.

“i…” you trailed off.

he grinned, and it was probably the most beautiful thing you’d seen in your life.

your breath stuttered. stupid, traitorous warmth spread through you.

“you’re weird.”

“you grabbed me first,” you grumbled.

“yeah,” his eyes flicked to your lips again, “i did.”

and then he kissed you. no warning, no buildup, he just kissed you.

none of this felt real. you wondered when you would wake up in your bed, realizing you had the best dream of your life.

you kissed him back harder than you thought you would, hands finding his face and pulling him closer. he obliged, deepening the kiss.

when he pulled back for air, he didn’t go far. his forehead almost touched yours.

“you always kiss strangers like that?” he asked.

your brain stalled. you almost laughed. if only he knew.

“do you always grab girls in clubs like that?” you muttered.

his grin didn’t falter. if anything, it softened, eyes flicking over your face like he was trying to memorize it.

“only the ones who stare at me like that.”

your heart fluttered stupidly at that.

his hands were still on your waist. he hadn’t moved them. you hadn’t asked him to. the music thumped faintly through the walls, but out here it felt quiet. too quiet. like the world had narrowed down to just this. his hands, his breath, the way he was looking at you like you were something worth figuring out.

you swallowed, your gaze dropping to his lips again. big mistake. his thumbs stilled against your waist.

“…you’re doing it again,” he murmured.

heat flooded your face. you looked away quickly, shaking your head.

“i’m not…”

“you are,” he said softly, like he wasn’t even teasing anymore.

your chest felt tight. this wasn’t how this was supposed to go. you weren’t supposed to be here, pressed against a wall, being looked at like this by someone you had spent years—

“what’re you thinking about?”

“you’re just—” you cut yourself off.

he tilted his head slightly. “just what?”

perfect. beautiful. everything.

“annoying,” you finished weakly.

he huffed out a quiet laugh, but his eyes didn’t leave your face.

“yeah,” he murmured, unconvinced. “that’s not it.”

you didn’t respond.

you couldn’t.

because the longer he looked at you like that, the harder it was to remember how to act normal. how to pretend you didn’t know the way his voice sounded at three in the morning, soft through a screen. how to pretend this wasn’t something you had imagined a hundred times before.

his hand shifted slightly, sliding a little higher on your waist. not enough to be inappropriate, just enough to make your breath catch.

“you don’t act like you know me,” he said quietly.

your stomach dropped.

“because i don’t,” you whispered.

another lie.

he studied you for a long moment, eyes searching your face like he was trying to catch you in it.

“…right,” he said finally, but he didn’t sound convinced.

your heart pounded. say something. anything.

“why did you follow me?” you asked instead.

his lips curved, just a little.

“you ran away.”

you blinked. “i didn’t run.”

“you did,” he said easily. “and you looked like you were about to pass out.”

you felt your face heat up again. “i was fine.”

“mhm.”

he didn’t believe you. of course he didn’t. you let out a small breath, your shoulders relaxed just a little despite yourself.

“i just needed air.”

“so did i,” he said.

you frowned slightly. “you seemed fine.”

“yeah,” he said, eyes flicking down to your lips again, “but then i saw you leave.”

your heart skipped.

oh.

oh.

you didn’t know what to do with that. the silence stretched again, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. it was… heavy. warm. like something was building between you and neither of you wanted to be the one to break it.

his fingers flexed slightly against your waist.

“what’s your name?” he asked.

your breath caught. this was it. this was where it became real. this was where you ruined everything. you hesitated.

his brows pulled together just a little, like that wasn’t the reaction he expected “what?” he said softly.

“i just…” you trailed off, your voice small. “i don’t think i should.”

he blinked, surprised.

“why not?”

because if you told him, this would end.

because if you told him, he might realize.

because this—whatever this was—felt too good to be real, and you didn’t want it to stop.

you shook your head, looking down.

“i just don’t want this to be weird.”

he watched you carefully, something shifting in his expression again. softer. more serious.

“it’s already weird,” he said quietly.

you let out a small, breathy laugh.

“yeah,” you admitted.

his thumb brushed lightly against your side, absentminded.

“then don’t tell me,” he said after a moment. “my name is jungkook.”

you looked up at him, surprised.

he held your gaze for a moment before one of his hands left your waist, reaching into his pocket.

your heart stuttered at the loss of contact.

he pulled out his phone, unlocking it quickly before taking your hand—gentler this time—and placing it in yours.

your fingers trembled slightly.

“put your number in,” he said.

you stared at the screen like it might disappear.

this wasn’t real. this couldn’t be real.

“…why?” you asked softly.

his lips twitched, like he found the question funny.

“because i want to see you again.”

your chest tightened.

you glanced up at him, searching his face for any hint that he didn’t mean it.

there wasn’t one. he looked… sure. like this was the easiest decision he’d made all night.

“unless,” he added, quieter now, “you’re gonna pretend you don’t want that either.”

your heart melted completely. you looked back down at his phone, your vision blurring slightly as you typed your number in with shaky fingers.

you handed his phone back to him. your fingers brushed. you almost forgot how to breathe. he glanced at the screen, saving it, then looked back at you.

“mystery girl,” he read under your contact, a small smile tugging at his lips.

you huffed out a soft laugh. “you’re annoying.”

“yeah,” he said, stepping just a little closer again, like he couldn’t help himself, “you said that.”

your heart was beating so fast it hurt.

“i meant it.”

“sure you did.”

his gaze dropped to your lips again. slower this time. more deliberate. your breath hitched.

“i’ll text you,” he murmured.

you nodded, barely. “okay.”

neither of you moved. not really. just stood there, too close, like neither of you wanted to be the first to step away.

his hand lingered at your waist for a second longer before he finally let it fall. the absence felt immediate. cold.

he took a small step back, but his eyes stayed on you.

“don’t run off again,” he said.

you swallowed.

“…i won’t.”

his smile came back, softer this time.

“good.”

and then he turned, walking back toward the door—

before glancing over his shoulder one last time like he wanted to make sure you were still there. exactly where he left you.

・・・・・

jungkook had never dated anyone like you before.

you were strange, a little evasive, but when he finally got you to open up, you were nothing like he expected.

he didn’t think about you in a normal way anymore. that was the problem. it had started as curiosity. this girl in a club who looked at him like she recognized him but refused to admit it. now it had turned into something quieter, more constant. like a habit he couldn’t drop.

you.

you, who still wouldn’t call him first sometimes but always answered immediately when he texted.

you, who pretended not to know things about him and then accidentally hummed songs from his older albums when you thought he wasn’t listening.

you, who acted shy with him like you weren’t always the one trying to get closer to him.

jungkook laid on his hotel bed, phone in hand, staring at your name.

you: are you awake?

it was almost 2 am in your time zone. why were you up? he smiled before he even realized it.

jungkook: what’s up?

there was a pause.

you: i can’t sleep

he exhaled through his nose, turning onto his side.

jungkook: come here then

another pause. longer this time. he could practically feel you thinking through the screen.

you: i’m literally across the country

jungkook: i know

jungkook: still want you here. haven’t seen you face to face in weeks

the typing bubble appeared immediately.

disappeared. appeared again.

he pictured your face exactly in that moment. how your lips would press together when you were trying not to overthink something.

you: that’s not fair

he laughed softly to himself.

jungkook: it’s very fair

jungkook: you started this. want a red eye or do you want your beauty sleep?

another pause.

you: i hate you

he smiled wider.

jungkook: no you don’t

he was right, and you both knew it.

when he flew you out for the first time, you were nervous when you saw him at the airport. you just stood there for a second too long, staring at him like you were trying to confirm he was real. 

then you walked straight into him. no hesitation, arms around his neck, face buried against his shoulder like you belonged there.

“hi,” you mumbled.

jungkook laughed into your hair, tightening his hold around your waist.

“hi,” he said back, softer.

you smelled like your perfume and airport air and something distinctly you that he couldn’t describe. you pulled back just enough to look at him.

“you look tired,” you said immediately, voice slightly raspy.

“i just flew twelve hours,” he said.

you nodded seriously. “that’ll do it.”

then you reached up and fixed his hair like it was the most natural thing in the world. jungkook froze for half a second. then he leaned into your touch without thinking.

that was the first time he realized it.

you didn’t treat him like jungkook. you treated him like him.

the days blurred after that. you stayed in the city while he was on tour, slipping into his schedule like you had always been part of it.

you didn’t ask for much. you just showed up. you sat in dressing rooms while he got ready, legs curled under you, quietly scrolling on your laptop while he talked around you. sometimes you’d look up and just… watch him.

not in that overwhelming way from the club. in a soft way. like you were learning him.

“what?” he’d ask once, catching you.

you’d blink. “nothing.”

“you’re staring again.”

you’d shrug, unbothered. “you’re interesting.”

that had made him pause.

no one had ever called him that.

not like that.

after shows, you were always waiting.

not backstage screaming. just there. hoodie oversized, hair slightly messy, holding something small for him—water, food, a dumb little snack you found nearby.

he started looking for you in crowds without meaning to. and every time he found you, your face would soften like you forgot everything else existed. that expression did something to him.

every time.

you were strange in a way he didn’t know how to categorize. you didn’t fawn over him. you didn’t ask for pictures. you didn’t even really talk about what he did unless he brought it up.

instead, you talked about random things.

the way clouds looked different in each city. how you thought certain songs felt like specific temperatures. he didn’t always understand you. but he always wanted to.

one night, after a show, you were sitting on his hotel bed while he stood by the window, half-dressed.

you were talking about something ridiculous again. he wasn’t really listening to the words. just you. your hands moved when you spoke. your voice softened when you got sleepy. your eyes kept drifting to him like it was instinct.

“you’re doing it again,” you said suddenly.

he looked over. “doing what?”

you pointed at him. “that thing where you look at me like i’m gonna disappear.”

“i don’t—”

“you do.”

you both paused.

“why?”

he walked over slowly and sat beside you.

the mattress dipped under his weight. he didn’t answer right away. instead, he looked at you properly. 

you blushed, breaking eye contact.

“you’re different,” he said finally.

you hummed. “that’s not an answer,” you mumbled.

he smiled a little, “it is for me.”

you shifted closer without thinking, like it was muscle memory now. “good different?” you asked.

his gaze dropped to your lips for a second before coming back up. “yeah,” he said softly. “good different.”

you nodded like that was enough. then you leaned your head against his shoulder. and jungkook thought, absurdly, quietly that he could get used to this.

you, like this. you, next to him. you, staying.

and for the first time in a long time, jungkook wasn’t thinking about what came next. he was just thinking about you not leaving.

he was falling, deeper and deeper as the months of the tour passed.

when the it was over, he didn’t even hesitate to fly back with you to your city.

it was bliss. going out on dates, tipsily stumbling into his airbnb, making out on the couch. he felt himself falling for you every time he looked into your pretty eyes. he didn’t want to push you, but he really wanted to come over to your place.

tonight, you two were out at a lounge together, a place you told him was your favorite. you wore the cutest pink top with a skirt that had his head spinning.

you had requested a private room, knowing he’d probably want privacy. 

the hostess closed the door behind you, the noise of the lounge softening into a distant hum.

it was quieter in here with just the two of you. you slipped your shoes off the moment you stepped inside, tucking them neatly by the couch before settling down like you’d been here a hundred times before.

“i like this one,” you murmured, running your fingers over the soft fabric of the seat.

jungkook watched you for a second before taking off his shoes and sitting across from you.

“…you come here a lot?” he asked.

you shook your head, smiling a little.

“not really,” you admitted, glancing up at him. “but i thought you’d like it.”

something in his chest shifted at that.

you didn’t say it like you were trying to impress him. you said it like it mattered to you.

you didn’t stay across from him. you never did. after a moment, you shifted, moving beside him instead, your thigh brushing his as you settled in. closer than necessary. jungkook exhaled softly through his nose.

“…couldn’t see me from over there?” he murmured.

you shook your head, blushing softly. “i just like being closer,” you said, quieter now. your shoulder leaned into his. you didn’t move.

your hand found his sleeve again, fingers tracing lightly over the fabric before slipping lower, slower this time, until your fingers brushed his.

hesitated.

then laced with his.

jungkook stilled. your thumb moved over his knuckles, slow, absentminded, but it didn’t feel absentminded to him. nothing about you did.

you leaned in slightly, your chin brushing his shoulder as you looked out at the room, but your body stayed angled toward him.

toward him.

always toward him.

“it’s nice in here,” you whispered. your breath ghosted against his neck.

jungkook swallowed. “yeah,” he said, lower now. “it is.”

that was when you planted a soft kiss onto his neck. then his jaw. then his cheek.  he turned to face you, and you captured his lips in a sweet, soft kiss. you pulled back, giggling like you were proud of yourself.

“what’d i do to deserve that?” he teased.

“nothing,” you replied, “just felt like it.”

he didn’t know if it was the drinks or the room, but something about you felt warmer. softer. his hand slid from your hand to your thigh. the skin was smooth.

slowly, as you rambled and you two drank, he drifted his fingers higher and higher up your thigh. you let him do it.

he paused when the back of his hand brushed against your panties. they were soaked through. your eyes widened.

“you’re excited.”

your eyes widened. you buried your face in your hands.

“ah-ah,” he tutted. “let me see you.”

he brought your hands down, your wide, glossy eyes staring up at him. 

“that’s my girl.”

your breath hitched. he felt you get wetter.  his pants were suddenly tight. he slightly pressed his fingers against your clit through the fabric. you let out a high pant.

“so sensitive,” he teased as he lazily pressed harder.

you squirmed under his touch, your hips shifting in a desperate attempt for more friction. a soft whimper escaped your lips as he continued to tease you through the fabric.

"look at you," jungkook murmured, his voice low and husky. "so needy already. i've barely touched you."

his fingers traced the outline of your panties, deliberately avoiding where you wanted him most. your breath hitched when he finally hooked a finger under the fabric, pulling it aside to reveal your glistening folds.

"all this for me?" he chuckled, his eyes darkening with desire. "you really are something else."

without warning, he slid a finger inside you, and you gasped at the sudden intrusion. your walls clenched around him immediately, drawing him deeper.

"so tight," he groaned, adding another finger. "and so fucking wet. you've been thinking about this, haven't you?"

you could only nod, your eyes fluttering shut as he began to move his fingers in a slow, deliberate rhythm. his thumb found your clit, circling it with just enough pressure to make you see stars.

"open your eyes," he commanded, his voice firm but not harsh. "i want to see you."

you struggled to obey, your heavy lids fighting to stay open as waves of pleasure washed over you. when you finally managed to focus on him, you were met with a smug, confident smirk that made your stomach flutter.

"that's it," he praised, curling his fingers just right. "taking my fingers so well."

your response was a broken moan as he increased his pace, his thumb working faster against your sensitive nub. the coil in your stomach tightened rapidly, threatening to snap at any moment.

"not yet," he warned, sensing how close you were. "i want to hear you beg first."

"please," you whispered, your voice barely audible. "jungkook, please..."

"please what?" he teased, slowing his movements almost to a stop. "use your words, baby."

"please let me come," you begged, tears of frustration and pleasure welling in your eyes. "i need it so badly..."

he considered you for a moment, his expression unreadable. then, without warning, he plunged his fingers back inside you, hitting that perfect spot over and over again as his thumb pressed firmly against your clit.

"come for me then," he commanded. "all over my fingers."

the permission was all you needed. your back arched off the couch as your orgasm crashed over you, intense and overwhelming. you cried out his name as waves of pleasure pulsed through your body, your walls clenching rhythmically around his fingers. you came hard, soaking them.

“aw, baby,” he teased, slipping his fingers out, “made a mess all in your panties, didn’t you?”

he kissed your forehead, “don’t worry. we’ll have you all cleaned up when we get home.”

you didn’t look disheveled, but there was a distinct haze in your eyes that wasn’t there before. you put your head on his shoulder, your hair brushing against his neck.

when the server came back, he paid the bill without even giving you a chance to suggest splitting, you murmuring a soft “thank you,” planting a kiss onto his cheek, something he was beginning to crave.

the ride to your house was short. 

you both were slightly tipsy, but jungkook was coherent enough to drive, one hand on the wheel and one on your thigh.

your apartment was humble and simply decorated. you didn’t give him much time to look at it before you kissed him.

when you walked him to your room, he wasn’t paying attention, more focused on you and deepening this kiss.

the room had posters scattered all over the walls, typical for a young person. 

until he noticed one specific one. 

it was a bts poster. not just any old picture, he knew exactly when the picture was taken. he was twenty-four, and the group was about to go on hiatus. he was mid laugh, and he remembered namjoon making some joke that cracked him up. namjoon was always funny to him.

his lips lost all rhythm.

you weren’t some girl who didn’t know who he was. you were a fan.

his mind raced. did you plan this? was he stupid? the signs were right there.

his heart dropped. 

you never wanted him, you wanted the idea of him. the idea of being with a pop star. jungkook swallowed.

how could he not see it? the way you stared at him in that club. your evasiveness. your nervousness.

he pulled back, your shirt slipping off your shoulder. you responded with a confused look. he just kept staring at the poster. 

“jungkook, what—“ you cut yourself off when you saw what he was looking at. your smile dropped.

he looked down at you, and he saw horror behind your wide eyes.

“how long?” 

“i…” you trailed off. you looked away from him in an attempt on retain composure, “i was going to tell you, b-but i got scared and…”

you kept going, but he stopped listening. he should be terrified. angry that you didn’t say what you were. storm out of your room and block you.

but your room smelled like cocoa and vanilla. 

your eyes became glossy with unshed tears.

and he knew he was in too deep to stay upset.

“…i want you to know that i never cared about the money or the fame, i just wanted—“

he interrupted your trembling words with a kiss. not a normal one—one that said i don’t care. i want you. 

your taste was addicting, like the fruity drink you ordered at the lounge. your lips were the softest he’d ever kissed.

he walked you to your fluffy pink bed as he kissed you like he was drinking you in. his tongue explored your mouth freely. you laid back on the bed. he crawled over you.

he couldn’t comprehend it. how could someone like you—someone so beautiful, funny, charismatic, shy, strange, stubborn, perfect—sit in your pretty little room and listen to his music religiously enough to have a poster up in your room?

he pulled back, a string of saliva the last thing that connected your swollen lips to his.

“jungkook…” you whispered.

“baby, you’ve really been a fan of me this whole time?”

you nodded, slightly dazed, “i’ve been a fan since 2018.”

that was when he snapped.

he slid your hands up and under his shirt to feel the hard planes of his torso. maintaining eye contact, you slid his shirt up further and further until he lifted his big arms and let you fully take it off.

you studied him for too long, eyes trailing his wide shoulders and muscular torso. your pupils dilatad. goosebumps crawled up his arms.

he hadn’t ever been more grateful than then that he stayed consistent at the gym.

when he got up to take off his pants, you got the memo and slipped off your clothing.

he turned back to you. you were bare, laying back against the bed. he froze. not because of your body. because of you.

you weren’t trying to be anything. you weren’t posing, weren’t hiding, weren’t performing. you just looked up at him, soft and a little shy, like you didn’t even realize what you were doing to him.

like you didn’t know how beautiful you were.

jungkook’s breath caught in his chest.

for a second, he didn’t move at all.

his eyes traced you slowly, almost reverently, like he was afraid if he rushed it, the moment would break. the soft curve of you against the sheets, the way your hair fanned out beneath you, the warmth in your gaze that was still fixed on him. 

“hey,” you murmured, your voice small, a little uncertain under the weight of his stare.

that snapped something in him.

he stepped closer without thinking, slower this time, like he was approaching something fragile. something sacred.

his hand reached out, hesitating just for a second before brushing lightly against your arm.

“you’re…” he started, then stopped, his throat tightening.

he let out a quiet breath, shaking his head slightly, almost in disbelief.

“…you’re so pretty,” he finished, softer than anything he’d said all night.

his strong hands flipped you onto your stomach with ease. you let out a soft gasp.

you arched your back almost instinctively. he bit his lip, lining up.

“are you sure you want this?” he whispered.

you nodded eagerly, “i need it.”

that was when he pressed inside. you were so tight, he had to fight the urge to come right then and there. 

your walls clenched around him. his vision blurred at the edges. he let out a ragged groan, the sound vibrating through his chest and into yours. he started to move, a slow, deep rhythm that stole the air from your lungs. each withdrawal was a sweet agony, each return a blissful homecoming. you could feel every thick inch of him, the vein pulsing on the underside of his shaft as he dragged against your sensitive inner walls.

he leaned over you, his hot breath fanning across the back of your neck, the silver of his lip piercing a cool contrast against your flushed skin. "fuck," he let out, his voice a low, strained rumble. "you feel... you feel like you were made for me." his hands, large and warm, slid up your back, tracing the curve of your spine before his fingers tangled in your hair at the nape. he didn't pull, just held you, a grounding, possessive touch that made you whimper.

you pushed back into him, meeting his thrusts, a silent plea for more. he understood. his pace quickened, the sound of skin meeting skin filling your room, a sound that mingled with your soft cries and his harsh breaths. the coil in your belly wound tighter, impossibly tight, a spring ready to snap. "jungkook," you gasped, his name a prayer on your lips as your fingers scrabbled for purchase on your pink sheets. "i can't... it's too much."

"no, baby," he rasped, his rhythm becoming more deliberate, more punishing. he angled his hips, and the next thrust hit that spot deep inside you that made stars explode behind your eyes. "you can take it. you will take it." his free hand snaked around your hip, his fingers finding your clit, swollen and slick from your last orgasm. he circled it once, twice, a feather-light touch that was your undoing. 

jungkook knew he was wrong. 

he had you bent over on your own bed, your cheek rubbing against your pink pillow as he thrusted into you again. 

he looked up at your walls, several bts posters scattered throughout them. your shelf had a stack of albums. he even noticed a cooky plush on your bed. 

“sweet girl,” he murmured, tattooed hand gripping your hip to get a new angle, “‘got my posters all over your room.”

a blush crawled up your neck as you arched your back further.

“i wanted this for so long,” you whined.

“i know, baby, i know,” his voice was rough with a cocky edge. he snapped his hips harder to hear the little whimper you let out. “never thought your bias would split you open like this, huh?”

you shook your head.

he picked up his pace. you let out a soft, breathy moan, fingers clutching the soft sheets, voice all sweet and trembling like melted sugar. “jungkook… right there—please…”

he tugged a your hair, “yeah? you’ve been such a good girl for me. saving this sweet pussy just for me? dripping all over my cock because your favorite finally noticed you… so fucking cute. you gonna cum for me? gonna make a mess on the dick you’ve fantasized about for years?”

his filthy words made you clench around him. your voice came out even softer, shy and adoring, almost whispering it into the pillow, “mhm… just for you.”

something in the way you said it; so gentle, so genuinely sweet and full of pure affection. hit him right in the chest. his rhythm faltered for half a second, then he pulled out with a wet sound, making you whine at the sudden emptiness.

“turn over,” he ordered, voice thick but urgent. “now. i need to see your face.”

you obeyed instantly, rolling onto your back with those big soft eyes looking up at him, cheeks flushed pink, lips swollen and parted in a little gasp. your hair was messy against the pillow, and the way you looked up at him, all shy and adoring, made his cock twitch hard.

he pushed your thighs apart and slid back inside you in one smooth thrust, groaning at how warm and wet you still were. “there she is, my girl. fuck, look at that face. so pretty for me.“

you reached up, soft hands cupping his face, voice like honey as he started moving again, deep and steady, “jungkook?”

“yeah?”

“i think i love you.”

he froze. the words hung in the air, delicate and devastating. it wasn't the breathy, sex-fueled confession he was used to, the kind whispered in the dark by girls who loved the idea of him. this was different. your eyes, wide and sincere, held no trace of fantasy. you meant it.

"don't," he warned, his voice dropping an octave, losing all its playful arrogance. he started moving again, but the rhythm was different. slower, deeper, almost punishing. "don't say that."

"but it's true," you whispered, your thumbs stroking his cheeks. "i've loved you for so long. even before this. i just... i never thought i'd get to tell you."

every word was a tiny, perfect needle, pricking at the armor he'd spent years building. he looked away from your eyes, his gaze landing on a poster of himself above your headboard—his younger, softer self staring back. the irony was suffocating. he was fucking his fan on a bed surrounded by his own face, and she was telling him she loved him like it was the most natural thing in the world.

"you don't love me," he grunted, his hips snapping a little harder, trying to force the intimacy back into the physical. "you love this. you love the idea of getting fucked by your bias."

"i love you," you repeated, stronger this time, your legs wrapping around his waist, pulling him impossibly deeper. "i love your voice. i love the way you laugh. i love how hard you work. and i love how you feel inside me right now."

he cursed, a low, guttural sound torn from his throat. he buried his face in your neck, his hot breath fanning against your skin. he was losing control. this was supposed to be a conquest, a bit of fun, a story to maybe tell the guys later if he was drunk enough. it wasn't supposed to be this. it wasn't supposed to feel like this.

"look at me," you pleaded softly, your fingers tangling in his hair. "please, jungkook."

he resisted for a moment, then slowly lifted his head. your eyes were glassy with unshed tears, but your expression was full of nothing but adoration. it was terrifying.

"say something," you whispered.

"what do you want me to say?" his voice was raw, vulnerable in a way he hadn't allowed himself to be in years. "that i love you too? i don't even know you."

"you know me," you insisted, your voice trembling slightly. "you're seeing all of me right now. this is me. this is my room. this is my heart."

he groaned and kissed you then, hard and desperate. it wasn't a kiss of passion, but of surrender. he poured all his confusion, his frustration, and the terrifying spark of something he refused to name into it. when he pulled back, his forehead was resting against yours.

“fuck,” he rasped between kisses, “i love you too.”

you pulled back. your eyes widened in disbelief, eyes wet with unshed tears, “really?”

“mhm,” he murmured, going in for another soft, wet kiss.

he pulled back, studying you for a moment. his heart ached.

"you're gonna ruin me," he admitted, the words barely audible.

"good," you breathed, a single tear finally escaping and tracing a path down your temple. "let me ruin you."

he started moving again, his pace now deliberate and intense. every thrust was a question, every drag of his cock against your walls an answer he wasn't ready to hear. he watched your face, memorizing the way your lips parted, the flush on your cheeks, the way your eyes fluttered closed when he hit just the right spot.

"jungkook," you moaned, your hands sliding down through his hair, pulling him closer. "please... come with me. look at me when you come."

he locked his gaze with yours, his hips pistoning faster, the bedframe groaning in protest. the coil in his stomach tightened to an impossible degree. "mine," he whispered breathily in your ear, the words a mix of possession and awe. "my fucking girl."

"yours," you cried out, your body arching off the bed as your orgasm crashed over you. "only yours.”

the sight of you, completely undone beneath him, calling his name with such raw devotion, was his undoing. he came with a strangled groan, his eyes never leaving yours as he emptied himself into you, marking you as his in the most primal way possible.

he collapsed on top of you, his weight grounding you both as you both struggled to catch your breath. the room was silent save for the pounding of his heart against your chest.

after a long moment, he shifted, rolling to the side but keeping you tucked against him. he looked at the cooky plushie squished between your pillows, then back at your peaceful, sated face.

he knew he was wrong. this wasn't just fan service anymore. this was something else entirely. and he was completely, utterly fucked.

“you’re not getting rid of me.”

you kissed his cheek, “good.”

author’s note: it’s finally here! this story was my unhinged baby and i’m glad it wasn’t too unhinged for you guys to like the teaser!!! i hope this lives up to your expectations and thank you for reading🤍

MASTERLIST

taglist: @rpwprpwprpwprw @kookswifesblog @kashmoneykoo @kiliskywalker666 @milanii13 @he4rtz4yoongi @michelleborgesc97 @macchuu-7 @rmdarealgoat @thesmutconnoisseur @naturistnene @philipetchebest @tae-taes-future-wifey @wastefulangel @iscapisms @skzdreamz @itssskimiiii @miwkee @bjoriis @albascardigan @aliceskzfan @joonjulyagust-d @tina-20 @wisunkusia @lovejkmilitarywife @jungkookbigauraunicorn @minxybunnykook @mllvsvb @xx-untitled @yama24 @mikrokosmosellen @corachuia @stay-army1 @namggukie @justsisse @justfaefaeee @sunixxw @mimi1097 @ahgasegotarmy116 @agirlmadeofsteel @fixonsslvt @uwusunwoo @yourtmbirgirlfriend @tejal802002 @lenora04 @jenoluuvvs @nannuusum @lesstial @btsv2110 @soso-enjw15 @mxxxnshine @Ivlyhiraii @sugadclaws @airiloveskuromi-chan @seokmyballs

[staygoldenkookie]

i need more of this!!!

[hwanghhjinie]

STAY WITH US ❤️‍🩹

STRAY KIDS x STAY!READER

.𖥔 ݁ ˖🛸── .✦ angst. comfort. tw: blood !! requested! more

After Stray Kids’ van crashes yours, you’re left injured—and alone—until the boys refuse to leave your side. When they realize you’re a fan, guilt turns into fierce protectiveness. What begins as an accident becomes days of quiet care, laughter, and healing—blurring the line between idol and family.

❛ ━━━━━━･❪skz❫ ･━━━━━━ ❜

Stray Kids’ van—usually a cocoon of tired laughter and half-asleep chatter after a long music show schedule—lurched violently to the right.

The driver had misjudged the light, running it red at the quiet intersection just outside Seoul. Your small sedan was in the wrong place at the exact wrong second.

The screech of tires and the sickening crunch of metal slamming into metal ripped through the night air like a thunderclap.

The impact threw you sideways in your seat. Your head cracked against the window with a wet thud. Glass spiderwebbed. Pain exploded on your arm. The airbag punched you in the chest, stealing your breath.

Blood—your blood—immediately trickled warm down your temple.

Outside, doors flew open. Eight pairs of frantic footsteps pounded asphalt.

You managed to shove your door open with shaking hands, stumbling out onto the shoulder.

Your legs gave way instantly.

You crumpled to your knees on the cold pavement, one hand pressed uselessly to the gash above your eyebrow. Blood poured between your fingers, slick and terrifyingly fast.

Minho was first to reach you. He dropped to his knees in front of you without hesitation, black hoodie already peeling off.

“Hey—hey, look at me. Don’t close your eyes.” His voice was steady, but his hands trembled as he pressed the bundled fabric against the wound. The pressure hurt worse than the cut itself. You cried out, a broken sob tearing from your throat.

“I’m sorry—I’m so sorry—” the driver kept repeating from the van, voice muffled by his own shock. No one had time to answer him.

Changbin knelt on your other side, his big hands hovering uselessly before he settled for holding your shoulder steady. “Ambulance is coming. They said five minutes. Just—breathe with me, yeah?” His usual loud confidence had shrunk into something small and terrified.

Hyunjin’s fingers trembled as he helped press another layer of fabric over the gash on your forehead. Blood soaked through instantly.

“God, there’s so much… Chan-hyung, it won’t stop—”

“I know,” Chan muttered, jaw tight. Sweat beaded on his temples despite the cool night air. He kept the pressure even, counting heartbeats in his head like he did during survival shows. “We’re not moving her. Don’t let her move.”

You whimpered, tears mixing with the blood on your face. “It hurts… I can’t—my arm hurts…”

Felix leaned in close, his deep voice soft and anchoring. “I know, I know it does. You’re so strong for staying with us. Just a little longer, okay? We’ve got you.”

Seungmin crouched beside Minho, long fingers hovering uselessly before he gently tilted your chin to keep your head steady. “Breathe, okay? Just breathe. We’re right here.” His usual theatrical calm was gone; his eyes were wide and glassy.

You couldn’t stop shaking. The world tilted. Sirens were already distant wails, but they felt a thousand miles away. Blood kept soaking through Minho’s hoodie, dark and sticky.

Your tote bag—your precious, stupid tote bag—was still in the passenger seat of your ruined car, phone inside it, and you had no one else to call. No parents in the city. No friends nearby. Just strangers who had just destroyed your night and possibly your face.

Jisung dropped down on your other side, his usually playful energy replaced by raw fear. His voice cut through the chaos next, soft but urgent. “What’s your name? Can you tell us your name?”

You managed a weak, wet “Y/N…” before another wave of pain made you whimper.

Jeongin was already moving toward your car. “She needs her phone—someone she can call. Y/N, is there anyone?”

“M-my… bag. In the car.”

Jeongin bolted without another word.

Chan stayed crouched in front of you, one hand on your shoulder, the other helping Minho keep pressure on the wound. The contact grounded you for half a second before another wave of panic crashed in.

His leader mask was cracking; guilt poured off him in waves. “We’re so sorry—this is our fault. Our driver… God, I’m so sorry. But we’re staying right here until the ambulance comes. You’re safe with us. Breathe, yeah? In… out… Just hold on, okay? Ambulance is coming.”

You tried to nod again, but the motion sent fresh blood cascading. A sob ripped out of you—loud, ugly, terrified. You were bleeding on the side of the road, and everything hurt, and you were alone.

Jeongin reappeared seconds later, your black canvas tote bag clutched in both hands like it was made of glass.

“Got it—” He froze mid-step.

The bag had slid open in his grip.

The bright red SKZ logo on the front caught the streetlight. A tiny Leebit skzoo plush peeked out from the inner pocket, one ear flopped from too many hugs.

He turned the bag slightly, and the back of your phone—already half out—glinted. A glossy Hyunjin photocard was taped neatly to the case, his stage smile staring back at them.

The shift in the air was immediate.

Jeongin’s eyes widened. “Hyung…” His voice cracked. He held the phone out like it might burn him.

Hyunjin looked up first. His face went pale. “That’s… that’s my card.”

They all saw it at once — Stay.

Their driver had just hit a Stay.

“Oh my God,” Chan breathed. The guilt in his voice doubled, tripled. He shifted closer, one arm sliding carefully around your shoulders like he could shield you from the world he’d just helped break.

Another sob tore free, your whole body shaking harder now.

Blood, pain, fear, and now the mortifying realization that your idols were seeing your fangirl tote bag while you bled all over the road—it was too much.

You cried harder, ugly and helpless, the kind of crying that comes from shock and terror and embarrassment all at once.

“Shhh. Hey. Breathe with me. In… out. That’s it.” Minho kept the pressure firm, but his free hand brushed damp hair from your forehead with heartbreaking gentleness. “We’ve got you. You’re not alone anymore.”

Hyunjin—whose photocard was literally in his hands—looked like he might cry himself. He reached out slowly, thumb brushing a tear from your cheek. “I’m so sorry, Y/N. You shouldn’t have to meet us like this. Not like this.”

The pain in your head throbbed in time with your pulse. Every breath hurt.

You tried to speak, but only managed a choked “It hurts—”

“I know, baby,” Jisung whispered, the endearment slipping out without thought. “I know it hurts. Squeeze my hand as hard as you want. We can take it.”

Sirens grew louder. Red and blue lights painted the blood on the pavement in shifting colors. The members didn’t move. Not one of them.

Minho’s hoodie was ruined.

Your blood was on Changbin’s jeans.

Hyunjin’s fingers were stained red from helping hold pressure.

Jisung hadn’t let go of your hand once.

Felix kept murmuring soft comforts.

Seungmin and Jeongin took turns whispering that the ambulance was almost here.

Chan stayed forehead-to-forehead with you, breathing with you, apologizing in every language he knew.

Your vision blurred, but you still saw the way they looked at you now—like you were precious.

Like the fact that you carried their merch and their photocard made their mistake a thousand times heavier.

Guilt and protectiveness warred in every expression.

The paramedics arrived in a rush of voices and bright lights. The members reluctantly shifted back, but only far enough to let the professionals work.

Chan immediately started explaining everything, voice steady even as his hands shook. Minho refused to let go of the makeshift bandage until a paramedic gently pried his fingers away.

As they loaded you onto the stretcher, you reached out blindly.

“We’re following right behind,” Chan promised, eyes locked on yours. “We’re not leaving you. You’re our Stay now. We protect our own.”

The ambulance doors closed, but through the small window you saw all eight of them running for their van—driver already being lectured by a furious Changbin.

They arrived at the hospital minutes after you did, faces drawn and streaked with dried blood that wasn’t theirs.

You woke up in recovery hours later, arm in a heavy cast and your head wrapped thick with bandages. Concussion protocol meant dim lights, no phone yet, and a dull throb behind your eyes that made every sound feel too loud.

A soft knock.

The door eased open.

Chan stepped in first, quiet, like he was afraid the sound of his sneakers would hurt you.

Behind him came the rest—seven more shadows in the hallway light, hesitant, carrying paper bags and paper cups of vending-machine coffee that had gone cold hours ago.

“You… came back?” You blinked slowly.

Lee Know was already moving, pulling a chair right up to the bedrail. “Of course we did.” His voice was softer than you’d ever heard it on any live.

“How do you feel?”

“Like I got hit by a van,” you rasped. A weak attempt at humor.

Hyunjin set a small bouquet of white daisies on the side table—nothing flashy, just simple. “We didn’t know what you liked. The gift shop was… limited.” He rubbed the back of his neck, sheepish. “Sorry.”

Changbin hovered near the foot of the bed, arms crossed like he was trying to hold himself together. “The doctors said you’re stable. Fractured arm. Mild concussion. They’re keeping you a few days for observation.”

You nodded, the movement tugging at the bandage on your forehead. “Thank you. For… staying. For everything.”

Felix pulled up another chair on your other side. His hand found yours again, careful around the IV line. “We’re the ones who should be thanking you. You stayed awake. You talked to us. You… you also kept us from falling apart out there.”

The room went quiet for a moment.

Guilt still hung between you all, thick as fog, but it was softer now—tempered by the steady beep of the monitor, by the fact that you were breathing, talking, looking at them.

Jisung broke the silence first, voice small.

“We told management we’re not leaving until you’re discharged. They tried to argue. Chan-hyung shut it down.”

Chan gave a tired half-smile. “We’re not going anywhere.”

And they didn’t.

The next few days blurred into a strange, gentle routine.

They came in shifts so the nurses wouldn’t kick them out—two or three at a time, rotating so someone was always there.

Mornings were usually Chan and Seungmin.

Afternoons belonged to Lee Know and Hyunjin.

Evenings were chaos in the best way: Changbin, Han, Felix, and Jeongin crammed into the tiny room, arguing over what movie to put on the tablet propped against your water pitcher.

The nurses started calling them “the boys.”

Security quietly increased outside your door—no one wanted fans swarming, but no one wanted to turn them away either.

Management eventually gave up trying to drag them back to schedules; a few variety show appearances got postponed with vague “health concerns” excuses.

── ⟢ ・⸝⸝

On the fourth day, they wheeled you down for a short walk in the hallway. All of them insisting you use a wheelchair “just to be sure.” Chan pushed the chair. The others trailed like ducklings.

Halfway down the corridor you started crying again, not from pain this time, but from the sheer absurdity of it: Stray Kids, in hoodies and masks, escorting you like bodyguards while an elderly patient in the next room waved excitedly.

Minho crouched in front of the chair when you stopped to catch your breath. “Hey. Talk to me.”

“I just… I can’t believe you’re all here. Every day. You have lives. Comebacks. Fans waiting.”

Chan’s hand settled on your shoulder from behind. “You’re a fan too. Our fan. And right now, you need us more than any stage does.”

Hyunjin leaned down, pressing his forehead gently to yours for a second. “We’re not leaving you to do this alone. Not after what happened.”

You sniffled. “You’re gonna get sick of hospital food and bad Wi-Fi.”

Seungmin grinned, eyes shiny. “We already are. That’s why we’re breaking you out soon.”

── ⟢ ・⸝⸝

Discharge came on day seven.

They insisted on driving you home themselves—not in the same van because they had that totaled and quietly replaced. Chan rode shotgun with the new driver. The rest piled in the back with you, pillows and blankets arranged like a nest.

When they pulled up to your building, Jeongin helped you out. They carried your bag, your flowers, the small mountain of snacks and get-well cards they’d secretly collected from staff and each other.

At your door, Chan turned to you. “We’re not disappearing. Okay? You text. Call. Whatever. Panic attack? Bad pain day? We’ll show up.”

Minho and slipped something into your hand—a new photocard. His. Signed fresh on the back:

To our Stay who’s stronger than any of us. Get better. We’re waiting. —Lee Know

You stared at it, throat tight.

Hyunjin hugged you first—careful, mindful of the cast.

Then Felix, then Han, Changbin (who nearly lifted you off the ground before remembering), Seungmin (quick but firm), Jeongin (long and clingy).

Chan last. He held your shoulders, looked you dead in the eye. “You’re not just a fan to us. You’re ours. And we take care of what’s ours.”

You managed a watery smile. “You guys are gonna make me cry again.”

They waited until you were inside, door locked, lights on. Only then did they leave—slowly, like they didn’t want to.

Later that night your phone buzzed. A group chat notification. New group: “Stay Recovery Squad.”

First message, from Chan:

Rest. We’ll check in tomorrow.

Eight little heart emojis followed—one from each of them.

You stared at the screen until your vision blurred again.

For the first time since the accident, the ache in your chest wasn’t from pain.

It was from something warmer.

Something that felt a lot like family.

[zophiezakai]

With one step, Thorin closed the distance between them and gently placed his right hand on Bilbo's cheek, letting out a soft sigh of relief as he finally felt the hobbit's soft skin under his fingers.

Bilbo looked at him with wide eyes.

"Thorin? What are you doing? Why...? I mean... I thought you couldn't feel anything for me and that's why you left?"

A tear made its way from the corner of Bilbo's eye to Thorin's fingers.

Thorin tenderly wiped it away and leant forward, whispering in Bilbo's ear in a low, slightly raspy voice, " You mean everything to me Amrâlimê. And turning my back on you was the hardest thing I have ever done in my life. And i regret every single second that i wasn't near you. Even if i don't deserve it, I hope that you will give me the chance to prove myself worthy of you and that one day you can forgive me for my unspeakable behavior." He let out a deep shuddering sigh, "I thought it would be safest for you if I disappeared from your life. But now i know it was the worst decision I've ever made in my life! Please, forgive me."

With a sob, Bilbo pressed himself violently angainst Thorin and wrapped his arms around his neck while burying his hands in Thorin's thick black hair.

"You incorrigible, terribly thickheaded, stubborn, loveable stonehead!" Bilbo sobbed into the crook of Thorin's neck, "Of course I forgive you my heart! For if I did not, I would die!"

An incredulous an infinitely relieved smile split Thorin's face and he wrapped his strong arms around his hobbit's waist as he took a few steps back until his legs hit a rock, on which he sat down and pulled Bilbo onto his lap.

He looked at him with watery eyes and a beaming smile and marvelled at this incredible creature with the infinitely wide heart that he loved more than anything else in this world.

"I love you." he breathed and Bilbo's eyes shone as he approached his face ever so slowly and whispered delicately on his lips, " And I love you for as long as I live."

And whit that, he closed the last barely noticeable distance between them and finally, after what felt like eons, their lips joined in a sparking kiss that made everything around them go blissfully unaware and they realised for the first time in both their lives that they were whole.

[papawolfchris]

BANG CHAN in SKZ Talker ep. 79

[redemptions]

just in time for christmas

pairing: poly skz x fem!reader

genre: soulmate au, Christmas train setting, fluff, mentions of anxiety

wc: 3.6k

summary: Some people got names scrawled on their bodies. Some people got timers, numbers ticking down to the enviable conclusion. Others still saw red threads, a thin line connecting you physically to your fated other, no matter the distance.

You? You got linked dreams but only for 31 days of the year.

a/n: day 29 of the A Very Merry KPOPmas! thank you to @breakmeoff and @angel-writes-skz-here for running the event! i had a lot of fun writing this one - my first SKZ fic! if you enjoyed this, please like, reblog and comment 💕

masterlist // requests: open

------------------------------------------------------------

You opened your eyes.

The shoulder you were resting on shifted and the hand around your waist tightened. You blinked up at Changbin, who had already turned to look down at you with a delighted grin.

He looked the same as the last time you saw him. The same soft eyes, the same sweet smile, the same bronzed complexion. You couldn’t help but take time to watch him, to soak in every pore, every perfectly imperfect feature of his face. It was fine because he did the same, watching you like you were a second from disappearing.

“You dyed your hair,” you finally said.

Changbin huffed a laugh, his free hand coming up to play with the copper strands that fell over his face. “Do you like it?”

You hummed approvingly. “Love it.”

And when he smiled, he bared his teeth and you fell in love all over again.

“Where are the others?” You asked.

Changbin nuzzled his face into your cheek. “Late schedules,” he murmured, “they’ll be here soon.”

You turn your head until you can brush your lips against his. His breath hitched, surprised, excited, just like it always did. 

“I missed you,” you whispered, “all of you.”

Changbin kissed back, firmer, trying to pour a year’s worth of affection into one single touch. You relaxed into him instinctively, eyes fluttering, lips parting to accept anything he wished to give you. You were flushed and trembling when you parted, not too far, not wanting to physically separate more than necessary.  It had been so long since you had been kissed properly, even if it was just a dream.

“Us too,” he replied quietly, “so much.”

-

When you were younger, you didn’t think too much on soulmates. They were something the grown-ups spoke about, not something you concerned yourself with. 

All you knew is that on the first of December, your dreams would change and you’d see your friends. Eight of them, a few older than you, a few younger. You didn’t speak the same language as most of them (only Chris and Felix spoke English and as a child, you had zero knowledge of Korean) but you didn’t need that to be able to play. 

You got very good at gesturing to get your point across.

It was always the same place - a train that seemed to chug endlessly around a snow-covered landscape. It never stopped anywhere, never slowed down, never sped up, but it was always on its way.

To where? None of you knew.

You and your friends had free run of the corridors, playing hide and seek between plush seats and drinking endless amounts of hot chocolate that always seemed to appear as you thought about it.

And when new year stuck, your dreams would return to the empty slate they were before and you’d have to wait another year to see them again.

You were eight when you mentioned it to your mother, exclaiming your determination to go to bed early, and she carefully explained what a soulmate link was. 

Some people got names scrawled on their bodies. Some people got timers, numbers ticking down to the enviable conclusion. Others still saw red threads, a thin line connecting you physically to your fated other, no matter the distance.

You? You got linked dreams but only for 31 days of the year.

As you got older, into your heartbroken and dramatic teenager years, you’d hated it. Why did everyone else get to have this consistent link to the ones that they were destined to be with? Why were you and your soulmates relegated to this short burst of joy before it gets yanked away from you for another year?

“No one gets a choice of how it presents,” your father had tried to console.

“I’m sure your soulmates feel the same way,” your mother added, as if that would somehow help.

One tearful 31st December, when you were fifteen and emotions were increasingly too much for you to handle, you’d sobbed and told them that you hated that this would it for another 11 months. 

“I’m going to miss you,” you’d cried.

Chris, already sixteen and acting like the weight of the world was on his shoulders, had gathered you close in gangly teenage arms and promised they’d miss you too. Changbin, more stotic in those times than he was now, kept a hand on the small of your back, expression set in grim sadness that matched your own.

Jisung, smaller, leaner but oh so sweet, had brushed away tears from your ruddy cheeks, even as his own eyes swelled. Minho said something, no doubt mocking, to him in Korean that you couldn’t understand yet, but never let go of Jisung’s hand.

Seungmin, quieter, shy with his affections, had looked away so you wouldn’t see the heartbreak in his eyes, but he’d held your hand until the last moment, pressing sweet kisses to the back. Jeongin, the youngest, excited but shy, offered words of comfort and demanded that Chris translate them exactly as he said them.

Felix, pretty even when flushed with tears, asked you to smile, not cry. “I want to remember your smile for the year,” he’d said earnestly. Hyunjin agreed and tried to make you laugh as best he could with a mix of broken English and Korean.

The joy you felt at the beginning of the month to the heartbreak at the end was hard, but that year, to fullfill your promise to your boys, you tried to be positive. 

You threw yourself into Korean studies so that when Minho or Changbin or Jeongin spoke to you next December, you’d be able to answer them back. You had a notebook specially for writing down things you wished you could share with your soulmates. You filed away every piece of information they gave you over the month, hoping it would lead to something. Some way of finding them, of staying connected with them over the long period of emptiness.

It never did.

They all found each other in the end. Your talented, handsome soulmates. They were idols now, these famous figures that you could search for whenever you wanted. 

And you did, frequently. It made your heartache and burst with happiness to see them together, whenever you wanted to.

“When we’re rich,” Jeongin had promised back when they’d debuted, his baby face just beginning to become more grown up, “we’ll fly you to Seoul.”

“I have university,” you’d shaken your head.

“School’s important,” Chris agreed.

Felix pouted. “But we want you with us.” 

“When I come to Seoul, I need to know it’ll be forever,” you had confessed, “let me be equal to you.”

“You’re always equal,” Hyunjin had been quick to say.

You weren’t, you knew that. At that time, you were a debt-ridden second year, and they were making money you couldn’t begin to dream of, flying to places all around the world. Walking catwalks for designer labels and having fans who screamed their names daily.

You, with your literature degree, couldn’t match up.

But you would. You worked hard to get a first class, to join a publishing company as a translator, to build a name and a career for yourself. In the end, you didn’t need to be flown out to South Korea by your famous soulmates- you did that on your own, your company accepting your transfer to the Seoul offices.

You’d be moving before the new year, areas of your apartment already filing away into boxes, some already in transit to be at your new place when you arrived. It was a whirlwind, especially with the holiday season, but it felt like your life was heading towards an enviable conclusion.

You in Seoul with your soulmates.

Now you just need to tell them.

-

When the others arrived, it was like their bodies slipped from behind chairs or down corridors. As if they had always been there, just waiting for you. Sometimes, on the gentle rocking of the train carriage, it was hard to imagine them anywhere else.

Changbin had been giving you updates on the last year, as if you hadn’t been tracking their every public appearance. Still, you hummed and replied as if it was the first time you’d learned about it. Jisung’s shout of your name, full of excitement that he had every year, without fail, and you sat up straighter to see.

You caught him over the seats. He’d gotten broader of the last year, seemed to hold himself with more confidence that made your heart swell to see. His grin was blinding when his eyes landed on you.

Changbin made a show of holding on to you for a moment longer, mock whining about not wanting to share you just yet, before letting you go with a kiss and a soft smile.

You didn’t run to Jisung, but you did slam into him, fingers gripping at the back of his sleep hoodie, face pressing against the comforting warmth of his bared neck. His hands were under your thighs, lifting you up as you squeaked your complaints and tightened your legs around his waist.

God, he was stronger than last year. He was beaming at you, face bright and eyes warm, and you bumped your nose against his.

“I missed you, love,” he breathed, and you whispered it back, heart pounding in your chest.

Behind you both, someone made a noise of objection. “Ya! Put her down, I don’t want you to drop her.” Minho scolded.

Jisung huffed in disagreement, grip tightening. “I won’t,” he argued, “we’re in a dream. I’ll carry her forever.”

The declaration made you laugh, just it made Minho sigh fondly. You turned your head to watch him approach, each movement languid and relaxed, like you had all the time in the world. He smirked when he saw you looking and pressed in close to you, brushing your lips with his.

“You look good baby,” he whispered.

You hummed. You released one hand so that you could trace along his cheekbones. “How’s your ankle?”

Minho’s eyes flickered with surprise and then melted into affection. “Doesn’t hurt,” he promised.

“Between you and Minnie, I was worried you were working yourselves too hard,” you admitted.

When the news from the latest performances had come out to fans, you had admittedly panicked. Made you wish you’d asked for their numbers in the real world so you could reach out and soothe your own concerns. Hyunjin had offered them to you before, but honestly, you’d been afraid to accept it, as if they spent more time in your company, they’d somehow come to regret having you as their soulmate. An irrational fear born from distance.

It was hard to think that now, with Jisung’s forehead resting against your temple and Minho looking at you like you were the world.

“We are,” Jeongin stretched in the aisle, rolling tightness in his hips before grinning widely at you. “I need a holiday. Preferably on a beach with Noona.” He winked, and you flushed, charmed.

“Confident now, aren’t we daddy bread?” you teased, delighting in the way he went deliciously red. 

Innie had gotten surer of himself, of his love, over the last few years but you enjoyed that he still folded under the lightest push back. You couldn’t wait to kiss the blush from his cheeks when you were alone – he wasn’t big on displays of affection in front of the others, each of his relationships with his soulmates private and personal. You appreciated that about him.

Unexpectedly, hands – slender fingers, cold metal of rings biting into the soft flesh above the band of your trousers – wrap around you securely and lift, much to Jisung’s vocal objections. You yelped when you dropped unexpectedly into a warm lap, but when your limbs were manhandled to turn, straddling someone’s lap, you knew exactly who it was.

Even messy with slumber, Hyunjin was sultry. The discovery of his sexual expression had been a delight for all who got to be on the receiving end of it as much as it was headache-inducing. Bare-faced, he looked at you with a sly uptick at the corner of his lips and intensely focused eyes. He was like that, you knew, his sole focus narrowed in on whoever he was talking to. He breathed your name and tugged you closer to put his lips on yours, a sensual slide that made your toes curl and a contented hum rise at the back of your throat.

“No fair,” Jisung pouted and then draped himself dramatically against Minho’s side.

Hyunjin pulled away, lips wet and pupils blown. “Sharing is caring,” he shot back.

“Says Mr Possessive,” Changbin teased. He had shifted so his legs were stretched out in the aisle between seats, arms crossed over his chest.

Hyunjin shot him a grin. “I don’t mind sharing you,” he said, “I’m sure baby doesn’t mind, do you?”

There was heavy implication in his words and heat curled up your neck.

A hand reached between seats and clapped Hyunjin on the back of the neck, making him yell in surprise. Chris stuck his head around the seats, an amused mix of interest and disapproval on his face. “Let’s keep it PG, Jinnie,” he ordered, “it’s only day one.” Then he looked at you, eyes softening with deep affection, “we have a lot to catch up on.”

Familiar paint chipped nails curled under your chin and urged you to look up. Felix’s smiling face was there, bare and flushed, nose wrinkled so cutely. “We missed you, darling,” he said.

“Missed you too,” you replied. Your eyes danced across your boys and frowned slightly. “Where’s Minnie?”

As if on command, the carriage door swung open and Seungmin stepped inside, hands in the pockets his sweatpants. You watched his gaze dance across them all before they landed on you and relaxed.

“Noona,” he smiled, that wide gummy smile that only seemed to wear when he was truly happy, “You look pretty.”

And it was like the world righted itself. Like the eleven months of the year without this were the real dream, the dimmed nightmare of life, while here, amongst the snow and your beloveds, you were finally alive once more.

Hyunjin must have felt you relax into him before his hands stroked a love heart into your hip. A silent mark upon you. 

It was the evening of December 1st and you were finally happy again.

-

“If you get drunk in a dream, do you have a hangover in real life?” Jisung wondered out loud, staring into the depths of his mug of spiked hot chocolate.

“Haven’t we tested that one already?” Jeongin asked.

Changbin groaned dramatically. “Don’t remind me. We had dance practice the next day. Instructor-nim was mean.”

As you got older, the dining cart had expanded, adding floor tables and blankets that you would all huddle around. You were under Seungmin’s arm, who had dragged you close and refused to let go, no matter what his hyungs' said. Felix had squashed in on the other side of you, one of your hands tugged into his lap so he could trace the smooth edge of your Christmas nails.

Jisung was resting against Hyunjin, who initially loudly complained but now sat with his free hand under Jisung’s hoodie, fingers splayed across his stomach. Minho and Chris were shoulder to shoulder, brushing each other when they moved. Jeongin was braced up against the wall but had his bare feet under Changbin’s wide thighs, who was happily keeping them warm.

It was cozy, comfortable, building a sense of peace that you had almost forgotten could exist around you. You hoped it would feel the same way when you met in person.

Your stomach clenched nervously and made you feel momentarily sick. Alone in your apartment, the excitement for the move, for finally getting the chance to stop this horrific loneliness, your future had unfolded like a fairytale in front of you. Prince Charming (or eight of them), the princess and the happily ever after.

But now, for a terrifying moment, their bodies felt too warm. Too real. And you felt like one wrong word would ruin everything. It was an anxiety that you had to push down, because you knew it was just you imagining the worst-case scenario. 

These boys, your soulmates – you’d known each other since you were all children, unaware of the way your lives were connected, unaware of what destiny dictated you to be. They’d seen you at your snotty childhood and your bratty teenage years; they’d cheered you through restless December nights of university. They’d seen your worst.

Yet they were still here. Holding on to you as tight as they held on to each other.

You grasped that precious knowledge tightly, unwilling to let it shatter.

“I,” your voice went dry. You cleared it and let your eyes dance just above their heads. If you didn’t look at them, you could be brave, you reasoned. “I have something to tell you.”

There was a weighted pause, the kind that wrapped and sunk you with anticipation. It wasn’t until Chris’ hesitant, worried voice said your name that you realised how it must have sounded to them.

You shook your head. “No, wait, it’s not bad. At least, I don’t think it’s bad. I hope you don’t think it’s bad.”

“Darling,” Felix said softly, raised your hand to press a kiss to the knuckles.

You shuddered a breath. “Okay, so I’m moving.” You licked your lips nervously, “to Seoul. I’m moving to Seoul.”

There was quiet for a moment and then –

“Wait, really?” Jisung sat up straight, eyes wide with unconcealed hope.

“How?” Minho demanded. His expression was fluxating between excitement and disbelief, like all his dreams were coming true.

Seungmin’s fingers flexed around your shoulder. “What about your job?” he sounded worried. He knew how much you loved your job at the publishing house, had spoken to him for hours about it one Christmas. He wanted you with them – god, did he want you there - but not at the expense of giving up something you adore.

You smiled up at him shyly. “They have a Seoul branch,” you explained, “They approved my transfer a few months ago.”

“When do you move?” Jeongin was practically vibrating.

“My flight is December 28th. I wanted to go earlier, but my parents demanded we spend one last Christmas together,” you said bashfully.

They had been so proud of you, always had been, but they knew, once you boarded that flight, once you were in the same space as your soulmates, it would be a while before they saw you in person. It both broke your heart and comforted you to know that.

“28th? Hyung, do we have a schedule?” Hyunjin asked.

Chris hummed thoughtfully. “One performance before our break, I think.”

“Do you have a ride from Incheon?” Felix asked eagerly. “Should we come?”

You laughed, joy and love overwhelming. “Babe, you can’t come and get me. What if people see?”

Changbin made a show of pouting. “But I want to see my baby as soon as she lands.”

Chris cooed and pinched his soulmate's puffy cheeks. “So cute,” he teased and laughed when Changbin whined in complaint. Then he looked to you with soft eyes, “We’ll ask someone from the company to come and get you, okay? And we’ll come to your new apartment, whenever you want us.”

“Immediately,” you answered honestly.

Seungmin brushed his lips against your cheek. His whispered voice was raw, honest and trembling. “Is this real?” he said, “you’re going to be with us? Really be with us?”

You turned so that you could kiss him, a firm touch of lips that still made your head spin like the first time. He let out a shaky breath against you, arm slipping to move around your waist, holding you closer. “It’s real,” you promised, “I'm so excited.”

“Us too,” Seungmin swore and kissed you again.

Later in the evening, just before the sun began peeking over the snowy mountain caps, and you knew that it would soon be time to return to the living world, Chris crowded you against a carriage door. He held you close, head dipped so you could feel his breath against your lips, the heat of his hand on your hips holding you still.

“This will be the best Christmas you know,” he confessed, “with you as our Christmas gift.”

Your fingers curled in the front of his hoodie. “I can’t wait to touch you for real,” you admitted, “to have you all on January 1st.”

Chris brushed a finger along your jaw. “You always have us,” he said, so sure, “Every morning, every evening, January to December. We’re yours. God, I can’t wait to see you outside of a train.”

You laughed. “It’ll be weird. Like you’re real people.” You joked, “I’ve seen you in pyjamas for the last twenty years. Do you even have normal clothes?”

“I bet you’ll look cute in our clothes,” Chris bumped his nose with yours.

You exhaled softly. “I can’t wait.”

“28 days,” he murmured.

“28,” you repeated. 

You could feel the lightness in your head, the sign that it was time to wake up, to return to your normal life. This time, it didn’t feel devastating, like you were losing a part of yourself.

Because there was a countdown to when it would no longer just be a dream. Come the end of December, your boys wouldn’t fade away into greyness, wouldn’t be a wish for the entire year.

Come the end of December, you’d open your eyes in the morning, and they would still be there.

Your boys. Your loves. Your soulmates.

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[jeonginsleftcheek]

The art of erotica

pairing: felix x afab!reader x hyunjin

synopsis: hyunjin asks his friends to model for his paintings and things take a turn as they indulge in their fantasies.

genre: smut, fluff

word count: 6.6k

warnings: everyone is a horny desperate switch, oral (f and m), voyeurism, threesome, mxm action, fingering, a lil spit play, cockwarming, unprotected sex (wrap it up pls), double penetration (one hole), cum eating, cum swapping, creampie

a/n: can't seem to get enough of hyunlix so enjoy🤭

~ divider by @anitalenia

~ Masterlist

"Fuck...! Lixie!" you jolt, your middle lifting towards Felix's lips as he flicks his tongue in a particular way that he knows gets your toes curling.

He groans into you, the taste of you and the sounds you make, how you sit on the couch spread out for him while he kneels with his head buried where he loves to be the most; he can't help his hand as it travels into his pants, grabbing his needy leaking cock.

You're so close, his nose pressing into your clit perfectly as you play with your nipples through your thin shirt and Felix pulls his cock out to bring himself release along with you.

"I'm gonna-" you're interrupted by your phone ringing, both of you jolt and groan as Felix moves away, licking at his lips.

"Who is it?" your best friend looks up at you, a little breathless, still stroking his length slowly, squeezing it a little.

"Hyune." you chuckle.

"Answer him." Felix smirks diving back in, pushing his tongue between your soaking folds into your warmth.

You groan and accept your other best friend's call.

"Hi, beautiful." you can just hear Hyunjin's smirk by the way he says it.

"Hey, prince- ah!" you accidentally moan as Felix pinches your clit teasingly.

"Hi, Felix!" Hyunjin yells loudly, making you laugh as you move your phone away from your ear.

Felix chuckles, detaching his lips from you as you put Hyunjin on speaker so Felix can talk to him too.

"You're between y/n's legs, I presume?" Hyunjin teases.

"My favorite place to be. Care to join?" Felix claps back as you close your legs and flick his forehead.

"That's besides the point. I'm calling cause I need a favor from my two very beautiful and very horny best friends." Hyunjin announces as Felix rubs his forehead, his brows pinched together.

"I'm not filming a porn movie and putting it on the internet!" you chime in, making Hyunjin laugh.

"I wasn't gonna ask that but now that you said it-"

"Stop stalling, Hyunjin." you interrupt him and he giggles.

"Alright, since the two of you are at it anyways, I wanted to ask if you would let me paint you in different sex poses? I wanna make it aesthetic, erotic, raw... you know? You two would be perfect for it!"

Even though you and Felix messed around sometimes, you've never actually went all the way so both of your faces become red as Hyunjin explains his vision.

You've kissed Hyunjin too, as has Felix but it never went further than that so the thought of being naked with Felix inside you, while Hyunjin paints the both of you made your gut stir, arousal gushing out of your already wet pussy.

The three of you had an interesting friendship, and you know not many people would understand it or support it but as long as you have each other, you didn't care.

"Hello? Earth to my pretty people?" Hyunjin laughs.

"I'm down." you nod and then look at Felix whose face was as red as a tomato now.

"M-me too. Yeah. Why not." he shrugs, trying to make it look like it didn't affect him at all.

"Great, that's settled! Come to my studio tomorrow at 6pm." Hyunjin sounds excited.

"Sure, see you!"

"And loves?" Hyunjin adds, his voice dropping a few octaves.

"Y-yeah?" Felix speaks up first.

"Don't worry about anything. I'll take good care of you." Hyunjin almost purrs and you feel your pussy clench at his words.

After you hang up, Felix and you look at each other and then burst into an awkward laugh.

"This'll definitely be interesting." he says, a contemplative look on his face.

"Mhm. Let's think about that tomorrow, though. We have some unfinished business here." you smirk, spreading your legs again as Felix looks at you darkly, licking his lips.

Excitement runs through your veins that night as you curl up in bed, anticipating tomorrow.

Felix drives you to the familiar building and the two of you step into the elevator, letting it take you to the top where Hyunjin's studio sits.

Hyunjin lets you in, and as always when he paints, he is messy, his hair disheveled but somehow making him even prettier, his bottom lip is red as he probably bit into it with concentration, there's a streak of yellow paint on his left cheek, and more on his shirt and pants.

"You know the rules." he wiggles his eyebrows before twirling away like some fairy, making you and Felix laugh.

The rules were simple; no shoes because they're dirty (and probably because Hyunjin likes to take peeks at your feet, sometimes even rub them when the three of you cuddle) and no phones as he felt they were an unnecessary distraction in his sacred space.

You and Felix leave your shoes and phones by the door, before following Hyunjin, walking on the plastic that's covering the floor for protection, and Hyunjin looks at you, leaving his paintbrush aside before he skips to you, his long arms enveloping both of you in a hug.

"Oof." Felix huffs out air as he accidentally knocks into Hyunjin a little too hard, making Hyunjin snicker before he leans back, his hands splayed on the backs of your heads.

"My loves. Are you excited?" he asks as you swat at him which he dodges with a laugh, finally releasing you.

"Intrigued, I would say." you smirk, both of you looking at Felix.

"I'm - a little nervous." Felix admits, a blush coloring his cheeks.

"We shared a bath multiple times." Hyunjin narrows his eyes at Felix, a playful smile gracing his features.

"This is different!" Felix swallows and you chuckle, your hand on his upper arm in an attempt to comfort him.

"It's just us, I know you'll feel better as soon as we get into it." you say, knowing that Felix isn't as spontaneous as Hyunjin or you are and it takes a little convicing when he's on the spot, but ultimately he always caves in.

"You don't have to strip right away. Here, I prepared coffee and snacks for my models." Hyunjin beckons you to the table with a smirk.

"Hardly a model." you chuckle as Felix picks up a drink.

"Y/n, you're gorgeous and you're not allowed to talk badly about yourself in my studio... or like ever." Hyunjin nods, folding his arms on his chest.

"Damn, calm down, I was joking." you giggle, your face warming up.

"Oh my god, ew! What the fuck did I just drink?" Felix makes a disgusted face and the two of you laugh.

"That would be my coffee. Your hot chocolate is on the left, sugar boy." Hyunjin smirks.

"I swear-" Felix starts, his hand curling into a fist and you laugh.

"Anyways. How will this work?" you stop whatever banter they were about to have, because you know it can drag on, sometimes they don't know how to stop when they start joking around.

"So. The bed, right?" Hyunjin says, semingly a bit bashful himself.

You look towards the bed, one where the three of you spent countless nights watching some artsy european movies on Hyunjin's projector; Felix would fall asleep with his head on your chest and Hyunjin would end up putting his head on your lap, demanding of you dramatically that you need to caress his head and play with his hair or he'll die.

The three of you would end up falling asleep together, limbs all tangled and messy, and one of you would always be close to falling off the bed (that one would mostly be Hyunjin).

"Okay." you nod.

"I will instruct what poses you'll make and then paint them. Of course we will take breaks when it becomes too much. Or stop altogether if either of you feel uncomfortable." Hyunjin waves his arms around as he talks.

"Alright. Should we just start?" you shrug and Felix sputters a little.

"I'm not hard yet." he says quietly.

"That's no problem. I'm sure y/n can help you with that." Hyunjin smirks. "Or if you want, I can help you."

"T-that... y/n and I can just make out." Felix's deep voice is so quiet in the big space.

"Okay, if you need me I'll be here. I can turn around if you want." Hyunjin chuckles.

"N-no, you can... watch." Felix says and you smirk, taking his hand and leading him to the bed.

Hyunjin sits on his stool, his eyes darkened already, his tongue pressed into his cheek as you push Felix to sit on the bed, your body following his as you grab his face in your hand and press your lips on his.

His lips are sweet and familiar, albeit trembling a little in this moment so you press harder into them, his hands coming up to caress your waist.

Hyunjin watches with dark and curious eyes, his two beautiful best friends kissing in front of him.

Felix relaxes the more you kiss, his tongue darting out to lick at your lips, asking for permission to taste you which you happily grant him.

Hyunjin's heart speeds up as he observes you, his cock twitching in his pants.

He notices the way your hands tangle in Felix's hair and how you pull at the strands, he notices Felix's hands on your ass, squeezing and massaging the flesh as you get closer to each other, the wet sounds of your tongues dancing together bounces off the walls as spit dribbles down your chin.

He notices Felix's pants growing tighter, and he doesn't feel jealous of him, he feels exhilirated.

He wants to join.

Hyunjin stands up and makes his way towards the bed, which gets your attention as you detach from each other, a string of saliva connecting your lips.

Without any words, Hyunjin cups your chin and leans down to kiss you messy and sloppy, his tongue pushed in instantly to lap at you and you whimper, jolting a little as Felix grips your thighs.

Hyunjin leans away and turns to Felix, his hand big on Felix's head as he gathers his hair in it and yanks his head a little, making Felix whimper.

Hyunjin leans down and kisses him equally as messy and sloppy as he did to you, arousal gushing on your panties as you watch them making out.

"Fuck. I'm sorry." he shakes his head.

"It's okay, Hyune. You're always welcome to join." you lick your lips, your eyes traveling between his face and the obvious bulge in his sweatpants.

"I'll hold onto that invitation. But, right now, I need you two to strip. Okay?" he asks and both of you nod.

It's easy to be naked in front of each other as you have shared baths and one too many nightly escapades which ended in skinny-dipping, Felix always being a victim of yours and Hyunjin's jokes, where you would dive in and grab his ankles or try to scare him with stories of lake monsters.

Felix would nearly cry but you didn't want to be too cruel so you would hold him, as the three of you floated around naked in the cold water.

But, something about only you and Felix being naked while Hyunjin is dressed and observing every single move you make is new and exciting.

"So, what would be the first position?" you ask curiously as Hyunjin prepares his easel.

"What do you usually do?" he asks, not looking at you.

"We never... we never did that." Felix says, making Hyunjin look up.

"Really? I thought you for sure have. Don't you like - mess around?"

"Yeah, but we never went all the way." you nod and Hyunjin gasps.

"Oh my god, why didn't you tell me! Is this uncomfortable for you?"- he panics, his arms flailing, making you laugh at him because he's seconds from slipping on that plastic cover.

"Calm down, Hyun!" you say as you sit on the bed.

"I'm totally fine with it. Lixie?" both of you look at Felix.

"Yes. I'm okay to go." he nods.

"Alright, just prep yourselves then." Hyunjin says it like it's a command to obey and you can't help the way your pussy clenches at his words and the determined look in his warm eyes.

"H-help us?" Felix gets bold suddenly, batting his pretty eyelashes at Hyunjin and he lets out a delighted chuckle, only two long strides and Hyunjin is in front of you.

"Sweetheart, spread your legs for us." Hyunjin coos at you and you immediately obey.

The smirk on his face deepens as he brings his hand to Felix's lips.

"Spit on my fingers, angel." he taps his lips and Felix whimpers a little, gathering spit before letting it drip onto Hyunjin's long fingers.

You expected him to only finger you, but what you didn't expect is for Hyunjin to drop to his knees between Felix's legs and spit on his cock as he grabs him, making Felix squeal from the sudden action.

Hyunjin wastes no time, his wet fingers press into your clit and run down your folds, as his other hand starts slowly working Felix's length.

"Ah!" Felix moans, jolting into Hyunjin, you know it must feel quite different to have another guy jerk him off like that and you whine for more attention as Hyunjin stares up at Felix with a knowing smirk.

Hyunjin turns to look at you, eyes softening before he slowly pushes his fingers inside you, your warm pussy welcoming them and sucking them in.

His tongue darts out to catch a bead of pre-cum from Felix's tip and Felix gasps, his hands clutching at the covers under him as his thighs tremble.

Hyunjin doesn't stop smirking as his tongue swipes around Felix's tip before he takes him in, hollowing his cheeks and bobbing his head up and down slowly, his fingers matching the pace of his lips as he fucks them deep into you.

"H-Hyune." you whimper, the tips of your fingers touching Felix's as he falls apart too, his head thrown back, a string of curses leaving his lips as Hyunjin sucks on him harder.

You admire how he seemingly has no gag reflex as he keeps sucking him in, his nose pressed into Felix's pubes as he swallows his whole length, while fucking your pussy skilfully, scissoring you open to take Felix's cock.

"There." he suddenly pops off of Felix, pulling his fingers out of you and immediately sticking them into his mouth to taste your sweet juices.

"Mm." Hyunjin moans around his fingers.

"T-thank you?" you bite your lip teasingly and Hyunjin giggles.

"Anytime."

"How do you want us for the first position?" you ask, your pussy throbbing and clenching, needing more attention.

"Okay, so..." Hyunjin pushes Felix to lay down and then moves him a little, making you chuckle at how Felix looks up at him cutely and almost innocently as Hyunjin adjusts his body however he wants.

"I want your arm lifted and kind of falling of the bed. And the second on will be on y/n's hip when she straddles you." Hyunjin motions at you and you nod, your legs on either sides of Felix and he squirms a little as you grab his cock and run it on your wet folds.

Felix gasps as you moan and slowly lower down on his length, Hyunjin observing his cock pushing into you with his lips parted.

You wiggle a little to adjust, feeling your best friend's cock filling you up perfectly and Felix whimpers quietly, bucking up into you.

"Where do you want my hands?" you ask, sounding almost breathless as you clench around Felix involuntarily, making his eyes flutter.

"Hm. Actually, let's change it up. I want y/n arching off you and holding your hand. So you can put this one-" Hyunjin takes the hand that was falling off the bed- "here." he lays Felix's hand on your hip.

"Your other hand here." Hyunjin takes your hand and puts it on Felix's abs but a little bit to the side so the point where you connect can still be visible to him.

"Beautiful." Hyunjin breathes deeply. "I want you looking at each other." he adds, messing with Felix's hair and then yours, making some of it cascade on one side, but not covering your breasts.

"Arch your back a little, sweetheart." you do as he says, any movement making both you and Felix moan.

"Now, stay like that as long as you can." Hyunjin smirks, almost evilly, the bastard.

He moves from the bed to blast some music on his speakers, whistling and acting nonchalant but you can see his cock struggling against the fabric of his pants.

Your eyes find Felix's and he licks his lips as he looks at you.

"You okay, Lix?" you ask, squeezing his hand a little.

"P-perfect. Feel so good. You're so warm and tight." he whimpers and you can't help your hips moving at that, your pussy clenching.

"Hey, no actual fucking." Hyunjin chimes in, knocking down a few paintbrushes accidentally. "Yet." he adds with a devilish smirk.

"Bastard." you mutter under your breath with a chuckle, making Felix smile.

"I heard that!" Hyunjin sits at his easel, and you look up at him, sticking your tongue out at him as he rolls his eyes playfully.

Hyunjin starts sketching quickly as you look back down at Felix.

The two of you lock eyes and in the sudden silence devoid of your conversation and jokes, you're aware of everything.

You're aware of Felix buried inside your warmth, throbbing and full, his fingers slotted between yours, his other hand gripping your hip, his dark eyes fixated on you.

Felix's eyes travel down to where he's filling you up and he groans deeply.

"Fuck." his hips buck just a little and you feel your arousal gushing and coating his cock.

"Lix." you warn but it comes out as a moan.

"You two have no patience." Hyunjin scolds as he continues sketching.

"You try being in my place." Felix huffs.

"Maybe later." Hyunjin winks at you as you flip him off.

"Hand back on Lix." he points with his pen and you make noises of protest but listen nevertheless.

You look into Felix's eyes again and he looks at you so softly but still full of lust and you find yourself getting lost in his gaze.

After he's done sketching, Hyunjin starts mixing his paints and you wiggle a little, making Felix moan under you, his nails digging into your hip.

"My legs hurt." you whine with a pout.

"Let's take a break." Hyunjin states, and you can see that he's adjusting himself in his pants, as his other hand holds the paintbrush.

"You have a sketch though," you start, sliding off of Felix and making him whimper. ",can't you like finish painting without us having to be in this position for so long?" you ask, your eyes falling down to Felix's cock, wet with your arousal.

Your face warms up and you tear your eyes away to look at Hyunjin expectantly, as Felix sits up, feeling a bit dizzy as he shuts his eyes and takes a deep breath in.

"I need you in the position just a bit longer. Just to get some shading done, then you can change positions." Hyunjin says, finally looking up at you.

His eyes rake all over your body and he licks his lips hungrily at the sight.

"What, you hate being on top of our Lixie that much?" he decides to tease to calm himself down.

"As much as I love cockwarming Lix, my legs are cramping." you state nonchalantly, making Felix cough behind you as he stands up.

"You okay there, angel?" Hyunjin asks.

"Perfect." Felix nods but you can see that his eyes are almost crossed from the need to be touched.

You laugh under your breath, drinking some water before sitting down and stretching your legs.

Hyunjin stands up abruptly, making his way to you as Felix sips on his chocolate.

You look up at him and before you can ask him what he's doing, Hyunjin kneels before you, his fingers wrapping around your ankle as he brings your foot on his thigh.

"W-what..." you start but he shushes you, his hands wrapping around your calf as he gently massages you, soothing out the tension in your muscles.

Your pussy keeps clenching around nothing as Hyunjin stares into your eyes darkly yet his touch is so sweet.

You smirk a little, sliding your foot on his flesh before gently resting it on the bulge in his pants.

Hyunjin sucks in a breath, closing his eyes for a moment as his hands squeeze you a little harder.

"Be careful, sweetheart." he warns you but you want to play, so you press harder into him, wiggling your toes against his tip, realizing quickly he isn't wearing any underwear.

Hyunjin looks up at you, narrowing his eyes with a smirk.

"Lix, come here for a sec." Felix makes his way to the two of you instantly.

"Entertain our sweetheart. Perhaps she needs a distraction." Hyunjin winks at Felix, and Felix returns the wink with a smirk of his own as he stands in front of you.

You look up at Felix and he puts his hand on the back of your head, gently caressing you as his other hand holds his cock, bringing it closer to your lips which fall open immediately, letting him gently push his tip inside your mouth.

It's not the first time you've done this, but you never tasted yourself on him or done this with Hyunjin in the room and it makes you moan around him, Felix's hips stuttering as he pushes in more.

Hyunjin whines quietly as he starts massaging your other leg and Felix holds your head in place, fucking into you slowly.

"See how good you can be for us, sweetheart." Hyunjin's voice is low and you struggle to look down at him as Felix slides his cock deeper inside you, your throat adjusting to take him.

Hyunjin's hands wander up towards your thigh, squeezing and massaging the flesh there, his fingertips dangerously close to your wet core.

By now you're dripping on the sheets, and Hyunjin subtly parts your legs just to take a look at your cunt and the sight of your glistening folds has him groaning.

Without a word he leans in and starts kissing up your thigh.

You jolt a little, whimpering around Felix's length as his eyes fall down to see Hyunjin kissing and nipping at your flesh.

The sight makes him twitch inside your hot mouth as Hyunjin comes closer and closer to your core.

He worships your inner thighs with his lips, tongue and teeth as Felix pushes his cock deep inside you, making you gag a little.

You know he's about to apologize so you start bobbing your head on his length just to prove to him that you don't mind, rather the opposite, you love it.

Felix's fingers grip at your hair as he lets you take control, wetting his cock with your spit as you close your eyes and get into it.

Just as you're beginning to lose yourself, Hyunjin suddenly buries his face in your cunt and inhales deeply, making you aware of him.

"You smell so sweet." Hyunjin almost growls. "Fuck the paintings." he mumbles against you and your legs tremble but be grips them, pulling them over his shoulders before his lips attach to your lower ones.

"Shit." Felix thrusts into you, the sight of Hyunjin's plump lips against your cunt as he kisses you and sucks on your clit, his tongue darting out to gather all your dripping juices drives him insane and he can feel the familiar build up inside his gut.

"I'm gonna cum." Felix whines as he continues fucking your face and you're a mess, drooling on his cock, your legs shaking from the way Hyunjin eats you out, like he's never tasted anything better in his entire life.

The slurping noises Hyunjin makes as he presses his lips and nose as hard as he can into you, his tongue fucking your clenching hole, bring Felix to the edge and he twitches inside you as you grip onto Hyunjin's hair making him groan into your pussy.

"Ah, y/n!" Felix moans loudly as he shoots his load down your throat and you swallow readily, not letting a drop go to waste as you milk him dry.

Felix pulls out of you, trying to come to his senses and catch a breath just as Hyunjin is about to lean away and throw some snarky remark but Felix is quick to grip his head and push him back into you, making him moan.

"Finish what you started, Hyunjin." Felix's voice is deep, his eyes sharp and electricity shoots through your body when he takes charge like that.

Hyunjin's eyes roll back in his head as he eats you out even more hungrily, palming his erection harshly through his pants, a wet spot appearing on them.

Felix smooths out Hyunjin's hair with a smirk.

"Good boy." Felix's deep voice rings out and Hyunjin groans deeply, bucking his hips into his hand, very obviously moaning into you and you whimper, you're so close to release.

Felix decides to help you feel even better as he sits down next to you and leans in to suck your nipple in his mouth, his fingers playing with the other one.

The combined stimulation proves to be too much and you cum hard, painting Hyunjin's face in your pleasure and he whines lapping you up and licking at his lips.

"Now I understand why you love being between y/n's legs so much." Hyunjin pants as he looks up at Felix, his hand shoved in his sweatpants.

"I'm right here, you know." you chuckle and he stands up.

"I know sweetheart. Ah, please help me." Hyunjin whines, pulling his cock out as it twitches miserably in his hand, pre-cum dribbling from the tip.

"Let me." Felix interjects, sensing that you need to come to your senses a little bit and let your throat rest.

"Be my guest." Hyunjin smirks as Felix sits right in front of Hyunjin's core.

You gasp quietly at the sight before you, Felix wrapping his lips around Hyunjin's dick and Hyunjin tangling his hand in Felix's hair making him take more as he guides him.

You get desperate all over again, your hand reaching between your legs to play with your puffy clit as you observe your best friends lost in pleasure; Hyunjin's head thrown back as he moves his hips purposefully, languidly, fucking Felix's mouth, his big hands gripping his hair and controlling him as Felix drools around him, his eyes squeezed shut, his hands digging into Hyunjin's thighs.

"Oh god." you whine as you push two fingers inside your pussy and start fucking yourself with the same speed Hyunjin is moving his hips against your friend's plump lips.

Hyunjin opens his eyes and looks at you with a smirk before he looks at Felix.

"Looks like you're the good boy now." he says lowly before snapping his hips into Felix harshly, making him gag as tears spill from his eyes and for a moment you get worried but you see that his cock is twitching against his thigh at the way Hyunjin is handling him, fucking harder into him, making the tip of his cock hit the back of Felix's throat.

You speed up with your fingers, your other hand coming up to play with your aroused nipples as Felix cries against Hyunjin, gripping his thighs and as his nails dig into his flesh and break skin, Hyunjin whines loudly and cums, painting Felix's throat with his cum.

"Don't swallow." Hyunjin warns and Felix sputters a little, some of the cum seeping out of his lips.

"Come here, beautiful." he beckons you as you stop what you were doing and come closer to Felix.

"Kiss her." Hyunjin commands and Felix grabs your face gently and you open your mouth to let Felix push Hyunjin's cum on your tongue.

The two of you make out, playing with his cum and Hyunjin joins in, grabbing the back of your heads, he leans in and kisses you first, tasting himself on your tongue then he does the same to Felix, wiping his tears as he kisses him.

"You've no idea how long I wanted you both." Hyunjin exhales, his eyes shiny.

"Kinda did. You are obvious, eye-fucking us whenever we're together." you smirk.

"You humped my ass while we were sleeping here once." Felix added with a flush on his cheeks and Hyunjin hits his arm as he got embarassed.

"Shut up, I was half asleep then." he mutters and the two of you chuckle.

You lean in and place a chaste kiss on his cheek.

"Are we gonna continue or what?" you smirk. "Or are you going back to painting? Was that just a ruse to get us naked and fuck us?"

"It wasn't! I genuinely wanted to paint you!" Hyunjin pouts.

"Okay no need to get defensive, prince." you wink.

"We can get back to painting some other time." Felix chimes in and you agree, leaning in to kiss Hyunjin to get him back in the mood.

It doesn't take long before he lays you down, with Felix on your left side and Hyunjin between your legs.

"I want to worship you, my beautiful sweetheart." Hyunjin grabs your foot and starts kissing your toes.

You whimper a little and Felix leans over you, pressing his lips into yours.

There are so many hands on you that you can't even think straight, your mind is cloudy, your pussy is soaking and you can't stop arching off the bed, your body begging for more.

Hyunjin worships your feet, kissing them and licking them, sucking on your toes, his lips pressing into your ankles gently; while Felix's face is buried in your neck, his teeth sinking into your skin and leaving purple bruises as he marks you, his hands slide all over your chest and stomach until he lets his hand settle over your pussy as he cups it.

"Ah!" you whine as Felix runs his fingers on your folds before stopping at your clit and pressing into it.

You moan quietly, your eyes closed in bliss as you play with Felix's hair, your other hand gripping the sheet.

Hyunjin kisses up your leg until his face is close to your cunt for the second time tonight.

"Need to taste you again." he mutters and you open your eyes to look at him as Felix retracts his hand and instead puts it on your breast, massaging it and playing with your sensitive nipple.

Hyunjin doesn't wait, he dives in, his tongue lapping at you again as you drip on him.

"Come, angel." he calls out to Felix, gently taking his hand in his and pulling him to kneel between your legs too.

You groan when they start making out, both of them battling for dominance but ultimately it's Hyunjin who lets Felix tilt his head with a fistful of his hair gripped.

When they part, a string of saliva connects them and they smirk at each other before leaning in closer to your core.

You almost yelp when both of their tongues start playing with your throbbing pussy, Hyunjin pushing his inside you and sliding over your folds, Felix flicking your clit with his and meeting Hyunjin in the middle where they move together against your cunt.

With your legs spread as they hold your thighs, your best friends continue to lap at you, their tongues meeting constantly as they make out, their spit and your slick making everything even more wet and naughty.

They both eat you out like you're the sweetest treat ever as Hyunjin keeps dipping his tongue into your hole, Felix concentrating on your sensitive clit, sometimes sliding down to lick at Hyunjin's tongue and your hole.

Your legs start trembling and you can't hold in anymore, you let go, gripping at the bed, your hips spasming as you squirt all over their faces.

"Fuck, she squirted for us." Hyunjin groans, lapping at you.

"What a good girl." Felix adds, looking up at you darkly as he kisses your inner thigh.

Hyunjin leans back and Felix grabs his face, kissing him hungrily and sucking on his tongue, making Hyunjin grind his cock against the mattress.

"I need you inside." you whimper when they lift up to look at you.

"Which one of us, sweetheart?" Hyunjin asks, as Felix gently caresses your thighs and waist.

"Both." you whine.

"Both?" Felix's eyes widen. "Are you sure?"

"Yeah. Please."

"Whatever our princess wants, she gets." Hyunjin smirks, fingertips teasing your clenching pussy.

"Lixie, get under me." you lift up and Felix lays down, his eyes becoming hazy instantly, his lips parting as he stares at you in awe.

You throw your leg over him as you hover, before grabbing his cock and sliding it inside you with ease.

Felix moans, arching off the bed as you adjust yourself.

You lean down, pressing your chest on his as Hyunjin shuffles behind you.

"Make some room for me." he almost whines, making Felix chuckle.

"Always." you say as Hyunjin presses himself behind you, the tip of his cock on your already stuffed pussy and you whimper.

"Are you sure you can take both of us?" Hyunjin teases, prodding at you with his tip.

"Y-yes. Don't make me wait anymore, please Jinnie." you moan as Felix caresses your head.

"As you wish, love." Hyunjin whispers, pressing a kiss to your shoulder as he pushes in.

It's tight and it stings but you love the feeling of your best friends stretching your little cunt at the same time.

"Fuck, so tight." Hyunjin groans, pushing in slowly as you whimper, tears gathering in your eyes.

"You're doing so good, darling." Felix praises you, his hands gentle on your soft skin.

"Mhm, taking us so well." Hyunjin moans, pushing in as much as he could.

"Ah!" you moan, your pussy stretched and dripping on their cocks.

"Angel." Hyunjin looks at Felix, their hands finding each other as their fingers entwine.

Hyunjin's other hand is on your hips, while Felix gently holds your head, caressing the back of your neck.

"Tell us when to move, love." Felix kisses your forehead.

"You can move." you say breathlessly, as your pussy clenches around them eagerly.

Both of them start dragging their cocks inside you, opening you up with each gentle and languid thrust, their lengths rubbing against each other in the tight, warm space.

"F-feel so good!" you exclaim, your eyes crossing from pleasure already.

"Yeah. S-so good." Felix whines, fucking up into you.

"Ah, my loves. I love you so much." Hyunjin groans, his lips dragging on your skin, face buried in your neck.

"Love you too." you whimper.

"It's just the three of us. Forever." Hyunjin grips Felix's hand and your hip harder, nails digging into your skin.

"Mm yes." Felix groans as the two of them speed up, their cocks filling you up constantly, the squelching sounds so loud in the big room.

You've never felt this full or this wet as they fuck into you desperately, pressing into your sweet spot and stretching your little pussy just for them.

"Lix." Hyunjin moans, releasing his hand and lifting up a little to angle his hips better as he holds yours.

Felix smirks faintly, wrapping his arms around you before the two of them start fucking your hard, using you like a little fuck toy as you grip at Felix and moan, becoming putty between them, letting them have complete control over you.

"Ah, ah, ah, L-Lixie! Jinnie!" you whimper and babble as your orgasm builds up.

"Squirt on our cocks, sweetheart. Please." Hyunjin ruts into you desperately, making both yours and Felix's eyes roll back as he matches his pace and fucks up into you as hard as he can.

You dig your nails into Felix's arms and let go, cumming and squirting around them as you clench making them both groan.

"I'm gonna cum, ah!" Hyunjin whines.

"Are you gonna be a good girl and take our cum?" Felix asks, his lips brushing yours.

"Y-yes, please." you moan, your vision cloudy as your body burns up.

All three of you are on fire and slippery from sweat, holding each other tight as Hyunjin and Felix reach climax, both of them cumming inside you, filling your pussy up to the brim, making you cum with them again.

"Shit." Felix whimpers as Hyunjin pulls out first.

Felix helps you as he lays you down and you whimper, your pussy throbbing from the stretch you just endured, all of your releases gushing out of you.

"Are you okay, beautiful?" Hyunjin hovers over you, his hands gentle on your face as Felix slowly stands up to retrieve a wet cloth and some water.

"Mm. Perfect." you smile blissfully and Hyunjin giggles, leaning down to kiss you gently, sucking your bottom lip between his teeth before leaving more sweet pecks against your mouth.

Felix kneels on the bed and cleans you up gently and Hyunjin sits up, quickly kissing Felix too.

"I'm gonna go run us a bath." he says.

"Are you in any pain?" Felix asks and you can't help swooning at the thought of having two sweet men who care about you.

"No, I'm okay." you say and he smiles.

"Good." he kisses you too and before long, the three of you are in the bath together.

As always, you relax at first before one of you starts getting playful which is usually Felix who splashes Hyunjin's face with water.

It's not that different this time as you sit between Felix's legs, leaning your back on his chest, your legs on Hyunjin's thigh as he caresses your feet.

It's silent and relaxing for some time as you melt into the warm water with your two lovers until Felix decides to joke around, splashing Hyunjin's face and making him whine dramatically before he returns the favor, you being the victim in between them.

The bathroom fills with sounds of laughter, stupid insults and splashes of water for some time before you finally manage to calm down.

The three of you sleep naked that night, you between your two favorite boys, feeling like you have the whole world in your hands when you have them.

In the morning, you're tangled up with Felix, his face smushed into your chest as you hear the familiar clicks of Hyunjin's camera.

Your eyes slowly flutter open to see a still very naked Hyunjin holding his camera, a cheeky grin on his pretty face.

"Hyunjin. Were you taking pics of us?" you almost growl at him, making Felix stir.

Hyunjin giggles and then bursts into full on laughter as you sit up, grabbing a pillow and throwing at him.

Felix looks at you confusedly, his hair a royal mess and eyes barely open as Hyunjin dodges your attack only to twirl away laughing.

"You were too adorable not to!" he yelps.

"I swear I'm gonna kill you!" you yell out and Felix puts his arm around your waist, pulling you back down.

"We can kill him later, I wanna sleep more." he mumbles and you chuckle, your eyes still laced with sleep too.

"Hyun! Come join us!" you beckon and Hyunjin appears from the kitchen.

"Promise not to kill me." he pouts.

"Eh, you're safe." you say and he makes his way to the bed slowly and lays down. "For now." you add and he giggles, kissing your neck as he wraps his arm around the both of you.

You don't know where the three of you start or end, all tangled up together in the warmth of the sun and the soft sheets, but you know it would always be like that with them.

Just the three of you against the world.

Endlessly.

Forever.

Taglist: @moonchild9350 @janepg @velvetmoonlght @hwanghyunjinismybae @jehhskz @porangporangmeong @laylasbunbunny @laughatdanger @jeonginslefthand @sapphirewaves @simpforleeknaur @s3ungm1nxxl0ve @painterhyunjin @starlost-mochi-x @saintcosette

[starlostjisung]

the wheel of pleasure

pairing: ot8 x 9th!member reader

genre: smut

wc: 19.1k

warnings: unprotected sex; fingering; oral sex (f!receiving); dirty talk; praising; use of toys; bondage; face sitting; ice play; dry humping; allusion to masturbation; orgasm denial; edging; squirting 

summary: after arguing about who would be the one to give the biggest orgasm, they come to the same conclusion: to really know, it would have to be with the same girl. what if that girl were you?

a/n: i read who’s who? (sex edition) by @ddyskz a long time ago and i LOVED IT. i wanted to end kinktober with a bang, so here you go, a lot of smut, porn without plot, and pure chaos

a/n2: i wrote this across different nights and i proofread it, but there might be some mistakes and notes to myself that i write while editting (like "change this part" or "add this here") that i missed, if you see them... mind your business (joking 😊)

the dorm smells like fried chicken and takeout, wrappers and containers covering almost every inch of the table. chan keeps swatting at jeongin’s hand because he’s stealing fries off everyone’s plate, while seungmin sits back with that smug little grin that says he’s got enough food piled in front of him to last three days. changbin is the one who insists someone should clean as they go, but he’s also the first to spill sauce down his shirt, which earns a round of groans and laughter that doesn’t stop for a good two minutes.

you sit next to felix, who is leaning into you in his usual lazy way, like you’re his pillow. your sides ache from laughing, and your cheeks feel hot from the drinks, nothing too heavy, just enough to loosen everyone up. the day off tomorrow feels like a gift, a chance to breathe after the nonstop rehearsals.

“i swear”, changbin says through a mouthful of chicken, “if i have to hear ‘from the top’ one more time, i’m quitting. i’m gone. i’ll disappear”

“and you will do what?”, han teases, pointing his chopsticks at him, “become a bodybuilder? a food critic? you’d last three days”

“three days longer than you, crybaby”, changbin shoots back, but there’s no heat in it, just another excuse for the group to fall into laughter again.

the night stretches on like that, the table slowly clearing, the bottles emptying, the jokes getting sillier and the edges of everyone softening. when the food is gone, chan claps his hands, and tells everyone to move to the living room.

the sofa and floor cushions turn into a pile of bodies, knees knocking, heads leaning. felix curls up in the corner, his arm brushing yours whenever he gestures too wide. jeongin ends up stretched across the rug with a throw pillow hugged to his chest, eyes half-lidded but still laughing at every dumb thing hyunjin says.

the tv is on in the background, some late-night variety show first, then a movie no one bothers to change. it plays just for noise, filling the gaps between conversations.

“i’m telling you”, seungmin says, “if the choreographer makes us run that one sequence again, i’m breaking his kneecaps”

“don’t say that while i’m drinking”, you laugh, choking a little on your sip, and han pats your back, making an exaggerated face of concern.

“wow, violent seungmin unlocked”, felix giggles, his cheek pressed into your shoulder.

you roll your eyes, but your smile won’t leave. everything feels easy, warm, safe. and then, without warning, the room shifts.

on the screen, a man groans, low and drawn out, and everyone turns their head at the same time. the volume had been creeping up without anyone noticing, and now it fills the dorm: the wet sound of a tongue, a high-pitched whine, the slick, messy soundtrack of sex. the camera shows a man between a woman’s thighs, his face buried, his hands gripping her hips like she’s the only thing anchoring him to earth.

and she’s coming apart. loud. shaking. her cries echo in the room, shameless and broken, as he makes a whole performance out of her orgasm, dragging it out until she’s arching so hard her head hits the pillows.

the dorm goes silent for a beat.

then-

“oh my god”, seungmin blurts, bursting into laughter so hard he doubles over.

“what the fuck-”, hyunjin gasps, covering his mouth, though his eyes are wide and fixed on the screen.

“he’s- look at him!”, han wheezes, pointing at the tv., “he’s acting like he’s getting graded on this!”

“10 out of 10 performance”, felix says through giggles, his face red, “give the man an oscar”

changbin leans forward, squinting at the screen, then shakes his head, “no, no, no. they’re exaggerating. nobody can make someone come that hard just from that. not like that”

“you sure about that?”, chan teases, raising a brow, and the group dissolves again, everyone talking over each other - half disbelief, half jokes, all of it loud.

you sit back, laughing with them, but your stomach twists at the scene still playing, your mind running just a little faster than your voice. the sound of the girl’s broken cries, the way she looks wrecked and gone - something about it lodges under your skin, hot and sharp, even as the boys keep throwing comments, one after the other.

han throws his head back, cackling, “come on, there’s no way that’s real. they’re putting on a show for the cameras. no one actually shakes like that”

“don’t underestimate technique”, minho says, smirking, eyes still on the screen, “some guys know exactly where to touch, where to lick, and they can drag it out for as long as they want. she looked wrecked, but not faking”

“if you’re saying that, minho, it sounds like you may have been doing it in secret”, felix teases, poking minho’s arm until he swats him away.

changbin scoffs, leaning back into the cushions with his arms crossed, “please. if we’re talking about making a girl come like that, i’d win. hands down. i’d have her screaming so loud the neighbours would complain”

the dorm erupts into groans and laughter.

“bold of you to assume anyone wants to hear you grunt through it”, seungmin deadpans, still grinning, “it’s technique, not force”

“and you think you’d be better?”, changbin shoots back.

“obviously”, seungmin says smoothly, though his ears tint pink when the others hoot at him.

“don’t start, minnie”, hyunjin chimes in, running a hand dramatically through his hair, “we all know i’d make her fall apart the fastest. look at me. i’d have her shaking just from kissing her neck”

“fastest doesn’t mean best”, chan points out, amused, “it’s not about making her come quick. it’s about making it last, a big one”

you laugh along with the others, hugging a cushion to your chest, but your pulse stutters at chan’s words. not fastest. biggest. the thought tugs at something low in your stomach, sticky and insistent.

“no, no, i’m telling you”, han interrupts, pointing at himself with both thumbs, “i’d wreck her. you’ve heard my tongue when i rap. imagine that, but down there”

the room bursts into chaos at that, everyone groaning, jeering, throwing napkins at him, but han only grins wider.

“he’s not wrong”, felix giggles, voice muffled in your shoulder, “his tongue’s insane”

“felix!”, han screams, delighted, and hyunjin claps his hands like he’s just heard the best joke of the night.

you bite your lip, hiding your face in the cushion for a moment. your thighs squeeze together, almost unconsciously.

jeongin, quiet until now, clears his throat, “isn’t it kind of pointless to argue? like, every girl’s different, right? so maybe one of you could make her come hard, but another guy could do the same thing with another girl and it would be different. you can’t compare”

“true”, chan says, thoughtful, “different people, different bodies, different reactions”

“unless”, minho says slowly, his smirk returning, “we had the same girl. then it would actually be a fair test”

the words hang in the air, heavier than they should. the boys laugh again, brushing it off, tossing jokes about contests and leaderboards and scorecards, but your chest tightens, your pulse hammering in your ears.

the same girl. one girl with all of them.

your breath catches, and you press the cushion tighter to your chest, trying not to show the way your mind latches onto the idea, hot and dizzying. you keep quiet, lips curved into a smile like you’re only laughing with the rest, but deep down, the thought is already there, pulsing, dangerous, impossible to ignore.

the banter carries on, ridiculous scenarios tossed back and forth, laughter and mock-arguments filling the room. but your pulse has started to race. the words keep circling in your head. the same girl. your thighs press together, almost unconsciously, heat curling low in your stomach.

you’ve been quiet too long. the thought is too loud now, buzzing in your chest, and before you can stop yourself, you say it.

“what if that girl was me?”

the words drop like a stone in water. the dorm falls into stunned silence. every pair of eyes turns to you.

han’s mouth opens, then shuts again, like he can’t process what he just heard. felix freezes against your side, wide-eyed. jeongin sits up too quickly, clutching his pillow like it might explain this away. changbin stares like you’ve grown another head, while hyunjin just blinks, lips parted in shock.

you swallow, your throat dry, but you force yourself to keep going. 

“i mean… you were just saying it. that to really know who can make a girl come the hardest or the best, it has to be the same one. right?”

no one answers, but no one looks disgusted, either. just… surprised.

“we all trust each other”, you say, softer now, your gaze flicking from one face to the next, “and it could be fun. we could test your theories, see who’s actually right. who can give me the biggest orgasm”

felix lets out a noise halfway between a cough and a laugh, cheeks burning. han covers his mouth like he’s trying to hold in about six different things at once. chan looks at you too long, unreadable, while seungmin’s composure finally cracks - his ears are scarlet, his mouth pressed into a thin, stunned line.

the silence stretches, heavy but not uncomfortable. your heart pounds, but you don’t take it back. you sit straighter, daring any of them to break first. and judging by the way their eyes flicker - between each other, then back to you - you can tell the thought has already lodged itself in their heads too.

the silence is sharp, buzzing, like the whole dorm is holding its breath. then minho leans back against the sofa, crossing his arms, a smirk tugging at his mouth.

“you’re talking a big game here, y/n”, he says, voice smooth, deliberately teasing, “do you really think you could handle all of us? that’s… a lot. maybe more than you realise”

a ripple of laughter passes through the boys, breaking the tension just enough. han wheezes into his sleeve, “he’s right, you know. there’s eight of us. eight. you’d be begging for mercy before we were halfway done”

the heat in your chest flickers into something sharper. you straighten, narrowing your eyes at them, your lips curving into the faintest smile.

“you think i can’t handle it?”, you challenge, tilting your head, “i know exactly what i’m saying. i can take all of you. in fact-”, you let the pause stretch, watching their eyes widen, “i think you’ll be the ones begging by the end”

a stunned beat, then felix lets out a low laugh, the tips of his ears glowing red, “oh my god”

“holy shit”, han mutters under his breath, his leg bouncing faster, “she’s serious”

“dead serious”, you say, leaning back, letting your confidence sharpen around the nerves knotting in your stomach, “i trust you. and i want this. all of you”

the room shifts again, charged now, the weight of your words sinking into their skin.

chan clears his throat, his voice steady but his eyes betraying how hard he’s thinking, “so you want us all… to try? one by one. see who can give you the biggest orgasm”

“exactly”

“like a contest”, han blurts, his tone half-incredulous, half-delighted, “we actually do it”

“not a contest”, you correct, firm but soft, “a game. just for fun. i want us all to enjoy it. no pressure, no weirdness, no lines crossed. just us… experimenting together”

“fuck”, changbin mutters, rubbing a hand over his face, “that sounds way too good to be real”

“but it is real”, you counter, locking eyes with him, “if you’re all in”

their gazes dart between each other, silent messages flying back and forth. felix bites his lip, han runs a nervous hand through his hair, hyunjin’s foot taps against the carpet. jeongin swallows hard, but he's unable to tear his eyes from you.

“you’d actually let us-”, jeongin starts, then cuts himself off, his face going crimson.

“yes”, you say simply.

that one word makes the air burn hotter.

seungmin, usually composed, shifts in his seat. his voice is lower when he speaks, careful.

“we’d… have to set rules. make sure it’s safe. make sure you’re okay every step of the way”

“we will”, you assure him, your voice softening, “we’ll talk through everything. limits, boundaries, what’s off the table. i wouldn’t be saying this if i didn’t trust you completely”

the silence that follows is different this time. less stunned, more thoughtful. the nervous laughter has faded, replaced by something heavier, thicker, but not unwelcome. you can see it in their faces - nerves, yes, but excitement too. curiosity. want.

minho exhales a laugh, shaking his head, “fuck it”, he mutters, “i’m in”

han snorts but his grin is wild, “yeah, same. i’m not missing this”

felix tucks his face into your shoulder, giggling breathlessly, but his muffled “me too” is clear enough.

“i’m in”, changbin adds with a firm nod.

“and me”, seungmin says, shifting in his seat again.

hyunjin groans into his hands, then peeks up with a dramatic roll of his eyes, “fine. twist my arm, why don’t you. of course i’m in”

jeongin looks like he’s trying to disappear into his pillow, but he doesn’t hesitate when he says, voice small but sure, “i’m in too” 

all eyes shift to chan, steady and quiet, who studies you for a long moment. then he smiles faintly, shaking his head, “you’re something else, y/n”, he murmurs, “but yeah. i’m in as well”

the tension snaps, replaced by a rush of laughter and nervous energy. they’re grinning, still blushing, but it’s real now.

you lean back into the sofa cushions, your heart pounding but your voice steady as you look at all of them, “good. then it’s settled. we are doing this”

han whistles low, “jesus christ, this is actually happening”

minho smirks at you, smug again, but his ears are red, “don’t say we didn’t warn you, y/n. you’re the one who asked for this”

“and i’ll prove to you that i can handle it”, you shoot back, smiling sharper now, letting them all see how much you mean it.

the room buzzes with nervous laughter again, but underneath it, there’s no denying it anymore. the heat is there, alive in every glance, every flushed face, every twitch of a smile. all the energy is here, caught between the nine of you, heavy and electric, like it’s only a matter of time before it ignites.

chan runs a hand through his hair, the leader in him tugging at the edges of the conversation.

“so… how are we even gonna do this?”, he asks, voice calm but coloured with nerves, “we can’t just… all pick what we’re best at. that wouldn’t be fair”

"yeah", seungmin says, leaning forward, elbows on his knees, “if we want to actually see who can give her the biggest orgasm, it has to be random. otherwise everyone’s just gonna try their favourite move”

you all sit there thinking until han perks up, grinning, “a wheel. we spin some random wheel online, and whatever it lands on, that’s how we have to make her come”

hyunjin lets out a low whistle, “holy shit. that’s… actually brilliant”

changbin chuckles, shaking his head in disbelief, “you want us to trust some stupid wheel to decide how we… fuck her senseless?”

“not fuck”, felix corrects softly, but his cheeks are bright pink, “make her come. and yeah… i kinda like it. makes it fair. no one’s cheating, no one’s playing safe”

“but that means it’s out of our hands”, jeongin mumbles, his voice small but trembling with excitement, “like… anything could come up”

the thought makes your stomach flip, heat rushing lower. the idea of them not knowing what’s coming, of you not knowing either… it sends sparks dancing through your skin.

minho tilts his head, eyes narrowing at you, “that sounds good to you, y/n? we spin the wheel, let it decide what each of us does to you? you’re the one taking it. are you comfortable with that?”

eight pairs of eyes lock onto you at once, the weight of their care as intense as the burn of their desire.

you breathe in slowly, then let it out, “yes. i want that. i want to see what each of you can do… without planning it. a surprise, something unpredictable”

the tension doubles when you add, softer but firm, “i trust you. completely”

felix bites down on a smile, gaze darting to the floor. han swears under his breath. chan’s shoulders finally relax. still, seungmin clears his throat. 

“boundaries”, he says carefully, “we need to know if there’s anything you don’t want included. anything off the table before we set the options”

you pause, mind flicking over every fantasy, every limit. the wheel spins in your imagination - hands, mouths, bodies, every version of them dragging pleasure from you - and your pulse jumps.

“i… don’t think so”, you murmur honestly, “i can’t think of anything i’d want to ban”

“nothing?”, minho presses, arching a brow.

“nothing”, you repeat, meeting his gaze with certainty, “i want to feel it all”

the silence is shattered by han’s nervous laugh, high-pitched, full of disbelief, “jesus. i'm sure you're already wetter than the ocean”

you feel the truth of it as soon as the words land - your thighs pressing tighter together, the warmth soaking through your underwear. their eyes catch it too - some flicker down, some snap away, but all of them are flushed, restless, shifting in their seats.

the excitement is no longer just yours. you see it in their faces now - nervous smiles, bitten lips, clenched fists on their knees. the idea has rooted in them, grown, stretched.

agreement settles like a current through the room, soft but unshakable. they’re all in now - no hesitation, no second-guessing, only the shared thrum of nerves and anticipation. you push yourself up from the sofa, smoothing your hands down your thighs. 

“then it’s settled”, you say, steady, “i’ll leave you boys to figure out what goes on the wheel”

their eyes snap up to you in unison, a chorus of wide-eyed stares. chan shifts forward as if to stop you, then thinks better of it, watching instead.

“where are you going?”, hyunjin blurts, his tone caught between nervous and surprise.

“to my room”, you answer simply, heading towards the hallway with measured steps, “i’ll be waiting for you”

the silence behind you is thick enough to choke on. you feel their gazes trailing after you, the tension winding tighter with every step. but just before you enter your room, you pause, glance back over your shoulder. the smirk tugging at your lips is soft, almost playful, but your voice cuts clean and sure.

“oh, and one more thing”, you add lightly, “i’ll be waiting with fewer clothes. i hope you’ll do the same”

the gasps hit instantly. han chokes on his breath and then mutters “fuck”, under it, minho swears low, changbin’s laugh bursts too loud, too shocked.

you let it hang there, the sound of their disbelief and excitement spilling into the air, and then you slip into your room, closing the door behind you with a quiet click. the last thing you hear is a chorus of groans, swears, and nervous laughter. the sound of eight boys losing their composure all at once.

they’re trying to keep it quiet - you can tell from the way words blur together, low and rushed - but every now and then a laugh slips out, or a sharp swear. you catch fragments, not enough to piece together what they’re planning, and it makes your pulse stutter harder.

you force yourself to turn away from the door, to focus on you. your nerves are loud in your body - heart racing, blood hot, skin prickling like it’s too tight to hold everything in. excitement and tension twist together until it’s hard to breathe.

your hands move before you’ve even decided to do it, peeling your clothes away piece by piece. the soft stretch of your shirt, the slide of your jeans, the warmth of your skin suddenly bare - it all feels magnified, intimate. when you stand naked in the quiet of your room, you finally look down at your underwear.

plain. too plain for tonight. the thought comes sharp, sure. you want them to see you. not just bare - want them to see you ready.

you cross to your drawer, fingers trembling as you dig until you find it: lace. not too much, not overwhelming. just enough to whisper something more dangerous, more deliberate. you strip the cotton away, shivering as the air hits you, and in that moment you realise just how soaked you already are.

the sight of it, the feel of it - it makes your thighs press together instantly, heat flaring between them. your hand almost moves without permission, a twitch towards your centre, the instinct to ease the ache, sharp and unbearable. but you stop yourself, teeth sinking into your lip. not yet. not when it’s them you want, when the whole point is what they’re about to do to you.

slipping into the lace, you feel the shift immediately. the fabric clings in a way the other underwear didn’t, framing rather than hiding, teasing even yourself with the way it barely covers. it’s enough to make you imagine their eyes when they see you, the stutter in their breath, the way their hands might shake. 

you crawl onto your bed, the sheets cool against your skin, nerves thrumming like a live wire. lying back, you stare at the ceiling, listening to the muffled shuffle and murmurs beyond the door.

you’re ready. too ready. and all that’s left is waiting for what’s gonna happen now.

the door creaks open after what feels like forever, your breath catching when hyunjin slips inside. the soft click of the door closing behind him makes the room feel smaller, hotter. he’s only wearing boxers. nothing else. his hair is loose, and your gaze drops instantly to the obvious strain in the thin fabric. the sight makes your thighs press together, heat blooming deeper.

“so…”, your voice comes out a little shaky, so you force a small smirk, trying to steady yourself, “i guess you’re the first participant”

hyunjin’s lips curve, amused, but his eyes are darker than usual, “we spun another wheel for the order, and well…”, he says, moving closer, his voice a low hum, “i guess the number one was me” 

you shift on the bed, leaning back slightly as he climbs onto it, the mattress dipping under his weight. his body radiates warmth when he lies beside you, close enough that your skin prickles, and your fingers instinctively reach for him.

your hand traces the smooth line of his chest, over the flutter of his heartbeat, following down to the ridges of his stomach. you let your nails drag lightly, teasing. 

“are you sure you know what you’re getting into?”, he says, his head tilting in a playful challenge. 

he watches you with parted lips, his breathing heavier, but he doesn’t look away. you let your touch drift lower, fingers just at the waistband of his boxers, and you tilt your head.

“yes but maybe you should give me a hint. how do you plan on making me come, hyunjin?”

for a moment, it almost seems like he might answer. then his hand shoots up, catching your wrist, and in one fluid motion he pins both of your hands above your head against the mattress. your breath hitches, your smirk falters into a gasp.

hyunjin leans over you, his eyes glinting with something sharper now, “that’s for me to know…”, his voice dips, low and rough, “…and for you to find out”

and before you can reply, his mouth crashes onto yours, hungry and claiming. his body pressing yours deeper into the bed as his tongue invades your mouth, claiming every inch. 

you meet him eagerly, your hands roaming up his back after he frees them, nails scraping his skin as you pull him closer. he growls low in his throat, the sound vibrating through you, one hand tangling in your hair to tilt your head back, deepening the kiss until you are dizzy from the lack of air.

he shifts, one knee nudging your legs apart so he can settle fully between them, his hips grinding down once, hard, letting you feel the thick bulge straining against you. you gasp into his mouth, arching up to meet the pressure, your body igniting under his weight. the kiss breaks only for him to trail his lips along your jaw, nipping at the skin before sucking on your earlobe, his breath hot against your ear. 

“you have no idea how many times i’ve thought about you like this”, he whispers, his voice rough and commanding, sending a thrill straight to your core.

he captures your mouth again, fiercer this time, teeth clashing as tongues battle for dominance. his hands slide down your sides, gripping your hips firmly, thumbs digging into the soft flesh as he rocks against you, building friction that makes you whimper.

he moves lower, lips leaving your mouth to attack your neck, sucking hard enough to mark you, tongue soothing the sting before biting down again. you tilt your head, exposing more skin, your fingers threading through his hair, tugging to urge him on. hyunjin chuckles against your throat, the vibration making you shiver, then his mouth descends to your collarbone, kissing and licking a path to your breasts until they find the exposed skin above the lace.

he unhooks your bra, freeing your breasts to the cool air. his eyes darken as he takes you in, then his mouth latches onto one nipple, sucking hard while his hand cups the other, pinching and rolling your nipple until it's aching and sensitive. you moan, your back bowing off the bed, your legs wrapping around his waist to pull him tighter against you. 

he switches sides, giving the other nipple the same attention, teeth grazing just enough to border on pain, making you moan loudly.

“that's it, let me hear you”, he murmurs as he kisses back up to your mouth, swallowing your next moan in a kiss. 

his hand drifts lower now, over your stomach, fingers splaying wide to feel your skin. you try to touch him, but he catches your wrist, pinning it above your head with one hand while the other hooks into your underwear, tugging them down your thighs in a slow, deliberate drag.

you kick them off the rest of the way, fully exposed now, your cunt already slick with arousal. hyunjin settles back between your legs, his clothed erection pressing directly against your bare folds, teasing your clit with each subtle shift. you buck up instinctively, seeking more, but he holds your hips down with a firm grip, his eyes locking onto yours. 

“patience”, he says, smirking, before his free hand begins its exploration, “i can only use my fingers on you, that’s what the wheel said”

his fingers trace lazy patterns over your skin, starting at your shoulders before sliding to your sides, ghosting over your ribs. you writhe, the light touches igniting sparks everywhere but where the heat pools between your thighs. he avoids it completely, instead circling your navel, dipping in lightly to make you gasp, then trailing up to your breasts again, thumbs brushing the undersides before pinching your nipples once more.

his mouth follows a similar path - kissing your neck, sucking until your heart races, then down to your breasts, tongue flicking over each nipple in turn, making them throb. you squirm harder, hips lifting searching for friction, your breath coming in short pants. 

“h-hyunjin”, you say, voice needy but not broken yet, “i-i need you” 

he ignores it, his lips claiming your mouth in a searing kiss, tongue thrusting deep as his fingers continue moving, skimming your inner thighs, so close to your cunt that you can feel the warmth of his hand, but always pulling away to trace your hip bones or the curve of your ass.

you twist under him, legs spreading wider, inviting, but he keeps the pressure light, exploring every inch - down to your knees, up the backs of your thighs, avoiding the slick heat at your centre. the ache builds unbearably, your clit pulsing with need, wetness coating your thighs. 

“hyunjin, please i-i can't take it anymore. do something. whatever you want. i need it so bad”, your body shakes, hips bucking wildly against his hold while you beg for him.

finally, his hand slides between your legs, his fingers parting your folds to find your clit, swollen and throbbing. he circles it with deliberate pressure, slow at first, watching your face as you cry out, back arching sharply off the bed.

he slides one finger down through your drenched folds, coating it in your arousal before pressing the tip against your entrance. you feel the stretch as he pushes inside, slow and deliberate, your walls clenching around it like they've been starving for it.

“fuck, you're so wet for me”, he murmurs, his voice rough with desire, lips brushing your ear as he sinks deeper, filling you inch by inch until his finger is buried to the knuckle.

the sensation is overwhelming. he curls his finger hooking against that sensitive spot and you gasp, your hips jerking up to meet him. he adds a second finger without warning, stretching you further while you moan his name and his thumb returns to your clit to rub circles in time with his movements. 

the room echoes with wet and loud sounds as he fucks you with his fingers, building the rhythm until it's relentless, hitting that spot over and over while his other hand pins you down, controlling every buck and twist of your body. he leans in, capturing your mouth in a messy kiss. 

“come for me”, he says against your lips. 

he speeds up and it shatters you - your orgasm crashes over you like a wave, mind-blowing and all-consuming. your walls spasm wildly around his fingers, your back bowing off the bed, screams tearing from your throat.

you come undone completely, soaking his hand with your cum. hyunjin doesn't let up right away, drawing out the pulses with gentler strokes until you're a quivering mess, limp and panting beneath him.

when your orgasm ends, hyunjin eases his fingers from your pulsing core, the wet slide of them leaving you feeling empty and aching. he brings them to his lips, eyes locked on yours, and licks them clean sucking them into his mouth with a low hum that sends shivers down your spine.

“god, you taste even better than i imagined”, he drawls, his voice teasing as you watch, chest heaving, body still buzzing from the high he's just dragged you through.

he chuckles at your dazed expression, leaning down to press a quick, filthy kiss to your forehead before shifting off the bed. he grabs the sheets from the edge and drapes them over your body, like he's reluctant to leave you exposed even if he just wrecked you completely.

“rest a bit, yeah? but don't get too comfortable. i just set the bar sky fucking high for the others”, his grin turns wicked, “good luck to them topping that. they're gonna need it”

you manage a weak laugh, propping yourself up on your elbows despite the way your limbs feel like jelly, “cocky much, hyunjin? you think you're that unforgettable?”

“oh, i know i am”, he shoots back, winking as he heads for the door, “but hey, if they make you scream louder, i'll just have to go again” 

the door clicks shut behind him and you sink back into the pillows, pulling the sheets tighter around you, but the warmth pooling low in your stomach doesn't fade. if anything, it intensifies, a restless heat that makes your thighs clench involuntarily. hyunjin's touch lingers like a ghost - his fingers, his voice, the way he commanded your body without mercy. 

one of them, and you're already shattered, craving more even as your muscles ache from the release. how the hell are you supposed to survive the rest? seven more, each with their own twist from that damn wheel. your mind races, imagining the different possibilities and god, the thought alone has your core twitching, slickness gathering again between your legs. 

you're not sure if you want to laugh or cry at the thought, but the anticipation coils tighter, leaving you squirming under the covers, your nipples hardening against the fabric as you bite your lip.

the door creaks open again before you can spiral too deep, and it’s jeongin who comes inside now, his cheeks already tinged pink as he closes the door behind him. he's dressed in only his boxers too, hair tousled like he paced outside for a minute to work up the nerve. his eyes widen a fraction when he sees you but he recovers quickly, padding over to the bed.

“hi”, he says, voice barely above a whisper as he perches on the edge of the mattress, hands fidgeting in his lap, “i'm... next. the wheel landed on… well something, but, uh, we can take it slow if you want” 

there's a shy hesitation in his tone, his gaze darting to your face then away, like he's trying not to stare at the way the sheet clings to your body. you smile, warmth blooming in your chest at his nervousness. it's endearing, a stark contrast to hyunjin's bold confidence. you reach out to brush your fingers along his arm, feeling the subtle tension in his muscles. 

“jeongin, relax. it's just us here. come closer”, your voice is soft, inviting, and you lean in, closing the distance to press your lips to his in a gentle kiss meant to ease him.

he freezes for a split second, his breath catching, but then he melts into it, his mouth tentative at first, lips soft and unsure as they move against yours. you deepen the kiss slowly, tongue flicking out to trace his lower lip, coaxing him open. a quiet groan rumbles from his throat, and his hand comes up to cup your cheek, thumb stroking your skin with growing confidence.

the shyness starts to crack as the kiss heats up. his tongue meets yours now, bolder, exploring with hunger. you feel the shift in him, the way his body angles towards yours, pressing closer until he's half on the bed, one knee dipping the mattress. your hands wander, sliding up his chest feeling the rapid beat of his heart, and he responds by nipping at your lip, a spark of dominance flickering to life.

but just as you try to pull him fully over you, urging him with a soft moan into his mouth, he breaks the kiss with a sharp inhale. his eyes darken, that boyish hesitation giving way to something fiercer, more commanding. in a swift move, he grabs your wrists, pinning them above your head against the headboard with one firm hand, his grip strong but not painful.

“wait”, he breathes, voice low and edged with authority that surprises you both. his free hand trails down your side, bunching the sheet higher to expose your thigh, “it's my turn now. you don't get to lead”

your pulse races at the change, heat flooding your veins as you test his hold - it's solid, his fingers like iron around your wrists, keeping you stretched out and vulnerable beneath him. the sheet slips further, baring your breasts to the cool air, your nipples hardening instantly under his gaze. he moves to hover over you, breath mingling with yours, that shy boy from seconds ago replaced by this intense version, his eyes burning with desire.

“jeongin...”, you whisper, half-protest, half-plea, but it only makes his smirk deepen as he leans down to ghost his lips over your collarbone, not quite touching.

“shh, let me take care of you, it’s my turn”, his words are laced with a newfound dominance, and you can already feel the anticipation building again, your body arching towards him despite the restraint. or maybe it’s because of it.

his eyes flick around the room, scanning the dim corners and scattered items on your dresser with a focused intensity that makes your breath hitch. his grip on your wrists loosens a bit but before you can twist away, he spots it - a long, discarded silk scarf draped over the back of a chair. 

he releases you fully then, sliding off the bed in one fluid motion, his movements purposeful as he snatches it up and returns, the fabric trailing like a whisper in his hand.

“perfect”, he mutters to himself, voice low and edged with excitement, before climbing back onto the mattress, his knees bracketing your hips. 

you watch, heart pounding, as he loops the silk around your wrists with careful precision, binding them together and then securing the ends to the headboard. the material is smooth against your skin, pulling your arms taut above your head until your body stretches out vulnerably beneath him. with a final tug, he tests the knot, satisfied when it holds firm, and then his hands move to the sheet still clinging to your waist.

“now, this needs to go away”

he peels the sheet away slowly, deliberately, exposing every inch of your naked body to his gaze. the flush of your skin, the rise and fall of your breasts, the slick evidence of your earlier release glistening between your thighs. cool air kisses your heated flesh, making your nipples tighten even more into hard peaks, and you squirm under him, a fresh wave of arousal pooling in your core at the way he drinks you in, like you're his to devour.

“jeongin, what-”, your words cut off into a gasp as he surges forward, capturing your mouth in a searing kiss that silences any protest. 

his lips crash against yours, tongue delving deep to claim every corner, tasting and teasing until your head spins. you arch into him instinctively, trying to wrap your arms around his neck, but the silk bites into your wrists, holding you fast. 

the restraint sends a thrill straight to your core, a delicious frustration that only heightens the ache building inside you. you tug harder, testing the bonds, the headboard creaking faintly under the strain, but it doesn’t work, and it only leaves you helpless and exposed, your body writhing for friction you can't quite reach.

he breaks the kiss just enough to trail his mouth along your jaw, nipping at the sensitive skin before his lips brush the shell of your ear, hot breath fanning over you. 

“stop resisting”, he whispers, the words vibrating against your skin, sending shivers down your spine, “the wheel only said i had to tie you up, it didn't say how i should make you come. that means i get to do whatever i want with you” 

his tone dips lower, laced with something dark that makes your thighs clench, arousal dripping from your folds as the reality sinks in - he's in complete control now, and the thought alone has you moaning softly, the sound muffled against his shoulder.

“fuck, jeongin”, you breathe, pulling at the silk again. 

it turns you on more than you expected, this loss of power, the way it forces you to surrender to every sensation he chooses to give you. he smirks against your ear, clearly pleased by your reaction, before sealing his mouth over yours once more, devouring you with a ferocity that steals your breath. 

as he deepens the kiss, one hand slides down your body, tracing the curve of your breast, thumb flicking over your nipple until you whimper into his mouth. he pinches it lightly, rolling it between his fingers, drawing out sparks of pleasure and pain that make your hips buck upward, seeking contact.

his palm continues its descent, dipping into the hollow of your hip before finally reaching your thighs. you feel his fingers brush your clit first, swollen and sensitive from hyunjin's earlier attention, and the light touch has you jolting, a muffled cry escaping as he begins to circle it with slow, deliberate strokes. 

the pressure is perfect, firm enough to build the heat but teasing enough to keep you on the edge, your clit pulsing under his touch as slickness coats his fingertips.

“you’re so responsive”, he murmurs against your lips, swallowing your gasps as he presses harder, rubbing circles that have you restless. 

you kiss him back desperately, your tongue tangling with his, but your mind breaks when he slides two fingers lower, parting your drenched folds and pushing inside your entrance without warning. the stretch is immediate, your walls clenching greedily as he sinks deep, curling them to stroke that spot that has your toes curling.

“jeongin, please... let me touch you”, you plead between kisses, yanking at the restraints harder, but he only thrusts his fingers deeper, pumping them in a steady rhythm, your arousal easing the way as he fucks you with his hand.

his other hand braces beside your head, and you feel his body pressing down, his thigh slotting between yours. you sense the hard ridge of his bulge grinding against your leg, rocking in time with his fingers' thrusts. 

the friction must be maddening for him too - his hips roll forward, dragging his clothed cock along your skin, the heat of him seeping through, making you clench tighter around his fingers. a low groan rumbles from his throat into your mouth, his kisses turning sloppy, breaths coming in sharp pants as he keeps moving while driving you higher.

“you feel that?”, he groans, nipping at your lower lip as his fingers crook inside you, hitting that spot relentlessly, “that's what you’re doing to me. i’m so fucking hard for you, y/n” 

his rocking intensifies, the bulge twitching against your thigh, pre-cum likely soaking through his boxers, but he doesn't stop, doesn't seek his own release. his focus stays on you, fingers moving deeper, thumb returning to your clit.

his fingers have you spiraling, every pull at the silk amplifying the sensations until you're a mess of moans and pleas. but just as the coil in your stomach winds unbearably tight, he pulls his fingers free with a slick pop, leaving you whining at the emptiness. 

“not yet”, he says, voice rough with restraint, eyes dark as he shifts down your body, kissing a path along your sternum, over each breast - sucking a nipple into his mouth briefly, teeth grazing just enough to make you arch - before continuing lower, tongue dipping into your navel, then tracing the line of your hipbone.

your hands strain against the restraint, wrists chafing slightly from the silk, but the burn only fuels the fire, making you drip onto the sheets as he settles between your spread thighs. he hooks your legs over his shoulders, his hands gripping your hips to hold you open, and then his mouth is on you - hot, wet, and unrelenting. 

his tongue flattens against your clit first, lapping in broad strokes that collect your arousal, the flavor drawing a hungry hum from him that vibrates through your core.

“oh god”, you cry out, your head falling back as he sucks your clit between his lips, flicking the tip with precise, rapid strokes that have your thighs trembling around his head. 

you pull at the restraints desperately now, the need to grab his hair, to guide him, overwhelming, but the silk holds you captive, forcing you to take every lick, every suck, without mercy. his tongue moves lower, spearing into your entrance, thrusting like his fingers earlier, tasting you deep while his nose bumps your clit, the pressure building in waves that crash over you.

he eats you out like it’s the only thing he can do, alternating between swirling around your clit and plunging inside, one hand sliding up to pinch and twist your nipple while the other digs into your thigh, bruising in the best way. your body writhes, hips grinding up into his face, chasing the release that's so close, so intense with the added layer of helplessness.

“jeongin... fuck, i'm- don't stop”, you gasp, the words tumbling out in a rush as the tension snaps.

your orgasm hits like a freight train, ripping through you with white-hot force as pleasure pulses from your core outward. you scream his name, your back bowing off the bed, every muscle seizing in ecstasy while he doesn't let up. it's mind-shattering, leaving you boneless and shaking, your breaths coming in ragged sobs as the high snaps and begins to lessen.

“breathe”, he murmurs, his voice tender now as he works his way back up, hovering over you to pepper your face with light kisses. 

his hand reaches up, fingers untying the silk from the headboard, then unwinding it from your wrists, rubbing the faint red marks with his thumbs in soothing circles. you collapse fully once you’re freed, arms flopping to the mattress, body humming with aftershocks as you blink up at him, dazed and sated. he rolls to the side, a soft smile curving his lips as he brushes sweat-damp hair from your forehead.

“you okay? that was... intense”

“yeah”, you manage, your voice hoarse, and a lazy grin spreading across your face despite the exhaustion, “way more than i expected from you, mr. shy”

he laughs, low and genuine, tracing idle patterns on your arm, “hey, someone's gotta keep this game interesting” 

there's a playful glint in his eye, the dominance fading back into his usual warmth, though the memory of it lingers, making your skin tingle.

you chuckle weakly, nudging his shoulder, “damn, jeongin... you really wrecked me”

“good”, he says simply, leaning in for one last, soft kiss that tastes of you. he sits up, grabbing the discarded sheet and draping it over you, “whoever's next is gonna have a tough act to follow”

with that, he slips off the bed, adjusting his boxers before heading to the door. he pauses there, glancing back with a wink, “see you soon”

the door clicks shut, leaving you alone again. your chest heaves as you lie there, the sheet pulled up to your chin, body still tingling from jeongin's turn. the room feels warmer now, heavy with the scent of sex and sweat, and your mind races - replaying the silk binding your wrists, the way his tongue had unraveled you completely.

the door creaks open softly, pulling you from your haze, and felix steps in, your eyes going straight to the fabric of his boxers tenting slightly already. his presence lights up the dim space like a burst of sunlight - freckles dusting his cheeks, that signature grin splitting his face wide, eyes crinkling with genuine warmth. 

he closes the door behind him with a quiet click, going over to the bed on bare feet, his steps light and unhurried, radiating that effortless sunshine energy that always makes everything feel a little less intense.

“hey”, he says softly, voice like honey as he sits down on the edge of the mattress, one hand resting casually on your covered knee, “you look... wow. everything okay in here?” 

his gaze sweeps over you, concern mingling with curiosity, but there's no judgment, just that sweet attentiveness that draws you in. you nod, managing a small smile despite the flush creeping back up your neck. 

“yeah, just... catching my breath. it's been a lot already”

he chuckles lightly, shifting to lie down beside you, propping his head on one hand while the other traces idle circles on the sheet over your thigh. his body heat seeps through the fabric, comforting and close, a stark contrast to the raw dominance of the boys before him. 

“i can imagine. hyunjin and jeongin, huh? i’m sure they didn't hold back. how are you really feeling? no regrets about this whole wheel thing?”, his tone is gentle, probing without pressure, like he genuinely cares about your headspace amid the chaos.

“no regrets”, you say, turning your head to meet his eyes, the sincerity in them melting some of the tension from your muscles, “it's intense, but... kinda thrilling? i mean, it's you guys. i trust you” 

your voice softens, and he nods, his free hand reaching out to tuck a stray lock of hair behind your ear, thumb lingering on your cheek.

“good. wouldn't want you uncomfortable. this is supposed to be fun, right? for all of us”, he pauses, his grin turning playful, “though i gotta say that, hearing the sounds from the hallway... you really are making it hard not to rush in”

a laugh bubbles up from you, easing the knot in your chest. 

“so lixie, what about you? what's your plan? did the wheel pick something wild?”

felix's eyes sparkle with mischief, but he shakes his head, leaning in closer until his breath fans your lips. 

“you'll just have to wait and see. no spoilers. but trust me, it'll be worth it” 

before you can press further, he closes the distance between you, capturing your mouth in a kiss that's soft and unhurried, his lips molding to yours with a tenderness that surprises you. it's commanding in its gentleness, his hand cupping your jaw to tilt your head, guiding the rhythm without force, his tongue slipping past your lips to taste you slowly, deeply.

you melt into it instantly, the vibe shifting to something sweeter, calmer, like sinking into warm water after a storm. his kisses draw out soft sighs from you as your body relaxes under the sheet, the earlier frenzy fading into this delicate intimacy. even knowing where this leads - another peak, another wave -  it feels different with him, less like a challenge and more like a shared secret.

he deepens the kiss gradually, a low hum vibrating from his chest as he shifts, rolling smoothly on top of you, his weight settling between your legs with careful pressure. the sheet bunches between your bodies, but he doesn't rush to remove it yet, content to lose himself in your mouth, nipping at your bottom lip before soothing it with his tongue. 

your hands find his shoulders, fingers digging into the firm muscle there, and he smiles against your lips, breaking away only to trail feather-light kisses down your jaw, your throat, each one lingering on your skin.

“you look so beautiful like this”, he murmurs, his voice muffled against your collarbone as his mouth continues its descent, pressing open-mouthed kisses to the swell of your breasts over the sheet. 

slowly, he peels the fabric down, exposing your skin inch by inch - the curve of your ribs, the dip of your navel - until it pools at your waist, leaving you almost bare once more. the cool air hardens your nipples, but his warm breath follows, chasing away the chill as he kisses the underside of one breast, then the other, his tongue flicking out to circle the tight bud without fully taking it in yet.

you arch your body slightly, a quiet moan escaping your mouth as his lips map your body, soft and exploratory, down the plane of your stomach, pausing to suck gently at the sensitive skin just above your hip. 

he hooks the sheet lower still, tugging it free completely and letting it slide off the bed, his hands now gliding along your sides, thumbs brushing your hips in soothing strokes. the tenderness builds the heat slowly, a simmer rather than a blaze, making your thighs part instinctively, inviting him closer.

felix kisses lower, his lips ghosting over the inside of your thigh, then the other, his freckled cheeks brushing your skin as he nuzzles there, inhaling deeply. 

“god, you smell amazing”, he whispers, the words laced with awe, before pressing a kiss to your knee, then trailing back up, tongue darting out to taste the salt of your skin. 

your pulse quickens, anticipation coiling low in your stomach as he nears your core, but he takes his time, kissing the place where thigh meets pelvis, teasing without mercy. finally, he settles between your legs, his hands gently spreading your thighs wider, and looks up at you with that sunny smile, but his eyes are dark with desire. 

“i hope all that kissing gave you a clue”, he says, voice playful yet husky, before dipping his head and dragging his tongue flat along your slit in one long, deliberate lick that has you gasping.

he devours you then, his mouth sealing over your cunt with fervent hunger, but it's all soft edges, his tongue swirling around your clit in lazy circles, lapping at your folds with broad, wet strokes that collect every drop of your arousal. 

no fingers, just the heat of his mouth, sucking gently on your swollen clit before flicking it with the tip of his tongue, the sensations building in gentle waves that make your toes curl.

“fuck, felix”, you moan out loud, the sound echoing in the room as your hands fly to his hair, fingers threading through the strands, tugging lightly to urge him on. 

he groans into you, the vibration sending sparks up your spine, and he doubles his efforts, tongue plunging into your entrance briefly before retreating to circle your clit again, relentless yet tender.

“that's it, good girl”, he praises between licks, words muffled but clear, his breath hot against your slick skin, “so sweet for me, you taste like heaven. let me take care of you, yeah? just relax and feel it” 

his dirty talk is soft, encouraging, wrapping around you like a caress as he sucks your clit harder, his tongue pressing flat and rubbing in firm, rhythmic strokes that have your hips lifting off the bed.

you ride his face unashamedly now, your thighs clamping around his head, grinding down to chase the pleasure he's building so expertly. his hands grip your hips, holding you steady but not restricting, letting you move as you need while his mouth works you over - tongue delving deep one moment, then fluttering rapidly over your clit the next, drawing out whimpers and gasps that fill the air.

the coil tightens, sweet and insistent, your walls fluttering with the hints of release as he hums approval, the sound buzzing through your core.

“come on, baby, you're doing so well for me”, he murmurs, pulling back just enough to blow cool air over your heated flesh before diving back in, his lips wrapping around your clit and sucking with perfect pressure. 

it's too much, the tenderness compared to the previous dominance pushing you over the edge - your orgasm crashes through you in a rush of warmth, your hips bucking wildly against his mouth as pleasure pulses from your cunt outward, every nerve alight.

felix doesn't stop, his tongue lapping softly through the spasms, easing you through it with gentle licks that prolong the bliss without overwhelming you. your cries soften to breathy sighs, your body trembling as the high fades, and he presses one last kiss to your inner thigh before crawling back up, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, his grin returning with full force.

“hey, you with me?”, he asks softly, hovering over you, a bit of concern etching his features as he brushes your hair back, his eyes searching yours.

still panting, you reach up and pull him down into a kiss, tasting yourself on his lips. it's languid, grateful, your tongues sliding together as you pour your thanks into it. he kisses back with the same tenderness, his hand stroking your side until your heart rate slows.

when you break apart, he grabs the fallen sheet, drawing it up over your body with care, tucking it around you. you look up at him with a soft smile. 

“felix, that felt so good... thank you” 

“anything for you. you deserve it all”, he chuckles lightly, his eyes warm as he brushes a strand of hair from your face. 

he leans in for one more soft peck on your lips, lingering just a second, “you're incredible, you know that?”

you laugh against his lips and, with a final wink, he slips off the bed, adjusting his boxers where his erection strains obviously against the fabric, but he doesn't push for more. the door opens and closes quietly behind him, leaving you alone again, as you wonder who comes next.

your body still hums with the gentle aftershocks of felix's touch, the sheet tangled around you as you stare at the ceiling, when the door swings open barely a minute later, and minho slips in, his body clad only in black boxers that cling to his thighs. his sharp eyes lock onto you immediately, a smirk curling his lips as he shuts the door with a soft thud.

you catch sight of him and can't help the laugh that comes out, a mix of exhaustion and thrill twisting in your gut. you know minho - his playful edge hides dominance, and the thought of him here, in this game, spells nothing but trouble. he pauses, eyebrow arching as he crosses the room, his feet silent on the floor, that smirk widening into a grin.

“what's so funny?”, he asks, voice low and teasing as he reaches the bed, leaning against the footboard with arms crossed over his chest, his muscles flexing subtly. 

his gaze rakes over you, lingering on the way the sheet wraps around your body, hinting at your curves. another giggle escapes, and you prop yourself up on your elbows, meeting his eyes with a playful glint. 

“you. i just know trouble's walking through the door. like… big trouble”

he laughs then, moving to climb on beside you, the mattress dipping under his weight. 

“oh yeah? and what makes you think that? maybe i'm here to tuck you in and call it a night”, his tone drips with sarcasm, but his hand finds your knee, squeezing lightly, the touch electric even through the fabric.

“sure you are”, you shoot back, rolling your eyes but leaning into his warmth anyway, the banter flowing easy like always, “what's the wheel got you doing this round? something that will break me?”

minho's grin turns wicked, his fingers tracing lazy patterns up your thigh, stopping just short of where the sheet ends. 

“break you? no, just bend you a little. make you scream my name louder than the others. but first... where do you keep it?”

you blink, confusion furrowing your brow as his hand stills, “keep what? my sanity? because it's long gone now”

he chuckles, shaking his head, but there's a glint in his eyes now, sharper, more intent, “come on, don't play dumb. you know what i mean”

“i have no idea what you're talking about, minho”

he narrows his eyes, playful suspicion lighting his features, and without another word, he slides off the bed, rummaging through your nightstand drawer first. you watch, propped up now, laughter spilling out at the absurdity of the situation as he tosses aside a book, some lotion, muttering under his breath. 

“not here... ah, found it” 

the drawer slams shut, and he straightens, holding your vibrator in one hand. he flicks it on with his thumb, the low buzz filling the air, and your laughter dies in your throat.

the playful minho vanishes in an instant, replaced by something darker, more commanding. his jaw sets, eyes darkening as he turns back to you, the vibrator humming steadily in his grip. heat floods your core at the sight, your cunt clenching emptily, arousal slicking your thighs again. 

you almost come right there, on the spot, just from the intensity in his stare, the way he holds the toy like a weapon meant only for you, which in a way it is.

“you said trouble, huh?”, he murmurs, voice dropping an octave as he moves to the bed again, climbing on with predatory look on his face, “you have no idea” 

he doesn't wait, yanking the sheet away in one fluid motion, exposing your naked body to the cool air - nipples hardening instantly, your skin flushing under his gaze. you gasp, but he’s already beside you, one strong hand capturing both of yours, pinning them above your head with effortless strength, his fingers wrapped around your wrists.

his free hand trails the buzzing toy down your arm first, teasing the sensitive underside before circling your breast, the vibrations sending jolts straight to your clit. 

“minho…”, you breathe, arching into it as he presses the tip to one nipple, rolling it slowly, watching your face with his full attention. 

the sensation buzzes through you, sharp and insistent, making your toes curl as he leans in, his mouth finding your neck, teeth grazing the pulse point before sucking hard enough to mark.

“shh, just feel it”, he whispers against your skin, his lips brushing your jaw next, nipping lightly as the vibrator dances over your other nipple. 

your body writhes under him, your breaths coming in pants, the assault of his mouth and the toy building a fire low in your stomach. he kisses you then, claiming your lips in a deep, possessive press, his tongue moving in time with the vibrations, swallowing your moans as he drags the toy lower, tracing your ribs, your navel, teasing the edge of your hip.

“please”, you whimper when he pulls back, the word slipping out but he just smirks, holding your gaze as he settles the vibrator against your clit - light at first, then firmer, the buzz intensifying every nerve until you're bucking against his hold.

“not yet”, he says, voice firm but laced with an underlying care, never crossing into cruelty. 

his mouth returns to your neck, sucking a fresh bruise while the toy circles your swollen clit, dipping briefly to your entrance before retreating, leaving you soaked and desperate. your hands strain against his grip, wanting to touch him, to pull him closer, but he keeps you pinned, dominant in every line of his body as he watches you unravel.

the pleasure coils tighter, your thighs trembling, but he eases off just as you teeter on the edge, kissing along your jaw, murmuring against your skin. 

“beg for it. tell me what you want”

“minho, please- fuck, i need it inside. make me come, please”, you plead, your voice breaking, your hips grinding air as the vibrator hums against your inner thigh now, so close yet denying you of what you want.

satisfaction flickers in his eyes, and he releases your hands only to move himself, kneeling between your spread legs, his boxers tented with his hard cock straining beneath. 

“good girl”, he praises softly, positioning the toy at your entrance, the tip vibrating against your wet folds. 

his other hand grips your hip, steadying you as he pushes it in slowly, inch by inch, the tip stretching you, buzzing deep against your walls, hitting that place that makes you almost come right on the spot.

you cry out, your back bowing off the bed as he thrusts it deeper, his mouth crashing back to yours in a searing kiss - tongues tangling, his teeth catching your lip as he fucks you with the vibrator, steady and unrelenting. 

the overstimulation builds fast, your cunt fluttering around the toy, your clit throbbing from the earlier teasing. he angles it just right inside you, grinding the base against your folds for extra vibration, his body hovering over yours, heat radiating from his skin.

“that's it, take it all”, he groans into your mouth, his pace quickening, the toy thrusting in and out with wet, loud sounds that mix with your gasps. 

he moves down your body, his lips finding one of your nipples before he wraps his teeth around it, making you scream while you arch your back towards him again. he moves his head to the other nipple, this time circling it with his tongue before he starts kissing down your body, trailing hot, open-mouthed kisses over your stomach until his breath fans across your clit. he sucks it into his mouth with hunger, his tongue flicking the swollen clit in time with the vibrator's thrusts, making your hips buck wildly.

your hands fly to his hair, nails digging in as the coil snaps. your orgasm rips through you violently, your walls clamping down on the vibrator as pleasure explodes, a gush of wetness squirting lightly around the toy, soaking his hand and mouth and the sheets beneath you. 

it's intense, overwhelming, your body shaking as waves crash over you, but minho doesn't stop, thrusting the toy through the spasms, drawing out every shake of your body until tears prick your eyes. 

“minho-  it’s t-too much”, you finally gasp, your voice hoarse, and he eases it out immediately, turning it off with a click, his touch turning gentle as he sets it aside, just before he presses another kiss to your clit. 

before he pulls away from you fully, he kisses his way up your body until he reaches your neck, biting it sharply -  his teeth sinking in just enough to draw another moan from your lips. you arch into it, moaning, but he silences the sound with his mouth, kissing you deeply, possessively.

“i hope i win this game”, he murmurs against your lips, his voice husky with satisfaction, a smirk playing as he hovers there a second longer, his eyes locked on yours.

he pecks your lips quickly again and then he's gone, slipping off the bed with fluid grace, adjusting his boxers too as he heads for the door giving you a quick smirk as he leaves your room. 

the door clicks shut behind him, leaving you sprawled naked on the rumpled sheets, body limp and spent, your cunt still twitching with aftershocks, slick dripping down your thighs. for the first time since the night started, doubt creeps in: can you really do this? four more after the ones already here? 

your mind spins, your chest tight, but even as you question it, hunger stirs low again, high and insatiable, pulling you towards whatever comes next.

the door opens again sooner than you expect, your body still sprawled bare on the bed, your skin glistening with sweat and what’s left of your release, thighs slick from the vibrator's relentless work. 

changbin steps in, his broad shoulders filling the frame, the prominent bulge of his cock already half-hard that you can see from his boxers. his eyes widen for a split second as he takes you in - completely exposed, legs parted slightly, your cunt still puffy and wet - before a deep, rumbling laugh escapes him. he closes the door softly, shaking his head as he approaches the bed.

“damn, look at you”, he says, his voice full with amusement and heat, his gaze tracing every curve from your breasts to the mess between your legs, “i’m the one that’s supposed to come here and tease you until you’re begging me to stop, not the other way around. i think i might come just from seeing you like this”

you can't help but laugh, the sound breathy and tired, your chest rising and falling as you meet his eyes. the absurdity of it all - him walking in on you like this, the game turning everything upside down - eases the lingering ache from minho's dominance. 

“guilty”, you say, propping yourself up on one elbow, though your limbs feel like jelly, “but yeah, i just… come here, give me a couple minutes, please. minho was intense. like, really intense. and i haven't even caught my breath from the previous rounds”

changbin's expression softens, that protective side of him surfacing as he nods, climbing onto the bed with careful movements, the mattress sinking under him. he lies beside you, his arm resting lightly on your hip - close but not pushing, his warmth seeping into your skin.

“take all the time you need”, he murmurs, his thumb stroking soothing circles, “how's it been so far? felix told me a bit, but i want to hear from you. you okay? regretting jumping into this game?”

you sigh, turning towards him, the sheet completely forgotten at the foot of the bed. his presence grounds you, familiar and steady after the whirlwind of the others. 

“it's... wild. hyunjin set this insane bar right away, but then jeongin surprised me, started shy, then tied me up and i think i even begged him at some point, i don’t remember. felix was all sweet and gentle, like he was worshiping me. and minho? god, he used my vibrator and just... took control, i felt like i was going crazy. but yeah, i'm okay. overwhelmed, but in a good way. it's like my body's on fire, but i don't want to stop. i can’t stop”

he listens intently, nodding, his hand sliding up to brush a strand of hair from your face.

“sounds like they're all trying to outdo each other. but you're handling it like a pro. makes me proud”, a pause, then his lips change into a grin, “you're lucky with me, though. the wheel spun something different this time. you get to choose how you come. i'm all yours. whatever you want, however you want it. you're in control”

his words hang in the air, and you feel it immediately - a fresh pulse of arousal clenching through your core, your cunt dripping, walls fluttering around nothing. the realisation hits like a spark: all the boys before have teased, licked, vibrated you to shattering peaks, but none have filled you. no cock stretching you open, no hot cum flooding deep. minho was close with the vibrator, but not enough. you need it now, that deep, claiming thrust. 

your eyes flick to changbin's boxers, the outline of his thick length twitching under the fabric, and heat pools low in your stomach immediately.

“anything?”, you ask, your voice almost a whisper as you shift closer, testing the waters without spilling your desperate thoughts. your hand trails over his chest, feeling the hard planes of muscle under smooth skin.

“anything”, he confirms, his eyes darkening with want, his free hand covering yours to guide it lower, like he can read your mind and knows everything you want to do with him, “you can use me however you want. ride my face, my cock, my fingers… tell me, and it's yours”

that seals it. 

you surge forward, capturing his mouth in a hungry kiss, lips parting as your tongues slide together, tasting the previous drink you had had before on his breath. he groans into it, his hand cupping the back of your neck to pull you deeper, but he lets you lead - the kiss turning sloppy, wet, your teeth nipping his lower lip as you move to straddle his hips. 

his cock hardens fully beneath you, the thin barrier of his boxers doing nothing to hide how thick and ready he is, pressing up against your soaked folds. you grind down slowly at first, rubbing your cunt along the length of him through the fabric, the friction sending sparks up your spine. 

“fuck, changbin”, you moan against his mouth, your hips rolling in deliberate circles, coating his boxers with your slick. 

he bucks up instinctively, his hands gripping your thighs, but he controls himself, letting you set the pace, though his breaths come ragged, chest heaving.

“that's it, baby”, he says, breaking the kiss to trail his lips along your jaw, nipping your earlobe, “grind on me like you own me. can you feel how hard you make me? this is all for you”

the praise fuels you, and you reach down, fingers hooking into his waistband, tugging his boxers down with urgent tugs. he lifts his hips to help you, kicking them off, and his cock springs free - heavy, veined, the tip already leaking pre-cum, moving towards his abs. 

you wrap your hand around the base, stroking once, twice, feeling him throb in your grip, before positioning yourself above him. the head nudges your entrance, slick and open from the earlier orgasms, and you sink down inch by inch, a long, drawn-out moan escaping you as he stretches you wide.

“oh god, yes”, you gasp, bottoming out with a shudder, his cock buried deep, filling the emptiness that's haunted you since the game began. 

he feels perfect, thick enough to press every ridge inside you, the head kissing your spot. you pause there, adjusting, clenching around him experimentally, and changbin hisses, his hands flexing on your hips.

“fuck, you're so tight”, he growls, his voice strained with restraint, “ride me, yeah? take what you need. bounce on this cock like it's yours”

you do, lifting yourself up until just the tip remains, then slamming back down, the slap of skin echoing in the room. pleasure blooms sharp and immediate, your clit grinding against his pelvis with each drop. you set a steady rhythm, your hands braced on his chest for leverage, nails scraping over his nipples as you fuck yourself on him. 

“changbin, i-it feels so good… i’m so full”, you pant, your head tipping back, breasts bouncing with every thrust.

he watches you with hooded eyes, one hand sliding up to palm your breast, thumb flicking the hardened nipple. 

“look at you, taking me so well. your cunt is gripping me like it never wants to let go. you love this, don't you?”, his words spur you faster, hips snapping down harder, the wet sounds of your arousal mixing with his grunts, “moan for me, louder, let me hear how much you need it”

“changbin, fuck yes, harder”, you cry, chasing the building heat, your walls fluttering around his length as you grind deeper. the angle hits that spot inside with every move, stars flickering at the edges of your vision.

your hands shift to his shoulders, gripping tight, and he reads the cue instantly, sitting up with effortless strength, wrapping one arm around your waist to pull you flush against him. the new position drives him even deeper, his chest pressing to yours, and he captures your mouth in a bruising kiss, your tongues battling as he takes over the thrusts from below. his hips snap up powerfully, his cock thrusting into you with controlled force, the bed creaking under your movements.

“that's my girl”, he murmurs between kisses, his lips trailing to your neck, sucking a mark into the skin, “fuck yourself on me, i’m gonna fill you up soon, make you drip with my cum”

you whimper, lost in the rhythm, his free hand moving between your bodies to find your clit. his fingers circle the swollen bud with firm pressure, rubbing in tight loops that match his thrusts. the sensations shatters you, pleasure grows viciously tight, your thighs shaking and trembling around him.

“changbin, i-i'm close, don't stop”, you beg, nails digging into his back, body arching as the orgasm moves towards you.

“come with me”, he demands, his voice rough, thrusts turning erratic as his cock swells inside you, “come on, baby, squeeze me dry” 

his fingers pinch your clit lightly, and that's it, the dam breaks. you shatter around him, your cunt convulsing in waves, walls clamping down as ecstasy rips through you, a sharp cry of his name tearing from your throat. he follows seconds later, groaning deep and long, his hips jerking as hot spurts of cum flood your depths, painting your insides for the first time in this endless game - warm, claiming, finally satisfying that ache.

you collapse against him, boneless and trembling, his arms holding you close as aftershocks ripple through both of you. his cock softens slowly inside, keeping you full, cum starting to leak as he shifts. 

“you okay?”, he whispers, kissing your temple softly, his hand rubbing your back in soothing strokes.

“more than okay”, you mumble, nuzzling into his neck, the intimacy wrapping around you like a blanket. 

he eases you off gently, a wet sound accompanying as he slips out, his cum trickling down your thigh. changbin grabs a tissue from the nightstand, wiping you clean with tender care - swiping along your folds, your inner thighs, making sure you're comfortable before pulling the sheet up over your body.

“wow, i can’t believe you’re holding out so well”, he says, pressing a final kiss to your forehead, his smile warm and genuine, “you did amazing, love” 

you smile weakly up at him, your body still humming from the intensity, “thanks, changbin... you were incredible too”

he laughs, lingering for a moment as he strokes your cheek, “i’m glad i could make it good for you. just… rest until the next one comes in, okay?”

he slips off the bed, tugging his boxers back on, and heads for the door, leaving you curled under the covers - body sated yet already stirring with anticipation again, the fullness of his cum still lingering inside. excitement bubbles up despite the exhaustion. whatever's next, you're ready, craving the next wave. 

not even a minute passes when the door clicks open once more, pulling you from the afterglow of changbin's touch, your body still humming with the warmth of his cum deep inside. 

seungmin slips in, only in loose dark boxers, a smirk playing on his lips as he spots you under the sheet - flushed, disheveled, eyes heavy-lidded. he walks with that signature playful glint in his eyes, kicking off his slippers before flopping down beside you, propping himself up like he's settling in for a casual chat.

“wow, you look wrecked already”, he teases, his voice light and mocking, poking your arm gently, “what? did changbin just steamroll you? or are you playing up the damsel in distress to get sympathy from me?”

you roll your eyes, swatting his hand away with a laugh, the sheet slipping slightly to reveal the curve of your shoulder. 

“oh please, like you could do better. he's got that whole powerhouse thing going on. you're just here to talk my ear off, aren't you? the wheel probably said ‘bore her until she falls asleep’”

he snorts, shifting closer, his leg brushing yours under the covers, “hey, i could bore you right into an orgasm if i wanted. but no, i'm a fun one. unlike minho, who probably bossed you around like a drill sergeant. tell me, did he make you salute first?”

“shut up”, you say, shoving his shoulder, but there's no real heat in it, just the easy bickering that always sparks between you two. 

he grabs your wrist playfully, tugging you towards him, and you tug back, both of you dissolving into chuckles as he finally relents, lying flat on his back with his arms behind his head.

“you're impossible, you know that?”, you tell him between laughs.

“and you're insatiable, from the looks of it”, he fires back, glancing at the faint marks on your neck from the others. 

the banter flows for a minute more - seungmin poking fun at changbin again, you recalling again jeongin's surprise dominance - until something shifts. his eyes soften, the smirk fading into a genuine smile, and he reaches out to tuck a stray hair behind your ear. 

the touch lingers, warm and unhurried, and a pull tugs at your chest, drawing you in like gravity. without thinking, you lean over, cupping his face and pressing your lips to his.

the kiss starts soft, tentative, but it turns hungry quickly, his mouth careful at first then claiming yours, tongues brushing in a slow dance that draws a low moan from your throat. he hums in response, the sound vibrating against your lips, and you deepen it, tasting the faint sweetness of him as your bodies move closer. 

your hands roam freely - yours slide up his chest, your fingers tracing every inch of skin that they find, dipping into the dips of his hips; his hands thread through your hair, down your back, palms splaying over your ass to pull you flush, but he skips your core, teasing the edges without diving in. 

you explore his shoulders, the strength in his arms, nails scraping lightly over his collarbone, while his thumbs circle your waist, ghosting the undersides of your breasts, sending shivers racing across your skin.

moans slip out unbidden - yours breathy and needy, his deeper, muffled against your mouth - as the makeout turns more desperate, lips swollen and slick, your breaths mingling in hot pants. 

you break for air, nipping his jaw, and your hand snakes down to capture his, guiding it towards the heat between your thighs, aching for friction on your swollen clit. but he stops you, fingers intertwining with yours, holding firm as he pulls back slightly, his eyes dark but gentle. 

“wait, no, i can't do that”, he murmurs, his voice almost broken, his forehead resting against yours.

“why not?”, you whine, your hips shifting restlessly, the emptiness inside clenching at the denial, “what did the wheel say this time? come on, seungmin, touch me i need it, i need you”

a slow grin spreads across his face, and he moves suddenly, rolling on top of you, the sheet tangling around your legs as he settles between them, leaving you completely exposed once again. his boxers tent obviously now, the hard line of his cock pressing against your thigh, leaking pre-cum that soaks through the fabric, hot and insistent. 

he braces on his forearms, caging you in, and leans down to whisper against your lips, “the wheel said this” 

with that, he moves one arm and shoves his boxers down, freeing his cock before he lines up with your entrance, pushing in with one smooth, deliberate thrust. the stretch rips a guttural moan from your chest, raw and primal. he sinks deep, bottoming out with a shared gasp, your cunt fluttering around him, still slick from changbin's release mixing with your fresh arousal. 

your hands fly to his back, your nails digging into the flexing muscles as you arch up, your legs wrapping around his waist to pull him closer. 

“seungmin- fuck, yes”, you groan, the sensation overwhelming, every inch of him dragging against your sensitive spots.

he doesn't rush, starting with shallow moves of his hips, but the tenderness shines through. his mouth finds yours again, kissing you deeply, slowly, like he's savoring every second. 

“you feel incredible”, he breathes between presses of lips, moving to your neck, sucking softly at the pulse point, then your jaw, nipping the skin there with affectionate bites. 

it's different from the others. this feels intimate, like he's pouring himself into you, making love with a sweetness that surprises you, his thrusts measured and loving, grinding deep to hit that bundle of nerves inside.

you melt under it, your hands roaming his back, pulling at his hair as he kisses a path back to your mouth, tongues tangling while his hips roll in a steady rhythm, his cock sliding in and out with wet, filthy sounds.

“god, you look so good like this”, he murmurs against your lips, voice soft when he praises you, one hand cupping your breast, his thumb rolling the nipple gently, “taking me like this” 

the praise wraps around you, heightening every sensation, your body responding with clenches that make him shudder, his kisses turning sloppy, breath hitching as he nuzzles your jaw, whispering even more soft words between thrusts.

the build is gradual, tightening low in your stomach, his tenderness drawing it out until it's unbearable. his cock throbs inside you, the pace quickening just enough, his lips never leaving your skin, kissing your mouth hungrily now, swallowing your moans. 

“come for me, yeah? let go, i've got you,” he says, his voice breaking slightly, and you do, you come, shattering around him in an earth-shattering climax, waves crashing through you, your cunt spasming wildly as ecstasy rips a scream from your throat, muffled by his kiss. 

he follows with a choked groan, burying deep and pulsing, hot jets of cum spilling into you, mixing with your own fluids, filling you to overflowing.

you tremble beneath him, the intensity bordering on too much, your body overstimulated, never coming down from the endless pleasure as tears prick your eyes from the overload. he stays inside for a moment, kissing your forehead, your cheeks, soft and soothing, before pulling out gently, your fluids leaking out onto the sheets.

“you alright?”, he asks, rolling to the side and grabbing tissues from the nightstand, his touch light as he wipes between your legs, careful over the sensitive folds, then your thighs. 

you nod, a bubbly laugh escaping as you look at him, cleaning you after he destroyed you in the sweetest way possible.

“yeah, just... wow. you're a lot sweeter than i expected”, you say, giggling when he cleans at a stray spot on your hip.

he chuckles too, the sound warm, leaning in for one last peck on your nose. 

“what can i say? the wheel's got good taste and i’m a gentleman. but don't tell the others, i've got a reputation to uphold”, he tucks the sheet over you again, ensuring you're covered, then puts his boxers back on, standing with a stretch, “although if you prefer a not so sweet version, i could go again for another round”

you wave him off with another shared laugh, soft words trailing as he heads to the door - promises of great remarks about his ‘performance’, teasing jabs about the little game you’re playing - before he slips out, leaving you blissed out, your still body aching.

the minutes stretch longer than before, the room's quiet amplifying every thump of your heart against your ribs, a frantic rhythm that echoes the slick heat still seeping from your core. you're a mess of aftershocks, seungmin's tenderness lingering in the ache between your thighs, the mingled cum trickling out of you, soaking the sheets beneath you even more. your skin prickles with anticipation, your body thrumming with an insatiable pull, craving the next wave to crash over you. 

when the handle finally turns, you push up on your elbows, the sheet pooling at your waist, exposing your breasts to the cool air as chan steps in. he's in nothing but black boxers, his broad shoulders filling the frame, his eyes locking on you with that warm, knowing gaze that makes your stomach flip.

“damn, you look like you've been through a war and won every battle”, he says, his voice low and appreciative, a smile tugging at his lips as he closes the door softly behind him. 

his eyes trace the flush on your cheeks, the bite marks scattering your neck and collarbone like badges of the night's indulgences.

you laugh, the sound breathy and relieved, patting the bed beside you, “come on, lie down with me. i need a second to catch my breath before you start interrogating me in your leader mode”

he chuckles, easing onto the mattress, stretching out on his side facing you, one arm propping his head. the bed dips under his weight, his presence solid and reassuring, like an anchor in the storm of sensations swirling inside you. 

“how are you holding up? seriously, tell me if it's too much. we've got the whole group watching out for you, you know” 

his tone shifts to that caring edge, the one he uses in meetings or late night talks, scanning your face for any sign of fatigue or discomfort, his free hand resting lightly on your arm, his thumb stroking a soothing circle.

“it's intense, but good intense”, you tell him, shifting closer, your knee brushing his, “like, overwhelming in the best way. everyone's been... different, you know? but i'm okay. more than okay” 

the small talk flows easy - you recount bits of the banter with seungmin, the way felix's sweetness melted you, how minho pushed you to edges you didn't know you had - and he listens intently, nodding, asking gentle questions that make you feel seen, not just a player in this wild game. his fingers trail absently up your arm, a comforting touch that grounds you amid the building heat.

“so, chris, what've you got in store for me tonight?”, you ask finally, your voice dropping to a playful murmur, your eyes flicking to his mouth, curiosity sparking low in your stomach. 

you don’t kiss yet, the air hums with unspoken tension, your body already responding to his proximity, your nipples tightening under his gaze. chan shifts, lying fully back with his head on the pillow, his hands behind his head, biceps flexing, drawing your eyes there like you’re hypnotised. he meets your stare, his expression turning mischievous yet tender. 

“the wheel said you have to sit on my face and i will eat you out until you can't think straight”

the words hit like a spark to dry tinder, surprise widening your eyes as heat floods your cheeks and lower, your cunt clenching at the image he pictured. you've never done that, the vulnerability of doing it twists nerves with excitement, a flutter of hesitation making you bite your lip. 

“wait, really? i... i've never… what if i crush you or something?” 

your voice wavers, half-laughing to mask the sudden shyness, but your arousal betrays you, your thighs pressing together against the fresh gush of wetness. he sits up slightly, reaching for your hand, squeezing it reassuringly, his touch firm but gentle. 

“hey, no way. you're perfect, i'll guide you, make it feel amazing. trust me, i've got you. and if you’re not comfortable with it, we stop, okay? but i promise you, you'll love it. just, let me take care of you like this” 

his eyes hold yours, sincere and encouraging, that leader's confidence easing the knot in your chest. you search his face, the care there melting your doubts, and if you have to be honest with yourself… yeah, the thought of his mouth on you, under you, devoted entirely to your pleasure, turns you on fiercely, your pulse racing as you finally nod.

“alright, yeah. show me”, you whisper, your voice thick with want, and he grins, lying back again, patting his chest invitingly. 

with his hands on your hips, he helps you straddle his torso first, then guides you upward, your knees framing his head as you hover above his face, your nerves making you doubt at first. the position feels exposed, intimate - your swollen folds inches from his lips, glistening with the evidence of previous rounds, your clit throbbing visibly. 

you're shy at first, lowering yourself slowly, barely settling your weight, but chan's hands grip your thighs, pulling you down firmly onto his waiting mouth. his tongue flicks out immediately, flat and broad, lapping a long stripe through your slick folds, and you gasp, your hands flying to the headboard for balance. 

“fuck, chris-” 

he dives in, devouring you with hungry, open-mouthed kisses, sucking your folds before delving deeper, his tongue circling your entrance to lap up the creamy mix of cum and arousal leaking from you. 

“so sweet, y/n… you taste so good, all soaked for me. ride my face, yeah? use me”, his words vibrate through your core, sending jolts of pleasure up your spine, and you start to move, tentative rocks of your hips, grinding your cunt against his eager mouth.

he groans into you, the sound raw and approving, his nose nudging your clit as his tongue thrusts inside, fucking you shallowly while his lips seal around to suckle. you lose it then, shyness disappearing in the blaze of sensation, your fluids pouring from your cunt to drench his chin, his cheeks, soaking into his skin as you ride harder, chasing the friction. 

“god, yes- just like that, you're doing so well”, he murmurs between licks, his voice broken, one hand sliding up to knead your ass, encouraging deeper presses. his tongue swirls relentlessly, alternating between broad strokes that cover every inch and pointed flicks to your clit that make you go wild.

you scream when his nose bumps your clit fully, the pressure perfect, rubbing against it with every grind as his mouth works your entrance, his tongue thrusting deep to curl against your walls. your thighs shake, your body arching as the coil tightens, your hips bucking wildly now, smearing your essence all over his face but he doesn't flinch, just hums in approval, swallowing what he can, the wet sounds loud and intoxicating. 

“come on, give it to me, flood my mouth, baby”, he urges, sucking your clit between his lips, teeth grazing just enough to tip you over.

the orgasm hits you like a tidal wave, crashing through you in shuddering waves that make you squirt - a gush of clear fluid mixing with your release, drenching him further, your cunt pulsing around his tongue as ecstasy rips cries from your throat. you tremble, your vision blurring, every nerve alight as you grind through it, prolonging the bliss until you're boneless.

panting, you lift yourself just enough to slide down a bit, settling your soaked cunt on his chest, your knees still bracketing his sides as you peer at his face. it's a wreck - his lips swollen and shiny, his chin dripping, eyes dark with lust and adoration as he licks his lips, savoring you. 

“fuck, look at you. you were incredible, so responsive. you came so hard for me, my good girl” 

the praise ignites something feral in you, a wild hunger that has you lunging forward, crashing your mouth to his in a devouring kiss.

you taste yourself everywhere - salty and musky on his tongue as it tangles with yours, lips bruising in the frenzy, your hands fisting his hair to angle him deeper. he kisses back with equal fire, moaning into your mouth, but you shift lower, your cunt dragging along the fabric of his boxers, feeling his cock twitch and harden beneath you. precum beads through the material, hot and sticky against your folds as you hump shamelessly.

the friction teases your oversensitive clit, drawing whimpers from both of you. he's rock-hard now, straining, the outline of his length pulsing with need. chan's hands grip your hips, stopping you with a groan, breaking the kiss to rest his forehead against yours. 

“wait- we can't. believe me, as much as i want to bury myself in you right now, the wheel...”, his voice is strained, laughter bubbling under the regret, his eyes flicking to your mouth, swollen from his.

the reminder snaps you back - the game, the rules, the wheel spinning fates.

“yeah, you're right”, you nod, breathless, easing off him with a pout that turns into a grin, “but... maybe we could finish this another day? without the wheel i mean” 

your words are teasing, laced with promise, and he laughs, the sound relaxed, pulling you in for one more quick kiss, chaste but lingering.

“fuck”, he mumbles against your lips, pulling back with visible effort, his hands scrubbing over his face - still slick with you - as he sits up, “you have no idea how hard it is to stop myself from flipping you over and fucking you senseless right here. but yeah, another day. count on it” 

you laugh at his flustered admission, the tension easing into shared amusement, watching as he swings his legs off the bed, adjusting his boxers over the prominent bulge.

he stands, shooting you a wink over his shoulder, but in his haste - or distraction - he forgets the sheet, leaving you sprawled naked and exposed, your body humming with unsatisfied want as the door clicks shut behind him. the cool air kisses your skin, but the fire he stoked lingers, leaving you aching, your heart still pounding, ready for whatever the wheel spins next.

you take the moment to glance down at yourself, really look. 

red marks bloom across your hips like fingerprints from gripping hands, bruises from changbin's strong hold, seungmin's tender but firm grasp. your thighs bear the evidence too, faint welts from teeth and suction, the inner skin slick and shiny with layers of cum and arousal that haven't fully dried. 

the sheets beneath you are a battle ground - dark wet spots spreading wide, stained with every release from the night. your fingers itch, trailing tentatively along your thigh, dipping into the sticky mess, smearing it upward in lazy circles. 

it's filthy, intimate, and god, it shouldn't turn you on more, but it does - your core clenches emptily, a fresh trickle of wetness escaping, pooling against the fabric. the temptation builds, your hand inching higher, brushing the edge of your folds, hovering near your swollen clit, your entrance begging for touch after all that teasing denial from chan at the end. just as your fingertip grazes the sensitive nub, sending a spark through you, the door creaks open again.

han slips in, his eyes widening with playful surprise as he catches you mid-act, a glass clutched in one hand. his boxers cling to his lean frame, his hair tousled like he's been running his fingers through it, that mischievous grin spreading across his face. 

“whoa, caught red-handed, or should i say, wet-handed? all those orgasms and the boys absolutely wrecking you weren't enough? greedy much?”, his voice is light, teasing, but laced with heat as he shuts the door, his gaze raking over your exposed form, lingering on the hand frozen near your cunt.

you snatch your fingers away, laughing breathlessly, your cheeks burning but refusing to hide - the game's stripped away that shyness long ago.

“hey, blame that damn wheel and the boys for leaving me like this. what? you think i can just switch off after chris had me grinding on his face? it’s your turn to finish what they started”

the banter flows easy, pulling him closer as he chuckles, setting the glass on the nightstand with a deliberate clink. he climbs onto the bed, the mattress dipping as he settles beside you, propped on one elbow, close enough that his warmth radiates against your side. 

“i’m the last one standing, or lying, i guess. the bar's sky-high after everyone else, but don't worry, i won’t make you wait any longer. i’m gonna blow your mind, literally” 

his eyes sparkle with that signature han charm, cocky yet endearing, and before you can say anything, he leans in, capturing your lips in a kiss that's all fire and and hunger - soft at first, then deepening, his tongue slipping past to taste you, drawing a moan from your throat.

he guides you back gently, his body hovering as his mouth breaks away only to trail elsewhere. his lips brush your earlobe, nipping lightly, breath hot as he whispers, “you have no idea how hard it’s been waiting out there, hearing you with everyone while waiting for my turn with you” 

he then moves down to your jaw, sucking a fresh mark there, his tongue soothing the sting before moving to your neck, giving you open-mouthed kisses that make your pulse jump under his touch. you arch into him, your hands finding his shoulders, nails digging in as he gives attention everywhere he can reach - collarbone, the curve of your shoulder - mapping your skin like territory to claim.

his descent slows at your breasts, his mouth closing over one nipple, tongue flicking the hardened peak before sucking hard, his teeth grazing just enough to pull a gasp from you. the other gets the same treatment, his hand kneading the soft flesh, rolling the nipple between his fingers until it's aching and sensitive. 

all the while, his other hand wanders lower, his fingers ghosting over your stomach, then dipping between your thighs. they find your clit first - swollen and throbbing - circling it with feather-light pressure that makes your hips buck. 

“mmhm, you’re so ready for me”, he murmurs against your skin, his voice against you, before two fingers slide through your folds, pushing into your entrance with ease, the slick heat welcoming him deep.

you clench around his fingers, overstimulated from the onslaught of the night, but it feels too good to stop - his fingers curl inside, stroking that spot that has you whimpering, his thumb pressing your clit at the same time. he pumps slowly at first, building the rhythm, moving his fingers inside you to stretch you, the wet sounds filling the room. 

then his head dips lower, until he replaces his thumb with his mouth - his tongue licking your clit in quick, precise flicks while his fingers thrust deeper. you cry out, your thighs trembling as overstimulation wars with pleasure, your hips rising instinctively to ride his face, grinding against his eager tongue. 

he hums in approval, the vibration shooting straight to your core, lapping at your entrance around his fingers, his mouth tasting the mix of cum still leaking from you. he pulls back just enough to speak, his lips glistening, eyes dark with lust. 

“this is only the beginning, you know. i bet you're aching, sore from all we've put you through… you need something to cool that fire a bit” 

with a wicked grin, he withdraws his fingers, leaving you clenching around nothing, and moves to reach for the nightstand. the ice cube he pulls from the glass gleams in the low light, water dripping from it, and your thighs clench involuntarily, slamming shut as a fresh wave of arousal floods you - your cunt leaking visibly onto the already soaked sheets, the cold object making your clit twitch in anticipation.

“open up for me, baby. trust me, it'll feel insane”, he coaxes, prying your legs apart with gentle hands, settling between them again. 

he starts slow, recapturing your lips in a heated kiss, the cube held away for now. then he starts going down once more - to your neck, a quick suck before pressing the ice there, the chill contrasting his warm mouth, making you shiver and gasp. 

he trails it lower, over your collarbone, circling one nipple with the melting cube while his lips close over the other, sucking hotly. the dual sensation - icy drip on one side, wet heat on the other - has you writhing, your back arching off the bed, pleas spilling from your lips. 

“jisung, please, i- more, i need more”

he obliges, his mouth following the path to your stomach, his tongue dipping into your navel before the ice glides over your hip bone, melting rivulets tracing towards your core. your folds part under his gaze, puffy and dripping, and he teases your first - his lips brushing your inner thighs, nipping the marked skin, while the cube hovers near but not touching.

then his mouth descends to your clit, sucking it gently, his tongue swirling around it, before he presses the ice directly against it. the shock hits like lightning - cold piercing the heat, your body seizing as you moan loudly, a scream tearing from your throat at the intensity. 

“fuck, jisung- yes, oh god!” 

it burns in the best way, numbing the oversensitivity just enough to heighten everything else, your clit pulsing under the rub.

“that's it, you’re so good for me, taking the ice like a champ, look at you leaking everywhere”, he praises you, his voice rough with arousal, eyes locked on yours as he circles the cube over your clit, then drags it down your folds, coating it in your warmth.

the melt mixes with your fluids, dripping cool inside your entrance as he pushes the edge there, shallowly. your hips jerk, chasing the sensation, your begging turning to desperate whines. he doesn't make you wait long - his fingers return, three now, stretching you wide as they thrust in, curling against your walls while the ice rubs relentlessly over your clit, tracing every fold, the chill seeping into your most sensitive spots.

the build is merciless, everything from the night crashing together, amplified by this icy torment. your walls flutter wildly around his fingers, gushing more slick, bordering on that edge again, pressure coiling so tight you feel like you'll shatter. 

“come for me, baby. let it all out, soak me”, he says, his voice low and urgent, his thumb replacing the cube to press your clit firmly while his fingers fuck you harder, the ice now melting fully against your thigh.

you break then, your orgasm ripping through you, your body convulsing as you squirt - a hot gush flooding his hand, the sheets, an endless pulsing that leaves you screaming his name. he works you through it, his fingers slowing but not stopping, rubbing your spot until every shake fades, then withdrawing to seal his mouth over your cunt. 

his tongue laps everything - your release, the watery remnants of ice - cleaning you thoroughly, probing deep to soothe the ache. you're overstimulated beyond words, every flick sending aftershocks that make you twitch and whimper, but you can't help it, your hips still move towards his mouth faintly, chasing the gentle suction, the flat of his tongue soothing your folds.

finally, he crawls up, his face shiny with you, and you pull him down greedily, crashing your lips to his. the kiss is messy, passionate, bodies pressing flush, your breasts against his chest, legs tangling as you taste your cum on his tongue. he groans into it, his hands roaming your back, holding you close in the afterglow.

you break apart panting, your foreheads pressed against the other’s, and he smiles softly, his thumb brushing your cheek. 

“you okay? that was intense”, his eyes look at you softer now, wrapping around you like a blanket, making you feel safe, cherished amid the chaos.

“yeah, i just... need a minute to come down. everything feels too much”, you murmur, nuzzling his neck, the security of his presence grounding you.

han chuckles softly, his fingers tracing lazy circles on your back, “i get it. i’m proud of you for letting go like that. with all of us i mean”

“thank you”, you breathe, a small smile tugging at your lips, “for being so gentle after everything”

he moves his head just enough to look at you, his expression softening even more, “always. you deserve that and more”

he leans in again, pressing his lips to yours in a soft kiss, carrying the weight of your moment together. of everything you’ve been through since the game started. when you pull apart, he presses his forehead against yours again.

“take all the time you need, it's over now. the game's done, we will be waiting in the living room whenever you're ready. no rush”, he reassures, pressing a final, tender kiss to your lips, lingering before pulling away. with one last squeeze of your hand, he slips off the bed, grabbing the empty glass, and heads for the door.

you lie there in the tangled sheets for what feels like an eternity, your body still humming from han's final touch, the cool remnants of the ice long melted but the chill lingering in your memory like a ghost of pleasure. 

your chest rises and falls in slow breaths, trying to steady the rapid flutter of your heart as the haze of overstimulation clears bit by bit. flashes of the night replay in your mind - the teasing, the dominance, the stretching. it was intense, overwhelming, each orgasm layering on the last until your body felt like a live wire, but god, you enjoyed every second.

minutes stretch, and you finally stir, sitting up with a wince at the delicious soreness between your legs. your cunt throbs faintly, slick still coating your inner thighs, a reminder of how thoroughly they'd used you. glancing down, you see the marks again - bites on your skin, fingerprints on your hips, faint red trails from the silk ties. it's a map of the night, and tracing one mark with your fingertip sends a fresh spark of arousal through you, your clit twitching despite the exhaustion. 

you slide off the bed, your legs shaky as you pad to the dresser. you pick some new lacy panties - black, sheer enough to tease if they look close - and slip them on, the fabric clinging to your still damp folds, already darkening at the crotch from the persistent wetness. a loose t-shirt follows, hanging just to mid-thigh, your nipples hardening against the thin cotton. no bra, because why bother now? the boys have seen - and tasted - everything.

you open the door and step into the hallway, the living room light spilling warm and inviting. voices murmur ahead, low and excited, and as you round the corner, eight pairs of eyes snap to you, all of them lounging in various states of casual disarray.

“there she is, our champion”, chan says first, his voice warm as he pats the spot beside him on the couch, “you okay? you look like you need a hug or something stronger”

you sink into the couch, tucking your legs under you, the t-shirt riding up just enough to flash lace if you move wrong, and you catch more than one gaze lingering there, heat building again in your core. 

“i'm good, really. just... processing. that was a lot” 

the words come out soft, but honest, and they nod, faces shifting to genuine care.

felix scoots closer, his eyes wide and sweet, “we weren't too much, right? you looked amazing, but we want you feeling safe after”

“yeah, spill, any regrets? or you’re still wordless after we gave you mindblowing orgasms?”, minho teases lightly.

you shake your head, leaning into chan's side as his arm drapes over your shoulders, the solid warmth of him grounding you. 

“no regrets. it was intense, but i loved it, every minute. you all made me feel so... wanted. cared for. like it was more than just the game”

murmurs of agreement ripple through the room, han winking as he adds, “told you we'd take care of you”

the talk flows easy then, brief but real. you recount the highlights without specifics, keeping it light, but the undercurrent simmers: the way their bodies felt against yours, cocks hard and leaking, mouths devouring, the slick sounds of your releases. your panties grow damper just from remembering everything, your thighs pressing together subtly. 

changbin notices, smirking as he flexes his arms, “sounds like we did our jobs right”

finally, after the reassurances fade, seungmin leans forward. 

“so... the big question. who won? who gave you the biggest orgasm? we need a verdict, judge”

you bite your lip, drawing out the moment, your eyes scanning their eager faces, cocks probably twitching under clothes at the thought. 

“honestly? i don’t really know. there were so many different factors, you all made me come in totally different ways”, your voice drops while you think about the details, and the room heats up - breaths quickening, han shifting to adjust his growing bulge, minho's eyes darkening as he licks his lips.

they lean in, debating playfully. 

“see? oral versus penetration, not fair comparison”, hyunjin argues, dramatic as ever, gesturing with those artist hands that had traced your skin so teasingly before.

“yeah, and i was one of the first ones, she was fresh, not built up like later,” jeongin chimes in, rubbing his neck but grinning.

chan laughs, his arm tightening around you, “god, she was so overstimulated when it was my turn that i felt her clench so hard on my tongue…”

you laugh, the sound light but laced with lingering lust, your hand absently trailing chan's thigh, feeling the muscle tense, “exactly. i was really overstimulated by the end, everything felt bigger, hotter. i can’t judge you all properly”

the discussion bubbles, voices overlapping in good-natured jabs - felix claiming he ended the rougher ones, changbin boasting about his turn, seungmin countering with emotional depth. then you drop the next line, playful but pointed, eyes sparkling as you glance around. 

“and honestly? it wasn't fair that some of you got to come and others didn't. like, some of you were denied, your boxers tented and leaking pre-cum the whole time. how am i supposed to rate you when you were edged without release?”

a chorus of agreements erupts, joking but heated. 

“yeah! i was throbbing just from watching you, i was dying to bury myself inside you”, hyunjin, groans, his hand palming himself subtly through his boxers, the outline of his cock visible.

“yeah, my dick ached just from being there, it was unfair as hell”, han adds, his eyes on your thighs where the t-shirt has ridden up, exposing lace clinging to your cunt lips.

minho smirks, leaning in, “told you the wheel was rigged. imagine if we'd all fucked you proper”

seungmin adjusts his boxers, his voice teasing, “some of us made love instead but point taken. no fair fight”

you let the tension build, your heart racing as their gazes turn hungry, bodies shifting closer. the air thickens with unspoken want, your nipples hardening under the shirt even more, your cunt clenching at the thought of them all again, cocks sliding in one by one, mouths and hands everywhere. 

“so, to have a real verdict, a proper answer... i think i'd have to test you all again. same game, but fair this time. everyone gets to come, no holding back. see who really gives the biggest orgasm when we're all unleashed, no wheels”, you say teasingly, your voice dropping lower to gain the effect you want. 

the room explodes in eager chaos, some of the boys jumping up, crowding around the couch, voices overlapping in excited shouts. 

“hell yes, sign me up, i'll have you breaking down much harder this time”, hyunjin declares, his eyes gleaming as he imagines yourself leaking for him again.

“round two? i'm in!”, felix says, bold now, his teeth biting his lip.

chan pulls you closer, breath hot on your ear, “you really want to finish what we started earlier… i’m down”

you burst out laughing at their eagerness, the way they pile on, hands reaching to touch - a pat here, a squeeze there - the living room turning electric with want and need. it's infectious, your own desire reigniting, your panties soaked through as you imagine the second round: bodies entangled, cocks thrusting without restraint, orgasms crashing without the wheel's limits. 

“easy, boys. you’re already so desperate to wreck me again?”, you ask between laughs.

“it’s your own fault, love, we can’t get enough of you now”, changbin adds while he winks at you.

“well i really can’t blame you… you all want me just like i want you all over me, one by one... or maybe all at once”

they cheer, pulling you into a group hug that turns into playful wrestle, limbs everywhere, the hint of more hanging thick, a second round begging to unfold, your body already aching for the final verdict.

you can read the sequel “the christmas round” here

the library

permanent taglist: @stormofwho @luvbangchan @annyeongffs @iamlazychip @lavunyan @sammhisphere @kaybeerrosa @changbinshearteubeateu @jeonginslittledoll @wolfhallows4 @emmiesoverthemoon @geni-627 @xxestxays @btch8008s @mitsuri1221 @necrozica @skinnyjeans-tanktops @hyvneluv @bluesungology @hyunjinxxs @ann-gell @minastronaut @astrophia13 @v3n7s @yunwoogidoll @vantaerayleigh1997 @minhocinema @channiesswift @inlovewithstraykids @nojerama-writes @inniemeenymineymoe @virgopotterhead @hazelwritez @prettydumbandcrying @mar1511 @tsunderelino @neukdaeng @emmyinstayville @luvvvivi @hannieslovebot @httpsxnox @skzittomebabyuhhuhx3 @staygenesblog

[leriexoxo]

Private Access Only

Idol! Chan x Reader

Tags: idol au, slow burn, texting, sexual tension, gym buddies, teasing, oral sex, unprotected sex, dom chan, forbidden sex

Word count: 6.2k

Summary: You met him at a private gym,all sweat and focus and carefully hidden glances. You knew who he was the second he stepped onto the mat, hoodie pulled low and jaw set, but you pretended not to. And that? That caught his attention. Now you’re spotting each other in more ways than one. A late-night stretch becomes a text thread at 1AM. A harmless “good set” turns into a “come over.” But there’s only so long you can keep pretending. And he’s only one kiss away from breaking every rule he swore to keep.

This work contains mature themes, MINORS DO NOT INTERACT!!!

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The gym was nearly empty. The low thrum of ambient music played over the speakers, but it was faint, background noise to the sound of your own pulse as you caught him watching you again.

Bang Chan.

You’d pretended not to notice him the first time when he walked in, hoodie up, face low, but that unmistakable energy radiating off him in waves. You’d been watching from the corner of your eye ever since. Not obsessively. Not obviously. Just… curious. Cautious.

He was always here before you. Always working out in silence. Always keeping to himself. But his eyes always found you.

And you, like a stubborn little masochist, made damn sure not to give him the satisfaction of catching you looking back.

Until now.

You reached for your water bottle at the same time he did, both of you ending up at the tiny hydration station tucked in the far corner. No one else around. Just the two of you and the electric buzz of something unspoken stretching between your bodies.

You glanced up. He was already staring. He didn’t look away.

“Hey,” he said, voice rough from exertion. Or nerves. Or both.

Your heart spiked.

You swallowed, playing it cool. “Hey.”

There was a second of silence. Not awkward. Heavy. Like he was choosing his next move with care.

“I’ve seen you around here,” he said.

You shrugged, like it was no big deal. “Yeah. Same.”

A flicker of something lit behind his eyes. Interest. Surprise. Maybe even relief.

“You never came to say hi.”

You smiled, just a little. “Didn’t think you wanted me to.”

He blinked. “What makes you say that?”

You looked up at him, dead in the eye. “You keep to yourself. Seemed like you liked it that way.”

He let out a quiet laugh, short and breathy. Scratched the back of his neck, and for a second—just a second—he looked disarmed.

“Guess I’m just used to people treating me like I’m not a person,” he said.

You tilted your head. “I treat everyone like a person.”

“Even when you know who they are?”

You didn’t answer. Just smirked and took a sip of your water.

He leaned in, not enough to cross a line, but close enough to feel it blur.

“Well,” he said softly, “I think I’d like to know who you are.”

Your breath caught. But you didn’t flinch. Didn’t run. Just held his gaze and let the tension coil tighter.

“Maybe you will,” you said.

And then you turned and walked away, leaving him watching, smiling, and probably cursing himself for not saying more.

But he would. Tomorrow. Or the next day. Because now, you’d opened the door and neither of you were going to be able to pretend anymore.

You felt his eyes on your back the whole walk back to your mat.

It was different now.

Before, it was cautious curiosity. Polite distance. Now, it was… hungry. Not in the vulgar way. In the interested way. Like he’d finally seen something behind your silence that made him want to look again. And again.

You shouldn’t have turned around. You should’ve kept stretching, pretending nothing happened. But you glanced anyway.

And of course, there he was. Mid curl, arms flexed, shirt sticking to his chest. But his eyes weren’t on the mirror. They were on you.

You blinked and looked away, letting a smirk slip before biting it back.

So he was gonna play this game now? Cool. You’d play better.

The next few days blurred into a pattern, one that neither of you had to speak aloud. You showed up. He showed up. He’d work out near where you were, casually adjusting his routine to match yours. You’d stretch a little slower, take water breaks a little longer. Nothing over the line, but everything under the surface.

Until the day he showed up late.

You were midway through deadlifts when the door buzzed and he strolled in, damp hair pushed back, tank top clinging in all the right places. You caught him in the mirror. He was already looking for you.

You didn’t wave, but you smiled.

And when he walked past you, towel slung low around his neck, he didn’t say anything. Just leaned in enough for his arm to brush against yours and muttered “Need a spot?”

Your breath caught.

He didn’t wait for an answer. Just took position behind you as if he’d always been there.

You bent again. Slower this time. More aware of his presence behind you.

His voice came low, warm against your ear. “Straighten your back just a bit more. Like this.”

His hand grazed your lower back—light, barely there, but enough to make your breath hitch.

You glanced up at the mirror. His eyes were on you. Not your form. You.

“You always this helpful to strangers?” you asked, keeping your tone teasing.

He chuckled. “Only the ones who don’t treat me like a celebrity.”

You stood upright, turning just enough to face him. The look you gave was challenging. Flirty and Dangerous.

“Good thing I’m not just any fan, then.”

He grinned, slow and sinful. “No, you’re definitely not.”

—

It was a Tuesday, raining and unusually quiet at the gym. The kind of day that blurred your focus and made your limbs ache faster than usual. You almost didn’t come. But the thought of possibly seeing him again had dragged you out the door.

Chan was already there. Hoodie on, headphones in. But the moment he saw you enter, he pulled one earbud out, the corner of his mouth tugging up like he’d been waiting.

“Hey,” he said as you approached your usual machine. “Didn’t think I’d see you today.”

You gave him a teasing look. “Why? Missed me already?”

He chuckled, head dropping just a little as if you’d caught him off guard. “Wouldn’t say no to that.”

You blinked. Okay. That one hit.

The tension from last time hadn’t fizzled. It just simmered under the surface, flaring back to life every time you locked eyes, every time he stood just a little too close, every time he chose to stay in your orbit when he had every reason not to.

After the workout, you were wiping sweat from your forehead when he spoke again, his voice low and casual, but with purpose.

“You do smoothies?”

You looked up from your water bottle. “Like… protein ones?”

He nodded once. “There’s a spot nearby. It’s quiet. Nobody’s ever there this time of day.”

You knew exactly what he meant. He couldn’t be spotted, not with someone. Not like this. It wasn’t just about privacy. It was about reputation. Rumors. Photos. One wrong move and the internet would combust.

Still, you smiled. “You ask all the regular gym girls out for secret smoothies?”

His grin was slow, almost bashful. “Nah. Just the ones who pretend not to know who I am.”

You tilted your head, considering. “I could say no.”

“You won’t.”

You rolled your eyes, but your cheeks were already warming. He wasn’t cocky, just sure of what he wanted. You.

And honestly? You were curious to see what Chan looked like outside the walls of this gym. Away from the dumbbells and discreet tension. In a quiet smoothie shop, somewhere only the two of you would exist, if just for a moment.

“Lead the way,” you said.

And the smile he gave in return? Downright dangerous.

The smoothie shop was tucked between a laundromat and a closed-down nail salon, nondescript enough to be forgettable. Chan pulled his hood further down as the door chimed behind you, his eyes scanning the room like second nature.

Only one older man sat in the corner, glued to his phone. No one else.

Perfect.

Chan slid into the farthest booth, motioning for you to sit across from him, his gaze never straying far from the entrance. You could see it—how second-nature this was for him. Always looking. Always calculating. Always cautious.

“You sure this place isn’t crawling with fans?” you teased, unzipping your jacket as you settled in.

He leaned back with a half-smile. “I’ve been coming here for three years. If it’s crawling with anything, it’s dust.”

You laughed softly, picking up the menu. Not that you needed it, your brain was too busy buzzing. The tension was different now. Before, it was sweaty gym air and loaded glances. Now it was… intimate. Close. Real.

You both ordered. Silence stretched while you waited, not awkward but simmering.

You rested your chin on your hand. “So… do you do this often? Drag strangers into smoothie shops under the cover of night?”

He raised an eyebrow, fingers tapping lightly on the table. “I told you. You’re not a stranger.”

“Still pretending I don’t know you, remember?” you smirked.

“That’s the part I like,” he said, voice low. “You look at me like I’m just a guy. Not… him.”

Your pulse stuttered.

“Should I stop?” you asked.

“No,” he said quickly. “Don’t.”

His stare lingered a second longer before he cleared his throat and looked away.

The smoothies arrived.

He sipped his, then pointed at yours with a teasing smirk. “That’s a weird combo. You sure you can handle that?”

You sipped it slowly, eyes locked with his. “I can handle a lot.”

His lips parted, but no words came out. Just that quiet breath he took through his nose, sharp and deliberate, like he was grounding himself.

“Right,” he said eventually, chuckling. “Noted.”

Minutes passed. The air between you grew thick again, denser than before. Each brush of his foot under the table felt intentional. His eyes? Wandering, lingering.

“You ever wish,” you said slowly, “that you could just be normal? Sit across from someone and not worry about who might be watching?”

His jaw tensed, eyes dropping to his smoothie. “Every day.”

You reached across the table, your fingers grazing his, barely there, but enough to make him look up sharply.

“No one’s watching right now,” you whispered.

And in that second, Chan looked at you like he was seconds from doing something reckless.

Like kissing you. Right there. In the dim back booth of a dusty smoothie shop where the real world couldn’t reach him.

Instead he slid out his phone from his pocket and pushed it towards you. “Put your number in there”

“Say please?” You teased, a famous line of his.

Chan chuckled, his dimples flashing as he threw his head back. “Pretty please?”

—

[9:13 PM] Unknown Number:

hey. smoothie girl.

[9:13 PM] You:

you stalking me now?

[9:14 PM] Unknown Number:

nah. just wondering if you survived that weird drink you ordered.

[9:14 PM] You:

barely. pretty sure it melted my insides.

[9:14 PM] Unknown Number:

tough. you looked cute pretending you liked it tho.

[9:15 PM] You:

…you calling me cute?

[9:15 PM] Unknown Number:

i mean. i am a fan of honesty.

—

It had been three days since the smoothie shop, three days since the last time you went to the gym and saw him, but he hadn’t stopped texting you. Rather he texted at odd and quiet hours, like your messages were an escape.

You were just about to start a drama marathon when his text came in late that night.

[1:02 AM] Bang Chan:

you up?

[1:03 AM] You:

maybe.

[1:03 AM] Bang Chan:

wanna come over? dorm’s quiet. just me and a movie.

[1:03 AM] You:

thought idols weren’t supposed to invite strangers over.

[1:04 AM] Bang Chan:

you stopped being a stranger the second you gave me your number.

—

His dorm was quiet. After finding your way over there from the location pin he sent you, you stood outside the door nervously. You knew the moment you knocked that it was really happening.

Before you could actually rap your knuckles on the door, it swung open like he was already waiting for you, or like he watched you come up on his ring camera.

You stepped inside, trying to act like your heart wasn’t jackhammering inside your chest. Chan closed the door behind you with a soft click, and just like that, you were alone. With him. In his space.

He padded past you, hoodie slung low, sweatpants hanging way too comfortably off his hips. “Make yourself at home,” he said, voice casual, like he hadn’t just invited you into the forbidden zone of every STAY’s wildest dream.

You sat on the edge of the couch, gripping your knees. “This place is nicer than I expected.”

“You thought we lived in a shoebox?” he laughed, flopping down next to you with an easy sprawl—too close, legs slightly parted, arm brushing yours.

“No,” you said, gaze flickering to the TV. “Just… smaller.”

He tossed you a sly grin. “You nervous?”

You scoffed. “Why would I be?”

“Dunno,” he shrugged, leaning in just enough to make your breath stutter. “You keep looking everywhere but me.”

Oh, shit.

You forced a laugh, tugging your sleeves down over your palms. “It’s called having manners.”

“It’s cute,” he said, voice lower now. “You trying so hard not to look.”

You did look then—just a glance—and regretted it instantly. His hair was messy, lips pink, thighs spread like sin itself. There was something unguarded about him here. No stage lights. No pressure.

Just him. And it was dangerous.

“So,” he said, picking up the remote. “Wanna watch something?”

“Sure.”

He scrolled absently, not even watching the screen. “You always this composed?”

You raised a brow. “You think I’m composed?”

“I think you’re trying,” he murmured.

The remote clicked. The movie started. But you couldn’t focus. Not when he slouched lower, hoodie slipping off one shoulder. Not when his knee bumped yours every few seconds, like he was testing your reaction.

You exhaled, slow and shaky.

Don’t stare. Don’t gawk at the man. He’s just a guy. Just a friend. Just—

He reached up to ruffle his hair, exposing the line of his stomach for half a second.

—You’re screwed.

You didn’t even notice how close he’d gotten until the back of his hand brushed your thigh reaching for the popcorn bowl.

You froze. So did he.

“…Sorry,” he mumbled, but made no effort to move away. If anything, his hand lingered a second too long before he grabbed the bowl and placed it between you like a flimsy barrier.

You could smell him now. Clean. Warm. A hint of cologne that made your stomach twist into a knot.

Focus on the movie. Focus on the movie.

You shifted, crossing your legs, but even that sent a new wave of awareness rippling through you. The way his eyes flicked to the movement didn’t help.

“You’re quiet,” he said softly, voice a little raspy like it always got late at night.

“I’m watching the movie,” you replied, even though you couldn’t remember a single thing about the plot.

He smirked, head falling against the couch cushion as he turned toward you. “Are you sure you’re not just overthinking because you’re sitting on my couch in the middle of the night?”

“I’m not—” you started, but your voice cracked, completely betraying you.

His smile widened.

God, you hated how sexy that was.

You tried to look away, but then his hand came up—slowly , carefully—and gently tucked a strand of hair behind your ear. It was soft and intentional.

You held your breath.

And then he let it linger, fingertips grazing the curve of your cheek for just a beat too long. It felt like a dare.

“Your hair keeps falling into your eyes,” he murmured.

“Thanks,” you whispered, but it came out too quiet. Too needy.

He leaned back like nothing had happened, but there was something different in the way he looked at you now. Like he knew. Like he felt it too.

And then… his arm stretched along the back of the couch. His fingers didn’t touch you. Not yet. But they hovered close enough to set every nerve in your shoulder on fire.

The silence pulsed. Your head tilted back, brushing against his arm just barely and neither of you moved.

Then his voice, lower this time: “You’re warm.”

You didn’t trust yourself to answer.

The movie played on, forgotten. You stayed like that, hearts ticking louder than the sound system, breathing the same air, tension pulling tighter and tighter like a string ready to snap.

And when your eyes fluttered shut for a second—just a second—his thumb ghosted over your shoulder in the lightest, most dangerous stroke you’d ever felt.

Your eyelids felt heavy, your thoughts foggy and not from sleep.

Chan hadn’t moved his arm from behind you. If anything, it had dipped lower. His fingers were now resting on the top of your shoulder. Barely there. But present. Warm and real.

You shifted again, trying to adjust the way you were sitting because your whole body felt too aware. And the moment you moved, your leg brushed his again, longer this time. You gasped.

He didn’t flinch. Instead, he slowly turned his head toward you, his cheek now just inches away. “Comfortable?” he asked, voice a few octaves deeper than it had any right to be.

“I—yeah. Totally,” you lied, voice cracking like you were thirteen again.

He gave a slow, amused smile.

And then—you watched him stretch. Like really stretch.

His arms went above his head, shirt riding up just enough to expose a teasing sliver of toned skin, and dear God, did he know what he was doing? Because the exhale he let out? That low, satisfied grunt? That was not fair.

You turned your face away like a coward, cheeks burning, fists clenched in your lap to keep from doing something incredibly unwise like crawling into his lap.

“I should go,” you blurted suddenly, standing up way too fast.

You were halfway to the door when his voice stopped you.

“Wait.” It was gentle. But firm.

You turned halfway, heart pounding, eyes wide.

He stood up too, slower, calm—like a lion circling prey. His hoodie slipped slightly off one shoulder and his hair flopped into his face. When he looked at you, it wasn’t the usual soft Chan you’d come to know.

This was the man who commanded stages. The one who could tear you apart with a look.

He stepped closer. One pace. Two. You didn’t breathe.

“I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable,” he said, and his voice had dropped to a murmur again. “If I did… just tell me.”

You blinked, throat dry. “No, it’s not— it’s me.”

He tilted his head. “You?”

“I’m… trying really hard not to make a fool of myself right now.”

That made him smile—slow, lopsided, dangerous. “Because of me?”

You wanted to crawl into the floor. “Don’t look so smug about it.”

He chuckled, gaze dragging slowly over your face. “I’m not smug. I’m just—” he stepped even closer now, voice a whisper— “surprised.”

“Surprised?”

“That you’re the one fumbling,” he said. “Because I’ve been fighting the urge to kiss you for three nights now.”

Time stopped.

You blinked. Your brain stuttered. “What—”

“But I won’t,” he added quickly, stepping back, saving you from yourself. “Not unless you ask.”

And just like that, he left you dangling on the edge of madness.

—

You avoided his texts for almost a day. Not because you didn’t want to answer. But because you couldn’t look at his name on your screen without reliving that moment—his voice, the way he stood too close, the quiet confession.

And when you finally did respond, it wasn’t with words. Just a single emoji.

The knife. 🔪

He sent a skull back. Then followed it with:

“You alive?”

You typed and deleted at least three different replies before finally settling on:

“Barely.”

A beat later, his response popped up.

“Come over.”

Your fingers hesitated over your screen.

“Why?”

This time, he left you waiting. And when the reply finally came through, your pulse jackknifed.

“Because I’m done pretending I don’t want you.”

—

The apartment—because it would be delusional to call such a place a dorm— was quiet when you arrived. A little too quiet.

No music. No signs of life. Just the soft hum of the hallway light and your own heartbeat thudding like a warning drum.

And there he was. In a sleeveless black tee, damp hair pushed back like he’d just come from the shower. His jaw looked sharper than your willpower, and the glint in his eyes—God, that glint—told you everything you needed to know.

He stepped aside, letting you in without a word. You passed him, trying to act unaffected. Failing.

The second the door shut behind you, the energy shifted.

You turned to face him, trying to speak, trying to breathe, but Chan tilted his head and slowly closed the distance between you.

“You really came,” he murmured, voice low and tight, like he was hanging on by a thread.

You gave a breathless nod. “You asked me to.”

He just smirked.

The air crackled between you two. You opened your mouth to speak, but he was already stepping closer, so close your back met the wall before you even realized you were backing up. His arms caged you in, palms pressing to the wall on either side of your head, and you could feel the heat of him everywhere.

“Do you have any idea what you do to me?” he whispered, leaning in until his mouth brushed your jaw—so lightly it made your knees shake. “How hard it is… not to touch you.”

Your hands twitched at your sides.

“I’m right here,” you whispered back. “Why aren’t you touching me.”

He paused, just long enough to make you ache, then exhaled a soft laugh, something dark and amused.

“Be careful what you ask for, baby,” he murmured, one hand slipping to your waist, gripping it. “Because once I start…”

His lips finally found your neck “…I don’t think I’ll be able to stop.”

His mouth trailed down your neck, hot and slow, and you could feel his breath when he paused—hovering right over your pulse point like he was deciding whether to bite or bless you.

You bit your lip. Let him hover a second too long. Then tilted your head back and let out a soft, calculated sigh.

He froze.

Chan pulled back slightly, eyes narrowing as they met yours—suspicious, like he sensed the shift in energy. And you? You smiled.

“What’s wrong?” you asked, your voice like sin wrapped in silk. “Don’t tell me you’re nervous.”

A dangerous chuckle rumbled in his chest.

“Nervous?” he echoed, one brow arching, licking his bottom lip like he was trying not to laugh. “Oh, baby girl…”

You trailed a single manicured finger down his chest, slow enough to give him goosebumps.

“Because I think…” you whispered, rising onto your toes so your lips brushed his ear, “you like when I pretend I don’t want you.”

He sucked in a breath. His grip on your waist tightened, a warning.

You pulled back with a coy little smirk and turned your back to him—turned your back to Bang Chan, who had you pressed to a wall seconds ago—like you hadn’t just dared a lion to pounce.

You took a seat on his couch like you owned it. Crossed your legs slow enough to make him twitch.

“Come on then,” you said, eyes dancing. “Show me what happens when you stop pretending.”

The silence was sharp.

Then he moved. Fast.

You barely had time to blink before he was in front of you again, one knee on the couch, the other wedged between your thighs, and that smirk?

Gone. Replaced with a look that could ruin lives. His fingers tilted your chin up.

“You really wanna play this game with me?” he murmured.

Your pulse stuttered. But you smiled anyway. “Only if I win.”

That did it. Chan leaned in, lips brushing yours but not quite kissing—not yet. Just enough to drive you insane.

“Oh, baby,” he whispered, his voice rough with restraint. “You have no idea what you just started.”

You should’ve backed down. You knew that. But something about the way Chan looked at you, like you were a secret snack he wasn’t allowed to want, made you reckless.

His lips hovered so close, barely a breath separating them from yours, and you could taste the heat between you. But still, he didn’t kiss you. Didn’t even blink.

“You’re enjoying this,” he said quietly, eyes flickering between your lips and your gaze.

You shrugged, feigning innocence. “You’re the one getting all worked up.”

His jaw flexed. Without warning, his hand slid down to your thigh, palm flat and firm. His fingers curled just enough to remind you how large his hands were, how easily he could pull you apart.

But he didn’t. Not yet.

“You think I’m worked up?” he asked, tone deceptively calm. “You’re the one squirming.”

You scoffed, shifting slightly. “Please. I’m relaxed.”

“Oh yeah?” His hand tightened just slightly, a subtle press at the inside of your thigh that made your breath hitch. “Then why can’t you sit still?”

Your skin ignited where he touched, but you refused to let it show.

Instead, you leaned forward until your lips were at his ear, your hand trailing up the side of his neck, nails dragging just enough to make his breath catch.

“You’re the one who invited me here, Chan,” you whispered. “If I’m squirming, it’s because you want me that way.”

His expression dropped, something dark and delicious flickering through his eyes like a lit match. His hand moved again, bolder this time, gripping your thigh with intent, with purpose.

“Careful,” he murmured, lips brushing yours with unbearable restraint. “Keep teasing me like that, and I’ll stop holding back.”

You swallowed hard. But you didn’t move away. “You promise?”

There was a split second where you could feel him decide. Then his hand disappeared from your thigh. And he stood up, walked to the kitchen like nothing had happened, leaving you blinking, breathless and aching.

“You want something to drink?” he called over his shoulder.

You stared after him, absolutely dumbfounded. “…Excuse me?”

He glanced back with a smirk. “Just giving you a chance to cool off.”

The audacity

You blinked. Once. Twice. Still not entirely sure that man just left you aching and needy on his couch to ask if you wanted juice.

That smug bastard.

You pushed yourself up, heart pounding. The audacity. The teasing. The restraint. You were still pulsing between your legs and he was over there, casually opening the fridge like he hadn’t just threatened to ruin you with nothing but his voice and his hand on your thigh.

Oh, hell no.

You padded toward the kitchen, slow, purposeful. He didn’t look back, pouring water like he hadn’t just driven you to the brink of madness.

“Are you serious right now?” you asked, voice low.

He turned, one brow raised. “About the drink? Dead serious. You looked thirsty.”

You scoffed, stepping closer, gaze narrowing. “You’re not nearly as smooth as you think you are.”

That smirk he gave you?

Illegal.

“I’m smooth enough to have you chasing after me.”

Your breath caught, and that’s when you snapped. You grabbed his shirt, fisted the fabric right at his chest, and shoved him back until his hips hit the counter.

“I’m not chasing,” you whispered, your face inches from his. “I’m hunting.”

He exhaled sharply, and for a second, you thought he might let you have control.

But then—whiplash. His hands were on your waist, spinning you in one swift motion, and your back slammed gently into the fridge. Cold metal. Hot body. And Chan, right in your space, one hand planted beside your head, the other gripping your chin.

“You really think you can play this game with me?” he growled.

You couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t move. “I know I can.”

He laughed—low, dark, spine-tingling.

“You don’t even know what I am yet,” he muttered, his hand sliding down, fingers grazing your pulse. “You think I’m some soft boy because I smiled at you in the gym?”

He leaned in closer, nose brushing yours.

“I’m the reason people lose their minds. I’m the reason girls forget their own names. And if you keep testing me…” his hand drifted lower, ghosting over your stomach, “you’ll find out exactly what it feels like to beg for mercy with my name choking in your throat.”

Your knees nearly gave out.

“Then show me,” you breathed, eyes burning into his.

He stared for a second, eyes wild, chest rising.

Then—He didn’t kiss you. He pulled back. Turned. And walked away again.

But this time? His voice came like thunder over his shoulder.

“Next time you come over…” he said, heading toward the hallway, “don’t plan on walking out.”

You stared at his retreating back like he’d just punched you in the chest. Your lungs refused to cooperate, your thighs clenched tight, and your heart was galloping like it was trying to outrun your shame.

He left you again. Again. With a promise this time, and a voice like sin dragging nails down your spine.

“Next time you come over…”

—

You couldn’t sleep that night. Not a damn second.

And maybe that’s why, two nights later, you were standing in front of his dorm door with trembling fingers and no excuse for why you were there. You didn’t text. Didn’t call. You just… showed up.

The door opened before you could knock. Like he’d sensed you.

Chan stood there, shirt loose, hair a little messy, lips parted like he hadn’t expected you, but also like he absolutely did.

No words.

He just stepped aside and you stepped in. The click of the door locking behind you felt louder than it should’ve.

“Couldn’t sleep either, huh?” he said, voice already dipping into that octave that made your blood fizz.

You turned, mouth parted to say something, anything… But he was already in front of you. Not touching but just staring.

“I tried to be good,” he murmured.

You swallowed.

“Chan—”

“I tried,” he repeated, stepping in, forcing your back up against the nearest wall. “Tried to think with my brain and not my dick. But you keep showing up like this…”

His fingers found your waist. Slid under your top like they belonged there. His lips hovered at your jaw.

“…like you want to be ruined.”

You gasped—soft, shaky—as his thigh slid between yours.

“Do you?” he whispered. “Want me to ruin you?”

“Yes,” you breathed, too fast. “Yes, Chan—please.”

That was all it took.

He kissed you like you were oxygen and he’d been drowning. His mouth devoured yours, his tongue slid deep and fast, and his grip on your waist turned possessive. You whimpered, arms thrown around his neck as he hoisted you up, pinning your thighs around his hips.

“You don’t know what you’ve just started,” he groaned, walking you backward through the hallway.

“You said not to come over unless I was ready,” you managed between kisses. “I’m ready.”

His laugh was dark and breathless.

“Oh, baby.” He dropped you onto his bed like you weighed nothing, his shirt already halfway off. “I’m about to show you what ready looks like

The moment your back hit the mattress, you knew you were fucked.

Literally. Figuratively. Emotionally. Physically. Spiritually. Every kind of -ly there is.

Chan stood at the edge of the bed, shirt gone, sweatpants hanging low on his hips, eyes dragging over your body like he already knew what you tasted like.

“You don’t get to act shy now,” he said, voice dark silk. “Not after coming here all hot and bothered, begging me with your eyes like some kind of desperate little thing.”

Your thighs clenched.

He noticed. Of course he noticed. He crawled over you slow, caging you in like a predator, mouth grazing the shell of your ear.

“You’re dripping already, aren’t you?”

You whimpered, actually whimpered, and his chuckle made your whole body thrum.

His hand slipped beneath your waistband, fingers teasing, brushing the damp fabric between your legs.

“Fucking soaked,” he groaned, pressing harder. “You came here like this? Wet for me?”

Your head tipped back as his fingers slid past the barrier, stroking straight down your slit like he had every right to be there. Like your body owed him.

“Look at you,” he whispered. “All worked up from a few little texts. A smirk in the gym. Me telling you not to touch me.”

His fingers dipped in, just barely.

“That what gets you off, baby? The chase?”

You grabbed his wrist, thighs trembling. “I want more.”

Chan’s gaze snapped to yours, and suddenly he wasn’t teasing.

He spinned.

Hand wrapped around your throat, not tight but just firm, grounding. He leaned in until his forehead rested against yours.

“You want more?” he asked, thumb grazing your bottom lip.

You nodded, breath shallow. “All of you.”

And that was it. The dam broke.

Clothes flew, yours first, then the rest of his. His mouth was everywhere. Your neck, your breasts, down your stomach, between your legs. You sobbed when he licked you for the first time—slow, devastating—and again when he sucked your clit like he planned to stay there all night.

But he didn’t. He came back up, wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, eyes blown wide with hunger.

“You’re gonna take me so well,” he muttered, lining up. “I know you are.”

And when he finally pushed in? You cried.

Stretched open, filled to the brim, held down by the weight of him and the raw want in his every movement. He didn’t go slow. Not at all.

He set a pace that had you gasping, clutching at his sheets and nearly breaking a nail. Thrusts deep and precise, hips snapping hard enough to rattle the headboard.

“You feel that?” he growled in your ear. “That’s me. All of me. Every inch. Giving you what you came here for.”

You couldn’t speak. Couldn’t even think. You could only feel your body trembling beneath his, his name falling from your lips over and over and over.

“Say it,” he demanded, hand tangled in your hair. “Say who’s fucking you.”

“You, Chan—fuck, you—!”

“Louder.”

“Bang Chan!”

His lips crashed into yours, swallowing your cries as your orgasm slammed through you. You clenched around him so tight he groaned against your mouth, following you seconds later, hips stuttering, heat spilling inside you like a goddamn promise.

You laid there after, wrecked and panting, eyes fluttering shut.

Chan didn’t speak. He just curled an arm around your waist, pressed a soft kiss to your shoulder, and held you all through the night, like you belonged in his arms.

—

The sun crept in slow, warm and golden, draping across bare limbs tangled in navy sheets. You stirred against the pillow, the soreness between your thighs making you wince, but not in a bad way. No. In the kind of way that made your lips curl faintly, cheeks heat at the memory of last night.

Chan lay beside you, one arm slung lazily across your waist, his face soft and unguarded in sleep. Hair tousled. Lashes brushing his cheekbones. Breath low and steady.

And then, like he felt your gaze, his eyes blinked open—still heavy with sleep but sharp enough to pin you the second they met yours.

“You’re still here,” he murmured, voice all husky and cracked from sleep.

You smiled. “Didn’t think you’d kick me out.”

Chan let out a quiet breath, half a laugh, half something darker. “I’d never kick you out,” he said. “If anything, I—”

His words broke off when he shifted, thigh brushing against yours under the sheets, and froze.

You watched him smirk slowly, eyes dipping to where your bodies touched.

“You’re wet.”

Your breath caught. “Chan—”

“You woke up like this?” he asked, voice dipping impossibly lower as he leaned in, brushing his lips against your shoulder. “Still soaked from last night?”

Your stomach flipped. His hand moved down, skimming your side, ghosting over your hip, until his fingers slid between your legs without hesitation, finding the truth of it.

You gasped.

“Fuck,” he whispered. “You are.”

Your thighs parted instinctively as his fingers moved, slow and purposeful.

“Need me again already?” he asked, teasing, but there was a hungry edge to it. “Didn’t get enough, baby?”

You whimpered, hips rolling into his touch.

Chan kissed your neck, your jaw, your lips, each one messier than the last, until he was back on top of you, settling between your legs like he owned the space there.

And then he lined up, feeling even harder than last night, and he pushed in. No warning. Just slick, hot stretch and that perfect pressure that punched the air from your lungs.

“Still so tight,” he groaned. “So fucking good.”

Your fingers clawed at his back. “Please—”

“Shh,” he breathed, forehead pressing to yours. “I got you. Just take it.”

His thrusts were slower this time, deeper, harder, more intentional. He kissed you like you were air, touched you like you were made for him.

And when you shattered beneath him again, loud and messy and too much. He held you close and spilled inside you with a low, guttural moan. It took a minute for the world to stop spinning.

When it did, he didn’t pull away. He stayed there, warm and weighty and buried inside you, as he brushed your hair out of your face and stared at you like you’d just rewritten everything he thought he knew about desire.

Then, he said it. The words that changed the rhythm of your pulse entirely.

“You’re mine now.”

You blinked.

“I mean it,” he whispered, thumb stroking your cheek. “Not just for last night. Or this morning. Or the next time I get you all worked up.”

You swallowed hard.

“I’m not gonna share you,” he said, voice steady, soft but serious. “So if you’re here… you’re mine.”

You stared up at him, still breathless and still trembling, and you nodded. Because there was no going back now, you didn’t even want to.

You were his.

And you fucking loved it.

Authors note: Hey guys! Sorry its been a little slow, I’ve been really busy working on other stuff, but i was clearing out my notes and found this fic that i didn’t get to upload from months back, touched it up a bit and voila!!! I hope you enjoy it!!

REQUESTS ARE CLOSED FOR NOW 😭🥹

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