Genre: Established relationship; slice of life; fluff
Warnings: Some cussing; some naughty thoughts but nothing explicit
Word count: 1,193 words
Summary: "I was thinking maybe we could take a quick nap?"
A/N: Dedicated to you, Sim-- @itdoesntmatterwhy for our mutual love of naps lmaooo and thank you and @internetjunkdrawer for beta-reading 🥰
After spending the morning swimming in the ocean and lounging by the shore, you and Jungkook head back to your hotel room before tonight’s party at the resort’s beach club.
Jungkook took his shower then you took yours. Once you finished drying your hair, you stepped out of the bathroom and back into the bedroom.
“Wasn’t the beach awesome today?” You call out to him. You think he’s out on the balcony but instead, you find him lying in bed, elbows crossed behind his neck using them as cushions. His freshly washed, air-dried hair is all mussed up, and he’s got that mischievous look on his face.
You arch an eyebrow at him and ask, "Bed? Already?"
"No," he grins. He pulls back the sheets and pats the empty space on the bed, inviting you to lie down with him.
You slide under the sheets, where he's lying in nothing but his boxers. This is exactly what you want, what you've been craving for all this time: to feel comfortable with his touch, his warm breath in your ear, and his body on top of you.
Just before your naughty thoughts consume you, he embraces you and you snuggle into his arms, feeling the comfort of being close to him. He tilts your chin up to him and your lips meld into each other’s. It's a nice moment of reconnection after dealing with both of your busy schedules.
Loosening his hold on you, he sighs, nuzzling into your hair. "I got tired from being in the sun all day, so I decided to take a quick rest," he says softly.
You lift your head and furrow your eyebrows. "Oh…I hope you're not too tired for the club. The host mentioned they'll have a couple of DJs and an open bar. It should be really fun."
You were looking forward to your vacation and excited to do everything on your itinerary. Jungkook was happy to follow your lead.
"I'm still up for going out," he reassures you. "But I was thinking…maybe we could take a quick nap?"
You feel a bit let down, but you don't show it. "Hmm... okay."
He keeps trying to persuade you. "Come on, it'll be great! We'll feel refreshed and energized, and then we can party hard tonight. Get lit!" He exclaims.
As you ponder the idea, you realize that you're also feeling tired from the heat, ocean breeze, and all those margaritas you had at the beach. You don't want to fall asleep at the bar just 15 minutes after arriving!
"Good idea," you eventually agree, and snuggle deeper into your pillows.
"It's really cool that these blackout drapes are remote-controlled," he says.
You can't help but laugh at how impressed he is by the hotel room. After closing the curtains, you turn off the lamp on the nightstand.
"Do we need to set an alarm?" you ask.
"Nah," he says, putting down the remote control and turning back towards you. "We'll wake up in an hour, maybe two at most!"
You nod, not thinking much of it.
"Tonight's going to be wild. I'm excited!" you say to him.
"Yep! They're not ready for us," Jungkook agrees as he pulls the sheets up to his chin.
Not long after, both of you fall asleep.
******
When you wake up, you blindly reach for your phone. You want to see if you have enough time to fix your hair and apply some makeup.
“Fuck!” You say loudly.
Jungkook is startled awake, sits up abruptly, and turns to you. "What? What?"
You stare at him, horrified. "It's 7!"
Jungkook shrugs without any sense of urgency. "So we overslept a bit. The party's not until 9 PM, so we still have time."
You blink slowly at his relaxed attitude. "A.M.," you say, emphasizing each letter.
He is still half asleep and having trouble processing information. "What?"
"It's 7 o'clock in the morning!"
"That's impossible," he laughs, turning to his nightstand to check his phone. "Oh no...oops," he chuckles when he sees what time it really is.
You are annoyed with him and push him to his side. "I told you we should have set an alarm!"
He falls back onto his pillow, laughing uncontrollably at the idea that you both slept through the night.
"I'm glad you find this funny," you say dryly. "What happened to 'getting lit'? We just lost a potentially great evening!" You complain.
"I'm sorry, baby," he says between laughs. "I didn't realize we would sleep through it. We always wake up an hour after a nap!"
You roll your eyes. “Yeah, years ago! And how long has it been since our last vacation?”
He smiles again and tries to hold back a laugh. Then he softens his expression to comfort you and says, "Hey, at least we're on time for breakfast. If we get up now, we can avoid the crowds."
Despite this, you're still annoyed that you didn't get to go to the club as planned.
He notices that you’re still upset and immediately turns apologetic. "I'm really sorry that we missed out on the club. I didn't realize how tired I was. It won’t happen again, I promise.”
You sigh softly. "I'm not mad because we didn't go out. I just wanted us to do something fun together."
"I'm having fun just lying here with you!” He counters. “And, to be honest, I don't really care what we do. As long as we do things together, that's all that matters." He leans in and brushes his finger against your cheek, instantly calming you.
The purpose of this trip was to spend quality time together. Your face visibly relaxes. "Yeah, you’re right.”
Noticing your mood lighten, he says, "I think we're too old for clubs anyway," he laughs. "Do you even remember the last time we were out after 9PM?”
You find his question amusing. Nowadays, it's rare that you would both stay out past 9:30 in the evening.
“What do you say? Should we head down to the omelet station now before everyone and their mom shows up?”
As effortlessly as he can turn you on with one intense look, he could also make your irritation disappear with his doe-eyed pout.
You couldn’t help but crack a smile, “Okay, let’s go.”
He grins triumphantly, his nose scrunched up showing how excited he was. Before you roll out of bed to head to the bathroom, he tugs at your wrist. “Hey.”
“Hm?”
“I promise I’ll make it up to you after breakfast.”
“How?” You ask him pointedly.
“I can always swipe one of those canned whipped creams from the waffle station and bring it back here. Maybe…I can grab one of the chocolate syrups, too?” He winks.
You bite down on your lower lip to hold back a giggle.
“You like that, huh?” He waggles his brows at you.
You roll your eyes and give up, knowing he knows you too well. "Fine! I'm holding you to that!"
Then, he takes you by surprise by pulling you back into bed and peppering you with kisses. You squeal as he hits your ticklish spots.
Main Fic Masterlist
You’ve reached the end! Thank you so much for reading!
If you loved it, please comment, reblog, or send me feedback! 📩. I love hearing from readers! If you didn’t like it so much, I would still like to hear about it. Help me become a better writer! 💜
Do u think u could make an JJK FF about two people falling in love bc of fate and coincidences?
I received this before my follower milestone but it works for the celebration I’m hosting so you are in luck hahaha
The Coincidence of Fate | jjk
☆pairing: Jungkook x reader
☆rating: 18+ (no smut in and of itself, just mention of oc and jungkook making love. Minors please DNI)
☆genre: slices of life!au, fluff
☆warnings: OC slips because of a mask, one mention of characters making love
☆word count: 1.3k
☆☆☆☆☆
You weren’t supposed to be here. You still can’t believe the series of events that led you to be standing here, in this coffee shop, drenched with water from the heavy rain outside.
First, you woke up this morning with an inexplicable yearning for your favourite cappuccino from that café you used to go to when you were in college. Literally, you woke up craving the taste of it, and the aromas that swirled on your tongue whenever you studied at that café, by the window overlooking the park on the other side of the street. So you elected to make a pitstop there before going to work, as your first meeting is only at 10:30 am anyway.
Second, you forgot to look at the weather before you leave – which mind you you never do. You usually look at the weather every morning to prepare yourself for the day – what you’ll wear, if you need to put boots or shoes, if you need to bring an umbrella. This morning you forgot, and your trustee red umbrella is still on its hook, in the wardrobe next to the apartment’s door. It’s probably laughing at you from where it hangs, warm and dry.
Third, you took the wrong metro line, which is entirely because you are so used to be going to work directly from home that you don’t even think when you do it, you just let the flow of the crowd guide you. It took you three stops to realize you took the wrong line, and you pull out your phone to figure out the most efficient way to get to the café. It turns out to be a bus, so you get out of the metro and wait at the stop two streets down.
Fourth, the bus drops you off a good seven-minute walk away from the café. Which you reckon isn’t a lot, you’re usually the kind of person that always walks if it’s less than a thirty-minute walk. But the rain starts then, just a small drizzle that doesn’t worry you all that much. It’s summer, so it’s warm anyway, and the drizzle is a good relief from the heat.
Fifth, the café is closed due to renovations, but another one a few blocks down the street took over their menu – of course the café knows how important it is to the university students, so it didn’t want to betray its loyal clientele. But that means a longer walk, yet it still doesn’t scare you.
Sixth and last, the drizzle turns into a full-on shower by the time you make it two blocks down, and you run the rest of the way, trying to avoid your designer clothes getting all wet. Which obviously doesn’t work, because you’re currently dripping on the floor of the coffee house, looking like a lost puppy in the rain.
You’re still adamant about the cappuccino. In fact, you crave it even more now – you’re going to need its warm comfort.
The coffee shop is mostly empty, save for a group of girls studying in one corner, though they seem like they’re gossiping more than anything else. They don’t look at you, and you don’t look at them, walking towards the counter.
There is no one behind it, and you glance at the double doors that probably lead to a kitchen or something of the sorts. What you miss then, is the surgical mask left on the floor by a careless client, and damn you the tiles of the coffee shop have been polished recently.
The moment you step on the mask you fly, and your back hitting the floor has you feeling far too dizzy for your own good. You shut your eyes for a few seconds, wincing in pain. When you open them again, you wonder if you hit your head.
If you hit your head real good and died, because someone’s kneeling next to you, and you’re pretty sure he’s the most beautiful man you’ve seen in your entire life. He’s got big doe eyes, a soft gaze that holds so much kindness you think he can only be an angel. Strangely, what your eyes focus on is the mole under his mouth though.
His lips move, distracting you from the mole, and you notice light glinting on a piercing before you realize he’s speaking. And he’s speaking to you, with a concern-filled voice.
“Are you okay?” he repeats.
You blink a few times. “I think so.”
He helps you to sit up, and you’re painfully aware of his hands on you. They’re large, warm, and they hold you for a time, making sure you’re as okay as you say you are. His eyes don’t ever waver from yours once your gazes connect, and you’re pretty sure you’re hearing bells.
You are. It’s the bells from the door, and you let out an embarrassed chuckle as your eyes fall, and he moves his hands off of you to glance at the new client.
“Why don’t you sit while I take care of their order?” he suggests, motioning to the nearest empty table.
You blink again. “Oh.” You glance at the two guys that walked in, before nodding your head. “Yes, sure. Good idea.”
He chuckles, and you think it’s the most beautiful sound you’ve ever heard in your life. It has your pulse racing, in that good way you usually only see on a movie screen. Your gazes catch for a moment again, and it feels like the moment is stretching into its own little eternity.
Then the guy is helping you to stand, and you notice the sleeve of tattoos. They look out of place, on this sweet innocent-looking man, yet they fit perfectly. You gulp, before sitting at the table as he moves back behind the counter to serve the two customers.
His eyes keep darting to you. You know because each time he catches you already looking, and he sends you a small, secretive smile that has you think you have to know him from somewhere. The way he moves feels familiar, the stretch of his shoulders feels like you’ve seen it a thousand times before. You almost remember holding that large hand of his, almost remember the sound of his voice as he whispers against your skin…
You blush then, and your eyes obstinately fall to the table, boring a hole there.
You’ve never been a big romantic. Never believed in love at first sight… but when he puts your favourite cappuccino down in front of you, before sitting in the chair across from yours, you think maybe fate is just a series of coincidences.
“How did you know…” you trail off, motioning to the cup in front of you.
He smiles. “Intuition. I’m Jungkook, by the way. I’ve never seen you around here before.”
Blush dusts your cheeks again. “Y/n.”
He nods, as if he knew anyway.
It’s no wonder you fall in love. No wonder the puzzle pieces meet and form art, because it was meant to be. At least that’s what you think the first time he kisses you, after a Narnia pub quiz date that had both of you sharing two pints of beer, because you both don’t want to leave after the first one. That’s what you think the first time he makes love to you, forehead pressed against yours as you breathe the same air and he tells you he thinks he knows you from a past life. That’s what you think when he makes you dance amongst the falling leaves a late October evening, and that’s what you think when he kisses the top of your head first thing when he wakes up on Christmas morning.
And a year later, when he proposes in that same café you were never supposed to go to, you think he’s your favourite coincidence as you say yes, yes to an eternity next to him. Because you know, you know now your life was just a series of coincidences, all of them leading to him.
You thought Taehyung would get the hint of you wanting to be left alone that day, as you had remained in your bedroom ever since before he arrived to your place that night; not even muttering a simple ‘hello’ once he walked inside to find you lying on your stomach with your eyes fixed on your laptop as you read something that only took him one glance at to not find it interesting at all.
However, when he made his way over to your bed, mindlessly dropping his phone and the spare key you had given him months ago on it, only to later straddle your lower back and let his full weight on top of you, you knew he had not gotten the memo at all.
Still, you said nothing — only letting a small groan escape your lips right after feeling his body fall on top of you, which caused a low chuckle to come out of his mouth.
With your eyes still focused on the screen in front of you, you felt a shiver run up your spine as you felt his fingertips smoothly trace up and down your back, making it harder for you with each faint feel of his touch on you not to let out a small laugh under your breath.
When his touch abandoned your body after a couple of minutes, you thought he had grown bored at your lack of reaction; finding out seconds later that you could not have been more wrong, for this time his hands moved down lower to grab the end of your loose t-shirt and pulled it slightly up, only enough for half of your back to be exposed under his intense stare as his long fingers went back at it again with tickling your skin.
“Um, Taehyung-ie?” you spoke for the first time that evening, after he had started humming a song you could not quite recognize right then.
“Hm?” he answered quietly, almost hypnotized by the sight he had of you.
Not being able to turn around given your boyfriend was currently on top of you, you uneasily gazed over your shoulder so you could lock eyes with him. “I love you, but please stop whatever it is that you’re doing”.
Just like that, his hands were removed from your body and your t-shirt was pulled back down to its place, receiving a relieved ‘thank you’ from you.
Nevertheless, before you could even turn back around to your laptop, you felt his chest fall on top of you now, leaving you completely still as his arms wrapped tightly yet somehow still gently around your neck, and his lips brushed over the skin of your neck.
“Yah, I was just loving you and you treat me like this” he pouted.
Rolling your eyes in amusement at his overdramatic words, you planted a small kiss on his temple. “You know I get ticklish when you do that, and I need to concentrate right now. I’m busy”.
“I know you get ticklish, why do you think I was doing it to begin with?” a teasing smirk curved up his lips.
“Yah!” you were the one to call him out this time. “Don’t you have to go home and rest after practice or something?”
His hold around your neck tightened a little, managing to pull you closer and press a kiss to the spot under your jaw. “I am home and resting after practice”.
“This is my place” you tauntingly remarked.
Taehyung chuckled; another kiss being pressed to your skin. “Wasn’t talking about the apartment”.
Simple as that, with him smiling ever so brightly as your cheeks burned at his cheesy words, you finally closed the laptop in front of you and put it aside —along with your grumpy mood— so you could make yourself more comfortable inside his welcoming arms, just like he had wanted you to all along.
Hi Jade! Could I request a cute, fluffy Jungkook drabble where his girlfriend meets Bam for the first time and they instantly become besties?
sure thing, sweet bean!
i saw this pic while i was looking through pinterest for possible banners and it sent me, then it inspired this nonsense 🤪
The first few weeks of dating anyone new are a certifiable mindfuck. Underneath the warm wave of infatuation, there’s a maelstrom brewing; and if you’re too short-sighted, you might drown.
To keep afloat, you spend more time than ever preening — making damn sure that your appearance and personality are at their most palatable. You wear carefully coordinated underwear; you wash your hair on a regular schedule for once; and you try to keep that persistently doubtful inner monologue of yours locked in the vault at the back of your brain.
Meanwhile, outside of presenting yourself as the prettiest of all packages, you have to — somehow — keep an eye out for the other person’s red flags. Sure, you’re a firework whenever their texts light up your inbox, but are they good for your mental health? What if you take off the rose-colored glasses and find that your little love boat is actually trash barge; and — surprise! — that trash barge has been on fire this entire time, with you none the wiser?
If you successfully cross that minefield and survive long enough meet who you’re really dealing with, the introductions don’t stop there. They meet your friends, you meet theirs. Then come parents, then the hidden flaws that are no longer waiting in the wings, then the final arbiter.
If their pet doesn’t like your vibe? Game over.
It’s with a weak jolt of panic that you stand on Jungkook’s doorstep, poised to knock. Before your knuckles can hit the wood, you hear a muffled call from inside: “It’s open!”
Odd.
You inhale as you turn the knob and push it open — and the second you lay eyes on him, it leaves you in a wheezing, entirely and embarrassingly authentic laugh. The very laugh you’ve nearly fainted trying to suppress, which prompts you to immediately slap your hand over your mouth.
Sitting cross-legged on the floor is the bad boy your friends all warned you about — donning a face mask that looks like marshmallow fluff against his tan skin — with a dog wiggling excitedly in front of him, and a toothbrush in hand. Both of them look up at you like everything’s normal, and you swear they’re both smiling.
“Hi,” Jungkook chirps, grinning carefully so as to not disturb his mask. He speaks at his usual quick pace like his body contains more energy than he knows what to do with, “I’m almost done with his teeth. Are you hungry?”
You blink, absolutely dumbfounded, and then you ask, “Did — did you forget I was coming over?”
Jungkook furrows his brows— which are, for the record, hidden under bright, white clay — and now you feel like an absolute asshole for making assumptions. If the roles were reversed, you wouldn’t be caught dead in this state. Not this early into the relationship, when he might not be invested enough in you to see past it.
Yet here he was with all his cards on the table, leaving it up to you to take them or leave them.
“No, I didn’t. I’ve actually been looking forward to this all day,” he admits with a sheepish smile, suddenly shy. Then, Jungkook glances down at the dog, whose wiggling only intensifies as you toe off your shoes and begin your approach. “So has Bam.”
You join them both on the floor, legs outstretched and crossed at the ankle. With your weight propped up on one arm, you tilt your head and muse, “He’s really well trained. Normally, dogs are all over you the second you walk in a room, you know?”
You really should’ve known better than to bait Jungkook like that. There’s barely time to process the look he exchanges with Bam — as if they’re plotting telepathically — because there’s a quick nod in your direction, and then there’s a doberman bowling you over onto your back.
It’s impossible to tell who’s laughing louder: Jungkook, whose watering eyes might leave streaks in his face mask; or you, hugging forty kilograms of unadulterated bliss. One thing is clear: Jungkook is over the moon. So much so that he coos, “Aww, look who made a friend!”
You’re not sure if he’s referring to Bam or to you.
“Best friend, obviously,” You peep, “No one has ever been this excited to see me before in my life.” You have to squeeze your eyes shut to avoid the tongue lapping lovingly over your cheeks. Turning your head abruptly to the side, you snort, “God, he even kisses like you!”
“I sure as fuck do not kiss you like that,” Jungkook huffs with a pout you just barely catch a glimpse of. He’s up on his knees in a heartbeat, carefully removing Bam from you just to take his place. He narrows his eyes playfully as he settles with one hand on either side of your face; and the wicked glint in them isn’t lost on you. “One of us bites, doll. The other one was trained not to.”
You flex an eyebrow and it’s more of a dare than a reaction, “Is that so?”
Jungkook tucks a renegade strand of hair behind your ear. “Definitely,” he hums as he does the same to the other side. “Pretty thing. Know what you’re missing, though?”
You’re scared to ask, so you let your widening eyes do the talking.
“Bit of skincare!” He declares with a wolfish grin.
Within a split second, Jungkook cups your face in his hands and you realize exactly why he bothered to push your hair out of your face. His is pressed to yours as he kisses you deep, right through your startled gasp. Jungkook makes sure to smear the goop from his chin and cheeks onto yours in the process. You can feel his smile as he does.
There’s a teasing nip at your bottom lip when he eventually pulls back, gently tugging what he’s captured with him for a millimeter or two before releasing you. Gazing down at his messy masterpiece, his brows crinkle under the weight of his thoughts. Wordlessly, he drops one hand from your jaw; drags the pad of his thumb down his nose; then swipes the excess along the bridge of yours. He taps the button of your nose gently, looking pleased as fucking punch.
Now, it would seem that you’ve rocketed straight through the awkward, not-quite-yourself phase of dating and ended up crash-landing on the other side.
“That better?” You pant, knowing full well that it really, really is.
Jungkook leans down again to kiss you much more sweetly than before. With his lips still pressed to yours, he smirks, “Much.”
Then, he drops onto the rug next to so you can sit upright again. “And I think you’ve been greenlit, but I won’t presume to speak on Bam’s behalf.”
You both turn to Bam — the final boss — for his verdict. When he lets out a quick boof, it sounds like a sneeze, but it says everything you need to know.
sharing a bed series part 1/8. because it's the cheesiest most classic trope and it's FUN.
-
pairing: bang chan/reader
content info: sexual content. friends2lovers, sharing a bed trope. chan's baby girl agenda. accidental boners, horny embarrassed reader. chan is a tease n a dork. :)
-
You let yourself into Chan’s room, expecting to find him awake and working despite the hour. Whenever you sleep over, your friend is more than happy to let you sleep in his bed when you can’t get comfy on the couch. Many nights have passed that way, nestled under his blankets and falling asleep to his typing and clicking and absent-minded humming. He likes to work through his nights so you sleep until morning then leave when he turns in.
He must have been tired tonight. His laptop is shut, the room dark save for the flickering lights of his computer station. Chan is in bed already, laying with his back to you and the blankets tucked around him. He is so sound asleep that he didn’t hear your gentle knocks.
You feel bad for disturbing him now. Commandeering his bed is a little different when he is already in it.
You turn to leave when the blankets rustle behind you. Chan’s groggy voice breaks through the silence, a raspy, “Baby girl? That you?”
Maybe it’s the cold floor under your bare feet, maybe it’s the late hour, or maybe it’s the roughness in his voice, but despite how many times Chan has playfully and affectionately called you baby girl, this time a little shiver brushes up your spine.
You turn back around, wrapping your arms around yourself. Thanks to the faint light from his work area, you can see Chan clearly even in the dark. He has rolled onto his back and is rubbing a hand over his face.
“Sorry, Channie,” you whisper. “You sleep. It’s fine.”
His blanket slips down his bare chest and he drops his arm, looking at you with crinkled, sleepy eyes. His curly hair is an endearing mess, though your eyes go a little lower when the blanket falls to his waistline. You quickly look away from his abdomen to his sleepy eyes. He squints at you as he adjusts to the darkness.
“Everything all right?” he asks, still groggy.
“Yeah, don’t worry,” you say, as if that has ever stopped Chan from worrying anyway.
He is a little more awake now, his brow pinching as he looks at you. All at once his face goes slack with realization. A smile pushes at his dimples.
“Right,” he says. “The couch sucks, yeah? Sorry, wasn’t thinking—”
“Don’t apologize,” you say with a little laugh. “It’s your bed.”
“Auuggh,” he says with faux-agony, “I’m such a bad host.”
You cannot hide your amusement, smiling when he slaps a melodramatic hand over his heart. As usual, the goofball makes himself giggle with his dumb little theatrics, the sound twinkling in its delight. Your heart skips a beat.
“All right,” he says. “No worries. Big bed. You wanna share?”
It isn’t really a question because he doesn’t wait for an answer, flipping open the covers for you to slide in.
When you step towards the bed, he throws up a cautionary hand and laughs again.
“Sorry, uh, just wait one second,” he says. “I’m not, uh, technically decent.”
Your eyes drop again. The blankets only just reach his hips and when he shifts to get out of bed, it becomes abundantly clear that Chan is completely naked under the covers. You very nearly choke on your own spit, swallowing hard as your frantic eyes dart around his body.
He is seemingly oblivious to your startled state, turning his back to you as he steps out of the bed. The sheet slips smoothly off his body.
You spin around to give him some privacy. This plan fails spectacularly as his closet door is a big mirror and you end up looking at him through it.
He is nonchalant, walking up to his dresser. You know you shouldn’t stare but you do, eyes on the breadth of his shoulders, the definition of his arms, going down his sturdy back to his ass where you linger a beat longer, then diving down his strong thighs until the view is blocked by his bed. You watch him step into a pair of boxers, doing a little jump before snapping the band around his hips. He turns around and you quickly close your eyes, grateful he cannot hear your heart going a mile a minute.
“All right,” he says pleasantly. “All good now. Come on.”
He gets in the bed first and holds it open for you. He is smiling so sweetly and you feel like the world’s nastiest, horniest monster, gawping at him as you stumble to the bed. You try not to think about how he was naked between these sheets just moments ago.
Somehow, you slide into the bed without making a huge fool of yourself. You even manage to settle down, albeit stiffly. So stiffly that Chan notices and laughs again, that same bubbly giggle as he reaches out to tweak your nose.
“Y’okay?” he asks, his bare face so open and sweet that you melt with both affection and embarrassment.
“Mhm,” you lie. Your heart skips another beat when your leg brushes his under the covers.
“C’mere, silly,” he says, wrapping his arm around you and tugging you across the bed. You go with a squeak of surprise, planting your face in his bare chest. “Better?” he asks.
“Mmmhf.”
It requires some manoeuvring, but you do get semi-comfortable. It is difficult to feel completely at ease when you are also lit up like a firework, very aware of all the places your body is touching his. Your faces are close, your hand on his chest, his hand on your hip. And something else is uncomfortably lodged between your lower halves—
Your mouth rushes ahead of your brain and you say, “Wait, what’s that?”
As if you think he dropped something in the bed between you.
As if that could be anything but his dick.
His startled expression speaks volumes. His nervous, flustered laugh says even more. You have to physically restrain yourself from digging a hole through the bed to die inside.
In your marginal defense, why would you expect Chan to be sporting a semi for no apparent reason? Your shorts are pretty short and you have nothing on under your little tank top, but what sort of crazy wishful thinking is that? That Chan reciprocates all your horny pining?
You suppose there is some hard evidence. So to speak.
“Sorry,” he says, his hand lifting away from your waist. “I didn’t, uh, sorry, wanna make you feel—”
“Oh, no, no, it’s fine, it’s fine,” you say quickly. You feel so, so hot, and you aren’t sure if it’s embarrassment or desire. At any rate, it makes you even stupider. “It’s all good,” you say. “I like it!”
I like it???
He is clearly computing that, looking more confused than embarrassed now.
“You… like it,” he says slowly.
“What I mean by that,” you say, “is that I… like… it.” Nice recovery.
“I see.” He looks amused now, his dimples deepening. “That clarifies things. Thank you.”
“You’re welcome. Any time.”
“You look a little embarrassed,” he says, touching your chin to tilt your face up to his. It forces you to look directly at him as he studies your expression. His intensity makes thinking of a response impossible. He smiles all-too knowingly at you. “C’mon,” he says, his voice a little lower. “It’s just me, baby girl. You don’t have to be shy.”
Uh oh, you think, looking at his alarmingly competent smoulder, Chan might be secretly evil.
Maybe not secretly. And maybe too affectionate to be pure evil. But he holds your chin and guides your face, turning it away so he can kiss your cheek. Your eyes close and you fight a moan, because moaning at a cheek peck would just be ridiculous.
Then he kisses a spot a little lower on your jaw, then below your ear. His tongue flicks at the shell of your ear at the same time his hand slides under the covers to cup your hip again. You let yourself moan this time, a sweet little hum that he returns when you press yourself closer to him. You feel his dick twitch in his boxers, practically demanding your attention. You let your hand drift downward.
“Can’t believe you’re secretly evil,” you murmur, making him laugh. “Don’t laugh. You are. I hate you.”
“Really?” he says, with all the cockiness of a man who already knows the answer. He doesn’t wait for it, his hand swiftly moving to cup you between your legs. His knuckle rubs softly against your pussy, so hot and wet that he can undoubtedly feel it through the fabric. “Sorry, baby,” he says, very unserious, “but I don’t think all of you hates me.”
“Mean, mean, mean—”
He can’t help but giggle at you, somewhat juxtaposed to the way he is rubbing you through your clothes.
“Damn,” he says, a breathy sound. You are panting against his open mouth already. “Need it bad, don’t you, baby? Who did this to you?”
“Some mean tease,” you say. “Been into him all this time and he never did a thing.”
“What a fucking idiot.”
“Mhm.”
“His loss.”
You both have a stupid little giggle before you finally touch him in return. His breath catches.
Your mouths are close, so close that it makes your clit throb under his knuckle, so close that he is straining the material of his boxers. His hand jumps up, leaving you torturously bereft, but then he slides that hand into your shorts to touch you directly. He kisses you at the same time, swallowing down all your sweet sounds as he licks into your mouth.
“I got you,” he says, a lovely sentiment that is followed by a very hot, filthy lick into your mouth. He moans into it, then kisses you nicely. “I always got you.”
Your hand stutters to a stop because he has you close, so close, so quickly. Your orgasm washes over you with unexpected swiftness, your whole body arching against his as you come.
“That’s it,” he says, his hand steady as he brings you over. “That’s my girl. Got you.”
You wrap your arms around his neck, pulling him in for another kiss. You think about all those cozy nights you spent snuggled up in this spot, the way Chan worries about you no matter what you say, his thoughtfulness and attentiveness and protectiveness.
I got you.
Knowing it’s true, you smile and kiss his smile in return.
Summary: You have a new neighbor who is incredibly attractive. Unfortunately, he seems to hate you for no discernable reason at all. Does he think that just because he's hot, he can get away with being an asshole?
Pairing: Kim Namjoon x Fem Reader
Genre: Neighbors/Enemies to Lovers, Fluff, Humor
Word Count: 3,473
Warnings: Language, dimples, Namtiddies
~~~~~
The first time you saw your tall, handsome, dimple-cheeked neighbor, you were thrilled to have some eye candy in your apartment building. You had just moved in, and when he smiled at you in the lobby, you could have sworn you heard birds chirp and angels sing.
When you spotted him again while gathering up the packages for your floor, you perked up, hoping it would be your chance to get his name.
"Oh hey! Could you hold that for me?" you called as he stepped past the sliding doors. You juggled the boxes awkwardly in your hand as you hurried forward with a smile, only for the handsome stranger to glare at you as if you were doing something wrong. He then pressed a button that was clearly not to keep the door open, because it slid shut in your face.
"What the fuck?" you asked the air, staring at the metal frame incredulously. Who the hell did something like that? Did this asshole think he was too good to share the elevator with you?
Ugh, it figured. Of course someone that hot would never have learned to be a good person.
With a sigh, you jammed the "up" button with your elbow to wait for the next one. Your ire cooled as you waited, and you decided to give him the benefit of the doubt. Maybe he just had to take a shit really badly or something, and what you thought was a glare was actually his constipated face. He would probably apologize the next time you ran into each other.
~~~~~
Your neighbor did not apologize the next time you ran into each other.
If anything, he seemed to glare harder. And then the prick closed the door in your face, again. Unbelievable.
You weren't going to take this abuse laying down, so whenever you were in the position to do so, you returned the favor. It felt good to see the same irritation on his face each time the metal door slid shut, and you relished in your petty victories. He deserved a taste of his own medicine. Did he really think that just because he was hot, he could get away with being a dick?
On this particular day, you had worked late to clean up after a coworker's mistakes, and you were exhausted. All you wanted to do was take off your shoes and bra and listen to some music while you fought off the urge to angry cry.
Of course, because the universe hated you, you got to the lobby to see the smug, obnoxious smirk on your neighbor's face as he jammed the door close button. You clenched your teeth, feeling heat and frustration build behind your eyes, and gave him your most venomous glare as you flipped him off. You were not going to give this horrible piece of shit the satisfaction of seeing you upset.
Once he was gone, you pressed the elevator button, only to notice the sign indicating the other was broken. So you had to wait for piece-of-shit to get to whatever the fuck floor he lived on before it came back. It was a small thing, but enough to break through the cracks of your composure, and you felt hot tears begin to leak down your face.
You wiped your eyes angrily and took several deep breaths while you pulled yourself back together. Well, if you were going to have to wait, you might as well bring the packages up to your floor again. No point in leaving them down here for anyone to take.
As you waited for the elevator, you wondered how in the world anyone could be such a raging asshole.
~~~~~
"God, someone stole a package again yesterday," groaned Namjoon over a glass of scotch. It was Friday, the first night he had free in weeks, and it felt good to unwind after being frustrated by his bitchy neighbor for so long. Seriously, what was up with her? Did she think that just because she was hot she could get away with stealing peoples' mail?
"Again?" Jimin said in surprise, taking a sip of his own drink. "What about building management?"
"What do you mean?" Namjoon asked with a baffled furrow of his brow. Jimin lived in the same building, but on a different floor. Now that Namjoon thought about it, he'd also never heard his friend complain about a single package stolen.
"Do they just not bring up your stuff soon enough?" Jimin questioned, cocking his head. "The girl who brings the packages for my floor even organizes them by unit order."
What the hell was Jimin on about? That wasn't a thing. Oblivious to his friend's confusion, Jimin rambled on, and Namjoon pondered on this new mystery. The only person he'd ever seen picking up several packages was –
"She's really cute too, and she's always smiling."
Okay nevermind, it wasn't her. He doubted he'd seen an expression on her face other than irritation and spite. She was definitely attractive, but hot bitch wasn't really the type that turned him on.
"Oh, there she is, actually!" Jimin chirped in excitement, eyes sparkling as he waved at someone over Namjoon's shoulder. "Hey, [y/n]!"
The mystery girl in question greeted his friend with a vaguely familiar voice, and when Namjoon turned to see who it was, he felt his stomach drop.
You stared back, clearly just as shocked, and Namjoon did his best not to ogle. You weren't wearing anything outrageous, just tight-fitting jeans, a slinky top that hugged your curves, and heels that highlighted how your ass filled out said tight-fitting jeans. Even without the clothes, the smile on your face was enough to make his stomach do something funny, though it quickly faded when you recognized him.
"This is my friend Namjoon!" Jimin continued cheerfully, oblivious to the tense atmosphere suddenly hanging over the table. "He lives in our building! Namjoon, this is [y/n], she's the building person that brings up our packages."
You gave a forced smile, and Namjoon felt the beginning prickles of nausea and anxiety as he realized he might have made a tiny misjudgment.
"I just do it for our floor because it's on the way," you explained quietly, avoiding his gaze. The edges of your smile grew warmer when you looked at Jimin, transforming your face from glacial beauty to soft sincerity.
"Then I definitely owe you a drink," Jimin responded with a laugh, motioning for Namjoon to scoot over to give you room to sit. He obeyed woodenly, mind racing as guilt weighed down his heart.
"Don't worry about it," you assured him with a chuckle that made something in Namjoon's chest ache. "I'm about to walk home, anyway."
"Alone?"
You looked at Namjoon in surprise, and he realized he spoke aloud. He cleared his throat, feeling like a stupid lump as he looked down at his drink with warm cheeks. Despite the relative proximity of the apartment, he didn't like the idea of you alone this late at night.
"Yeah? It's not that far," you said suspiciously, as if waiting for a snide comment. It made his chest sink, though it wasn't as if you didn't have a good reason for your misgivings. He spoke up again, hoping maybe he could talk to you and have the chance to explain his earlier behavior.
"Why don't you have a drink with us, and we can all walk back together?"
To his surprise, you stiffened and the corners of your mouth tightened into a thin line.
"Why? So you can make me take another elevator?" you asked angrily, making Namjoon flush and Jimin look between the two of you in confusion. "No thanks, my week has been exhausting enough already. I'll see you around, Jimin."
With that, you stomped away in unfortunately righteous indignation, and Namjoon barely had time to admire the sway of your hips before Jimin piped up.
"What was that all about?" his friend asked with a frown, his usually twinkling eyes now boring into Namjoon's. He felt heat creep up his face as he sighed and began to tell Jimin the entire saga, from how he had assumed you were stealing packages and proceeded to close the elevator door in your face, to the current state of antagonism. By the time he was finished, his friend's mouth was hanging open, and he felt more embarrassment at just how childishly he had acted.
"Joonie, I'm just really surprised," said Jimin wonderingly as he rubbed his forehead. "It's not like you to be like that."
Namjoon winced, knowing he was right. He liked to think that he was the more mature, level-headed one of their friend group, above silly squabbles and petty revenge. Obviously he had overestimated himself.
"I hope you haven't done anything recently, I think she's been having a hard time at work," Jimin mused, and Namjoon felt the lead weight of guilt in his stomach grow heavier. At this rate it was going to fall out of his butt. "She was crying in the lobby yesterday."
Well fuck. He really was an asshole.
~~~~~
You had just arrived home and flopped facedown on your couch when your recharging was rudely interrupted by a knock at the door. With a groan, you forced yourself up and peered through your peephole. What the fuck?
You made sure your chain lock was fastened before you unlocked the latch and cracked the door open, peering at your visitor dubiously.
"What do you want?" you asked, eyeing a beaming Namjoon in suspicion. You had never seen him look so cheerful, and you had to remind yourself he was not a golden retriever, no matter how cute he looked with flour dusting his nose or how deep his dimples were.
"I made cookies," he said happily, and you realized he was holding a paper plate covered in crumpled tin foil. "To apologize for the way I've been acting towards you."
You felt your brows raise at his statement, and you cast your eyes behind him in mistrust. Where had this one-eighty come from? Was it just because his friend lived on your floor?
Namjoon's shoulders drooped slightly at your lack of response, and he began to shift in place awkwardly.
"Um, I just – so I know I've been a dick to you," he began, chewing his lip and looking adorably embarrassed. "This is gonna sound stupid but I thought you were stealing packages when I saw you holding all of them."
For a moment, all you could do was stare.
"You thought that I would steal a bunch of packages, in the building I live in, while other residents were around?" you asked incredulously, making Namjoon turn bright red and clear his throat.
"Well, when you put it that way…" he mumbled awkwardly. "I just… I'm sorry. I'm really sorry. I hope we can start over."
He peered at you with such hopeful eyes that you felt your resolve crumble, and when you unhooked the chain from your door you could have sworn you saw a tail wagging.
"Okay," you replied, unable to keep yourself from smiling at the way he had perked up. Those dimples were serious weapons against your ability to hold a grudge. You held out your hand. "I'm [y/n], and I do not steal packages."
Namjoon laughed, a low, rich sound that you felt vibrate in your stomach, and took your hand in a firm, warm grip.
"I'm Namjoon, and I'm an idiot who jumps to crazy conclusions," he said with a grin that deepened the stupidly cute divots in his cheeks. Then he had to let go to save the wobbling plate of cookies from an untimely demise before holding it toward you with a look of chagrin.
You accepted his offering with a laugh, feeling like a warm bubble was floating in your chest. Then you bade your hot, not-asshole neighbor goodbye and set the plate on your kitchen table. You peeked under the foil, and decided maybe one cookie before dinner was acceptable. Or maybe two, if –
You took a bite of the soft, delicious looking pastry and immediately spat it out in disgust. What the fuck.
~~~~~
Namjoon
Hyung!
It worked!
Jin
Wait, you actually made the cookies?
Namjoon
Yes!
They came out perfectly
No fires and only a few cracked eggs on my floor!
Jin
I'm impressed
How'd they taste?
Namjoon
Oh fuck
~~~~~
For the second time tonight, your evening was interrupted by unwelcome pounding at your door. You didn't even bother to check who it was this time.
"What do you have this time?" you snarled through the door, wondering if it was worth it to open it so you could strangle Namjoon's handsome neck. "Oreos with toothpaste filling?"
The knocking ceased, and a small, timid voice spoke up on the other side of the wood.
"Oh… you had one…"
"Unfortunately," you said shortly, crossing your arms in an attempt to keep his woebegone tone from softening your ire.
"I was hoping you hadn't yet," he wheezed through the door. "I forgot to taste them before I gave them to you."
He sounded sincere, and suddenly you realized he was speaking through pants, as if he was out of breath.
"Did you run all the way up here to warn me?" you asked in surprise, mollified enough to unlock your door and open it to reveal a rumpled looking Namjoon, bent over with his hands on his knees.
"Yeah – I didn't want to wait for the elevator," he replied, red-cheeked from exertion. "I'm sorry, I'm actually a disaster cook but I really thought I did a good job this time."
You felt your lips twitch into a smile at the imagine of tall, handsome Namjoon tasting a cookie and then immediately bolting up however many flights of stairs to stop you from eating them. What a clumsy idiot. A clumsy, adorable idiot.
"Do you want some water?" you asked, stepping aside to invite him in.
"That would be amazing," he gasped, giving you a grateful look as he walked inside. As he passed you, you noticed a few beads of sweat rolling down his temple. He really was even more attractive up close.
You directed him to sit on your couch as you grabbed a glass of water, and he picked up the book you had left on your coffee table.
"Oh, you read Murakami?" he asked as he looked at the cover. "I haven't read this one yet, is it any good?"
"It's my first, actually," you replied as you set the glass in front of him, sitting on the couch a respectable distance away. "I think he presents ideas of loneliness and intimacy in interesting ways. Does he always write the women as accessories to the male protagonists, though?"
"Haha… unfortunately, yes," Namjoon agreed, his dangerous dimples making another appearance as he smiled apologetically at you. "Do you read a lot?"
"I try, but not as much as I used to," you said with a sigh, letting your head fall back to rest on the back of your couch. "After work sometimes I'm too mentally exhausted to do anything but exist."
"But you still bring your floor's packages up?" Namjoon said in surprise, turning his wide chest towards you and giving you his full attention. You tried not to stare at the way his pecs strained against his plain white shirt, but between his body and his face there was nowhere safe for your gaze to land.
"It's not like it's that much extra effort," you said with a shrug. "Why wouldn't I when it's easy?"
"It wouldn't even cross most peoples' minds to do it," Namjoon replied, eyes locked on yours and making your cheeks feel warm. "You're a nice person, [y/n]."
"I-it's really not a big deal," you said feebly, your chest fluttering at the sincerity in his voice. You cast about your mind for a change in subject, because the way he was smiling at you was dangerous for your heart. "How did you fuck up those cookies so spectacularly, anyway?"
Your question worked to take that piercing gaze off of you, and Namjoon turned a pretty shade of pink as he looked down at his knees.
"I uh – I'm really not sure," he muttered in embarrassment, making you want to coo at how cute he was.
"Did you… follow a recipe?" you asked in consternation, watching his cheeks grow even redder.
"I… yeah, but…" he mumbled, eyes glancing around before settling on the glass of water. He grabbed it and took a large swig, and you did your best to ignore the way his Adam's apple bobbed when he swallowed.
"But?" you urged, amusement lacing your voice as this once-asshole stammered and squirmed uncomfortably on your sofa.
"Why wouldn't more vanilla extract make it taste better?" Namjoon whined, making you put your hand over your mouth to hide a snort.
"Oh my god, you didn't," you giggled, his chagrined pout doing as much to endear him to you as the previous half our combined. "It also tasted like you switched salt for sugar."
"Dammit," he groaned, flopping backwards so he was oddly contorted on the couch, feet still on the ground but his hips twisted so his back was laying on your cushions. His knees knocked against yours and he shot back up with an apologetic look, but all you could do was laugh harder.
"My friend who gave me the recipe was just impressed I didn't burn anything down," he sighed, though he seemed relieved that you looked more amused than irritated.
"You… you really don't cook, do you?" you chortled, scooting a little closer so you could nudge his shoulder with yours.
"I'm your stereotypical bachelor," he replied with a sigh, draping an arm behind you, across the back of the couch. You felt your heart flutter again at the smooth combination of the physical action with the way he confirmed he was single.
"So no pretty ladies – or men – to teach you?" you teased, leaning further into his body. He met your eyes with his warm gaze, making butterflies erupt in your stomach.
"Nope," he murmured, arm slipping off the sofa to rest lightly atop your shoulders, so precarious that it was clear he was half-expecting you to shrug him off.
"I guess that means I should invite you to stay for dinner," you said with a smile, enjoying the ego boost when his eyes brightened.
"No pretty men – or ladies – who would be upset by that?" he hedged, those dastardly dimples making their reappearance as he leaned closer, gaze flickering to your lips. His arm slipped lower to hug your waist, and you let him pull you closer.
"Only one who would be upset if you refused," you murmured with a smirk, tangling your fingers in his shirt as you tugged him toward you.
His lips were warm against yours, even softer than they looked, and you let out a pleased sigh as you melted into his firm chest. A low groan rumbled from his throat, sending warm tingles shooting from your chest through your limbs, and you sucked his plump lower lip between your teeth.
"I really just thought you were a hot asshole," you said with a laugh, pulling away despite the heat beginning to settle in your core.
"I mean, I was definitely an asshole," he mumbled, cheeks pink as his gaze stayed glued to your lips. Then his eyes widened. "Uh, h-hot?"
You snorted at his surprise, giving him a very obvious once over. Namjoon's face flamed even redder, which was absolutely adorable.
"Have you seen yourself?" you teased, letting your hands rest on his shoulders.
"Nah, too busy looking at you," he replied quietly, and it was your turn to be flustered. How had he turned the tables like that so quickly?
"Ha ha," you said awkwardly, cursing yourself for your inability to formulate a coherent response. He was supposed to be the idiot, not you. At your response, those dimples made their reappearance, and you stood up to prevent yourself from melting into a gooey puddle.
"Anyway, I'm gonna start dinner."
You said it in a rush, in the hopes that Namjoon didn't realize how giddy he was making you.
"Oh! Let me help!"
He began to get up from the couch, and you promptly shoved him back down.
"For the love of god, please don't," you teased with a laugh, pressing a kiss on his nose to ease the sting of your words. "Just sit there and look pretty. Moral support."
Namjoon smiled back at you, eyes warm and affectionate, and you wondered if you would even be able to focus properly while this mancake was lounging on your couch.
“fight me, you attractive stranger.” with Tae please! thank you lovely
Here it is, sweetpea. I hope you like it!
Pairing: Kim Taehyung x Reader
“Listen here you little brat-“
“I’m not a brat! You are!”
Irritated, you press your fingers to your temple with a huff “You ran into me. So, as a grown ass man, it’s only polite to apologize. Did your mother not teach you any manners?”
“Jungkook, just apologize to her…” The other boy whines, tired of the confrontation that has been going on for a solid fifteen minutes already.
“No way! She sh-shouldn’t have been standing in th-the way!” He hiccups loudly, struggling to keep his balance - his bones replaced by whiskey “Tell her, Taehyung! Tell her it’s her own f-fault!”
“Jungkook, please,” Taehyung groans, catching his friend mid stumble before he knocks into a bigger, meaner looking patron to his right.
Series Warnings: foul language, alcohol consumption, minor character death, explicit sexual content in future chapters (oral, unprotected sex but be safe please!)
Chapter Word count: 6.9k
Summary: You convinced Jungkook to break up years ago so he could pursue his lifelong baseball dream. Now he’s back home, staring at you, and the little boy next to you who looks unmistakably like him.
A/N: Couldn’t stop thinking about how Yang Jungwon’s role model is Jungkook and they have similar features (especially as kids) and the sweetest smiles! Hence, the little angel we have here. I hope you enjoy this first chapter! Also, you can message me if you want to be part of the taglist!
The plot thickens and it’s still heartbreaking. I loved the reunion and JK running after them and Jungwon smiling and holding up his little fingers - bless him. I love the angst. I love the drama. I can’t wait for more
Series Warnings: foul language, alcohol consumption, minor character death, explicit sexual content in future chapters (oral, unprotected sex but be safe please!)
Prologue Word count: 2.2k
Summary: You convinced Jungkook to break up years ago so he could pursue his lifelong baseball dream. Now he’s back home, staring at you, and the little boy next to you who looks unmistakably like him.
A/N: I’ve had this story in my head for months and I’m glad I finally got to put this into writing! This little family was such a joy to write, and I thank the sweetest soul, Ava @btstannies for letting me gush over this trio and hyping me up everyday! Also, my baseball knowledge is pretty shallow so please forgive me!
Flipping heck. What a start! You’ve hooked me with this heartbreaking piece. Now I need to know what happens and how these two meet again and (hopefully) make this all right!! Canny wait
→ summary: Living with people is difficult, but all things considered, your new roommate isn’t terrible. He cooks, he cleans, and if you had to be honest - incredibly attractive. But his habit of streaming until the early hours of the morning while yelling and making other questionable noises has pushed you to the limit. You’ve finally decided to risk your sanity and put it all on the line with a reckless bet in hopes of getting some peace and quiet at night.
→ pairing: Streamer!Seokjin x f. Reader
→ genre(s)&au(s): Roommates to lovers, smut, humor
→ a part of the room for rent collab
→ warnings: cheesy humor, Jin is an annoying gamer, a lot of game talk, stupid bets, explicit language, references to an ungendered ex partner, a very cheesy plot i like cheese, jin crossing a boundary but he apologizes okay!!! sexually explicit content including oral (m. receiving) vaginal fingering, nipple play, a lot of body fluids like a loooot of spit and drool, protected vaginal sex, fast sex because they're both overwhelmed and honestly this is vanilla but they are CUTE!!!!
A/N: SHE IS HERE AND SHE ISN'T BEAUTIFUL OR EDITED BUT SHE IS FINISHED AND CHEESY AND THIS JIN IS REALLY CUTE OKAY. My inner gamer went fucking nuts in this I am so sorry I really like playing Apex Legends and I got too deep into the game lore so hopefully people can appreciate that. These two were just thirsty for each other and both busted nuts quickly okay it has happened to me jgdhgijhd thats tmi okay HAPPY READING.
A crash and a yell startle you in the kitchen, the spatula in your hand clattering into the egg pan as Seokjin lets out an unintelligible string of cursing and yelling. Closing your eyes and taking a deep breath, you try and center yourself in patience. It’s not uncommon in your apartment for two to hear him suddenly break out into yelling, and it surely won’t be the last.
Kim Seokjin isn’t the worst roommate. Not by a longshot, when you consider the horror stories you’ve read in Reddit threads and seen on TikTok. He’s clean, he has an aesthetic eye for decoration, he’s an amazing cook, he pays his portion of bills on time, and he doesn’t steal food. Nor does he hog any of the common spaces in the house.
The negative? Seokjin is constantly gaming, which wouldn’t be a bad thing if he gamed quietly. Namjoon hadn’t warned you that Seokjin was a large-scale streamer before you moved in, focused on first-person shooter content and paid tournaments.
It had taken about three hours into moving in when he screamed for you to realize that there was no fixing that bit.
Meal finished and plated, you move to the dining room, sitting cross-legged in the chair and turning on the TV louder than necessary to tune out Seokjin’s hollering. You’ve come up with plenty of ways to tune him out, and listening to everything else on extreme volume is the easiest.
Your neighbors must hate you.
Halfway through your meal and eyes glued to RuPaul’s Drag Race, Seokjin comes trailing out of his room, drawing your attention. It isn’t a hard thing to do. For a grown man who is chronically wired to his PC, he is beautiful. The kind of beauty that is used in dramas and romantic comedies kind of beautiful.
Dark, soft hair that is usually left shaggy and air-dried from the shower but you know looks dashing styled back for parties, equally dark eyes that shimmer with delight when he tells a horrible joke that he thinks is particularly amusing, full lips that would earn the envy of Aphrodite herself - Seokjin is painfully, artfully perfect.
Except for the constant gaming.
“Wow, didn’t offer to make me breakfast?” he asks. It’s more of a jest than anything, popping the fridge open in search of a caffeinated beverage. “How little do I mean to you?”
“Check the microwave, nerd.”
He looks surprised, meandering to the appliance in question and opening the door to see a plate of breakfast for dinner inside. “Wow,” he sighs dreamily. “You really are my favorite roommate.”
“I’m your only roommate.”
“Well, you’re better than Namjoon.”
“Mmm. That isn’t a hard feat, I don’t chronically break pieces of furniture.”
Humming his agreement, Seokjin shoves eggs into his mouth, munching happily. “When are you going to finally play some games with me, huh?”
“Mmmm never.”
“You think I don’t know you have a little setup in there?”
“I like Animal Crossing. You like Apex.”
“Come on, I can teach you Apex.”
It’s a conversation you’ve had a million times. Gaming is the single thing that the two of you have in common. When you first discovered that Seokjin worked in the digital sphere and was a content creator for popular games online, you were a bit worried. It wouldn’t have been the first time you had been fetishized for so much as liking a game.
Thankfully, Seokjin was alright. He didn’t make it weird, and after a casual comparison of the things you liked to play, he decided that the interests weren’t common enough to be a huge pain in the ass about it.
He did really want to play at least once, with you though.
“I know how to play Apex,” you mumble, eyes flickering back to the TV. Your last situationship revolved around playing the stupid first-person shooter together. “I don’t like it.”
As in, you were absolutely never playing that game again after being worn out from it and having it associated with someone who kind of sucked anyway.
“How can you not like Apex?” Seokjin mutters, more to himself than anything else.
Thankfully he drops the subject, distracted by your show. He shuffles to the couch, where you join him eventually, both of you tucked into the cushions as you watch the show. For the most part, Seokjin is quiet, only peppering you with questions during the commercial breaks. You’re happy to answer.
It’s comfortable, your little life with him. You’ve almost lived together for a year, and despite the annoying gaming thing and his habitual bad jokes, you like living with Seokjin. You like having him as a friend, even.
Things are good.
-
Things are not good. You clench your jaw as you re-read the email, feeling the tension creep into your shoulders. You can already feel the headache that has not yet happened but is predestined.
If people would just read their emails before sending a snarky request with your boss CC’d-
Mark: Come by my office, please.
Sighing, you push out from the desk and head toward your boss's office. Your stomach flips uneasily, unsettled as you walked by the windowed offices of the executive staff. It isn’t that you’re afraid of your boss, but you certainly have been having a bad enough day without having to explain that if Alicia in accounting had just read your email she wouldn’t be confused.
At the appointed office, you tap lightly on the door frame. “Hi, still a good time?”
It’s obviously a good time, but for some reason, you feel the need to break the tension by clarifying. Your boss is a wide-set man who ushers you in with a wave. “Catch the door for me, please.”
The door shuts with a click and it feels like impending doom.
Sitting quickly in a chair, you wait with a racing heartbeat as Mark finishes writing an email. The silence is awkward so you distract yourself by looking at the pictures of him and his family on his shelves as if you haven’t seen them a dozen times, and looking at his nameplate and literally any other object in his office to keep from feeling uncomfortable.
The horrible 70s rock that plays softly in the background only makes it worse.
With a final click on his mouse, he turns to you and says, “Sorry about that, trying to get through all these damn sales contracts.”
“Sounds exhausting.” You have no idea if it is - sales isn’t your area of expertise. “I know they’ve been busy.”
“Tons of new clients, which is always great but the paperwork is a killer.”
“Makes sense.”
“What is Alice in accounts losing her mind about? I saw that you’re missing invoices for radio stations and it’s way past the cycle?”
“As explained in my email to Alice, the station in question filed for bankruptcy and has a halt on all their funds. This was something I communicated two months ago with accounting and legal. I believe you may have been on it as well, though perhaps I left you off.” You didn’t leave him off. You don’t leave him off any emails. “Those invoices are all going to be a mess until that’s sorted.”
“Look,” he sighs. “We all have a shit ton going on right now. One email letting us know that payment would be an issue isn’t going to cut it. You can’t assume that we see the emails. Was it flagged as high-importance?”
“Yes.”
And I mentioned it in three meetings and a sticky note, you think.
“See, it’s just not foolproof. It’s your job to overcommunicate these things. You can't rely on accounting or me to remember these things for you.”
You give him one slow blink. Then another.
“Understood,” you answer, throat tightening. “I will make sure to overcommunicate from now on, I apologize for the confusion.”
“Thanks,” he says, a dismissal. “Door closed on the way out, I have a stupid call to jump on.”
Door closed behind you, you wonder how anyone gets anything fucking done around this place. Because of course doing all of the things logical and reasonable to communicate a change in accounting isn’t reasonable. Going above and beyond and being responsible for other people not reading their email is now your job to compensate for.
Steam blowing from your ears, you march back toward your desk in a blind rage, fists open and closing. You don’t see it coming when Yoongi smacks into you, eyes glued to his phone and fresh iced-americano now coloring your blue shirt a nice shade of mud.
“Holy fuck I am so sorry,” Yoongi swears. “Shit - fuck - sorry.”
Cold leeches through you like a knife. You rush to the bathroom, Yoongi’s cursing and apologies drifting behind you. The press of paper towels lifts a little of the yellow from your shirt, but it doesn’t fix the sticky-cold cling of fabric to your chest and the unmistakable stain down the front of your outfit.
“Fucking perfect.”
-
Blessedly Seokjin isn’t home when you arrive stained in dry coffee, smelling like Starbucks, and sagging with a delightful mix of rage, wrath, and irritation. Like an angry little storm cloud, you move around the apartment, snapping cabinets closed extra hard and yanking your blouse off with a little more violence than usual.
A hot shower makes most of the tension bleed away, but not all of it vanishes. Wrapped in a towel and turned into a prune, you reach for the clothes on the counter and realized in your haste to peel yourself out of Yoongi’s coffee, you didn’t bring any with you.
It doesn’t matter anyway. Seokjin isn’t home, so you yank the door open and march toward your room, running smack into your second person of the day with a startled yelp and thankfully, a very tight grip on your towel.
“Why are you all wet?” Seokjin shrieks, wiping his shirt as though he could get rid of the you-shaped wet stain. “And naked!”
“I’m in a towel! Why are you here?”
“I live here!”
“I meant right now! You weren’t home!”
“Well, I do come home, usually! And I yelled I was home when I got here so you would hear me!”
“Well, I was in the shower!”
“Obviously!”
For a moment, the two of you stand there. You’re dripping a puddle onto the tile and the cold air has goosebumps breaking out all over your body. You shiver as Seokjin’s eyes flicker down for a split second before he’s looking at the ceiling and gesturing. “Well - go find clothes!”
“I will! Jeez!”
You storm into your room, slamming the door and pressing your back against it. Your towel is gripped tight in your fist, heart hammering. You’re both adults and while being in a towel in front of Seokjin isn’t embarrassing or scandalous, it was unexpected and new.
As you get dressed quickly, you can’t help but think of the way his cheeks tinged pink and the nervous way he shifted. It was… cute.
With clothes on, Seokjin seems a lot less nervous around you. He’s still a little stiff, you notice. You bump into him as the two of you navigate the kitchen together and he ducks his head, the tops of his ears red. You file the information away for another time, feeling your cheeks warm when you go to reach for a pair of tongs but he already has them held out to you.
It isn’t uncommon behavior. He’s known you long enough to know your habits around the kitchen, and you’ve cooked enough meals together to recognize the patterns in which the two of you move around the kitchen.
Music plays in the background, Seokjin humming along. Occasionally, he sings the words, voice low and soft over the notes.
“You have a nice voice,” you note as you flip the oven off. He’s always had a nice voice, but you’ve never said anything before. He raises his brows as you grab oven mitts. “You do,” you insist with a grin. “I promise I’m not lying.”
“A great voice to go with a great face right?”
“Ew, here we go.”
He moves out of your way as you open the oven, leaning on the counter and crossing his arms over his broad chest. “Maybe I should sing on stream. Do you think they would like that? People already think I’m the most handsome streamer.”
“Sure, maybe do some sort of caroling or something for the holidays.”
He pauses. “That’s actually not a terrible idea. What if I just called my friends who were streaming on Discord and started caroling to them? I could make it a charity thing and select streams based on donations.”
Placing the hot pan on the top of the stove, you glance at him sidelong. “Do you do charity streams a lot?”
“All the time. Most of the long streams I do are for charities.”
“So it’s not all just… earning cash?”
“No, I get plenty of that.”
“So why do you need a roommate?”
Seokjin leans over you, to pluck a fry off of the pan. He doesn’t move away immediately, eyes dropping down to yours as he sticks the french fry in his mouth. The warmth of his chest radiates through your shoulder where you touch and suddenly, you feel a buzz at his nearness.
It’s impossible not to drop your eyes down to his mouth as he chews. For a moment, you’re dazed by his pillow lips - they really are a marvel to look at. Then he’s smirking and murmuring, “For the cooking. Did you get these out of a frozen bag? Ugh.”
Spell broken you swat at him and he laughs, leaning away again. “I don’t like to be alone,” Seokjin admits. “Having a roommate is nice. Granted, I was supposed to be living with Namjoon until he and Jungkook decided to be in love and all that. Now I have you filling out the rest of his lease.”
“So you can afford to live alone in this city and don’t?”
“Hey, I also save a ton of money. I will want to buy a house one day. Consider yourself as a part of my savings tactic.”
“Uh-huh.”
Rooming with Seokjin had been of convenience. Finding affordable living in the city was nearly impossible - especially on your salary - and when Namjoon had announced after only two months of living with Seokjin that he and his boyfriend were getting their own place, it had timed up perfectly. You had been vaguely familiar with Seokjin at the time, and you desperately needed cheaper rent.
You’d never really asked why Seokjin had a roommate at all. He had a work-from-home job at a software company doing something that went far beyond your understanding, and he made a ton from streaming.
Seokjin plops down on the couch instead of the dining room table, a plate full of chicken nuggets and fries balanced on his knee as he pats the seat next to him without looking. You definitely went the easy route for dinner after your terrible day, and Seokjin seems to pick up on the fact that tonight is an eat-from-the-comfort-of-the-couch kind of vibe.
“Ugh,” Seokjin sighs as he watches Shangela get eliminated from the top four on All-Stars 3. “That is heartbreaking. She worked really hard.”
Seokjin has never really voiced being a fan of the show, but you have a sneaking suspicion he watches it because you are, and it’s something to bond over. Maybe you should play a round of Apex with him.
Instead, you say, “Yeah, she deserved it.” You pause. “Thanks for watching with me, tonight. I had a rough day.”
“Hmm. I can tell.” He leans and squeezes your bicep absently. “I’m here for ya.”
Though you say nothing, your insides do a little bit of a flip.
-
Glancing at the clock on the stove, you frown. Pausing your show, you pull up your phone, paging over to Twitch to pull up Seokjin’s stream. He’s been doing one of those stream-a-thon things again, and you haven’t seen him come out to eat since the morning. It’s well into the evening now.
Seokjin’s stream pulls up and you see him in the corner of his screen, the familiar lighting in his room glowing in the background. His room is surreptitiously clean, free of any garbage and clutter. His bed is always made any time you see it, and the beautiful tiles of pulsing lights above it make a nice ambiance for his stream.
Currently, he is focused, leaning a little too far toward his screen as he talks to his teammates. Taehyung and Jungkook, by the sound of it. There’s no evidence suggesting he has left his room today, which urges you to get up and head to the kitchen, closing out the stream.
In silence, you put together a small meal. A wrap, a small back of chips, and some damn water will do him some good. Pulling up his stream again, you wait until his match finishes and he’s leaning back, talking to chat.
A little nervous, you walk with food in hand to his bedroom door where you can hear his soft voice. You knock lightly and he calls you in. Carefully, you stick your head in and see him turn. You’re out of shot from his stream, but he’s confused nonetheless. You never interrupt.
Sliding the plate into view, Seokjin’s face lights up. He rolls away from the computer and comes over, his headset on his head still as he gushes, “Holy fuck thank you. You are literally the best. A goddess. A queen. Royalty. Angel among humans. I’m starving.”
“Yeah, it’s like seven at night idiot.”
“Yeah, whatever. Thank you.” He bites into the wrap eagerly, taking a few minutes to chew and swallow. He pauses and glances you up and down before smiling. “Really, thank you. That was incredibly thoughtful of you.”
“Uh-huh.” You glance at his screen. “Have a good rest of your stream.”
-
Jin: Left lunch for you in the fridge. I made extra this morning.
You look at the text and furrow your brow, toothbrush still popped into the side of your cheek. You continue absently scrubbing as you walk to the fridge and pull it open. Sure enough, there’s a glass dish with a sticky note on it and a smiley face.
Plucking the note off the top, you read it. Thanks for taking care of me. Now I’ll take care of you.
With a smile bright enough to light up the entire city, you go about getting dressed for work.
-
The smile doesn’t last long. Work drags on unsteady, tired feet, and once again, you are stuck in a slew of responsibilities that shouldn’t be yours, reading emails that are reiterating things already discussed, and joining meetings that should be emailed.
By the time lunch comes and goes, you realize that you haven’t yet eaten. Tucked in the small cubicle, you nibble on Seokjin’s homemade meal, eyes glued to the neverending scroll of budget tracking and invoices.
A raging headache lurks behind your eyes and though your lunch is superb - as it often is with Seokjin’s cooking - you can’t help but feel your frustration mount by the time your next meeting rolls around.
Meeting after meeting interrupts your afternoon, and when you finish your last one long past the time to go home, your nerves are fried and a high-strung feeling follows you all the way to your car as you scroll through all of the emails you have yet to get to.
Because of all the fucking meetings.
The trip home is silent. Your fingers ache with the grip on the steering wheel of your car and when you park in the lot of the apartment complex, you sit there for a moment, car off, world muted by the car doors.
Head pressed against the steering wheel, you take a few steady breaths. It feels like you might cry, which isn’t typical after a work day. But you’re frustrated and tired, and that goddamn headache is still looming in the back of your eye sockets.
Upstairs and in your apartment, you breeze past Seokjin who is in the kitchen. You mumble something about a migraine and he barely gets a moment to say anything before you’re in your room, door pressed shut. You lay in your bed without even taking your work close off, wrapping yourself in your blanket and closing your eyes.
The next thing you know, there’s something warm pressed against your brow. You frown and groan, rolling over and feeling several joints in your body pop. Your eyes flutter open and you see Seokjin leaning over you, making you flinch slightly.
“Sorry,” he laughs. “But it’s really late and you should eat. I know you have a headache so I brought you meds and a cold towel. And ramen. I make the best ramen.”
“Jungkook makes the best ramen,” you correct, sighing and leaning up a little. Your movements are stiff, tangled in a blazer and dress pants. “Ugh, I slept like this?”
“Jungkook does not make the best ramen. I will take that away.”
“Fine, fine.” You take the medicine from the nightstand and chase it with the water glass offered. “Thanks.” You look at all the things he brought you and your insides begin to melt. He lingers near the doorway, eyes soft, expression warm. “Thank you for thinking of me. I… wow.”
He shrugs, suddenly shy. “No big deal. Now eat the best ramen in the world or I’m going to have a fit.”
With that, Seokjin leaves you to eat your ramen in peace. The first taste is amazing, already warming you up. You realized you’re ravenous, pulling noodles into your mouth hungrily. Absently, you think that it is the best fucking ramen in the world.
-
“What’s with you?” Seokjin asks as you drag your feet slowly in the grocery store. Rarely do you shop together, but today is an exception. “You look like a zombie.”
You nearly shoot daggers at him. “I lost my headphones,” you snap. “Which means I have to hear your gaming all night.”
“Oh come on, I’m not that loud.”
“Watch one of your streams back, I’m sure you’ll disagree.”
He sighs, turning the cart as you walk down the spice aisle. “Sorry, I’m preparing for this huge Apex tournament. Jungkook and I have been practicing duos a lot and it’s been a bit frustrating. Everyone has fucking aim assist these days, I swear that console players are doing to ruin-”
“Jin.” He pauses his rant. “I’m just asking you to keep it down a little. I no longer have the means to ignore you… moaning weirdly during a game.”
“What?”
“You haven’t noticed? You kind of moan and yell. It’s… ask your stream about it.”
He stops walking, staring at you as you walk ahead. “I don’t do that.” You snicker and he makes a frustrated noise. “I don’t!”
Five minutes pass with Seokjin sulking about your comment. It’s when you’re in the milk aisle that he says, “So you’ve just been imagining me moaning on the other side of the wall, huh?”
“W-what?”
“Admit it. You’ve been thinking about me moooaaaning you’re having dirty thooooughts.” He sing-songs this to you, poking at your sides as you open the fridge to get milk.
“I am not.”
“It’s totally cool. I get it, handsome bachelor right on the other side of the wall, you’re bound to get curious and - oof.”
“Put this in the cart,” you deadpan, having hit him in the stomach with the gallon of milk. He takes it from you and obliges, though there is a shit-eating grin on his face.
Seokjin isn’t right, but he isn’t explicitly wrong. When you first moved in, you had been shy and wondered about the attractive boy who lived just on the other side of the wall. Once you had fallen into familiarity, though, there had not been anything there.
Except recently.
The last few weeks have felt like the two of you have reached a new level of shared living space. You had done things together before, but now you find yourself making all your meals with Seokjin, bringing him snacks during stream, waking up to him making you breakfast or having prepared you lunch.
And now you’re doing groceries together, which was something uncommon enough to make you wonder.
You think back to the gentle way he made you dinner and brought you medicine when you had a headache, the way that your insides had turned cotton candy at the action and house these days, your eyes lingered on him just a little bit more.
But no. Seokjin was your roommate, and you learned in your last situationship that you don’t shit where you eat. Which is why you moved out of the old apartment and in with Seokjin in the first place.
The rest of your shopping experience goes with mild teasing. You’re still a little bit on edge, but not enough to be truly mad, especially when he offers to cook dinner.
Once again, you find yourself nestled on the couch watching TV before he finally relents and announces he’s going to practice duos with Jungkook. He assures you that he’ll keep it down this time - he isn’t streaming, so you sure hope so - and vanishes for the rest of the evening.
When you get ready for bed, it is mostly silent on his of the wall. No yelling, but you can hear the soft lull of his voice. Oddly enough, it’s soothing, and you end up falling asleep with the barest sound of his hum through the walls.
-
Most nights, you can sleep through Seokjin’s yelling at the sudden sound of his knee hitting his gaming desk as he jumps up, a string of expletives laced with other unintelligible expressions of shock, horror, and frustration. Most nights, you can tuck your headphones in, and blissfully fall asleep to the sound of rain, hearing his insanity only once in a while.
Except now you’ve lost your headphones, you don’t have enough money to splurge on a new pair, and Seokjin has been practicing for a tournament for some extremely long stream he has coming up.
So now, you go nights without sleep. Nights where you drift off to dreamland after a long shift at the bar or studying for your dissertation. Nights like this, where you teeter on the edge between awake and asleep, and you’re startled straight out of your bed from a shout.
Heart pounding, you grip the edge of your bed, trying to get your bearings as Seokjin’s shouting echoes through the shared wall. You feel sick with the sudden rush of adrenaline and fear, closing your eyes for a moment as the room spins.
Gritting your teeth and ripping your blankets from you, you march to his room, stumbling as you try to get your bearings from waking up so suddenly. Your stomach does a nasty flip, churning at the unplanned activity as you pound your fist on his door.
“Open up, motherfucker!” You screech, hand slamming on the door without pause. “I swear, Seokjin, sometimes I just want to-“
The door rips open and you nearly knock him right in his chest. His very bare, very broad chest, lit up by the purple RBG lights on his headphones and strip lighting around his room to improve the ambiance of his setup.
“Holy shit, woman! What?”
You blink, momentarily dazed at what you came here for, distracted entirely by the firm curves of his pectorals, skin smooth and gold. Was Seokjin always this in shape or is it a figment spurred by the rush of adrenaline?
Finding your words is hard, your brain is scrambled and near ready to make dial-up noises at the site of your roommate’s bare skin. “We just talked about this,” you manage to spit out. “And you’re literally going to start screaming the same fucking day we talk about keeping it down?”
“I mean I’m sorry but damn. You don’t have to break the door down.”
“Then stop screaming!”
“You’re the one screaming!”
“Because I’m trying to fucking sleep! I have dealt with you yelling, cheering, slamming the desk and hollering and doing your little moan-scream for almost a year without saying anything!” You yell back, fists clenched and rage boiling. “I’m so fucking over it!”
“Then why have you never mentioned it before? You know, like an adult!”
Your mouth hangs open at the clap back. “Be for real. I am not the problem here.”
“Well if I’m the problem, why haven’t you communicated that? You’ve been here eight months and it took me asking you at the grocery store to fess up that I was bothering you.”
“I mean. Yeah, but-”
“So don’t yell at me that I didn’t read your mind and I had no idea I was bothering you. Or get headphones.”
“How about you start gaming at normal hours? Have you ever thought of that?”
He rolls his eyes. “You mean my working hours?”
“I mean between the hours before 11 at night, Jin!”
“Make me!”
“Fine!” You snap, rage pushing you over. “Shall we make a wager?”
This catches him by surprise. He blinds a few times, tilting his head. “What are you proposing?”
Crossing your arms, you nod to the computer. “You want me to play Apex so bad? Fine, we’ll make it a competition.”
“There’s no 1 v 1 in Apex.”
“Duos. Whoever gets the most kills wins. No shields higher than blue, no turning on each other. Just strictly kill count. If win, you don’t get to game past 11 pm anymore.”
“And if I win?”
“What do you want?”
“What can I have?” He pauses, looking you up and down. Something feels different as he does this. His gaze heavier. Darker. He licks his lips, your attention is drawn to the way the blue lights glittering on his wall turn the spit-slicked surface blue. “How about any favor at any time that I ask? Are we also trying to win as a duo?”
“Sure. No holds barred on how we get kills.”
Again, he examines you, trying to puzzle something out. Wordlessly, he walks to his computer and grabs his headset. The door is open to his room, showing that he just has his basic setup turned on, with no intention of streaming. “Jungkook I’ll hit you up tomorrow. I have to kick my roommate's ass.” Jungkook says something on the other side and Seokjin clears his throat. “Yeah, no. Bye.”
He returns, phone in hand. Your phone pings in your room. “Add me on Discord, I guess.”
Wordlessly, you spin and head to your room.
There are still things Seokjin doesn’t know about you. Like how you played his favorite game for a year straight, trying to impress your last roommate-turned-fuck-buddy with your skills. While it partially worked in your favor, their failure to commit to you gave you a sour taste about the game.
It’s been a while since you’ve played. Slower games are more your style, and you haven’t turned on your PC in a while, but as it starts, lights inside of the glass case glittering, you feel a shiver of excitement.
Your setup is not nearly as advanced as your roommate's, who has three screens, a massive desk and hi-tech camera, a microphone, and a massive custom-built unit that could probably power a tank. Yours is pre-built but sturdy, and you have a single screen with a modest keyboard and headset to match.
Glancing at the Discord user, you roll your eyes at what Seokjin’s written: WorldWideHandsomeJin.
“Weirdo,” you mutter.
You add him anyway, getting comfortable in your chair and hitting the call button. He answers immediately, his voice making the hair at the back of your neck tingle as he says, “So are you going to be my Discord kitten?”
“Ew, don’t ever say that again,” you mutter. Navigating your desktop, you start to update the game. “Give me fifteen. I have to update.”
“Really? Newbie.”
“Sorry I don’t play this game every second of my life. I haven’t played since I moved out of the last place.”
He hums, voice vibrating in your very nice headset. You turn him down a little bit, feeling just a little drunk from the rich timbre of his voice. “That was a… weird situation, huh?”
“A bit.”
“They play Apex that much too?”
“Not as much as you do.” He hums again. “Who do you main?”
“Loba.”
“Fine,” you answer as the program opens. “I’m playing Wraith.”
The game menu blares in your ears, making you squeak and reset all of your old settings. It feels weird to log on, pointedly ignoring the familiar username as you navigate your friends list to add Seokjin. He pops up and selects duos for you.
Your eyes nearly bug out of your head when you see his rank. “Diamond? Holy fuck do you touch grass?”
“Says you! You played enough that you hit Diamond in your first season too, nerd. It shows your historical stats. I didn’t know you had it in you.”
“Whatever. Ready up.”
Neither of you says anything as the system prepares to put you in a game. You look at his stats, raising your brows as you flip through. He’s historically hit the highest rank in the game, making you wonder why he’s dropped recently. He also has a ridiculous skin on his character, making you wonder how long he’s been playing.
Apex Legends is a first-person shooter game with a battle royale format. Similar to Fortnite, teams load into the game and pick up weapons and other materials to fight other teams the ring of combat gets smaller and smaller. With Seokjin’s selection of Loba guarantees that you’ll be able to stock weapons and ammo. With your selection of Wraith, you can get in and out of situations quickly and you’ll know when an enemy team focuses on you.
As the map loads, you can’t help but feel the tremor in your hand. Your leg bounces up and down as you wait, watching the dropship come into focus. You give Seokjin the power to drop your duo anywhere on the complex map. You almost expect him to launch immediately, but you’re impressed to see that he has enough patience to drop you a moderate distance on the map.
Which means fewer weapons, fewer shields, and fewer teams to kill. You frown as you navigate your character to land near utility boxes full of weapons. Does he think you need to take it slow? Or maybe he’s worried about giving you too many people to kill easily.
“Team to the north,” you comm, opening up boxes and selecting weapons, shields, and med packs. “What do you shoot?”
“Energy. Preferably the volt.”
“Volt here. Let me know if you see a flatline or sentinel.”
“You snipe with Wraith?”
“When she says someone’s aiming at me, yeah?”
He hums but does not comment the two of you use the map to navigate. You fall into a rhythm, using the controls feels sort of familiar. As you work your way toward the next ring, Seokjin startles you when he starts firing shots at a time looting that you miss. You flinch and whirl, but he’s already eliminated the pair.
“Two zero.”
“Whatever,” you growl, ignoring his smug voice.
Shooter, move your character in game commands. You dodge behind a box as an enemy team rattles off shots. Your heart pounds as you use a sniper to look in the direction of the shots, seeing the duo up on a tower. Lining up the scope, you click and hit a player.
“Knocked,” you call automatically. The second teammate makes a bad call and tries to get their knocked pair up. You line up the shot and click twice. “Knocked. Out.” You move your mouse and finish the other teammate. “Out.”
“Yeah, yeah, good comms whatever. We’re even.”
You grin. “Just trying to communicate to my teammate.”
He snorts. “Sure.”
For a few moments, the two of you navigate to a safe zone. When you see two teams clash, you don’t even think. Normally you’d wait for one team to finish off the other, but you’re in a competition with Seokjin, too. Suddenly, winning means more than just peace and silence.
“Knocked,” you call, sniping another player. “Out. Out. Knocked.”
“You motherfucker,” Jin hisses. “You’re supposed to - out - tell me when we’re going to push a team.”
“Hey, that was my kill!”
“You only knocked him!”
“Whatever. And I pushed them because I want to win.”
“I didn’t realize you were so good at this.” The two of you start looting the load out of the eliminated players. “You kept saying I don’t like Apex and here you are, really good at it.”
“Honestly, I used to like it.” Together, you traverse the map until you enter the next ring. Seokjin pauses to use Loba’s pop shop ability, a cache of weapons and materials in the local area showing up in front of you. As you sort through them, you continue, “But I used to play with my old roommate and I used to do it to impress them. As it turns out, being good at a video game does not a relationship make.”
“Hmm. Well if it makes you feel any better, I like you even without the Apex.”
“I meant I was trying to get them to like me romantically.”
“I know what you meant.”
You pause. Seokjin does not explain his statement, humming lightly as he picks up ammo and leaves the little shop running. He skips down the hill with his character, his happy little tune deep in your ear.
Nerves get the best of you in the next firefight with a team. You get knocked and screech into the headset, thinking that your chance to win is over. Seokjin, thankfully, takes pity on you and heals you after your near-death experience. But now he’s in the lead, and there are only five teams left.
I know what you meant.
The words sit heavy on you. While you are attracted to Seokjin you know it’s a bad idea. Roommates being anything more than roommates often brings other issues. You’d learned firsthand how poorly not defining a relationship could go. That was on you as an adult too but… you didn’t want something in between.
And you have no inclination of what he meant.
Seokjin wasn’t a very flirty person. Teasing you came easily enough, and he was always nice. He had been a little extra nice recently since you’d been spending more time together, but there wasn’t anything that would suggest he saw you as more than a roommate.
Two more people downed, and you were tied. The two of you were more into the game and less into the bet. Your interrupted sleep was long forgotten, and you leaned forward as you devised a plan, locking down a high tower where you could see enemy teams coming to escape the shrinking ring.
“Glad you got that stupid sentinel,” Seokjin mutters. “Who snipes with Wraith.”
“Shut up,” you shoot back, though you don’t really mean it. “Your second gun is a fucking wingman.”
“Because it’s like a one tap to the head!” An incoming team distracts him from arguing with you. “Over by that dino cage.”
“Got it,” you comm back. The second you shoot, you draw fire. “Oh my god do they have a Kraber?”
“Yeah, but they fucked the shot. You got this.”
Taking a breath - a little dramatic, you realize as you scope them - you take the shot. You tap one, but they have red armor. You curse, pissed you installed a fucking armor limitation, and duck behind the wall as the other team misses the shot with their kraber again.
“Best gun in the game and they can’t hit shots!” Seokjin laughs. “Imagine! Their buddy must be fuming.”
You scope again and tap the person again. “Knocked. Do we stand our ground or try and take them?” Another shot misses. “Can you keep a scope on that person you cracked and I can push? Other team is probably trying to wait it out.”
“If they see you?”
“Then you’re fucked but they’re not going to engage between two snipers. Maybe? I don’t know. Just do your thing.”
And you do your thing as Seokjin runs off toward the enemy team. They no longer have shots on their gun - which makes you roll your eyes, it’s the best gun on the map - and keep focused. Either they think you’re moving or they make a bad call - the healthy teammate tries to pick up their knocked ally and you take the shot.
“They’re both cracked.”
“Got it- AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH OTHER TEAM.”
His screech makes you slam your knee into the underside of your desk. No wonder he does this all the time, you think, realizing that the disrupting noise is a lot easier to make than you originally thought. “Let them take the kill then!”
“Fuck that I want to win!”
“Ew is this about the bet still? Now I want to win the game!”
“That’s what I’m talking about! Ye of little fAIIIIIITH!”
It’s hard not to giggle as he breaks off into yelling, entering a firefight while you try to provide cover and miss your shots. “Stop fucking portaling where I want to shoot!”
“Stop missing!”
“Knocked motherfucker!”
“Got it!”
Seokjin finishes the two teammates as the knocked enemies on the other team expire. Both of you scream over your headsets. You shoot to your feet as the victory screen flashes. You don’t even wait - you bolt toward the door, your wired-in headset ripping off your head and nearly yanking you back as you go.
The door is already open as he yells loudly, jumping up and down and grabbing you by the forearms, jumping around in circles with you. It’s stupid but it’s fun, and you can’t help but feel elated as he shakes you wildly, screaming, “Yaaaaaaaaaaaaah!”
His hands are warm on your biceps, gentle and squeezing you excitedly. And then between one breath and the next, he’s pulling you toward him, pressing his lips to yours.
A shock goes through you. You freeze for a moment, completely taken aback and unsure how to react. Seokjin realizes what he’s done and immediately backs away, running a hand through his hair and tugging at the strands as he says, “Shit - I am so sorry. That was wow - that was a line crossed without your consent and I’m so sorry.”
Heat floods you from head to toe. Your heart slams against your chest and you stare at him as he fumbles over an apology, his face red as you feel. Your mind can’t catch up as the warmth spreads from your face to the rest of you.
“I’m genuinely so sorry, I just got really excited and-”
“What did you mean earlier,” you cut him off. “When you were all I know what you meant. Look I… really don’t want to make this living situation weird.”
“Totally understand, I’m so sorry.”
You chew on your lip, looking at him. He looks earnest, eyes round and expression pleading. Your lips tingle where he kissed you, so quickly that you’ve already forgotten. Part of you wants to tell him to kiss you again. It was nice. And the flip in your stomach was… good.
But the part of you speaking now says, “I had fun gaming with you. Apology accepted. I am super tired though, so I’m going to go to bed okay?”
“Yeah. Listen, I am so sorry. That won’t happen again and I just - that was not cool of me at all.”
“It’s okay.”
“It wasn’t.”
You offer a smile, still nervous, fingers twitching. “I know you didn’t like, mean anything by it.”
He frowns. “Well I did but that’s my issue.”
Your heart is a stone skipping on the smooth surface of a pond. “What does that mean?”
“Look,” he sighs. “I don’t want to make things weird, alright? I harbor a bit of a crush on you and that was honestly absolutely not okay for me to just-” He gesticulates wildly with his hands. “It was an inconsiderate thing for me to do.”
A crush. Your breathing hitches and you rub sweaty palms against your pants, nodding. “It’s - we’re okay. We’re fine.”
Seokjin nods, nibbling on his bottom lip as he stares at you, red-faced and nervous. The silence turns awkward, your mind blanks and buzzes as you try to digest his words.
Crush crush crush crush.
“I’m gonna go to bed,” you announce abruptly, needing to escape the room to breathe for a moment. He nods, scratching the back of his neck awkwardly as you rush out. “Night!”
Behind locked doors in your room, you cover your face, feeling the way your cheeks are flushed. You do some deep breathing, trying to regulate your heart rate as your brain spins its tires on Seokjin’s words- confession.
He confused. That he has a crush.
For a few moments, you just lean over and pant, trying to think how you feel. Your stomach is a bundle of nervousness and your hands are a little shaky. But you’re not upset. In fact, you smile a bit, thinking of the way that Seokjin had turned shy and the way his lips had felt soft for that split second of a chance.
Straightening, you stare at the wall between your bedrooms. Seokjin is right there. Has been right there. And has admitted to liking you and is sweet and kind and fun to hang out with and-
It might be a bad decision. You’ve been down this road before. It ended up with you nursing feelings and deciding that feelings with roommates was a bad idea. But your last roommate didn’t have feelings for you like that. They liked the sex, but that was where the attraction ended.
So maybe -
You knock loudly on Seokjin’s door. There’s some shuffling on the other side and he opens it, brows furrowed and a little breathless. Before he can ask what you’re doing, you’re pushing past him and asking, “When you say you have a crush on me what do you mean? In the physical, only attracted to your appearance kind of way, or like the would date kind of way?”
“Well I am physically attracted to you,” he answers slowly, turning to look at you. “But I also like you. You’re funny and incredibly kind, and you’re easy to live with. I like the way that you make your hashbrowns a little extra crispy and crunchy, and I like that you think of me when you do things.”
“So you like me?”
“Yes, I think I… included that?”
You lick your lips, taking a shaky breath. “So you don’t want to just fuck me no strings attached?”
He blanches. “No. I don’t. Look I know I made you uncomfortable-”
“Kiss me.”
“What now?”
“Kiss me!”
There is a fleeting smile Seokjin gives you that later, you’ll think on with a fluttering heart and breathless laugh. But now, all you can think about is the gentle touch of his hands as they cradle your face and the delicate way his lips press against yours, pillow soft and sweet.
Seokjin smells like his body wash, the sage and juniper intoxicating as you wrap your arms around his neck. His skin is warm as you press your palms against his skin, his pulse throbbing underneath your thumb.
The kiss is chaste, just a firm press of lips and a surprised noise shared between the two of you. Tentatively, you pull away, eyelashes fluttering as you look up at him. Seokjin’s eyes are swimming pools of darkness framed by long lashes. He’s so beautiful, but up close he’s deadly, flecks of gold glittering in his irises.
“I just,” you whisper. “I don’t want it to be weird but I also… want.”
You don’t have to explain. Seokjin’s grin is easy, nodding. He gets it. He gets you. So he leans down again and pulls you in by the waist, fingers curling in the hem of your t-shirt as he tugs you toward him. The motion makes you gasp and he takes the chance to turn the kiss from sweet to carnal, tongue sweeping into your mouth.
Seokjin kisses you slowly, tongue curious and gentle. Your head spins as you kiss him and you can barely breathe, so full of him and thoughts of him and the taste of him that you grip him tight, desperate not to fall over.
The irritation from him waking you up is long forgotten as he tugs you closer. Your hips press against his, mouths sliding, a mix of gentle smacks, spit, and gasps for air. A buzz tingles through you as you nudge Seokjin toward his bed and he responds immediately, backing up and pulling you with him.
When the back of his legs hit the bed, he falls backward. The two of you become a tangled pile of limbs and kisses and giggles, but you find your place as you slot your knees on either side of his narrow waist, palms flat against his chest and the steady beating of his heart.
There are stars in his eyes when he looks up at you. For a second, you just look at one another, his hands rubbing up and down your thighs and his eyes locked on your face. His lips and face are rouge, hair messy. You grin and lean down, pressing your lips against him again.
Kissing Seokjin is invigorating. You can’t help but let little noises slip from your mouth. His fingers press into your thighs, dimpling the flesh as he groans, hips twitching upward for friction. The bulge through his sweatpants makes you squeak and you break the kiss, wiggling your hips down to press against his clothed cock.
“Ugh,” he moans, eyes fluttering shut and head pressing back into his mattress. “Don’t do that. I’m so fucking hard.”
“Do you want some help with that?”
His gaze softens and his thumbs slide back and forth on your thighs, caressing gently. “I want whatever you want. Nothing, everything, something. Whatever you’re comfortable with.”
“Well right now… I really want to suck you off.”
“Oh yeah?”
“Uh huh.”
Without breaking eye contact, you drop and slide your hand from where it presses against his chest downward. His abs twitch under your hand as you dance along his over-warm skin. His breathing has turned faint and breathy, body nearly trembling as you brush your fingers along the trail of hair leading into his sweatpants.
Watching him is hypnotizing. Seokjin’s lips part slightly as you slide your hand underneath the elastic, brows shooting up when you brush the sticky tip of his cock.
“No underwear?”
“They’re - nggg - restricting.”
His shaft is long and smooth, your fingers brushing along the underside, tracing a vein. You’re impressed by the sheer size of his dick, wondering if you’re going to manage to not choke, but the sound he lets you when you wrap your fingers around him and grip him tight erases the apprehension.
“You sound so good like that,” you breathe, giving a loose-fisted stroke toward the crown, beaded with precum. “Also you have a sizeable dick.”
“Sizeable, huh?” You brush your thumb over the tip, nail gliding over his leaking slit and he lets out a loud moan, making you grin. “Take it out and see how fucking sizeable it is, hmm?”
It’s hard to take him seriously with how ridiculous he sounds, but you slide down the bed, gently getting onto your knees. Using both hands, you tug at his sweatpants, looking up at him through fluttered lashes.
And… suddenly it’s not a joke anymore. Your mouth waters a bit at the side, his tip flushed angry, and needy. His thick, and you know how good it would feel to just sink down on top of his length, filling up the throb that aches between your legs.
Pressing your palms firmly into his thighs, you lift yourself up, dipping low to run your tongue along the thick vein that runs up the bottom of his shaft. He lets out a sinful growl, hands fisting the sheet and gasping as you watch him struggle.
At the tip, you slid a hand up, gripping him firmly as you suckle the red, swollen flesh into your mouth. His precum is salty on your tongue and you hum, eyes fixed on the rapid rise and fall of his chest and the blush blossoming from his neck to his pecs.
Seokjin is beautiful under the assault of your mouth.
Suckling gently, you watch his reaction as your tongue lazily circles around the sensitive tip of his cock. His hips wiggle back and forth but he never bucks up into your mouth, never thrusts deeper than you’re willing to go.
“Please,” he whispers and it comes out as an almost whine. “More.”
You give him more, gently sinking your mouth down on him. It’s a stretch but you manage, careful to mind your breathing as you bob gently, hollowing your cheeks for added suction. Expletive-laced moans drip from his mouth, his eyes squeeze shut as you continue to suck gently.
Drool runs out the sides of your mouth. You let it, the stickiness of your spit and his presume slicking down his cock helps you take more of him in his mouth. When his tip brushes the back of your throat, he nearly growls, fully writhing underneath you now.
Seeing him like this is addicting, worked up and sweating, and falling apart. What you can’t fit in your mouth you grip with your hand, mouth, and fingers stroking together in time to work him up. Your mouth buzzes around him in a self-satisfied hum.
Seokjin can’t help himself. His hands leave the sheets, one hand going to the back of your head, fingers pressed firmly. He doesn’t push or pull, his grip just firm and begging. The sound as you let him thrust a little is sinful and wet, the cough-choke of your throat accompanied by stilted curses.
Suddenly, he pulls you up. Cum-mixed spit dribbles down your chin, mouth feeling stretched and swollen as you look up at him. His sweats are around his ankles, abs and thighs flexing as he leans forward, urging you upward.
Your mouths meet in a heated smack of cum and spit and moans and teeth. Your mind is spinning as he cups your face fiercely, pulling you to your feet and up onto his naked waist. His hands pull at your shirt and you yank it fiercely, breaking your messy kiss just to toss it.
Seokjin’s hands are warm and starving for you and vicious as he pulls your bralette off, adding it to the messy pile in his room. Steady hands cup your breasts, his eyes glittering as he makes a noise. “Fuck,” he mutters. “Come here.”
You fall forward but his hands steady you, lifting his head to catch a nipple with his mouth. It sets you alight, electricity snapping to life from the motion. You moan, head thrown back, eyes rolling as he nipples lightly on your nipple.
“Fuck,” you squeak. The heat between your legs hurts, your cunting throbbing for him. “That feels so good.”
He hums, letting go of the hardened peak with a gentle scrape of his teeth, moving his mouth to lavish your other breast. His thumb brushes back and forth over the glossy peak, keeping it stimulated.
You tremble in his grip, seated in his lap as he places luscious sucks across your chest.
“You’re beautiful.” Seokjin’s words are mumbled in damp kisses against your collarbone. “You’re smart and sweet and generous and stunning.”
“You’re beautiful,” you answer. It feels stupid to say, but it’s the only thing you can come up with. Everything feels fuzzy and you’re drowning in the praise. “Why is your discord WorldWideHandsomJin?”
“Shut up.” He rolls the two of you over, a whirlwind of limbs and giggles. “Cause I wanted it to be, and it’s true.”
“It is,” you agreed, gasping as he slides his hand into your pajama shorts. His fingers brush over your damp panties, and he huffs a laugh when he feels how sticky wet you are. “More.”
He hums and applies more pressure, but it doesn’t relieve the ache. “No,” you whine, clawing his chest. “Please.”
“Because you said please.”
With a swift hand, he pulls your shorts and underwear down. You don’t have time to shiver at the cool air of his room hitting your pussy, his fingers brushing up and down. “God,” he groans, dropping his head against the side of your neck. “You’re soaked, baby.”
Pleasure sparks as he thumbs your clit in gentle circles. You feel arousal flood the pit of your stomach, cunt aching and leaking as he slides a finger up and down, applying pressure to your hole before gently sliding into your cunt.
It’s not enough. You get breathy all the same, the feel of his finger stroking your front wall making the world around you melt. Your limbs feel heavy and you shut your eyes, feeling the way he strokes your g-spot over and over again.
“Another,” you gasp, hips bucking upward. “Please, more.”
“Yeah?” he asks. “Greedy pussy needs more?”
His filth makes your mouth pop open. He complies, though, sliding in another finger and fucking into you properly. He lets you roll your hips upward, trying to ride his hand as you chase the feeling in your stomach.
It feels like you can’t get enough air, heat trapped between your bodies, static sticking to your skin. Seokjin feels like heaven and fucking hell, skin sticky where your bodies touch, thrumming with energy.
And it’s so much - almost too much. You want him closer, want to be fuller, want the snap of his hips. You dig your fingers into his biceps, mouth brushing against his, words mumbled between pressed lips, “Please.”
With a slick sound, he pulls his fingers from you. Immediately you miss the feeling, but you’re rewarded as he brings shine-slicked fingers up to his lips, sucking them into his mouth. He leers around his fingers, eyes dark.
“Yum,” he whispers, bending down and licking into your mouth, letting you taste yourself on his lips.
For a quick moment, he fumbles in his nightstand, pulling out a condom and breaking the foil with a soft crinkle. He’s painted a soft blue in the lights of his room, the changing colors making him a mirage of neons and soft colors, a haunting and stunning creature all at once.
Seokjin shuffles you carefully up the bed, peppering your skin with kisses as he goes. Reverent hands stretch your legs wide open for him as he slots himself against you, giving shallow thrusts so that his cock slides against your messy fold. You whine, needed more stimulation, needing to feel full to relieve the ache.
Grabbing the base of his cock, he strokes upwards again, letting his cockhead catch on your trembling hole. A stream of expletives falls from your lips as your head falls backward, your entire frame vibrating as he slowly slides in. You’re so wet that it helps, but the thick girth of him burns all the way until he is fully sheathed and your walls are fluttering around him.
“Shit, you’re fucking squeezing me.”
“Cause your cock is fucking big!”
“Am I supposed to apologize?”
“No, but please fuck me.”
You need the slide of his shaft against your walls, need to feel the way he hits so deep it’s like he’s in your fucking stomach. Seokjin starts a slow but purposeful pace, pulling all the way out before pushing back in, sliding his hands under your as to lift you slightly. The angle allows him to fuck your spot as he thrusts in, your limbs going slack as the feeling of an orgasm winds from just a few strokes.
Seokjin fucks you with purpose, stroking a little faster. Sweat beads on his chest, hair clinging to his forehead as he bites his bottom lip, stomach flexing. You watch him through half-lidded eyes, your fingers wrapped around his wrist where he holds you, practically pulling you onto his cock as he fucks you open.
It’s mind-numbing, everything else fading away as his room swirls in colors, punctuated by the snap of his hips against your wet ass and your high-pitched moans.
You wish you could be more of a participant, but the way he makes you feel has the room spinning. He fucks you down into the mattress, the slide of your skin against his sheets added friction. Your head hits a pillow, knocking it sideways, your hand trying to find a grip on anything. It finds the wall and you press against it, feeling the squeeze of your breath in your lungs and the coil in your stomach.
“That's it,” Seokjin urges, one hand leaving your ass to slip between your legs. He circles your clit and your eyes roll back in your head, the roaring feeling of your orgasm coming closer and closer. “Fuck your feel so fucking good - you look so fucking good just taking my cock like this.”
He is the vision you think. Brow furrowed, lip tucked between his teeth, all tan, flushed skin and twitching muscles. You can't remember the last time you were fucked into mindlessness, no chance of cognitive thinking at your fingertips.
The filth that leaves his mouth only sends you spiraling further, admiration-laced curses punctuated with moans.
You can only moan back in response, most of the sound stuck in your throat. You think you’re babbling now, mouth agape, eyes squeezed so shut that colors explode across your vision. He fucks you hard but at a medium pace, each thrust supported with his full weight, hitting so deep that you can’t breathe.
When you cum, it’s like a freight train hits you, the world going absolute white noise and numb. You lose yourself in the feeling, everywhere and nowhere all at once. You’re aware of the way your pussy pulses around his cock and through the buzz in your ears, you hear him curse, gasping your name as he cums just as hard.
You have no idea how long it takes for you to come back down. You barely feel your limbs, the tingle in them like when your foot falls asleep but far more pleasant. You roll your head over to find Seokjin breathing deeply, skin glowing with sweat. His eyes flutter open as you stare at him and he grins, tired but genuine. Your stomach leaps.
“I swear,” he mumbles. “Next time I will last way longer than that. But fuck.”
“I don’t think I’ve ever cum that hard,” you admit, voice hoarse. “I think that is why they call it le petite mort. Holy shit.”
He laughs and he pulls you in. With the shift of your limbs, you feel how sticky and wet your legs are, thighs pressed together in the mess. You make a face at the feeling, no longer finding it attractive now that you’re not actively fucking, but he kisses you and you immediately forget about it.
“By the way,” he mutters, voice deep. “I won the bet so you owe me a favor.”
You grit your teeth, realizing that he did win by a single kill. “Fine. What’s your favor?”
“Not much, just want to take you out somewhere nice. Buy you a beautiful dinner. Learn all of your embarrassing stories from middle school and if you had an emo phase.”
“Did you have an emo phase?”
“You’ll only find out if we go on a date.”
You smile. Your mouth hurts from the kissing and the stretch of his dick, but it doesn’t matter. You brush the sweaty hair from his face, his eyes fixed on your reaction. “Of course, I’ll go on a date with you.”
“Hmm. Good. Now come on, I wanna fuck you in the shower.”
The confession in this was top tier. I mean the grab face and kiss due to pure excitement and you have no control of your body, yes please. And I love that he (kind of) just owned it. Like he didn’t back down when she was like “ah well it was a mistake.” Yes. Please. Great fic!
ღ summary: Jimin is desperate to get his apartment back to himself. He’ll move hell and earth, and even drop to his knees to beg you to take his brother, Yoongi, out of his hands. Who are you to say no to that pretty face and sinister grin?
ღ part of the room for rent collab
ღ wc: 14.3k
ღ warnings: jokes about a foot fetish, reader helped jimin wax, alcohol use/mention, mention of matching tattoos, matching swimsuits, jealousy, mention of medication that causes sun sensitivity (?), marking (hickeys, biting), hair pulling, mention of choking/breath play, fingering (f. receiving), oral sex (f. giving and receiving), spanking, mention of masturbation, unprotected sex, creampie
This is everything I hoped it would be, with the addition of a cute cat to tie it all together. I love these two dumb idiots and Spider! Also the smut was hot!
genre: SMUT SMUT SMUT with an extremely small side of fluff lol
pairing: hoseok x reader
summary: the only thing stronger than your social anxiety is your big dumb crush on hoseok - and you're certainly not expecting it when he tells you the real reason he threw this album release party.
word count: 9.8k
contains: explicit sexual content aka PORN !!!! idol-verse, literally takes place at the JITB album release party, friends to lovers, erotic hand holding, they're both cute and dumb, a studio hookup 👀 dirty talk, thigh riding, cunnilingus, a single pussy slap lol, taint touching (?), HOBI EATS ASS, multiple orgasms, overstimulation, throat fucking, reader gets a facial, and a lil bit of cum eating, it's cute 😌
A/N: so, hi, i went to hobipalooza lmao. this is actually lowkey a songfic ??? charli xcx was one of the earlier acts on hobi's stage and. my god. seeing her live was a religious experience, and when she performed party 4 u i was like hnnnhghg this should be a fic. and now it is !!!! and i hope u enjoy 🥺🥺 i tried some new stuff in here, both soft and freaky lmao so i'm nervy to share!!! as always your support and feedback means the world to meeeee ok ilysomuch bye~
read on AO3 !
~*~
You collapse back against the cushions of your couch with a soft whine of distress.
The whole thing is really so ridiculous. You told yourself when this started that you could be chill about it. People get crushes every day. It doesn’t have to be a huge fucking deal. You’re a sane, rational adult, perfectly capable of admiring a man quietly from afar while doing your best to be a good friend to him.
And, yes, maybe also obsessing a little too much over what to wear when you hang out, and what to post on Instagram in case he might see it, and dear god, how long his hair is getting. All normal crush things.
But now, as you press your phone to your chest with both hands and sigh forlornly, you wonder if it might actually be possible to yearn yourself to death. To like somebody so much that your heart just fucking explodes. If anyone could be capable of inciting spontaneous combustion, it is absolutely Jung Hoseok.
And he wants you to come to his big fancy party– has specifically sent a day-of reminder text, like you didn’t already receive a formal invitation weeks ago.
You purse your lips, fighting to keep a smile off your face despite being alone in your apartment where no one can perceive you. Hoseok is always so good at keeping in touch, even when he’s in an insanely busy season of his life. You can picture him now, probably bustling around his place in a robe, getting ready while simultaneously sending everyone their own personalized message.
Everyone– when you last chatted about the party, he rattled off enough of the guest list for you to know that easily half the industry will be there tonight. And even Lizzo has gushed about how great of a texter he is. You try to ease yourself off the ledge with the comforting thought that this has to be just one courtesy text of dozens, his pretty painted thumbnails working overtime to send gratuitous emojis out to every idol in the city.
And somehow also to you. Because your big fat crush made you stupid enough to say yes to what is arguably your worst nightmare: A party full of cool famous people, where you will know no one except the guest of honor.
Skipping the party is not an option becomes your internal refrain as the hours tick by. You have to remind yourself of this even more emphatically when you wind up on the floor of your bedroom, having tried on every article of clothing in your closet and having decisively hated it all.
Skipping the party is not an option, you think again, grabbing your phone to check the clock. Your heart sinks when you realize how much time you’ve wasted being an anxious wreck– you had planned to be ready to leave five minutes ago, not laying half-naked on the floor, hair and makeup still undone.
But skipping the party is not an option. A pre-party cry, however, might be on the table.
Pushing yourself up to sit on your heels, you force the tears back while you aimlessly sort through a pile of clothes. You’re barely looking at what’s in front of you, but you pause to do a double-take as your hand passes over a particularly enjoyable texture.
When you manage to extract the item, you realize it’s a dress you’d forgotten about entirely– something a friend made you buy a lifetime ago that you’ve never worn because you’ve always been uncomfortable with how short it is. But it’s smooth baby pink satin, and as different from your usual as it may be, you recall not being mad about the way it stuck to your curves like water.
Fuck it. You’re already late, and if there’s ever a party where you can take a fashion risk, it’s one thrown by Hoseok. You can only imagine what he might have on tonight; it honestly wouldn’t surprise you if he showed up in the same fucking dress.
The thought of seeing him is enough to make your heart leap in your chest, and you do your best to speed through your usual makeup and hair routine despite the way your hands are starting to tremble. By the time you grab your purse and make it out the door, you’re thirty minutes late. That thirty minutes quickly stretches into a full hour before you’re stepping off the elevator onto the 19th floor of HYBE headquarters, feeling like an asshole.
Gorgeous idols and various other famous people stream in around you, dressed in clothes that appear casual but you’re sure cost double your monthly rent payment, looking less than unbothered about showing up late. You do your best to slip in unnoticed and stick to the perimeter of the massive room, feeling like an absolute fraud.
Thankfully it’s only a few steps before you find a table taken up entirely by pre-filled flutes of champagne, and you eagerly grab one, mostly just grateful for something to do with your hands.
It occurs to you how little you know about celebrity culture, because the party doesn’t even seem to have started yet: early 2000s R&B is bumping through the speakers, and it feels like every few minutes the elevator chimes to let another group of people trickle into the space. You find an unoccupied section of wall to lean against as you sip your drink slowly, hoping that if you try hard enough, you might actually manage to become one with the wallpaper.
Tipping your head back for another sip of champagne, you nearly choke at an unexpected voice from over your shoulder.
“You look like you hate parties as much as I do.”
You manage to not inhale your drink, instead giving a polite smile as your eyes drift across the crowded room. You’re too nervous to immediately steal a glance at whoever is speaking to you, though you’re sure it just makes you seem rude. “Hate isn’t exactly it.” You have nothing against parties, or people who enjoy them. “I just… haven’t figured out what I’m supposed to be doing, exactly.”
“I think talking to people is generally expected,” the voice quips. “So, hey, you’re doing great already. Keep it up and they might even think you’re an extrovert.”
You exhale a soft laugh, a slight heat of embarrassment creeping up your neck.
“But Hobi said I didn’t have to meet and greet if I didn't want to. So I’m taking that as full permission to enjoy free alcohol and read webtoons on my phone.”
Your gaze snaps over at the familiar nickname, and your mouth goes dry as you realize you’ve been casually conversing with none other than Kim Seokjin, who is absentmindedly fiddling with the thin green strap of the bag slung over his shoulder.
Fuck. Embarrassing yourself in front of random famous people was exactly what you were trying to avoid when you picked this wall to lean against. You’d figured the other members would all be out mingling in the center of things, not hiding in a corner. Who knew celebrities were just like you?
“I-I’m sorry,” you stammer, immediately dropping your gaze to avoid making eye contact when Jin looks up. He probably assumed you’d sidled up next to him on purpose, like some kind of creepy fan. “I’ll leave you alone, I actually really didn’t mean to–”
You glance up again only to realize Jin is laughing, shoulders shaking slightly.
“Wow, I’m so bad at this. That wasn’t me telling you to fuck off. I was just trying to sympathize.” He gestures lazily towards the stage at the front of the room. “Thankfully it looks like you don’t have to suffer my conversation any longer.”
A Jack in the Box graphic has started to flash, projected onto the screen. After a few seconds, the image stills, and a spotlight clicks on, following Hoseok as he emerges from backstage. You lean forward to set your drink on the closest table so you can join in the applause for him.
Hoseok looks as effortlessly cool as he always does, but even more so tonight, like someone has cranked his charisma up to the max setting. A real fucking popstar, a rockstar, even: baggy clothes, multiple layers of necklaces, chunky black boots, dark hair pushed back with a few strands falling into his eyes. He somehow even manages to make wearing sunglasses indoors look cool– probably because they’re immediately offset by the wide, sweet grin of his mouth as he addresses the crowd. You can hear that he’s nervous by how hard he’s trying to keep his voice even, and it’s enough to make you feel the flutter of butterfly wings in your throat.
As you pick your drink back up for another sip, you can’t help but wonder if Jin can literally see the hearts in your eyes, or a nervous little teardrop floating above your head like an anime character. You do your best to hide your smile behind your glass.
“J-Hope is pretty cool, huh?”
You bite down on your bottom lip, answering Jin’s question with a shy nod.
Hoseok descends the stage as the lights lower, and then the album intro is starting and there’s no more time for conversation. You watch from across the room as he drops down on the large built-in stairs next to Jungkook, who immediately wraps a supportive arm around his waist while Hoseok laughs like he’s embarrassed. You’ve always been in total awe of the way Hoseok can light up and command the energy of a room easily, then squirm away from it at the next second.
Jin gets waved over and gives you a small nod as he departs, and then you’re alone again with the champagne in your hand and the wall against your back and Hoseok’s music thrumming through your nervous system.
The album is nothing like you expected– you didn’t know what to expect, really– and you absolutely love it. You’ve always felt like you have a stupidly limited vocabulary when it comes to talking about music, particularly around Hoseok, but even you can manage to string together the thought that these songs are fucking special.
But then again, so is he.
In what feels like the blink of an eye Hoseok is taking the stage again to giggle through his thanks, bent slightly at the waist in overwhelmed appreciation, and then the pop playlist is switched back on and the lights are dimmed and you suddenly feel your palms start to slick up against your champagne flute.
You can’t help but wonder what the fuck you’re supposed to do now.
The obvious choice would be to finally go talk to Hoseok, but of course, he’s the man of the hour, so every other person in the room seems to have the same idea. You choose to hang back and watch as he weaves through the growing crowd, putting on a bored expression to pose for pictures, laughing excitedly as people shake his hand and speak to him in hushed tones, and flashing thumbs ups and peace signs left, right and center.
It looks exhausting, you think to yourself with a small smile. And this is why you’re not famous.
For the second time tonight someone manages to sneak up on you, and this time it’s accompanied with a gentle call of your name. You nearly drop your drink as you whip around.
When you find yourself face-to-face with Park Jimin, it takes a few seconds for you to remember how to close your mouth. What is going on?
“I thought that was you.”
You double-blink, unable to find any words at all. You have never met this man before in your life. Seen him dozens of times on your TV screen, sure, but certainly never formally introduced.
“I’m Jimin,” he says, and you have to swallow the urge to giggle in his face because, yeah, no shit.
“Hi, Jimin.”
“Hoseok is going to be excited that you’re here.” Jimin scrunches his face up a little, like he knows he shouldn’t be telling you this. “He kept asking me if I thought you would show or not. He really wouldn’t shut up about it.”
You find yourself stammering again, trying to figure out how the hell to respond. Why, out of everyone on the guest list, would Hoseok be concerned about you? And he’s talked to Jimin about you enough for him to know who you are, that he can recognize you on sight alone? Your head starts to spin, despite the fact that you’re only halfway through your glass of champagne.
“Since you don’t like parties,” Jimin says, like it’s common knowledge, as if it’s totally normal for this very busy and famous kpop idol to keep tabs on your socialization preferences.
You nod dumbly. “I, yeah. I’m just not very good at them.”
Jimin nods, pushing up the sleeves of his white Chanel sweater. “You just have to get comfortable with talking to people about boring shit. Did you try the food?”
You shake your head– the very thought is enough to make you feel a little sick. “I get, like, a nervous stomach?” You hate that it comes out like a question when it clearly isn’t.
“Aish, you and Hoseok are so alike,” Jimin rolls his eyes, hands on hips, but you can see he’s smiling a little. “I haven’t been able to get him to eat anything all day. And we ordered so much food, I don’t even know why. Like half the people in this room aren’t on fucking diets.”
“Jimin-ah!”
Both of your heads snap up at the sound of Namjoon’s voice from the other side of the room, distorted slightly by the thudding bass.
“Ahh, they’re doing pictures,” Jimin says with an exaggerated sigh, like it’s just so hard being desirable and photogenic. “Do you want to get a photo?”
You shake your head as emphatically as possible. “No, nope, absolutely not.”
Jimin pauses, squinting at you for a second in a way that makes you think that if you were closer friends, he’d be dragging you across the room regardless of your answer to the question. You watch as he clearly attempts to restrain himself.
“Well, don’t drink too much on an empty stomach, okay? I’ll make you a to-go plate of food before you leave.” He starts to walk backwards away from you, raising his voice a little so you can still hear him. “And please talk to Hoseokie when we’re done! Maybe then he’ll calm the fuck down!”
You can’t hide the smile that blooms across your face, and Jimin wiggles his eyebrows for emphasis before turning around and pressing his way through the crowd to the photo wall.
The members take turns passing Hoseok around, punctuated by the snap of the camera: pinching his cheeks, leaning into him, clinging to his shoulders, wrapping an arm around his neck. You laugh out loud when Taehyung hikes a leg up high on Hoseok’s hip and tips back, a hand draped across his forehead, eyes shut, so fucking dramatic.
Hoseok stares down the camera like a professional, only to immediately dissolve into giggles between shots, tongue poking out between his teeth like he can’t quite handle all the attention. It’s enough to have you nearly fighting for your life.
The members crowd in for a few group shots, posing cutely until Jimin finally waves everyone back off to the dancefloor. He keeps Hoseok behind with one hand gripping his bicep, and your heart drops into your stomach when Jimin leans in to whisper something in Hoseok’s ear.
Oh, fuck.
You try to calm yourself down, reasoning that he could be talking about any number of important things, but then Jimin pulls Hoseok’s sunglasses off his face, turns him unmistakably in your direction, and gives his shoulders a hard push. It’s clear Hoseok doesn’t quite know where he’s going as he stumbles forward and squints at the party lights, so you throw back the last of your champagne for some assistance, set the empty flute on a table, and force yourself to be brave.
You run your palms nervously over the sides of your dress, trying to focus on the feeling of smooth satin as you cross the room to meet him.
“Hobi.” His eyes find yours and you watch as his face, still in party mode— all perfect straight lines and severe grace and supermodel apathy— softens, brightens.
“Oh thank god, you made it,” Hoseok huffs a disbelieving laugh. “Come here.”
He pulls you in for a hug, not the lazy one-armed greetings you’ve seen celebrities give each other all night but a real, solid embrace, both arms crossed firmly over the small of your back. You press your nose into the crook of his neck, the thin fabric of his tank top brushing against your skin. Heat radiates off of him in waves, and he smells so good, like expensive cologne. It’s dizzying.
“Hi,” you murmur, and it’s punctuated with a soft giggle when you realize you’re speaking directly into his collarbone. You move to extract yourself, but his grip tightens.
“Five more seconds,” Hoseok says with another half-laugh, and you gladly allow yourself to melt back into his arms.
He sounds slightly hoarse, you notice, probably from talking all night. You think for easily the millionth time that you have no idea how he does it, but this moment of softness makes you wonder if being the life of the party is a little more difficult than he lets on.
Hoseok hums a little, and the feeling rumbles through your chest, buzzing all the way down to your fingertips like an electric current. When he finally releases you, it’s with a soft sigh, something that almost sounds like reluctance. Your heart backflips at the thought.
The lights flash waves of rainbow color over his face, each one painting his perfect features with a slightly different energy: pink, blue, orange, green. You momentarily forget how to talk, but Hoseok doesn’t miss a beat.
“Are you having fun?”
You nod as decisively as you can. “I’m just awkward, but that’s not your party’s fault.” He giggles, gaze flitting nervously around the room, as you continue. “Seriously, it’s a great party. And I’m not just saying that because you have free booze.”
“Did you want more?” He asks quickly, then seems to think better of it. “Or, well, how much have you had? Do you need water?”
You smile a little despite yourself. “I’m fine, Hobi, thank you. You have better things to do tonight than look after me because I nursed a single glass of champagne. And besides, Jimin already tried to mother hen me earlier.”
A look of serious anguish crosses Hoseok’s face, and he glances back over his shoulder, but Jimin has evaporated into the crowd of beautiful people. “God, I specifically told him to leave you alone.”
You shrug. “It’s not a big deal. He was sweet.”
Hoseok’s gaze lands back on you, and it feels like your chest lights up from the inside out. You almost can’t look directly at him– it’s not unlike staring into the sun. You blink up at him once, twice, more than dazed, and then he laughs again, nose scrunching slightly as if to cringe at himself.
“Agh, I feel awkward. I don’t know what to say.”
You’re smiling, too. “That’s okay,” you say, because it is. You’re perfectly content to just stand here with him, unconcerned with the chaos of the party around you.
“I’m really glad you’re here.”
“Me too.”
“And– well, I guess you’ve never been here before, right? Can I give you a tour? I can take you downstairs and show you my studio.”
Your cheeks start to burn from all the questions, from how fixed his gaze is on you. It’s overwhelming. “Hobi, this is literally your party. You should stay here. I was doing fine holding up the wall over there.”
“Come on, I really want to. Please?” He leans in towards you slightly, glancing around as if to make sure he’s not being overheard. When he speaks into your ear, his voice drops to a lower register for privacy, and you can’t ignore the chills that dot up your spine. “I can’t talk to one more person that isn’t you right now.”
You nod, every nerve ending in your body now hyper-aware of how very close he is to you. “If you’re sure. I’d like that.”
“Thank you,” he says softly, and you breathe a soft giggle at how ridiculous it is that he’s the one thanking you at this moment. Before you even realize what he’s doing, his hand finds your hand, delicate fingers intertwining with yours. The skin of his palm is soft and warm. “Let’s go.” He chases the words with a gentle squeeze.
Hoseok leads you into the elevator and presses the button for a lower floor. You’re a little surprised when he slumps back against the wall with a heavy sigh as the doors close, still holding your hand.
“Oh, I’m tired.” He says quietly, almost like he’s talking to himself rather than to you. “It just hit me now. That was a lot.”
You squeeze his hand back, and his eyes flutter open to look at you. You press yourself up against the wall next to him. “You sound like me after any social event. And here I was thinking all night that you made it look so easy.”
Hoseok smiles. “I’m good at faking it. But I always collapse after stuff like this.” His eyes drift away from you and he stares into the empty space in front of him, his expression darkening slightly. “I just really hope they liked it. It’s so hard to tell what people think, or who’s only bullshitting you when they tell you it’s good. I’d rather they be honest with me.”
“Well, if it means anything, I loved it.” You say softly, your eyes searching his face. “And I’m not a bullshitter.”
Hoseok blinks, then nods once, his eyes not meeting yours. “You’re not. I appreciate that.”
The chime of the elevator seems to snap him somewhat out of his headspace, and he tugs on your joined hands to pull you through the doors as they slide open. “It’s just at the end of the hall.”
There’s something about Hoseok that comforts you all the way to your core, laps gently at the edges of your shyness until it recedes a bit. He just makes you feel like you can say anything without fear of judgment. Conversation comes easier with him, like this.
“How do you feel about it?”
“The album?” He asks.
You shrug. “Everything.”
“I’m very nervous,” Hoseok answers immediately with a bright peal of laughter, squeezing your hand again for emphasis. “I’m working really hard but… it all feels like uncharted territory. It’s so different to do it alone.”
His eyes jump from studio door to studio door as he leads you down the hallway. “I don’t know if people are going to like this side of me or the things I have to say. I don’t know if anyone will still care now that it’s just me. And ugh, I’m so unsure about the music festival. I’ve never done a whole show on my own before. I practice so much every day and I still don’t know if I can do it. Or if it will be any good.”
When he stops you outside of the final door at the end of the hallway, he seems to remember himself. “Wow, look at me. You were probably only being polite and I threw so much at you. This is just what goes around in my head. Every day and every night.”
“You sound stressed,” you say softly.
Hoseok purses his lips for a second. “I guess. I just really want to do well. I don’t want to disappoint anyone. I would– what?”
It isn’t until he asks the question, regarding you with a confused expression, that you realize you’re shaking your head. The smile that has crept across your face is a mixture of disbelief and appreciation.
You chew on the corner of your lip, trying to figure out the best way to word it. “I just… I don’t want to dismiss your concerns, because I absolutely understand all of them. And I would be shitting a brick, no question. But you…” Hoseok’s eyes widen a little as you pause, drinking him in, the way concern tugs down the corners of his mouth. “You just have no idea. No idea what it’s like to watch you from out here. And I wish you could see yourself the way I do.”
He pauses as if to consider your words. “What do you see?”
You don’t even have to think about the answer. It feels as steady and honest as the beat of your heart behind your ribs. “I see a fucking star. I see somebody who was born to do exactly what he’s doing. And, I mean, I think being nervous is a good thing, and I don’t say this to try and invalidate how you’re feeling at all. But I don’t see any possible future where you don’t succeed, Hoseok. It’s just... not an option. You’re going to get up there and kill it, I know you are. Because it’s you.”
Hoseok’s hand slips out of yours, and you can feel the warmth of his palms as he presses them to your waist to pull you close. Anticipation sparks through you. His eyes search yours intently, like he’s looking for something. “You really feel that way?”
“Completely. There’s no doubt in my mind.” Your gaze drops to his mouth, the way his full lips are parted slightly, and it occurs to you that maybe you’re talking about more than one thing now. “It feels predestined, to me… I don’t know. Inevitable.”
Hoseok makes a soft noise as he continues to close the distance between you. “Inevitable?” You tilt your chin up towards him, every cell in your body humming. “Like this?”
The way he kisses you is so gentle and sweet, you swear your heart leaps into your throat. You allow a second, maybe two, to move your mouth against his and get lost in it, and then you force yourself to break away, your mind reeling.
“I’m sorry,” he says automatically. “I’ve been wanting to do that all night.”
“Hoseok,” you murmur, eyes squeezing shut as you attempt to navigate the discomfort of being vulnerable. “I– you should know that I really, really like you.”
“Really?”
The shock in his voice makes your eyes snap open again, and you can’t help but make a face of utter disbelief. “I thought it was obvious.”
“Looks like I’m not the only one who doesn’t realize how other people see me. You’re actually very hard to read.” Hoseok slips one hand off of your waist to push down on the door handle behind you, then gestures for you to step through. He keeps talking as he follows in after you, letting the door shut behind him. “I second-guess myself all the time with you. Jimin is so fucking tired of hearing about it.”
“Wow,” you say dumbly. “I had no idea.”
“You didn’t even text me back about tonight! I had no idea if you were coming.”
You start to laugh as the realization washes over you: you’d been so busy sighing forlornly and stressing about what to wear, you’d forgotten to actually reply to his messages.
“Okay, this time was actually an accident. But…” You sweep your gaze over his studio, trying to think. “I don’t know, I just always feel like I’m bothering you. Your life is so big and important. Even now: you should be upstairs being the star of your own party. Not down here with me.”
Hoseok shakes his head immediately. “I don’t want to talk to anyone up there the way I want to talk to you. I was such a wreck today when you didn’t answer.”
You can’t believe what he’s saying, even as he takes a step in towards you, his mouth invitingly close to yours again. “Why? I am quite literally the least important person on the guestlist.”
“Because,” Hoseok pauses for a second, then sighs. “I like you, and I was scared that you’d decided not to come, when I…” He’s practically grinning, and the tell of his scrunched up nose makes you realize– he’s embarrassed. “I threw this whole party just to have an excuse to see you.”
Your jaw drops open. “You what?”
“Please don’t make me say it again.”
“Hobi.” You both start to laugh as you stare in disbelief, trying to process the most ridiculous statement you’ve ever heard in your life. “You could have just called me.”
“I tend to overthink these things.”
He’s close enough that you barely have to move to slide your hands up his chest and grip the lapels of his white button-down.
“I think I can help with that,” you murmur, and then you tug him back down into a kiss that makes your head spin.
The sweet nervousness of your first kiss has been replaced with urgency now, Hoseok’s mouth moving over yours like he’s hungry for it. You tug gently on your fistfuls of his shirt to move him towards you, stumbling backwards until you find purchase against the door of the studio.
Hoseok moves skillfully, tongue licking into your mouth while one of his strong thighs shifts to tease your legs apart and press between them. The quick succession of the two is enough to make your breath hitch, and it seems to encourage him more. The rough denim of his jeans grinds into your center, and your already-short dress has ridden up enough that the pressure drags hot sparks right over your core.
Your jaw goes slack as your focus slips, and you tip your head back against the door with a soft whine, circling your hips for more friction. “Fuck, Hoseok.”
His lips drop down to the exposed skin of your neck. The warmth of his mouth has your back arching, your nipples rubbed into stiff peaks under the thin fabric you couldn’t wear a bra with.
“You look so fucking good tonight,” Hoseok groans. “Driving me crazy in this little dress.”
There’s the soft brush of a hand on your thigh, and he teases the hem of your dress up higher and higher as your hips keep moving; his tongue darts out to lick a languid stripe over your collarbone. His other hand slides up from your waist to cup your breast over satin, deftly rolling the bud of your nipple between his long fingers, pinching with just enough pressure to coax a moan out of you.
“I like the sounds you make. Don’t want you to be shy with me.” Hoseok murmurs over your skin before he starts to suck deliberately at your neck, right on your pulse point. You couldn’t stifle the sound his mouth pulls from you even if you wanted to.
With all your attention drawn to grinding your clit against his leg and the warmth of his palm cupping your breast, your grip on the fabric of his shirt has loosened. Moving in a haze of pleasure, your hands fumble at his denim jacket, attempting to push it down his shoulders. Hoseok pulls back slightly when he realizes what you’re doing, though his fingers still lazily squeeze at your nipple.
“Let me just– hang on–” Hoseok untangles himself from you entirely with a sheepish grin, and you take the moment to collect yourself, your chest heaving in shallow breaths. You can feel the way your panties are soaked through as you press your thighs together, desperate for continued friction.
He’s moving quickly as he slips out of his oversized jacket and button down beneath it. You can clearly see the wheels in his head turning as he lays the pieces over the back of his desk chair, then immediately scrunches his face up as if to think better of it.
“Agh, sorry, sorry, one second–” Hoseok shakes out the jacket, then the shirt, folding both in quick yet precise succession before stacking the neat rectangles together and gently setting them on the small couch next to his desk.
Even in the dim studio lighting you can see his face is flushed pink with embarrassment as he returns to press you back against the door.
“I just– I don’t want wrinkles,” he says softly, and you’re very grateful that you no longer have to suppress the urge to take his face in your hands and kiss him.
“I like you so much,” you giggle into his mouth, and it’s punctuated with a squeak when his hands slide down to firmly grab your ass. The fabric of your dress is so thin that it hardly feels like it’s there at all.
Hoseok must have the same thought, because he releases his grip only for as long as it takes to push the skirt of your dress up over your ass; now there’s nothing separating his fingers from your skin when he squeezes you again.
“Like you,” he agrees, his voice husky. “Want to taste you.” Your core aches for his touch, clenches around nothing when he releases his grip and cracks a hand over the soft flesh of your asscheek.
“Please, Hobi.”
You find his mouth with yours again for a needy taste of a kiss, tongues sliding together. Your arms wrap around his shoulders in an attempt to pull him impossibly closer.
In one swift move he presses you flush against the door, and his hands slip to hitch your legs over his waist before moving back to your ass, hoisting your hips up to properly straddle him. You whimper at the grind of his erection through his jeans, right over your rubbed-sensitive center, and at the thought that he could fuck you just like this, up against this door.
Hoseok’s mouth doesn’t leave yours as he turns and carries you the short distance across the room, hands sliding to your hips so he can set you down on the desk. His lips are full and kiss-bitten red when he pulls back to look at you, pupils blown dark with lust.
“Sure this is okay?”
You meet his gaze, reaching up to dust strands of hair out of his eyes. His mouth chases the heel of your hand so he can press those soft lips into the center of your palm, chaste and sweet.
“It’s so much more than okay,” you murmur.
He’s smiling as he leans forward for another kiss, only pulling back to press his forehead to yours once you’re both breathless. “I have wanted to do this for so fucking long. You have no idea.”
His hands hook under the backs of your thighs to scoot you gently forward until you’re perched at the very edge of his desk, and then he sinks to his knees. Your legs that were slipped around his waist find new purchase thrown over his shoulders and you tense a little when your high heels scrape over his back.
“I can take these off,” you start, but he’s already shaking his head as his palms encourage your thighs apart.
“I like it.”
You’re nearly gasping for breath with anticipation as his long fingers slip under the band of your panties and you lift your hips up so he can pull them down. You manage to extract one leg to drape back over his shoulders, leaving the lacy fabric to dangle off the other as you open up for him.
Hoseok’s thumbs press to either side of your pussy, gently spreading your lips apart to admire how soaked you already are. Anyone else examining you like this would have you squirming away self-consciously, but there’s just something about Hoseok that’s different. You want him to know every part of you fully, intimately.
“God, you are so gorgeous.” His breath is hot over your skin, makes your cunt tighten needily as if to beckon him closer.
You lean back to brace your forearms on the desk behind you and Hoseok’s gaze jumps up to meet yours. He doesn’t drop eye contact as he leans forward to press an open-mouthed kiss to your slit, both of you groaning at the contact.
His mouth moves just as it did against yours, and you let your eyes flutter closed as pleasure sears through you like a hot knife. Hoseok grunts a little, low in his throat when he adds tongue to his kisses, licking softly but deliberately to part your slick folds.
“Hobi,” you whine, rolling your hips up into him as he starts to apply more pressure with his tongue. “Fuck, ah, feels so good.”
Hoseok pulls off of you with a throaty gasp, like maybe he was so focused on eating you out that he didn’t quite remember to keep breathing. When you look down at him, his lips are wet and glossy, spread in a wide smile. “You taste so fucking good.”
You don’t even have time to ask for more before he’s hooking his biceps around your thighs and tugging your hips towards him, pulling you even closer to bury his face between your legs. This time he licks a stripe straight up to your swollen clit, pulling the bud into his mouth to suck on.
“Oh my god,” you gasp, digging your nails into the desk beneath you as sparks shoot through you and your clit twitches in his mouth.
Hoseok hums steadily around you, as if to once again encourage you to be vocal. He starts to nod his head as he sucks, his nose pressed flush against your pubic bone. Your hips fall in time with his rhythm, grinding back down on him.
“Yes, yes, yes,” you whimper. “Shit, Hobi.” Your voice catches on a dazed, disbelieving laugh. “You’re gonna make me come if you keep doing that.”
He doesn’t let up, squeezing his grip on your thighs that much tighter when you start to quiver beneath him. Your arousal coils tight and hot in your core as he works more not-so-shy noises out of you, breathy moans, needy whines.
You cling desperately to the edge of his desk, teetering equally on the edge of your own release. The wet slick wash of his tongue is lush, decadent, lapping at your clit between pulses of suction, and it’s all too fucking much.
“Yes, Hoseok, fuck!”
You cry out, your heels digging into the hard plane of Hoseok’s back as he works an intense, shuddering orgasm out of you. Your cunt throbs over and over as you come, a rush of arousal painting the crux of your thighs.
When you catch your breath it’s in uneven, shaky gasps, and the movement of your hips sharpens into jolts as you become hypersensitive to Hoseok’s mouth. He releases you almost reluctantly, still hovering close, continuing to dart his tongue out to gently lick up your folds.
“I don’t want to stop,” he says with a shy, blossoming laugh, the light catching the shine of his lips and chin when he glances up at you.
You’re dazed, beyond blissed out, unable to believe that any of this is real. You like him so much.
“Can I keep going?”
Just that sentence is enough to make you tighten all over again with anticipation. “I–” you laugh a little too despite yourself. “I want that. But I think my clit needs a second.”
Hoseok’s touch is featherlight as he circles a digit lower, over your entrance, as if to ask permission. “What about here?” Your pussy lips twitch even under so gentle a touch, but you ache for more; you like that it’s overwhelming.
“Yeah, yes. There, please, fuck,” you babble. He’s added a second finger to tease now, and you whimper when they finally press together into your sensitive cunt.
Hoseok is watching his fingers intently, and you can hear the way your pussy squelches as he pumps them slowly, can feel the tremors of your orgasm still shuddering through you, causing slick to drip from your center. You can only imagine what his view must be like, how you must look: dripping, needy, trembling for him, fingers gripping the desk and head lolling back.
“So pretty,” he murmurs, his voice low and soft, and then he dips his head down to lap below your entrance, tasting the juices that have leaked out of you. He pulls back to smack his other hand over your whole cunt, light enough that you barely feel the tap, but just the visual of it makes you squirm beneath him.
“So cute,” he smiles. His fingers rub circles into your front wall, becoming more insistent, and you breathe in shaky waves as you start to grip tightly around him.
“Hoseok,” you breathe, letting your eyes drop closed. Arousal blossoms through you like a heavy weight, your second climax already building, when you feel his other hand cup the join of your ass and thigh.
A soft whimper spills out of you as Hoseok starts to massage below your entrance, thumb working at a new bundle of nerves, like nothing you’ve ever felt. It’s pleasure that makes you hot all over, makes the muscles in your legs shiver and tense when it’s paired with the crook of his fingers still working your pussy.
“Fuck,” you pant, “Hobi, what are– that feels so–” You’re starting to lose a grip on your words, sentences going incoherent as your head spins. It’s hard to think over all the sensation, the way your body is lit up like a live wire, and the sound of your cunt gushing around him as he fucks into your g-spot.
“Has anyone touched you here before?” He asks softly, thumb tapping at the thin bridge of skin between your pussy and your ass. His head dips down for a chaste kiss there, then a second, adding a languid lap of tongue.
“N-no,” you whimper, toes curling in your shoes as he continues to drag his tongue over this delicate, sensitive place. “Keep going.”
Hoseok pulls back, a string of saliva still connecting him to you, and he lets it loose with a swipe of his hand over his mouth. His fingers slip out of you as he pairs a question with a smile. “Turn over for me?”
Your legs would be shaking even if you weren’t in fancy party heels, and you do your best to be graceful as you unsteadily spin, one arm keeping the fabric of your dress hiked up over your hips.
“Brace yourself on the desk,” Hoseok instructs, and you do, leaning forward until your stomach and forearms are flush with the wood, your bare ass hanging off the desk, presented for him. You spread your legs apart again and can feel the way your pussy drools arousal down your thighs. “That’s it,” he coaxes.
His fingers massage firmly into the flesh of your asscheeks, and your back arches up as you groan at the feeling. He spreads you just a little, enough for cool air to tease at your slick center; your hips wiggle towards him on instinct.
“Pretty back here, too,” he murmurs. “Tell me how it feels, okay? Won’t do it if you don’t like it.”
You clench for him in both places, even your fists grip tight in the fabric of your dress. “I’ll like it. Please, baby.”
“Baby,” Hoseok repeats back with a shy exhale. “I like that. I like you.” He leaves a sweet kiss pressed halfway up your thigh.
“Hobi–” you choke out a whine of his name as his breath ghosts over you, hands still firmly keeping you spread. His tongue returns to your perineum again, licking a hot, slow stripe that keeps moving up, up, until you feel the tease of warmth and wetness over your ass. “Oh, fuck.”
You’re so sensitive here, just the lightest drag of his tongue over your rim makes you moan, feet kicking listlessly as pleasure shudders through you.
“It’s good–” you manage to whimper, voice muffled slightly as your forehead drops against the desk, too, your whole body pinned down by his mouth. “–ngh, really good, Hobi.” Your cunt throbs when he does it again, as he falls into a consistent pace of long, steady laps that set off fireworks behind your eyes.
The ache in your core begs for touch, friction, and you oblige needily, tucking a hand under the weight of your hips pressed into the desk, a sweat-slicked palm for your mouth-wet clit.
Hoseok doesn’t miss a thing. It’s only for a second that he pulls off of you, but you whine at the loss of his tongue, sated slightly by the gentle brush of his lips over the small of your back. “Gonna get yourself off while I eat you out?”
You grind a circle down with your hips, hissing at the white-hot pulse against your hand. “Yes, baby, please.”
He doesn’t need any more encouragement to dive back in, fingers gripping harder to spread you and tongue licking deliberately, tracing patterns that work more arousal out of your pussy. You’re unraveling fast from humping against your palm, hips jolting forward to make your clit twitch and backwards to press towards Hoseok’s mouth.
You’re already wound so tight that you’re too desperate for words, reduced instead to little breathless gasps– “ah, ahh”– as you speed up the rub of your hand, your hips. Hoseok’s tongue never falters, firm pressure laved over and over your sensitive, flexing ass.
With a soft hum of effort, you feel him press a little harder, tongue barely dipping in past your tight ring of muscle, and the sweet stretch of it is the final push you need.
You roll your clit just right over your palm a final time and then you’re shaking and moaning as everything starts to pulse. The all-over clench pushes a fresh wave of fluid from your cunt, rolling down the backs of your thighs, fat droplets of arousal that Hoseok chases with sloppy kisses as the waves of your orgasm shudder through you.
It takes a moment before you can say anything, do anything, limbs too heavy and brain too fucked-out dumb. You do your best to slide gracefully off the desk, but your legs shake with aftershocks that betray you, and you stumble.
Hoseok is quick to wrap his arms around you and guide your hips down to the floor next to him. You collapse in a heap of giggles, him tangled over your waist, the skirt of your dress still pushed up, your bare ass on his studio carpet.
“Are you okay?” Hoseok laughs, and you bury your face in the fabric of his tank top as an answer, not convinced your coherency has returned to you yet.
“Too good,” you murmur, words slurring. “Fucked me too good.”
“You’re so hot.” You can tell he’s blushing just by the tone of his voice, and you start to come to a little, slow-blinking back to reality and rolling over to look up at him. His dark eyes shine as he smiles. You don’t want to come all the way down from this dazed, happy place yet, you realize, and you curl a finger into the loop of his jeans, tugging him closer.
“My turn.” Your hands start to fumble to undo his belt buckle. His jeans are oversized, but not enough to obscure the print of his hard cock pressed against his thigh.
“Let me take you home,” he says softly, running a fingertip along your jaw. “This should be– I want you to be comfortable. I want it to feel good.”
“It all feels good,” you say earnestly, sitting up to tug at the button of his jeans, undeterred. “And you can take me home. But you’ve been so good to me, Hobi.” You manage to work his fly open, and you lift your gaze to meet him. “Let me be good to you.”
You resume your work, wriggling Hoseok’s jeans down his thighs until his hands cover yours and he takes over, stripping himself of his shoes as well. He reaches back between his shoulder blades to pull his tank top over his head, and your eyes sweep over his body, taking in his lithe figure and smooth, hard muscles. You trail the tips of your fingers down the defined lines of his chest.
“Fuck,” Hoseok starts to smile self-consciously, one hand drifting over his dick straining against tight black briefs with a slightly darker spot in the center where he’s left a kiss of precum on the fabric. “I don’t have any condoms here.”
You sit up on your knees in front of him, considering this. “Use my mouth.” The high of your orgasm has subsided enough now that you’re not quite shameless anymore, and heat blooms in your face as you continue. “Like, fuck my throat.”
He tries and fails to suppress a groan, and his delicate hands reach to cup either side of your face, thumbs rubbing circles into the hinge of your jaw. “You–” he laughs softly. “You can’t just say things like that.”
“I mean it,” you say simply.
“But you really want to?”
You nod, half play-acting your shyness now, letting your lashes flutter as you blink up at him. “I’ve done it before. I like it.”
“Fuck,” Hoseok breathes. “I want to do everything you like.”
“Please?” You ask sweetly, and Hoseok is already getting to his feet, one hand still cupping your jaw.
“Pretty,” he murmurs, tongue darting out to wet his lips. “So pretty when you beg to suck my cock.” You’re smiling, your fingers slipping under his waistband to slide his briefs down his legs.
“Take your dress off, baby,” Hoseok instructs as he steps back to finish pulling off his underwear. “Don’t wanna ruin it.”
You do as you’re told, staying on your knees to pull it over your head, your heart squeezing again when he takes it from you and treats it as gently as his own clothes. It’s oddly domestic to watch him fold the smooth fabric with shaking hands, naked except for his jewelry, his hard dick leaking against his stomach.
When he turns back to you, you take the opportunity to properly admire him. His cock is as flushed and gorgeous as the rest of him, thick and dripping wet from his tip. You duck down to press a kiss to the sensitive spot under his head, then slide your lips up to gloss over his slit, slicking your mouth with his precum.
You look up at him, hands gripping the backs of his thighs; Hoseok’s eyelids are heavy with lust as he watches you work, tongue toying at the corner of his mouth. He groans a little as you pop just the head into your mouth and swirl your tongue over it, tasting the salt of him.
His hand slides to the back of your head, tangling in the hair at the nape of your neck, and his adam’s apple jerks in his throat as he swallows.
“Tap my foot if you need to stop.” Hoseok’s voice is quiet but firm, and his socked toes wiggle, brushing against your knee pressed into the carpet. “Okay?”
You hum your acknowledgement and maintain eye contact as he holds you still and slides his cock into your mouth. He starts off at a gentle pace, and you hollow your cheeks around him, pressing your tongue flat so it drags over his shaft as he starts to pump in and out of you.
As much as you want him in control, there’s a part of you that can’t help yourself– you lean forward, eyes fluttering closed, wanting to prove to him how much you can take. The head of his cock starts to stretch down your throat and you focus on breathing steady through your nose, your muscles jumping around him in a half-swallow.
“Fuck,” Hoseok groans, his voice dark and rough-edged. You can feel drool starting to leak out of your mouth, and the mess just makes it better. “You take it so well.”
His hips keep rolling, withdrawing his cock into the heat of your mouth only to push it back down the tight clutch of your throat. It gets easier as he starts to move faster, the weight of him pressing bright on your gag reflex in shorter and shorter bursts. It’s just enough to make tears well up in your eyes. They eventually spill over, staining your cheeks until your face is slick and wet, like the sounds of him hitting the back of your throat, all of it obscene and hot.
The hand in your hair tightens as he pulls you all the way down on his shaft until your nose is flush with his abdomen and your throat bulges, filled with him. He holds you there, eyes roaming hungrily over your face.
“You look so sweet with my cock down your throat, baby.”
The hum of agreement you try makes you gag a little, and he quickly releases, pulling out to let you gasp for air. Your tongue lolls out of your mouth as you smile up at him, dazed, and catch your breath.
“Was that too much?” His brows pinch together slightly with concern. You wipe a hand over your nose and shake your head.
“I want more, Hobi,” you purr, moving your face back towards his dick. You lean forward to lazily drag your tongue up his shaft for emphasis. “Want you to come on my face,” you admit as you fix your gaze on him.
You swear you feel his knees almost buckle when you take him in your mouth again.
“You are so fucking sexy,” Hoseok practically growls, hand returning to the nape of your neck. He pushes himself back down your throat and starts to pick up the pace. You want him all and take it easily now, drool slicking your neck and chest when you swallow around his length.
“Oh my god,” he gasps, and you can feel his cock twitch on your tongue as he fucks roughly into your mouth, chasing his orgasm. “Oh my god.”
Hoseok’s grip on your hair goes slack and he pulls out, hand pumping fast over his drool-glossed cock. He tips his head back, exposing the column of his throat with a heady whine when he starts to come. You’re up on your knees and ready for it, nose bumping his fist, face presented for him to paint. Warm spurts of cum hit your cheeks, tongue, lips, and you giggle a little as you try to hold still, as he makes another throaty grunt of effort and release.
“Shit,” he hisses as the movements of his hand slow, as he works out the last of it, stray drips already trailing down your neck, between the valley of your breasts. “Fuuuck.” His breathing is ragged, and you press a wet kiss to the tip of his dick as he recovers.
He’s clearly already focused on the mess he’s made of you, spinning in a dazed semi-circle before reaching to grab a box of tissues off of the desk. His bare knees thud on the carpet as he sinks down next to you.
You’re surprised when he leans in to kiss you, humming softly against your mouth, tongue even darting out to lick at the cum that drips off your lips. You smile into it, teeth gently grazing over his bottom lip.
“Hi,” he huffs a laugh as he leans back. “Was that okay? Not too much?”
You shake your head. “I liked it,” you say again, though your voice comes out a little hoarse. “Wouldn’t have asked for it if I didn’t. I like you. I–” your breath hitches slightly with nerves, and it’s funny to you, that it’s easy to ask him to fuck your throat, but hard to talk about the bigger feelings underneath. It’s more intimate, somehow, to be earnest. “You always worry so much about everyone else. I just want to take care of you.”
“You can.” Hoseok’s voice is gentle and warm. “We both can.” He pulls a tissue loose from the box, hovering close to you. “Let me clean you up.”
You’re too blissed out to stop yourself from giggling. “You have a whole party to get back to.” You nod dumbly at the verity of your own statement as he uses tissues to wipe cum and drool off your face, tear stains and smudged makeup from your cheeks.
“This,” he swipes a thumb down over your bottom lip, chases it with another quick kiss, “was so much better than a fucking party.” He adds the last of the dampened tissues to the small pile he’s made on the floor, tilting your jaw with his hand to inspect his work, to ensure perfection as he does with everything. “But I probably don’t have much longer before people start looking for me.”
“You should go,” you say quietly, trying to ignore the drop in your stomach.
His hand slips into yours for the second time tonight. “Will you come with me? I know it’s not really your thing.”
You falter momentarily– not because you don’t want to, but you can’t shake your own self-consciousness, this sense that you don’t belong here, rubbing elbows with all these famous people. But it’s hard to feel like any of that matters with the way Hoseok is looking at you, the soft turn of his lips in a barely-there smile.
“Are you sure?”
“Very.” He gives your hand an affirming squeeze. “Do I need to remind you that this entire party is literally for you?”
You shake your head, rolling your eyes at his antics despite the laugh that bubbles up in your throat. “I still can’t believe you. What is this, The Great Gatsby?”
His laugh is high and sweet, hand untangling from yours to wrap both arms around your waist, and he pulls you into his chest, bare skin on bare skin, hearts beating together. “Is that a yes?”
“Yes, Hobi,” you relent. “I’ll go back with you. Besides, Jimin promised to feed me.”
You can feel Hoseok’s smile as he presses a kiss to your temple. “Come on, then. I promise it’ll be fun. If we get Jungkook drunk enough he’ll probably start dancing on the stage.”
Ok, so the smut in this is great and whatever but can we talk about the start!?!? Because honestly that bit was impeccable. The awkwardness and wanting to be there but not feeling like she should and then the boys coming and introducing themselves and trying to make her feel more relaxed. And then Jimin being the matchmaker and shoving these two together. Honestly, I feel like I’ve done a rubbish job of basically explaining what happens, adding literally nothing, but I loved it and I’m struggling with words write now. Just read this.
Summary: Everyone knows that if your best friend has a little sister, she’s off limits. That, and the fact that your best friend will probably kill you if you even think about going near his sister. Yoongi knows this. There’s no way he could tell Namjoon that once upon a time you kissed him, drunk in his living room after a break up. So much time’s passed since then, too much time to bring it up now, but Yoongi still thinks about it, he’s still a little hopeful. Now you’re here at the lake house because Namjoon brought you and you clearly have something you want to say to Yoongi.
Namjoon’s gonna kill him.
Genre: 18+, fluff, angst, humor.
Word count: 12k
Warning(s): 18+, smut, oral (m+f receiving) unprotected sex, porn is mentioned. Yoongi and Y/n are BOTH stupid and they need help. Taehyung’s trying his best, Seokjin is also trying his best but subtler. Yoongi’s convinced that Namjoon’s out to get him at every turn. Slight jealousy. Y/n and Yoongi have no idea how to actually hold a conversation like adults, until they do.
Notes: My addition to the Autumn Leaves Collab, hosted by the beautiful @bangtansmauyeondan !! I had so much fun working on this, and I met so many beautiful people that I’m so grateful for, so happy to call my friends 🥺 I love y'all! Please check out the other authors’ fics on the Collab Masterlist! Everyone worked so hard, give my girls some love! Shout out to @blog-name-idk and @xpeachesncream for being absolute aNGELS, beta reading and helping me out when I panicked over this lol, and @madbutgloriouspond for helping me brainstorm. I hope you guys enjoy!! Please leave feedback, I’m nothing but a poor soul seeking validation (and motivation!) to keep going.
“You’re staring.” Seokjin nudges Yoongi’s arm with his, snapping him out of his daze. He catches Seokjin’s smirk, and there’s a twinkle in his eye that promises nothing good. Yoongi pulls his eyes away from your form, sitting in a chair on the dock away from everyone else with a book in your hand. You’re bundled up in a thick sweater and cozy sweatpants, completely lost in your book.
“Was not.” Yoongi feels the need to deny it, distracting himself with cutting up onions, focusing on the way the blade of the knife cuts through the vegetable and definitely not the way Seokjin was wiggling his eyebrows at him.
“Sure. I believe you.”
Somewhere inside, there is music playing. A Lo-Fi beat that plays softly under the sound of rain. It’s kind of sad, if Yoongi is being honest, but he supposes that autumn is a sad season. Nothing but changes all around. The leaves change colours, mixing like paint on an easel in the hands of a melancholy artist drowning in his own solitude. They shift and the vibrancy of summer fades until they die, falling off their homes to go drifting in the wind, or land on the ground to become everyone’s problem.
I read the preview for this ageees ago and only now getting round to reading the whole thing, but it was worth the wait. I loved all your characterisations, I fell in love with not just Yoongi and reader but also all the guys. I loved how they kept interfering and meddling with these two, the will they won’t they, the shared history. So cute!!! And so well written 👏🏼👏🏼👏🏼👏🏼
Warnings: Panic attack, emotional abuse, parental abuse, bullying, mention of mental illness, descriptions of depression and anxiety, mention of JK Rowling (don’t support TERFs)
Part of @thebtswritersclub project: “Sentimental”
Banner by @introlxv
Beta’d by @mapleglasses27
Summary: Your life has always had various aspects of pressure. Cracks in the wall at every turn so it’s no surprise when it finally breaks. Thankfully there’s someone there to help keep you together.
Under the surface, I feel berserk as a tightrope walker in a three-ring circus
This was so sad but I agree with everything Seokjin said at the end, she is enough!! I hope he restores her hope and love. Sad, but I really loved reading it.
— the one where namjoon is even more attractive in real life.
↳ alternatively kim namjoon is inside your bookshop, and he thinks you have good taste.
↳ genre meetcute / fluff / wc - approx. 0.8k
↳ warnings gn!reader / idol!namjoon / reader owns a bookshop namjoon is a book nerd therefore they are going to fall in love / no warnings just this might be my fav meetcute i’ve ever written
↳ perm tag list @forpunishers @junsai-tree @chimchimmarie @luaspersona @sugarwithtea @jenrecs @hobigoo @m1sss1mp @minniesvenus @softbobamilktae
mornings are when the shop is quietest.
the sun is only just peeking over the horizon, when you flip the open sign. a hazard of winter, dull skies greeting you with every waking. luckily, you live directly on top of your store, a small, crowded apartment filled with extra books, a cramped kitchen and your singular cat, a stray who'd wandered into the shop and refused to leave.
you like to take your time in mornings. have a coffee while you plan all the shit you need to get done, maybe scroll through your emails and reply to your few texts. mornings are slow, peaceful and it's incredibly rare that you get anyone sticking their head into your small bookshop, despite your early opening times.
today, though, is different.
almost ten minutes after opening, the bell tinkles, announcing the presence of a dark-clad figure. he's wearing a black mask, black hoodie — the hood pulled over his head, black sweatpants. you tense for a second, but you've never heard of robberies in early daylight (and who'd rob a bookshop?), so you watch as his eyes flick over to you and he raises a hand in greeting, before wandering over to the nearest shelf.
okay. so not a robber.
despite your spark of intrigue — something about those eyes — you decide to ignore him, return to your coffee and the book you'd picked up yesterday. he seems to be doing fine on his own, and so you engross yourself in your own world, the sound of your turning pages and quiet footsteps the only sound in the shop.
"that's a good choice." a slow, deep voice interrupts your reverie, and you snap your eyes up to the figure in front of you. he's tugged his hood down, revealing long, dark hair, and clear skin, but his voice is still muffled by the dark mask. he nods at the book in your hand, his cheeks pinking slightly. "the alchemist. it's a good choice."
your lips lift into a smile. "god, i know, right?”
he continues to speak, as you take the two books he's selected, starting to ring him up. “it’s my friend’s favourite.”
you glance up at him, still smiling. “not yours?” and just as you sound the second syllable, you freeze — because you know who he is. you’re almost certain of it.
kim namjoon is inside your shop.
you try to brush off the recognition as quickly as it comes. he’s just a customer. he’s just here to buy some books. move on.
“one of them, maybe,” kim namjoon answers your question, and you can see the smile on his lips peeking out from under his mask. he seems completely oblivious to your realisation, and you’d like to keep it that way. you don’t want to disturb him. it must get tiring, being known by everyone. but good god, he’s even more attractive in real life.
“is that — like, a membership thing?” he asks, pointing to a small poster beside the cash register. you follow his finger, and nod.
“oh, yeah! you get a discount on three books at the end of every month. would you like one?’
he doesn’t hesitate. “please. i’ll be coming back here a lot. it’s a really nice place.”
you grin, pleased. “thank you. i worked hard on it.”
“it’s yours?”
“every last inch,” you say cheerfully, and then realise, as you’ve finished packing his books and are filling out his membership card, that you have to ask the dreaded question. you wince as you ask it, refusing to meet his eyes, but instead scribbling on the form — “can i get a name for the card?”
there’s a pregnant pause, and you cast a glance at him. he clears his throat. “um. namjoonhyuk” he says, blurring the words together in a clear rush to get them out.
“sorry?”
he clears his throat again, and for his sake, you try to ignore his reddening face. “nam joonhyuk,” he says again, slower this time. you look at him, and then something hilariously ill-timed catches your eye over his shoulder, outside on the street.
“okay,” you say, trying to disguise a smile, but you can’t help it. you laugh.
“what?”
“nothing!” you say immediately, but he follows your gaze to where it lands outside — a bus has just stopped outside your shop. a big bus, with a big poster on it, with seven very familiar faces emblazoned on the side, frozen smiles directed towards the shop. bangtan sonyeondan, hwaiting!
“ah.” he rubs the back of his neck sheepishly, just as the bts-bearing bus moves away. he turns back to you. “shit. um, i’m sorry?”
“i don’t know what you’re talking about, mr nam,” you say, biting down your laugh again, as you push his new card and his bag of books towards him. “thanks for coming! and hopefully i’ll see you soon.”
his eyes sparkle with sudden amusement and understanding. “thank you, um…”
“___,” you interject, the mischievous smile still playing on your lips.
“___.” he repeats. “thank you, ___. you’ll definitely be seeing me soon.”
Conspectus | The number one rule of Korea National Sport University is to never allow their elite figure skater and the captain of the ice hockey team be in the same room. Or in their case, on the same ice rink. They are infamously known for riling each other up in any way possible, and for having a mysterious history that even their closest friends know nothing about.
But when their coaches decide it is finally time to put an end to their five year rivalry, the pair of them certainly have very conflicting views about it.
Warnings | Heavy swearing and insulting. Some good ol’ pining. Alcohol and mentions of drugs. Angst. Uh, mayhaps a smidgen of smexual tension. A tad of misogyny. A very small moment of violence. Apologies to Yugyeom for making his character such a dick.
Parts | One • Two • Three (Finale)
The ‘read more’ function does not work for some mobile app users. We are still waiting on Tumblr to fix this issue, so please message them about it and not me, as I have definitely put a ‘read more’ break beneath this note!
Heartbreakingly good. Honestly, some of the rants and confessions in this had me screaming. It has everything you want from enemies to lovers!!! Cannot wait for more from these two!!
Conspectus | The number one rule of Korea National Sport University is to never allow their elite figure skater and the captain of the ice hockey team be in the same room. Or in their case, on the same ice rink. They are infamously known for riling each other up in any way possible, and for having a mysterious history that even their closest friends know nothing about.
But when their coaches decide it is finally time to put an end to their five year rivalry, the pair of them certainly have very conflicting views about it.
Warnings | Metaphors that reference to blades and blood. Heavy swearing and insulting. Pining. Alcohol and drug mentions.
This was so intriguing, trying to work out what went on between them and slowly piecing it all together. I’m excited to read the next part to work out more, but also just these twos dynamic!!! Soo good.
