summary. the holy grail of the seven men who ruled the country's entertainment used to be your friends at school. now, ten years later and between successes and failures, what reason would they have to want to come back into your life?
pairing. eventually ot7 x f!reader.
content. cursing words, angst, suffering, slow burn, eventual-really eventual fluff, mature themes such as drugs and violence. every chapter will have their own warnings at the very top.
a/n. this is the first bts related fic i've ever posted and i hope for the best!! ofc this is inspired by i can fix him by taylor swift in case you were wondering. and this story wasn't really planned (no news for me), but it's all i've been thinking and writing about all this week, so i decided to post it! the chapters list will be posted as soon as i can! love you all and thank u for the support!
bts masterlist
chapter list.
i. absence
ii. coincidence!
iii. injustice
iv. intrusive
v. remorse
vi. disclosure
vii. greatest
viii. subject
ix. coming soon...
updates will be weekly or biweekly, depending on the progress of each chapter.
SUM. how your night turns out with hwajin after he sees you wearing his shirt.
(TYAL MLST) . na hwajin x fem!reader · domestic fluff, est. relationship, sexual content, it’s just smut - but you love each other
notes. idk, part 2?
a bone-deep warmth filled him, starting in his chest and rapidly flowing outwards through his entire body, as he looked at you. your usual sweetness was infused with a giddy joy and his heart swelled with fierce pride at your success. after years of being underappreciated and bullied by your boss, you had finally stood up to her in one fell swoop. granted, it caused an ugly scene in the middle of your company’s dinner party, however, it was more than worth it.
with a start, he realized you were still drenched in wine, the red seeping into your white shirt collar and cream jumper, ruining them for good, no doubt. he would buy you new clothes. but for now...
"come here," he said, leading you towards his bedroom. you didn't resist as he took your hand. "let's get you something clean to wear."
you nodded, glancing at him and then looking away quickly. he loved your blushes. maybe he could make you blush on other parts of your body. the thought ripped through him, shocking him. quickly he pulled a shirt from his closet.
"here." hwajin put the garment on his bed and stepped away from you, your linked hands stretched between you both until he had to let go. he closed the door shut with a sigh.
you, all adorable and beautiful, undressed in his bedroom. his skin tingled where you both had been touching and his heart was racing. he was used to it by now - after all, his heart had been racing in your presence since the first moment he'd laid eyes on you, even if he hadn't been able to admit it. you’d captivated him immediately with your mix of determination and vulnerability.
you were this little docile being with a huge heart that had suddenly appeared in his life and he was lost. no matter how hard he tried to push you away or drink until he forgot your name, hwajin just knew he had to protect you. it helped a little that something always brought you two back together. blessed with another chance after the tragedy in his life.
pushing off the door, he walked into the kitchen. make tea, that's what he should do. you must be exhausted. and he needed to get a grip. he made to move towards the kettle when he heard bedroom door open behind him.
"god," you giggled, as he turned towards your voice, "the shirt is too big."
his eyes widened as he took in your appearance, his pristine white shirt reaching to your knees. bare knees and calves. hwajin did a sharp inhale as the warmth that had filled him earlier returned like a forest fire, raging through his entire body. fuck, he was a goner. all thoughts of resisting you fled; every cell in his body pulled him towards you.
he covered his face with his hand, as if hiding his intention from you might change anything, but he couldn't hide the smile tugging at his lips. he peeked at you through a gap in his fingers and saw the shy happiness spilling from you. his heart felt as if it was about to explode out of his chest if he didn't touch you this instant.
moving slowly, as if approaching a deer, he walked towards you. even his steps were unsteady, the roaring of his blood through his veins setting him off balance. as he approached, you took an uncertain step backwards, a question lighting in your eyes. any sign of flight on your part and he would stop, but he saw only...love. that was the answer he needed.
reaching for you, his right hand cupped the nape of you neck, his left on your cheek, as his mouth claimed yours in a passionate kiss. he pressed you against the wall and your back connected with the light switch. you’re both plunged into darkness.
your lips are soft as he moved his own over yours, encouraging you to open to him. you felt so small in his arms, his height causing him to curl over you. nothing had ever felt this right. your hands travelled hesitantly over his biceps and fluttered at his shoulders. he needed to feel you, all of you. his skin burned, and the only answer was to press it to yours.
his shaking fingers reached for the top button - he smiled internally, wondering if you’d done them all the way to the top to maintain your modesty, not knowing that the very fact of you wearing his clothes was his tipping point. as he fumbled- fumbled! where was his smooth demeanour now? he swept the tip of his tongue over your lower lip, requesting entry.
with a gasp, you pulled away slightly. "wait," your breathless request made his heart stop.
had he gone too far? was he pushing you into something you didn't want?
"just a moment," you whispered.
before he had a chance to hate himself completely, you turned in his arms, guiding him with you towards the couch in the living room and pulled him into you again.
relief washed over him and he grasped your hips to lay you down, as you brought his head down to kiss him again. clothes. they needed to be off. had he ever been this hard in his life? but your pleasure comes first. he was going to spend the whole night showing you how precious and loved you were.
he pulled his blazer from his shoulders as your swift fingers started working on his shirt buttons. holy fuck, but this was the sexiest thing he had ever experienced. his heart raced even faster, something he hadn't thought was possible.
how your fingers were so sure when your heart stuttered and your entire body felt as though you were on fire, you had no idea. but you knew what you wanted, and it was for hwajin’s shirt to be off.
his sinful mouth was at your neck, your chin, and finally covering yours again, lips teasing and encouraging. and you had thought all of your kisses leading up to this night had been special, but this, this was something else. you felt as though hwajin was going to consume you, and god, how you wanted him to.
from the moment you’d stepped into the frame of his bedroom door, shy and giddy with happiness, and his eyes had swept over you, leaving a trail of fire in the wake of that caress, you had wanted in a way that you had never experienced before.
finally, you undid the last button on his shirt - the twin to the one you are wearing - and pushed it apart. your eyes had adjusted to the dark, and the soft light spilling in from the window gave you just enough to take in his smooth skin, pulled taught over - you felt light-headed - how many abs? your fingers trailed down over his firm pectoral muscles until you reached his scar. your heart twisted as you remembered him telling you the story behind it.
before you could get swept up in the pain of remembering, hwajin pulled his shirt completely off, letting it drop to the floor as he reclaimed your mouth, his fingers tackling your buttons. brought back to reality, you reached for him, adjusting underneath him. making new memories to overlay the painful ones.
you hook your legs around his lean hips, pulling him into your center and he moaned into your mouth, deepening the kiss with a sweep of his tongue. and god. just as you thought you might die of pleasure, combusting spontaneously into an everlasting flame of your desire for him, his right hand swept down your naked thigh and hooked under your knee, which, it turned out, was an erogenous zone. gasping into his kiss, you felt something hard connect with your core. fuck. fuck. you heard a desperate, mewling sound, and realized with some shock that it came from you.
the heat of his skin was incredible, and your hands roamed his broad back as he pressed you into the cool, cushioned surface. one hand held you firmly but gently at the nape of your neck, while the other explored the soft skin under your shirt. why was that still on?
his long fingers drew patterns on the sensitive skin of your stomach, first traveling up to catch under your bra, then lower, skimming the top of your underwear.
"hwajin," you whimpered, desperate and burning and wet. you’re dripping. your cheeks might not burn anymore but you could feel it in your chest as your heart was pounding against it. and you knew that he could feel it too.
"not here," he murmured in your ear, kissing softly down your arched neck. when he reached your collar bone, you felt his teeth scrape against you. your body bucked in shock, bringing his steel erection firmly against your swollen clit.
you both groaned.
"too many clothes," he growled, as he lifted you into his arms and carried you out of the living room.
he headed back for his bedroom, and you could only clutch at his shoulders and wrap your legs tighter around his waist, as his lips played over your face, neck, and shoulder, kissing and nipping playfully. his teeth, oh god, no one had ever done that to you before. you were going to die if you didn't come soon.
hwajin lowered you carefully onto his bed, coming to rest above you once again, on his hands and knees. how was this glorious, sweet man yours?
the warm light of a small lamp on his nightstand cast a gentle glow over the room.
"off," he said, pulling you out of your thoughts, as he started working your shirt from your shoulders. you quickly lifted your upper half to help him, your hands going to the clasp of his trousers. it was seconds before the rest of your clothing littered his bedroom floor. yet where he had been rushing before, as your last garment dropped from his fingers, hwajin seemed to slow time.
you felt a flush flow across your chest and body as hwajin rested on his knees at the side of the bed, his gaze drinking you in from head to toe. or rather, he hadn't reached your toes, because he was staring at you there as if he was bewitched.
your hands flew up to cover your face in embarrassment and a small squeak escaped you.
"no," he said firmly, his gentle tone soothing you slightly. "don't be embarrassed." he lowered himself slowly over you, caging you in as skin met skin. his large, strong body covered you and he gently took your hands and pulled them from your face. how were you even breathing?
as he settled his weight carefully onto you, you felt your legs part intuitively to accommodate him. his gaze held yours, allowing you no escape from the intensity of feelings between you both. when he finally came to rest with his hips slotted between yours, chest to chest, skin to skin, you both groaned in unison.
"y/n," he murmured against your lips. hwajin pulled back to meet your eyes again. "i've never been with anyone else after-"
he swallowed hard. you nodded. you understood, giving him a reassuring smile and brushed your thumb over the apple of his cheek.
“it’s okay,” you whispered, as you pulled his head down to yours and showed him what he meant to you.
hwajin gave in without hesitation, letting you lead. he felt you opening up to your own sensuality as you explored his mouth with your tongue and teeth, his body with your hands. your touch grew firmer, your kisses deeper and more insistent.
he was so close to the edge already, but he fought for control. you were going to come several times before the end of the night if he had anything to do with it. at that thought, you sucked his tongue into your mouth, causing him to jolt forward - there wasn't any room for you both to be closer, except - he pulled away suddenly as the tip of his rigid cock slipped between your soaking lower lips.
"oh!" you cried out beneath him, eyes huge and a deep flush across your chest.
so he had been right about being able to make you blush in other places, he mused in satisfaction.
"sorry," you were flustered and looking upset.
why were you apologizing? he took each of your hands in his and drew them up above your head, pinning you there. "it's ok, i just need a moment." he focused on slowing his breathing. you still looked a little confused and hurt. he smiled warmly at you as he bent close, lips brushing against your ear as he told you, "i want to make this last all night."
the sharp hitch of your breath and the way you quivered beneath him told him you had understood. a wicked grin curved his mouth as he caught your gaze once more, before moving slowly down your body. keeping your wrists pinned gently with one hand, he brushed the palm of his other hand down the side of your breast, fingers grazing your peaked nipple.
your gasp of surprise was music to his ears. his lips followed the trail of his hand and after eliciting more whimpers and eventually pleas with his teasing, he pulled your nipple between his lips and tugged gently.
your body arched up off the bed, skin meeting skin.
"hwajin...oh! i can't... please..."
feeling extremely smug, he kissed a trail down your stomach, your skin soft against his lips. finally, he reached his destination. pausing, he held your hips down firmly and caught your eyes. then he swiped his tongue over you, licking into your wet folds to find your clitoris. fuck. you tasted amazing. he pressed the flat of his tongue against your swollen nub and moved it in a slow circle.
wide-eyed and stunning, your cries of pleasure filled the room and he felt your fingers thread into his hair, holding his head in position. knowing what you wanted nearly made him come apart there and then.
and then you were coming undone on his tongue and he didn't have time to think about his own need as he continued to pleasure you through your orgasm, wringing every last drop of ecstasy out of you until you laid limp and sated on the bed.
your hands fell to your sides and he rested his cheek on your thigh, licking his lips.
you came to and found yourself melting into the bed in a post-orgasmic glow. hwajin was looking incredibly smug, and for once you suppose he deserved to. he unfolded his body and moved up the bed, coming to lie on his side next to you. he rested his head in one hand and reached over to caressed your face.
"you blacked out for a second," he said, unable to hide his self-satisfaction.
you huffed in embarrassment and then decided to let it go and enjoy the liquid warmth feeling still pulsing gently through your body.
"i guess i'm just that good." he grinned.
gasping at his audacity and laughing, you turned to push him onto his back. leaning over him, you began to tickle him.
hwajin wasn’t that much ticklish but he still protested and chuckled at how cute you are.
determined to stay in control, you threw a leg over his hips and straddled him. he must be punished for his immodest behavior.
your playing came to a sudden stop as you realized two things. firstly, hwajin was still very much turned on, and second, you was completely uninhibited with him, even though you were both stark naked. you hadn't known sex could be fun - it had always seemed really serious and embarrassing. but this was...
hwajin interrupted your thoughts by pulling you down for a kiss. you went gladly. you both kissed lazily for some time before you pulled back.
"you, you're..." you stumbled slightly, feeling self-conscious again. you tried again. "you didn't um, finish. i want to make it good for you too." your heart raced with your admission.
"sweet y/n, this..." he gestured broadly to include your situation, "is more than good for me." his hands rubbed soothingly up and down your arms. "we can take our time; i'm not finished with you yet."
your eyes widened. "but i already...you already made me..."
suddenly you found herself flipped onto your back, hwajin’s powerful body covering yours again, as he held himself on his forearms over you.
"if you think making you come once is enough to satisfy me, then think again." he gave you his signature wicked grin. "although it's fair to say it will take more than one night with you. in fact," he leaned closer to nuzzle your lips as he spoke, "i have a feeling it will take all the nights for the rest of our lives."
his words were like love arrows into your heart, and you reached for him, pulling him into a deep kiss. suddenly you ached fiercely between your legs, needing more than anything to feel him inside of you.
you brought your knees up and wrapped your legs around his waist, bringing his hips down to meet yours.
"please," you whispered against his mouth, "i need you. now."
hwajin groaned and rested his forehead against yours. you met his heated look and let him see how much you meant your words. he released a slow breath and nodded. raising himself up slightly he looked towards his bedside table.
"i've got condoms," he said, moving towards the drawer.
you placed a hand on his cheek, drawing his gaze back to yours. "am i yours?" you asked him.
"yes," he said, looking puzzled.
"are you mine?"
"yes," he repeated.
"then i don't want anything between us."
"y/n..." your name was a release of breath, his fingers tracing the shape of your face, nose, and lips. nodding, he kissed you, sweetly at first, as if it was the first time.
unable to hold back your desire, you pushed up into the kiss, nipping at his lower lip, using your teeth the way he'd done to you. hwajin moaned and responded with a deep thrust of his tongue, giving you what you needed.
pulling back, you held each other's gaze as hwajin slipped two fingers into your folds, pressing gently into you to prepare you for his cock. the fire was back, both of you slick with sweat, and you found yourself brought to the edge of release once more by your hot boyfriend.
"hwajin, please," you begged, you need all-consuming.
"look at me," he commanded.
you opened your eyes and was caught in his intense eyes, as he pressed forward until the head of his cock was notched at your entrance. you whimpered, trying to move and take him inside.
"impatient," he chided you without malice. "ask nicely."
"please, i need...you," you gasped as he pushed forward. you felt your walls stretch open to accommodate him.
"okay?" he asked, holding still, the muscles in his shoulders and back tensing under your hands.
"yes, more, please, yes..."
why was he treating you as if you would break? you needed more. you dug your nails into his back and indicated your desire. a sound that was half chuckle, half moan came from hwajin, as he finally filled you until he was fully seated.
"oh," you gasped, feeling incredibly stretched around him. your skin was fizzing and bubbling as if small electrical sparks ran up and down your body. pulling his head down, you kissed him desperately, using your tongue to demonstrate your desires.
hwajin finally began to move, pulling out almost completely, before pushing slowly back inside. the intensity of feeling was completely overwhelming and you felt those sparks turn into little fires, connecting to each other and building into a crescendo as he moved at an increasing pace.
"you...are... incredible..." he gritted out. how he could do words was beyond you. you’d lost the power of speech several minutes ago.
hwajin lifted himself up onto his knees, pulling your legs up so your lower back was off the bed, angled towards him. he entered you from this angle and you almost blacked out again. your entire torso bowed in ecstasy as he filled you from this angle. one of his large hands wrapped around your hip, holding you in place, placing his right thumb to your clit and began to circle the sensitive bud as he stroked in and out of you.
sounds of need and pleasure spilled from your lips, bringing a devilish grin of satisfaction to your lover's face.
you felt your body fly apart like a supernova. you heard hwajin’s groan of approval as he pumped into you harder and faster, before joining you in release, filling you.
"hwajin..." you murmured his name like a prayer - all you could manage at that moment.
gently he lowered you to the bed, following you down and wrapping you in his warm embrace. you marveled that he could move at all. you were a puddle of jelly for the second time that evening.
"i love you, y/n." hwajin’s words (something he’d never thought he’d ever say to someone else again) were pressed into your forehead, his lips still making soft kisses over your skin.
"i love you, hwajin." you replied with a sigh of contentment.
summary: one second, you're larping being army, and the next you're being transported to a second location where seven men claim that you're their soulmate. what is a girl to do...
warnings: USE OF Y/N. kind of trauma later in the story, mentions of abuse, mentions of eating disorders and my humor.
word count: 5k+
index | next
You weren’t entirely sure when you’d fallen asleep, but you were awoken by the rancid taste of milk on your tongue. You shoot up, practically choking from how hard you were gagging. It seemed fruitless because no matter how hard you tried to rid yourself of the taste. There was a harsh tug on your pinky finger, but you don’t really have the cognitive energy to analyse that.
Jimin, who was beside you, gently rubbed circles on your back, and a paper bag lay in front of you. These men were surprisingly calm in crisis. It was kind of…hot?
Now was not the time. It was you vs. Milk. You really didn’t think this was a battle you’d ever have to face after elementary school. Your disdain for the drink was no joke.
“God, that tastes awful,” you hiss, trying to swallow it away, but that seemed to only make it worse. Obviously you hadn’t drunk that milk, which meant that it was a Soul Mark and either Taehyung or Seokjin were peacefully indulging themselves in milk right about now, and you were about to kill them.
A tattooed hand hands you a bottle of water, and a second pair of hands find their way onto your back. You drink the water, but unfortunately, it only amplifies the taste. You force yourself to swallow. You slowly straighten and try to pull yourself together.
What is it? What’s wrong? Yoongi’s voice echoes in your mind, likely thinking that if you weren’t able to speak, you’d at least be able to think it.
“Soul Mark,” you tell them, trying to ignore your natural instinct to gag.
“Jimin, did you let go of her?” That was Namjoon.
“No, hyung,” Jimin says, his face drawn with worry as he tries to maximise contact with you. Usually, Touch Marks served as healing energy because the bond allowed you to rejuvenate not only your energy but also heal you of any sickness. It was essentially an immortality bond, which was why it was a rarer Soul Mark.
You shake your head, “Not him.” You start coughing.
Can you tell whoever’s drinking milk to stop? You ask Yoongi. His amusement is a living thing in your mind. “Hyung! Stop that,” you hear him say.
The relief you feel is nearly instant. You practically chug the rest of the water Jeongguk had given you to wash away the aftertaste.
You blink the sleep away from your eyes and the tears from coughing. Seokjin stands to the side, looking slightly guilty, with a milk carton in hand. You narrow your eyes at him.
“Who the hell drinks milk raw?” You ask him, completely indignant.
He looks at you like you told him you hated his cat. If he had a cat. Did he have a cat?
“Do you not like milk?” he asks, clearly appalled. You shake your head vehemently.
“Tongue Mark,” Namjoon notes, shaking his head.
“If we’re lucky,” you tell him. “Tongue Marks can be symptoms of a Food Mark, but we can’t be sure of that for at least a couple of days after the manifestation of the mark.”
Namjoon looks at you curiously. “Do you research this a lot?”
You shake your head. “My parents are Soulmates,” you cringe a little as you say it.
“Is there anything else we should know?” Namjoon asks seriously.
“Well, it’s more for—” you cut yourself off. Namjoon didn’t need to know how you were worried about your calorie intake doubling and the exercise you'd have to do to burn it off. You clear your throat. “If this does end up being a Food Mark, then whatever one of us eats translates into energy for both of us. In theory, as long as one of us is eating, the other never has to.”
Namjoon looks like he’s fighting to pinch the bridge of his nose. You realize with the strict diet idols were on, this must be the stuff of nightmares. On that note, having a Soulmate at all must be nightmareish as a whole. Idol life didn’t necessarily cater towards a relationship of any kind. Of course, not only were your soulmates idols but they were also one of the biggest K-Pop boy bands…ever.
Life was a little crazy like that.
You look at the group, a little apologetic. “I’m sure it won’t get to that point,” you say. “A lot of Soul Marks that require some kind of bodily change at a molecular level m are few and rare because of how deep it can run.”
Seokjin frowns at you. You ignore it.
“Sorry for waking you guys,” you continue, suddenly feeling a bit self-conscious. You realize they’d all been mid-conversation before your little fiasco. “Feel free to go back to whatever it was you were doing.”
“We were talking about you, actually,” Yoongi says. He ignores the look Namjoon shoots him.
Fan-fucking-tastic.
Had you taken your anxiety meds today because your heart was racing so fast you were sure you were maybe three beats away from cardiac arrest.
“Okay, let’s hear it,” you say. You are ashamed to admit it, but you kind of zone out after that. Instead, you start practising a gratitude technique to calm the fuck down, starting with the fact that at least you weren’t pregnant. Yes, your entire life had gone to shit in less than 24 hours, but at least you weren’t fucking pregnant. Your period could attest to that.
Speaking of which, Bloody Mary herself decided to remind you of your current bodily state by squeezing your uterus painfully.
Had you packed painkillers? You couldn’t remember. Christ, had you packed more than your emergency pads? Would you have time to buy yourself a pack in Vegas?
Clearly, this gratitude coping mechanism thing was bullshit. Maybe the only way to get through this life was by being a stone cold bitch.
You shift your body a little so that you were putting a little more pressure on your lower abdomen.
“..Y/N?” Taehyung was saying.
“Present,” you say automatically.
“Are you sure?” Taehyung asks, clearly amused.
“Duh,” you mutter, placing two hands onto your stomach and pressing down. Some good that did; all you felt was more discomfort. What was that yoga pose Kiera had made you do?
Maybe the better question was if you could do it in the cramped space?
Your soulmates were all sitting in a circle save for Jimin, who was sitting beside you, his hands on your waist. Though now, they were more on your back again.
“What did hyung just say then?” Taehyung asked.
“He wasn’t even talking; you were, you loudmouth.” You grumble. Somewhere near you, Hoseok snickers. You see that familiar yellow glow with his joy.
Jimin rubs circles into your lower back, easing some of the pain. You unconsciously lean into his touch.
“Are you okay?” Seokjin asks. Amelia had shown you a few videos of the man during her crash course before the concert. The man before you was so different from the man you’d seen on camera. He was far more observant than he let on. It made you tingle.
You hum. “Okay, I’m sorry. What were we talking about?”
Besides you, Jimin laughs. “Tae was asking you if you’d ever been to Las Vegas.”
You had, once. You’d been around ten years old, and one of your father’s work projects required him to travel. The three of you had gone, but the whole trip had been a hot mess, and it wasn’t something you particularly wanted to talk about. A lot of things involving your father felt like a stain on your life. Instead of saying all that, you shrug, smiling ruefully.
“What happens in Vegas, stays in Vegas,” you say solemnly. There’s a series of groans.
You shake your head. “I do promise you’ll have so much fun, though.”
Jeongguk laughs at his phone. He turns to show the group a Twitter post that asks Taehyung to use a green mic if TaeKook was real. You furrow your eyebrows.
“What’s that?” you ask.
There’s a series of laughter before Hoseok explains. “TaeKook is what ARMY calls Taehyung and Jeongguk-ah. It’s their couple name.” He says, grinning. You notice that every time he smiles, his lips form a heart. Taehyung cringes but says nothing. “There’s a lot of fan theories about dating within our group,” he says. You aren’t really too surprised.
“Ohh, like JiKook?” you ask. “Jimin and Jeongguk? One of my friends is a huge ARMY, and she’s always talking about Jikook,” you say. Hoseok nods. “Or how Yoongi and I are Sope, and Jiminie and Namjoon are Minimonie.”
“Wait, Minimonie is so adorable,” you coo at Jimin. He grins his crescent smile at you.
“I like how Jikook sounds,” Jeongguk says, because everyone asked. “It rolls off the tongue,” he continues.
You nod, patting his shoulder. “It sure does,” you say, placatingly.
“Who’s your friend’s bias?” Taehyung asks, moving on. You narrow your eyes at him. “It’s not you, if that’s what you're asking.”
“Is is Jiminie?” he asks. You don’t tell him that he is half-correct and that for the majority of high school Amelia had a cardboard cut-out of Jimin in her room. High school Amelia would have fainted if she knew you were Soul Bound to Bangtan. You shake your head.
“Yoongi hyung? ARMY is always saying, ‘Yoongi, marry me,’” he is thoughtful. “Or is it Seokjin hyung?”
You don’t tell him that he just guessed both yours and Keira’s bias. Nor do you tell him that Kiera still has a flag of Yoongi above her bed, or about how fascinated you were with Seokjin when you first found out he existed.
Instead you say, “You have to waterboard this information out of me.”
Taehyung looks prepared to do it.
Namjoon places a hand on his shoulder. “Ah, let it go, Taehyung-ah.”
Taehyung huffs petulantly. You notice a faint glimmer of red from his pinky finger. A faint glimmer that ties itself to your own pinky. Red String.
You tug at your pinky experimentally, and you see his finger jolt. But he plays it off as a muscle spasm. You frown but don’t say anything.
Who were you to deny him some sense of normalcy? You know that you would give anything to have a familiar face with you right now, and maybe the equivalent for him was this. There was a long list of reasons why your soulmates would be uncomfortable with you.
Starting off strong with Namjoon’s on-again, off-again situationship. You weren’t sure whether the rumours were true, and if they were, whether he was still in contact with the man. Then there was the matter of Seokjin's age. You weren’t entirely sure where he stood with all of that. And you weren’t entirely sure where you stood with all of that. And last but not least, the possibility of homewrecking a perfectly queer little couple within your Nexus Bond. You suspected that couple might just be Jimin and Jeongguk.
Though neither Jimin nor Jeongguk seemed to particularly mind you. In fact, out of the whole group, they’d been the most welcoming.
“Y/N,” Namjoon begins. He sounds really hesitant, and his tone puts you on alert. You hum, trying not to seem like his tone scared you.
“We know that we’ve asked a lot of you,” he says. Beside him, Yoongi stares at the space beside your head, his jaw clenched. You try not to worry yourself.
“We are so grateful for what you have done for us. It’s not easy leaving behind everything you did at such short notice,” Hoseok says, patting Namjoon on the thigh. “If there’s anything we can do for you to make you feel more comfortable, please don’t hesitate to ask,” Hoseok says.
You smile to shrug it off. But Seokjin’s hard voice takes away any humour you tried to use to ease the situation. “We asked you to follow seven strangers on a World Tour; your faith and trust in us is not something we will take for granted. We are grateful for you, of course, but we also know how unfair this is to you. We don’t want you to feel like you’re at a disadvantage.”
You shake your head to disagree.
“There is a power imbalance,” Yoongi says, sounding a little more than irritated. “We will repay you for all you’ve done for us,” he promises.
“Oh my god, seriously, don’t worry. You would’ve done the same for me,” you say. “I hope,” you add at their silence.
Jimin nods vigorously beside you. “If the roles were reversed, of course we would.”
Seokjin seems to mull over what he’s about to say. “We have the biggest age gap in the group,” he tells you almost quietly. It’s no use considering that everyone could hear him anyway. “There is an inherent power imbalance in any age gap; I wouldn’t want to put you in a position where you feel uncomfortable,” he tells you.
Translation: I’m really freaking older than you, so the chances of us being romantically involved are nearly zero.
Now you were about to bomb yourself. If his conversation was going where you thought it was going, you were going to end it all.
“You haven’t,” you tell him, trying to reassure him. But some part of you was scared; you weren’t going to lie. You’d seen the effect the age gap had on your parents’ relationship. You’d seen firsthand how out of hand the power imablance could get. But you also knew, deep in your soul, that Kim Seokjin was nothing like your father.
Taehyung’s posture straightens. He looks towards you, equal parts curious and concerned.
“I think we should all take this slow,” Namjoon says. “It’s far too early to make any judgements, and I’m sure we all have parts of our lives that we need to get into order before we can fully dedicate ourselves to this Bond.”
You wonder if he was talking about his evil situationship. If he was, you would have no choice but to beat his ass.
Jeongguk remains quiet, occasionally glancing at Jimin like the two of them had the Mind Mark you shared with Yoongi. Jimin also spends his time indulging in Jeongguk’s schizophrenia.
Taehyung nods thoughtfully. “This is a sudden change and none of us can really
be held accountable for how we deal with it, but I do think once we’re ready we have to give our all to honor both the Bonds and each other.”
Namjoon nods in agreement. “But first we need to be at peace with this new situation in our lives. Forcing ourselves would do more harm than good.”
Translation: I need to leave my man to be with you, and I need time to process the break-up so I don’t hate you for life.
Respectable.
Everyone around you seems so keen on giving the Bond space that you can’t help but feel the weight you’d put on their shoulders. Maybe it was better not to be discovered than to put them through this. More like put you through this.
There seems to be a general consensus on what Namjoon said.
The seatbelt sign lights up overhead altering everyone to return to their seats for landing. You simply lean back in your chair as the guys speak some parting words to each other.
“Let me know what food you would prefer so we can avoid another episode like this one,” Seokjin tells you as he moves to his seat beside Namjoon. You are barely able to nod in confirmation.
The plane lands at around 8AM and the eight of you are separated into different SUV’s for security. You end up alone in an SUV with Jimin and Jeongguk.
You and Jimin were advised to maximize contact so the bond wouldn’t panic and think you were going to reject the bond, hence the seating arrangement and his constant contact with you.
Jeongguk fiddles with his camera and its settings before he props it up with a grin.
“I think I’ll vlog us today,” he tells Jimin. Jimin smiles at him widely, “Whatever you want to do, Jeongguk-ah.”
His smile is full of affection and unspoken love. You look away, tracing the pattern embroidered into your sweatpants.
Jimin’s hand rests around your shoulders, pulling you into his side with Jeongguk on his other side.
“Do you vlog a lot?” you ask Jeongguk. He nods, focusing the camera on you. He clicks his tongue before adjusting more settings.
“He has a whole production called Golden Closet Films,” Jimin tells you. “We refer to it as GCF.”
You vaguely remember Kiera talking about something called GCF Tokyo. She treated it like the gospel and the core argument for her Jikook propaganda.
“Is that like GCF Tokyo?” you ask Jimin. Both of them seem to freeze. Jeongguk recovers first and flashes a startled smile. “Yeah, that’s one of them,” he says. “But I’m vlogging for my Instagram right now, though, not for GCF.” He refocuses the camera on you.
“You have insane scene presence,” Jeongguk says. You aren’t entirely sure if that was a compliment, but you thank him regardless. He frowns. “Wish I could post you,” he mutters. You also hear something that sounds an awful lot like “so pretty.”
You fight a grin.
“What music do you listen to?” Jimin asks you. You shrug. “I listen to a little of everything, but my all-time favourite band is the 1975,” you say.
“Ouch, not us?” Jimin asks teasingly. You roll your eyes and grin at him. “In my defense, I’ve only been able to put a name to a face for the last 72 hours.”
“Impressive,” Jimin praises.
“What’s your favorite song?” Jeongguk asks you.
“I love Falling for You; it was the first song I listened to, but it still lives rent-free in my mind,” you tell him.
He hums.
Jimin clears his throat. “About earlier on the plane,” he begins.
You shake your head. “No, I understand. I practically barged into your lives. Of course all of you need some time and space.”
Jimin frowns. “Sure, but we are also an intrusion in your life,” he says. “A bigger one if you ask me. I don’t know what hyung was whining about earlier, but you have given up so much for us.”
Jeongguk nods beside him, suddenly serious. “I don’t think it would be fair to treat you like a stranger. You’re not some random person on the street; you’re our soulmate.”
Jimin continues, patting the other man’s thigh. “That means something to us,” he says. “Jeongguk and I—“
Jeongguk shoots him and looks before talking over him. “Jiminie and I don’t take the term lightly. A Soulmate Bond deserves more respect than even marriage because that’s what it is. We won’t pretend to know what you’re feeling because only Yoongi hyung knows that, but we do want you to know that the two of us are going to give this our best.”
Jimin nods. “The others may need time, but we are prepared to give you whatever you need from us, okay?”
You feel such an overwhelming sense of gratitude that you almost cry. So, you only nod, biting your lip.
You spend the rest of the ride with Jimin filling the silence and Jeongguk answering him methodically. Jimin makes an extra effort to include you, which isn’t wasted on Jeongguk, who does the same. Surprisingly, you find yourself at near peace with the duo that by the time you get to the hotel, there’s enough playful banter between the three of you for comfortable silence.
The members are all assigned different rooms, and you are made to room with Jimin, obviously. Despite it being the obvious choice, you still mentally high-five the universe.
The members have about four days before their first performance, which meant the second everyone got to their rooms, it was lights out.
Jimin barely washes his face before he collapses onto the bed. You tell him that you’ll join him soon; you just desperately need a shower, and he reluctantly lets you go.
Your luggage has already been sent up, so you grab some cute lounge wear and your toiletries before you enter the bathroom. You quickly mind your business and put your hair into a bonnet. The last thing you were about to deal with was bed hair.
You were wearing a pair of black and dark grey stripped cotton shorts with a matching off the shoulder loose top that cinches at your waist.
You dig through your backpack for the face masks you’d bought earlier. “Jimin?” you call.
He hums in response. “Do you want a face mask?”
You look behind you to look at him. He nods but then frowns. “Do you know if you have the company-approved brand?”
You grin. “Sohee noona gave me a list; I have the jelly mask, which is allegedly your favourite.”
He shoots up, rubbing the sleep from his eyes in his eagerness. The sight is adorable.
You bound over to him and make sure that both of your phones are plugged in before settling under the sheets.
You’d already put yours on in the bathroom. “Stay still,” you tell Jimin and rip open the packet. Jimin remains as still as a statue while you apply the mask onto him.
“Do you do this a lot?” he asks while you pat down on certain areas.
“Every Friday with my friends,” you tell him.
You and your friends liked to host a Presentation Night every Friday. It wasn’t necessarily anything serious but it allowed for you all to destress and hang out together.
The four of you did laundry together for time to hang out.
Jimin smiles widely and his mask shifts. He looks instantly apologetic.
You wave him off and adjust it, “Sleep okay? I’m going to let everyone know that I haven’t died in a plane crash and I’ll sleep.”
Jimin seems satisfied with your response because he moves closer to your side and falls asleep with your thigh pressed to his bicep.
You sit propped up by a pillow and get on your phone. Apparently the spy on your phone had done good with their job because the second you opened any social media all you saw was BTS. You decide that maybe you didn’t need to spend an hour mindlessly scrolling on TikTok and decide to sleep instead. You would need the energy later and you felt exhaustion deep in your bones.
You curl towards Jimin as you sleep, but there was enough space between the two of you to maintain some kind of decorum. The last thing you wanted to do was make one of the only men who could stand you also find a reason to put space between your Bonds.
You were awoken by your phone’s continous ringing. You groan and graple at it blindly. Beside you Jimin was out like a dead weight. Your mom’s caller ID flashes as you turn your phone over. You slowly pull yourself out of bed and pad over to a chair in the corner of the room.
“Hey mama,” you say, your voice groggy with sleep. It was around 10AM but you were dead tired.
“What the hell is this?” Your mother did not sound pleased. You cringe.
“What is what, mama?”
“Why is there a Non-Disclosure Agreement in my inbox?” Your mother is royally pissed off.
“So remember when—”
“Y/N! You told me that was hypothetical! God, baby, why didn’t you tell me?” she asks. She sounds so, so worried, and you instantly feel like the world’s worst daughter.
“I’m so sorry, Mama,” you mutter. “I wasn’t sure-I didn’t want to ruin your peace. You worked so hard—”
“Honeybee, I’m your mom. Your happiness is mine; how could you think I would want you to shoulder this alone?”
“I’m sorry, Mama,” you say.
“God, okay. Where are you?” She seems afraid of your answer.
“Las Vegas,” you mutter.
“Do they have a stop there? Are they making you go on tour with them?”
“They aren’t making me,” you begin. “I have a Touch Mark—”
“Oh god, Y/N.” Your mom sounds so devastated and so incredibly disappointed; you can’t help the tears forming in your eyes.
“Mom, I’m so sorry,” you say again. She sighs.
“I’ll call you later. I don’t want to say something I can’t take back.” She tells you. “I love you, congratulations on finding your soulmates.” And she hangs up. She’d said the last part like you’d just been subjected to life in prison.
Your parents were soulmates. Your mom had spent over ten years getting the two of you out of that situation. Not all soulmates were meant to be; you’d known that from a very young age. You’d known it when you were five and you were hiding in a dark closet. You’d known it when you were eight and cowering in front of your dad. You’d known it when you were fifteen and spent all your time at Amelia’s house.
Your mom was afraid for you. You knew she wasn’t mad at you but afraid for you, and you could understand why, but that didn’t mean you didn’t feel like someone had just dropped a boulder on your chest.
The truth was you had agreed to leave behind your job and your entire life to follow seven men that you’d just met across the world. If you weren’t Soulmates, that could very well be the plot of a horror movie.
Then there was the problem of being forced to be an intern as if you hadn’t spent four years studying Fashion Designing and put yourself through three years of torture just to gain some sort of experience.
Your dream was fashion. You found comfort in watching runways and curating your wardrobe. You could tell the exact shade of any color and you could tell the texture of cloth at a glance.
And you had to put all that aside and work as an intern on the set of a concert.
You rubbed your eyes. All this crying had given you a migraine. You pulled out your iPad from your suitcase and Gucci’s catalogue. If you were going to be threading through unknown waters, you needed something to take the edge off.
You spent about an hour analysing their latest album and its visual concept. Then you started to curate a visual design for their concert based on it. The first person you work on is Seokjin. You’d begun to subconsciously plan it when you’d met him three days ago, and now you finally had the time to bring the vision to life.
It was around 1PM when Jimin woke up. You’d saddled up beside him when you felt the bond’s effects about an hour ago. You were flat on your stomach, your feet kicking behind you as you hummed to ‘The Sound’ by The 1975 and curated a colour palette for a look in Paris.
Jimin turned towards you, his face full of sleep. “What time is it?” he asks.
“1:45,” you tell him. He groans and pushes his face back into the pillow.
“Seokjin hyung wanted to have dinner together today,” he tells you. He reaches for his phone and you hand it over to him from the nightstand.
“JK booked us for…Carbone…?” He stumbles over the word in English. “Carbone,” you tell him gently. You chop the word up into three syllables for him. “Carbone,” he repeats.
You nod encouragingly.
“What have you been up to?” he asks you, lying on his stomach as well. You tilt your iPad towards him, “I was making a catalogue for Seokjin,” you tell him. “I took inspiration from your music videos for like the visual concept, but I think you could do more with your Hooligan looks,” you tell him. You point to an outfit.
“I know I put this down for him, but I seriously think you’d look amazing in this suit. It’s from one of Dior’s collections, so you’d be doing your job too, ambassador,” you tease. But Jimin was looking at you with what you could only describe as awe. “These are amazing,” he tells you. “Did you draw this?” he asks, pointing to a two-piece you’d drawn for Seokjin. You nod sheepishly. “I had a vision, but I couldn’t find anything close to it, so I just drew it.”
“You just drew it,” he says, a little star-struck. “You need to show these to Sohee noona; she’s been going insane trying to style us all,”
“I mean, that’s not really my job,” you sigh. “Not that I don’t want to,” you say quickly. “I just meant that Sejin told me that my job was just to cater to what the team and members require from me,” you repeat Sejin’s words from his email earlier.
“What we require from you?” Jimin sounds confused. You nod. “That’s what he said. It’s okay,” you sigh. “I’ll show her during lunch or something for fun.”
Jimin’s jaw flexes a little, but he nods. “You definitely should,” he murmurs.
Apparently Jeongguk had reserved the restaurant for 4PM so you and Jimin spent the next two hours getting ready. Jimin had assured you that the dinner was casual even if the restaurant was fancy. When you’d asked him to choose, he’d told you to go with an oversized, off-the-shoulder brown sweater and baggy jeans. You’d paired that with golden jewellery.
You were applying your lip liner when Jimin steps out of the bathroom fully dressed, his hair a little damp. He digs through his bag and places a hat and a face mask on the vanity beside you. “It’s to hide your face from any media,” he tells you. “We never know when we’re being filmed. It’s better to be safe than sorry.”
That sounded exhausting. And a little sad.
You make sure to pocket the mask and set your face.
“Do I need anything?” You ask, packing your purse. He shakes his head. “Jeongguk will have anything we need,” he tells you solemnly. You blink.
“He tends to overpack,” he clarifies. “I usually just carry my wallet and lip balm.”
You giggle and pocket your wallet and phone. “I’m ready,” you tell him, brushing out your hair. You find Jimin staring at you, his lips tugging at a smile.
You meet the others in the lobby, and by others, you mean Yoongi and Hoseok. You and Jimin are talking animatedly as you leave the elevator. Maybe it was because this man was so close to your best friend’s heart, but you could swear that sometimes you saw Amelia in Jimin’s mannerisms. It comforted you. Out of your soulmates, you’d found him the easiest to bond with. Conversation with him flowed so easily you could see yourself being close friends with him at the very least. You didn’t want to think of your relationship with any of them romantically. Well, save for Seokjin, but from what he’d said on the plane, it was clear that was never happening.
That was part of his appeal though. You fight the urge to giggle.
You notice Yoongi first. Or maybe, he notices you first. His eyes bore into you as he takes you in. He was pleased if the warmth you felt from your bond was anything to go by. You could only describe it as a cat purring.
Hoseok waves at you and motions for the two of you to hurry. “You look beautiful,” he tells you kindly.
“Thank you,” you smile at him.
“Come on, we’re going to be late,” Yoongi says, his voice a little rough from sleep.
The drive there is a little awkward with Jimin and Hoseok talking animatedly and you pitching in occasionally. Yoongi laughs at whatever Hoseok says, and you consider it a win when he grins at something you say.
At the restaurant, you sit beside Namjoon with Jimin to your other side. Across from you were Jeongguk and Seokjin. The others were spread out on either side.
Clearly, they had ordered and were waiting when you arrived. You weren’t particularly hungry considering that you’d just spent the whole day charging with Jimin, but you sipped Ginger Ale and the group conversed around you. To be honest, you were a little more focused on the conversation you’d had with your mom. Her voice kept echoing in your head and the pit of dread you felt only amplified each time.
You look to your left to find Taehyung watching you with hooded eyes. His eyes were train on your lips as you sip from your glass. You look away and towards Hoseok instead who was laughing at something Jimin had said.
You giggle, and your eyes stray towards Seokjin, who looks away quickly, looking at Hoseok instead.
“Do you have a lot of tattoos?” Jeongguk asks you. The whole table focuses on you. You brighten at the question. “I have one here,” you say, shifting your hair to reveal the mini angel wings between your shoulder blades right below the nape of your neck. “I also have like a matching one with one of my friends on my ribcage.” You wonder if you should tell them about the tattoo you had on your lower back. Yoongi’s gaze sharpens on you.
Whoops.
“And this, obviously,” you show Jeongguk the tattoo you shared with him. “I used to have an eyebrow piercing though,” you tell him. His eyes widen. “Me too! But it kept getting infected, so I had to let it close up,”
“Yeah, they’re a pain,” you sigh. “I have my belly button pierced though, and most of my ear.”
“That’s so cute,” Taehyung says, his gaze narrowing on Jeongguk and you. “You two used to have matching piercings. It’s crazy what you have in common.”
You roll your eyes at him. “We could be twins,” you deadpan.
“Have you listened to any of our music?” Yoongi asks, sipping his wine. You feel like that one Zara Larson meme where she looks around with her eyes wide.
“Some,” you say vaguely. “Two of my friends are ARMIES so sometimes I’ll listen along with them.” You say.
He hums. “If you ever want to listen to more, let me know,” he tells you. You smile and nod at his invitation. You guess that was Yoongi’s way of trying to reach out to you.
“Are you not hungry?” Seokjin asks. He points towards the pasta he’d been eating. “You should try that.”
You smile kindly at him. “I have been.”
Realisation hits him, and he smiles sheepishly. “Did you like it?”
Not particularly. You weren’t the biggest fan of marinara sauce, but you nod, smiling pleasantly.
Yoongi’s eyes narrow on you. “Hyung, you should try the alfredo,” he says.
“Are you sure you don’t want anything? We can pack something for later,” Namjoon tells you. You nod, “I’m good, thank you.”
It wasn’t like you could tell Seokjin to stop eating because you were worried about your calorie intake. You would just deal with it and figure out some way to deal with it later.
You turn to your side and find Taehyung’s eyes on you again. And they stayed on you for the rest of the night, even when he was talking to the others; his eyes always made their way back to you.
note: guys this one isn't edited im so sorry i'll do that later but i literally need this out of my drafts because my ideas for chapter 5 are like HERE like I AM IN THE BUILDING FUCK ok thank u for reading i love all of u taglist is in reposts im goign to kill u all for making me do this ok also literally stay seated bc i promise another update is NOT far behdin ok bye love u ALSO MY BONNET IS FINALLY HERE YAAAYYYYY
Squirming, you try to move your hips in his lap. His grip on you only tightens.
You are throbbing.
You know he can feel it, can feel the way your walls repeatedly clench around his hard length in a desperate search for relief or the way you move your hips in tiny, circular motions, guiding him even deeper inside. You’re also sure, given the fact that you’ve been perched in his lap like this for close to an hour now, that it must be taking him an enormous amount of self-control not to give in. He doesn’t show it, of course. His face is the very picture of serenity, an infuriating smirk on his lips as he looks up at you with open amusement, like he just couldn’t be bothered. Like you’re the crazy one for wanting to cum.
But what did you expect? Your boyfriend is Na Hwa-jin.
Discipline is practically his middle name.
You whine, burying your face in his neck. You can feel him huff out a laugh as his hands trail down to cup your ass.
“Hwa-jin—“ You begin again, voice slightly hoarse. “This isn’t fair.”
You clench around him for emphasis and his jaw tightens.
“It’d say it’s plenty fair, sweetheart. You’ve been acting like a brat all day — I’m teaching you a lesson.” He hums out softly in your ear as his large hand lifts to spank you, just as softly. You gasp, nevertheless.
For a punishment, you muse, he’s being quite gentle.
“No, I—“ You stutter out and stop yourself when you realise he’s right — you really have been a brat today.
So you try a different approach.
“I’m sorry, Hwa-jin, baby, I’m sorry, I need you, please—“
You subtly grind your hips as you beg, feeling him move inside of you to press right against that spot that makes you see stars. Your mouth opens in a wordless, soundless gasp of ecstasy, and Hwa-jin is suddenly grabbing the back of your head, boring his eyes into yours.
He’s no longer smirking. His pupils are so dilated, you can see the entirety of yourself, perfectly reflected in two pools of black.
“You need me, hm?” He whispers condescendingly, eyes going from your mouth, breasts and where you’re joined together, as if he can’t decide which sight he enjoys most. Belatedly, you realise that it’s also unfair that he gets to be clothed, his trousers zipped open just enough for him to enter you, while you writhe in his lap completely naked.
This is also a part of your punishment, you wager. But is it punishment if you’re enjoying it so much?
You nod frantically, on the brink of frustrated tears, and lean in to place a soft kiss on his lips. You can feel him sigh against you, his hands moving to engulf your waist and press you even closer to him, erasing any molecule of space there may have been between your bodies.
You feel even closer to him now, and as you slip your hands into his hair, losing yourself into a kiss that’s becoming increasingly more passionate, the sensation of Hwa-jin’s hard, thick length inside of you almost fades into the background.
That is, of course, until he reminds you of it— tilting his hips up to slam against that spot once again, the move so pin-point accurate that it couldn’t have been anything but intentional. Your walls instinctively flutter at the nudge and he laughs against your lips when you let out a high-pitched whine.
Such a fucking tease.
He breaks the kiss to nose at your neck, his breath against the delicate skin of your throat making you shudder.
(TYAL MLST) . cho inbeom x gn!reader · soft boyfriend!inbeom, fluff, est. relationship, skinship, hair play, tattoos, clingy!inbeom, jealous!inbeom, is this ooc? probably!!
• he loves when you play with his hair. like, really…really love it. your nails scrape across his scalp, making him purr almost at the the sensation. you grin, knowing how much he enjoys this and increase the pressure slightly. “you know, i could do this all day,” you murmur, your voice low and soothing.
he’ll allow you to do any styling you want
high ponytail? go for it. braid it? oh hell yes. pigtails with pink ribbons? he’s not gonna stop you from trying, to be honest. you’re gonna make him so coquette!!
• let’s you color his tattoos. it’s whenever you’re bored, while he’s scrolling absently on his phone, you’d carefully color in the design, making sure that you didn’t go outside of the lines of his tattoo once.
his bicep now stained in hues of purple and green with accents of neon yellow creeping up his shoulder.
• inbeom likes to trap you between himself and the wall. he does it very casually, almost to the point where he doesn’t think about it. to him it feels natural to just rest his hand on the wall behind you while you chat. but that doesn’t mean he doesn’t notice the way it makes you flustered, so sometimes he does it for the sole purpose of seeing you blush like that.
• one of his favorite things to do is exist in the same room as you while he plays video games. he doesn't need you to watch him play or talk to him or even acknowledge him. he just wants you there and he’ll get genuinely annoyed if you leave the room for too long.
"where'd you go?" he'll ask in a bothered tone, like you've been gone for hours instead of five minutes. he’s not clingy in an emotional way. he’s clingy in a "you're part of my environment now and i notice when you're missing" way. he’s very very used to having you around and feels weird when you’re not.
• inbeom actually looks forward to you bothering him for a few minutes to take away from his game. he either likes when you hug him from behind while he’s playing or when you straddle him or sit on his lap.
he really likes the attention though he won’t be too vocal about it.
• he’s pretty irrational when he gets jealous. you tend to diffuse this as quickly as you can, the outcome is usually hard kisses that make you love the bitter taste of his jealousy.
• also lets you paint his nails, but as long as you let him pick out the color. he’s very intrigued by the process, and watches intently as you skillfully apply the polish.
• inbeom knows exactly what to do to get you riled up. from putting his arm around your chair when you're sitting next to each other to touching your thigh, he's got you all figured out.
you could be hanging out with friends or eating together and he'll always find something that'll get you worked up. his hands are always on you in some way shape or form whether that be your lower back, shoulders, or thighs, his touch always lingers.
SUM. you and cho inbeom indulge in an intense makeout session and inbeom is set on not letting you breathe for even a second.
(TYAL MLST) . cho inbeom x fem!reader · making out, est. relationship, mentions of saliva lol, swollen lips
you somehow find yourself in inbeom’s lap, his hands tightly gripping your waist while yours are tangled in his hair. the only sound being heard in the room is your heavy breathing and the smacking of your lips.
inbeom is literally devouring your mouth, tongue licking every corner and teeth tugging relentlessly at both of your lips. you can't even remember for how long you've been like this, all you know is that one moment inbeom’s determined to meet with you in the late hours of the night and the next second you were seated snugly on his thighs and the only thing that's been leaving your mouth have been breathy sighs ever since.
cho inbeom is on a mission to completely maul your mouth because every time you try to talk or simply catch your breath for a few seconds, he keeps nipping and licking around your mouth, jaw, even your goddamn neck!! he refuses to let you formulate a single word, making sure to interrupt any attempt and reduce you to a muffling mess.
you try to break the kiss again, feeling like your lungs will explode if you don't take a moment to breathe properly. you manage to peel yourself off inbeom’s mouth and you deeply inhale while looking up, pressing your almost numb lips together. you hear inbeom grunting and feel one of his hands making its way up, grabbing the back of your head and forcing your head down.
facing each other again, you finally take a good look at your boyfriend for the first time since you came here. his hair is a mess, his eyes are half lidded, dark with unadulterated desire, making them look even more intense than usual and his cheeks have a slight red tinge to them.
you allow your eyes to wander lower, having to swallow back the lump in your throat when they land on inbeom’s mouth. his lips are heavily swollen, slick with what you guess is a combination of both of your spit and they turned such a raw shade of red it has you wondering if it doesn't actually hurt. even the sides are clearly irritated, looking like you smudged lip tint all around them.
it's probably one of the most shameless inbeom has ever looked and you don't realize you're in the exact same predicament, if not a bit worse.
inbeom takes a moment to properly look at you as well and he resists the urge to pridefully puff his chest out because you look completely ravished.
your eyes are glassy and almost unfocused, your face almost glows in the dimly lit room, and your lips. oh, your lips. the sole center of inbeom’s attention for the past hour or so. they're bitten red, coated in a more than a normal amount of saliva, looking like they're one bite away from bleeding.
and it's not only your lips. inbeom made sure to run his teeth beyond them. your chin, jaw and neck sporting red marks as well, making you look like you suffered some sort of skin allergy, and this time inbeom really can't stop himself from feeling overly proud of the beautiful artwork he created.
“i really like kissing you.” his voice is deeper, a little hoarse due to the lack of talking. you both unintentionally discovered a while ago that your mouth is very sensitive and inbeom has been a total tease about it ever since, finding different ways to drive you crazy. however, it seems like tonight he wants to outdo himself and have you barely hanging by the last strand of sanity.
you try to pull back, but inbeom’s hand hasn't let go of your nape, keeping your head still. he uses the tip of his tongue to draw random patterns on yours, the awareness of every movement making your skin erupt into goosebumps.
spit is rapidly running down your chins, landing on your laps and you should really find it disgusting, but the emotion you're feeling the most right now is shyness. inbeom’s ministrations are filthy, and while you can't deny enjoying it, the shamelessness of it all is overwhelming.
a few minutes later, inbeom pushes his tongue along with yours back in your mouth and kisses you properly, releasing your nape only to wrap his arms around your waist and hug you closer— tighter against his body as humanly possible. your hands are holding inbeom’s shoulders in a vice grip.
he was showing no signs of ending this session anytime soon and you are getting frustrated with every passing second, needing a moment to completely catch your breath. you’ve tried tapping out with your fists against his chest, he doesn’t even flinch when you bite down on his bottom lip. you can feel inbeom smiling while doing that damn grunting sound only he can make from the back of his throat and feeling the vibrations right into your mouth is enough to make you spiral even more.
“just a little longer,” inbeom speaks, mouth still clasped over yours. but you’re spent. and in a final attempt to end this, you bring your hand up and pull at inbeom’s hair hard enough to tilt his head back, making him wince: “ah- ah- ah!”
you just look at each other, taking your disheveled appearances in. your eyes have cleared up, no longer out of focus and your mouth is slowly pulling into a pout.
"what?" inbeom asks while laughing. your eyebrows furrow then and you lightly slap his chest before bringing your hand and running the tips of your finger along your swollen lips.
"don't what me, you fucking animal! my lips are so swollen, i can barely talk! my entire mouth hurts, you moron!" and you're right, you can't articulate your words properly because besides the extra plumpness, they've also gotten quite numb. inbeom holds back the laughter still bubbling in his chest, knowing that if he laughs in your face right now he'll probably never get another chance like this again.
he clears his throat before answering. "well, this fucking animal", he makes sure to emphasize your words, "just gave you the best damn makeout session ever for more than an hour. is that not some sort of record?” he arches one of his eyebrows and a teasing smirk is creeping up on his equally swollen lips. “i think we can go even longer.”
you scoff incredulously. "you've abused my mouth enough. if you want to go further, use your pillow.” you say as you shove him back and climb off his lap.
inbeom laughs, accepting it. still, he mentally pats himself on the back because in a bit of dating, he managed to have you match his freak, no matter how unhinged you sometimes got. he knows you wouldn't do something you're not comfortable with, but you give into inbeom’s shenanigans every time, despite the apprehension or shyness that take over you sometimes.
taglist: @wonniiz (i didn’t actually have one but you asked :)!)
One last thrust buries him deep inside you, and he stops. Eyes squeezed shut, back arched, your fingers dig into the heavy muscle of his shoulders, clinging to the peak of pleasure waiting to break.
“Zuko…” you gasp, head falling back as your heels press into the small of his back, demanding he moved again.
Instead of taking the hint, he takes the opening. A grunt leaves his throat as he uses the pressure to sink his full weight over you. The movement flattens his chest against yours, forcing your legs to unclasp and spread wide(r) to accommodate his frame.
You bring a hand up to cover your mouth. “Spirits, Zuko, what are you doing?”
When you open your eyes, expecting a smirk or an answer, there’s only silence.
His gaze is fixed on your face. His chest heaves against your ribs, sending the warmest air across your neck, yet he remains motionless, still absorbing the tiny noise you made before you spoke, along with the way your brows pull together in flustered concentration, and- oh, the way your body was trembling around him only seconds ago too.
You cup the side of his jaw, checking on him.
“What... is it?”
The touch breaks his trance. His face moves toward your palm, pressing a kiss to it.
“…You have no idea what you look like right now.”
You knew the heat that coloured your cheeks was your body's own attempt to reflect the feelings he always brings out of you. You decide to squirm, trying again to move against him to force some semblance of friction. It accomplishes nothing, so you smile as much as the agonizing tease allows you.
“You can say that and keep moving, you know.”
He doesn't respond. Instead, he adjusts his stance, rolling his hips forward in a single movement. It’s barely a thrust, relentless all the same.
You bite your lip, trying to glare at him, but you can’t quite manage it through the haze. “Move.”
He cocks his head.
“I’d rather not do that yet...”
“If you won’t move, then I will.”
Trying proves to be even worse. Pushing against him turns the torment back on you. He is filling you so thoroughly that even sitting still, you could swear you could come at anytime.
“You’re enjoying this way too much for a former villain,” you strain out.
Before you can draw another breath, he pulls back and drives into you with a single thrust that rattles your entire body.
His fingers dig into your hips, pinning you to the mattress, driving deep, over and over, until your sight blurs. You clutch at his shoulders at his mercy, as he leans down to press his forehead against yours.
You whimper. “A-Agni… I’m taking back the ‘reformed’ part.”
A/N: Small draft that I had and wanted to get out asap. Hope you enjoy
WC: 496
Laying in bed, you toss and turn.
It’s not like you couldn’t get comfortable, you were really comfy…well… sort of.
Something was missing and that something apparently has a late night practice that he has forgotten to text you about.
Jungkook was usually home before midnight but tonight it seemed something was keeping him held up. You glance at the clock and the time, 11:50, glares back at you. So it wasn’t actually midnight yet, but he was usually home by 11:30 so you guessed tonight was a later night.
Before you can think anymore you hear the sound of beeping, signalling someone was typing in the code of your key pad.
Raising up lightly you hear the door crack open followed by the sound of heavy boots being taken off at the front door.
Light padding is heard not too long afterwards and then the door handle jiggles a little before opening.
A head of moppy black hair slips between the small crack of the door, his lip piercing catching the light of the lamp that was on.
“I wasn’t expecting you to still be up” His voice is full of tiredness.
You’re fully sat up now and reaching your hands out signaling him to come inside the room fully now.
“How am I supposed to sleep without my nightly cuddling?” You questioned in a joking tone.
His bright smile lights up the room and your heart skips a beat. He was so handsome and it made your heart flutter like a school girl's every time.
He gets closer and grabs ahold of your hand, bringing it to his face. He leaves a light kiss on the side of your wrist before placing it once more on his face.
“I need a shower, I stink…” He scrunches his nose to signal he smells bad.
A small laugh escapes you before nodding your head in false agreement and he starts to pull away, walking towards the bathroom.
Minutes pass and you eventually hear the water turn off signalling to you that he has finished showering.
You turn to your side and await for him to come to bed. At first, all you hear is light shuffling, him getting dressed more than likely, and then the bed dips.
You smile to yourself awaiting his body heat to meet with yours.
A slight grunt is heard from behind you before large hands reach around and wrap around your waist. He pulls you closer into his body and holds you tightly.
His breath brushes against your ear as he whispers a ‘I love you’ into your ear and you let out a small giggle.
You whisper, ‘I love you more’ to him and he laughs lightly responding, “Impossible”.
You shuffle your body impossibly closer towards him and your eyes already feel heavier than they had and soon sleep welcomes you with open arms.
Jungkook and you lay wrapped around one another, sleeping and dreaming of one another.
dark red sheets swallowed you and your husband’s body as you slept together. his arms gently encircled your waist, his face pressed into the crook of your neck as per usual. zuko loved having you close like this—just beneath his fingertips. you were soft enough to squeeze and hug and kiss, grounding him even as he slept. your presence allowed him a peaceful rest, your warm body against his own a sensation he stated he couldn’t live without.
he was so quiet when he was in bed with you, sleeping through the night like a baby. at least, that’s what you had thought.
the small jerk of his fingers against your stomach was enough to make you shift, the tips of his fingers tickling you through your night clothes. he was probably just shifting around as well, getting comfortable.
but then his lips pressed themselves directly against your shoulder, his grip around you suddenly growing tighter.
“zuko…” you whined, voice laced with sleep and discomfort. zuko wasn’t one to act erratic as he slept, generally silent and still…but now it seemed a flip had switched.
“sorry..’m sorry. stop..” he whispered against your skin, but he…he didn’t seem as if he was talking to you. more like to…himself? someone else? his mumbled apologies woke you up, but before you even had a chance to turn around, to look at him—you heard him choke out a sob. it was so sudden—so unusual you couldn’t force yourself to move. zuko? crying? it wasn’t something you could proudly say you saw often—or ever.
“don’t g-go, i’m sorry.” he cried, slow tears rolling down his cheeks and gradually soaking your top. you stilled in pure shock for a moment, blinking as if time had stopped.
“zuko?”
he buried his face completely into your neck at the sound of your voice, letting his tears fall without resistance. he gripped onto you for dear life, the heat radiating from his palms out of emotion warming your skin.
you let him cry for a while after the realization set, allowing him quiet time without interruptions to just…get it all out. something you knew deep down he needed.
after a few minutes his breathing finally slowed, his tears subsiding as he held you in his arms. “i’m..i’m sorry.” this time he was talking to you, kissing your neck in apology.
he finally let you turn around to look at him, his cheeks all blotchy and pink from his own body heat, eyes red from crying. he looked so…vulnerable. never in your life had you seen him like this. a bit broken but still so desperate for your touch.
you cupped his cheek, wiping away a stray tear just below his eye. “what happened..?”
he let himself melt into your palm before shamefully replying, eyes fluttering shut to avoid the look he’d thought you’d give him.
“..it’s embarrassing.”
“zuko, it’s me…what’s wrong?” you murmured, gently pressing a kiss to his scar. he physically winced as if it hurt, knowing the pain had long faded, but something in the moment made him extra sensitive.
“it was just a nightmare..they happen sometimes, but they aren’t this bad. not like today.”
“oh, my baby..” you sighed, immediately pulling him in towards your chest. you buried your hands into his hair and he breathed a sigh of relief, his own hands pressing into your back to bring you impossibly closer in response.
“i didn’t mean to wake you this time—“
“why? why didn’t you tell me before?” you kissed his head, slowly stroking his scalp with your nails.
“i didn’t want to be a burden.” he confessed, running his fingers up and down your spine to soothe himself—and you. “i know how i am…i ..i couldn’t do that to you.”
your poor baby. your precious husband couldn’t even get himself to open up to you about something that effected him so much. it was heartbreaking.
“you can speak to me about anything. always. i love you.” you started, pulling away slightly to look him in the eye. “i didn’t write my own vows for you to take them as a joke y’know?”
he finally smiled—even if it was just a tiny quirk of his lips—you made it happen. “no..you didn’t.”
“mhm..” you hummed, leaning in ever so slowly before pressing your lips against his own. he moved his mouth back almost instantly, letting out a small noise of defeat when you pulled away.
“we have to get back to bed, zuko. you won’t get up on time tomorrow..” you chuckled, tucking a sliver of hair behind his ear. he looked so beautiful, so peaceful now.
“you’re right, i won’t…but that’s what my dear wife is for.”
illi’s notez; first time writing for atla don’t bully me ☹️☹️☹️☹️☹️ i haven’t seen the new movie yet either but these leaks made me sooo excited eheheh :333 zuko is literally younger me’s bf and with this fandom revive i had to get tonwritin ;(( im so hypednfornall the new fics other writes r making too omgogmgogm ok let me stop
all bc @p00pdev1l said one (1) thing about flamin cheeto breath zuko and i had a visceral scene play out in my lil noggin like a fever dream | divider by @/uzmacchiato | zuko x reader, nsfw, wc: 445 | not edited, one creampie, use of a nickname + zuko’s title
“Zuk—hoh, fuck—” you whine, your torso falling flush to the bed as sturdy hips roll into you from behind, languid movements that bring Zuko’s cock further into you, his cockhead reaching for your depths, filling you as much as your body will allow.
Golden irises and inflamed pupils drink in your arched, bare back, how your hands grip and cling to the fabric of the sheets, how your skin glistens with sweat in the firelight. He grins, relishing in the visage, in the dull clap of skin against skin, in the way your body heaves from the pleasure of his doing. His hair flows in an inky curtain against his profile as he lowers himself, his large hands grasping your hips and tracing your silhouette along your torso and breasts
“My kindling,” he moans, his chest meeting your back, his skin iron-hot and his mouth planting kisses along your shoulder blade and at the base of your neck. He snakes his arms around you, holding you close, closer, enmeshing himself with you—a dance of flames licking at your nerves.
Goosebumps speckle your skin, and you tighten around him as you move your hips in-tandem, needing his entirety within you, fully. “My lord—”
Zuko’s heartbeat pulses throughout his whole body, from the soles of his feet to his fingertips. He had heard your voice call his title before, but not like this—whimpered and sticky with desire, honey dripping from your lips. His broad shoulders and chest engulfed you already, but he somehow manages to swallow you whole, your body enveloped in his.
“Say it again,” he implores against your shoulder, hoarse and almost a prayer, his own viscous need oozing from his voice and his hands cling to you. His breath is scorching, a campfire’s warmth radiating along your sweat-stained skin.
A smile dances along your spent features, and you turn your head and lean into him.
“Please, my lord,” you encourage, your voice coming out in a heady coo as you tremble under his roughening thrusts. “Fill me with your cum.”
“Fuck,” he pants against your shoulder, the fire within him swelling and scathing his chest, his throat, his ears. His fingertips dig indents in your flesh, clinging to you, the bed shifting on its posts. A campfire’s warmth, spilling out and filling the room until he bottoms out, his pelvis flush with your ass as he ruts into you, without mercy, with each spurt of his cum.
You unravel, twitching underneath the lord of fire as the penultimate climax wracks through your sore and satiated body, his seed pouring into you, reaching your depths and setting your soul ablaze.
"Why are you shirtless?" Is the first thing you ask Zuko when you're finally next to him. You swiftly knock out a Denied who tries to attack while Zuko launches a blast at two more in the air. They promptly fall out of the sky with screams but that's the least of your concerns.
Zuko looks at you, then down at his bare chest, before shrugging.
"Didn't even realise I lost it," he replies, oddly nonchalant, and you squint at him. "What? We're in the middle of a dangerous battle. The last thing I'm thinking about is my modesty."
"It's distracting though," you say, poking his stomach to watch the muscles there twitch. You're unashamed to say it makes you a little flustered. "Trying to fight for my life while protecting my friends and my husband's kickflipping around with his tits on display."
Zuko audibly gasps, handsome face twisted in feigned offense and you're about to laugh when he's suddenly grabbing your waist. You react quickly, swiftly turning in his hold to kick an incoming Denied off the roof as Zuko takes out the one approaching from behind you both.
"That was rude," you say, slightly peeved, and Zuko hums his agreement. "Can't a girl scold her husband for tempting her with his chest during a life-changing event?"
Zuko snorts, visibly amused. "My apologies, my dearest wife." He sets you back on your feet but doesn't let go of your waist, holding it firmly. "Next time I'll be more considerate to your delicate sensibilities."
You gape, eyes wide. "Delicate sensibilities?" You poke at his chest, hard enough to make him wince. "Says the guy who still blushes whenever I take my robes off—"
"Duck."
Zuko firmly pushes your head down to follow him down as a slice of air rushes over you. You try not to think about he uses the same force to push you down on his cock.
You feel a bit more peeved now.
"We can talk about this later," he says, planting a swift kiss on your lips before springing back up. At the same time, another Denied rushes him and sends both of them spiralling off the roof. You watch as Zuko manages to catch himself with jets of fire beneath his feet and roll your eyes at how cool and handsome and shirtless he is.
"He doesn't know what he's in for," you murmur and turn around just in time to catch a punch before happily delivering your own.
warnings: swearing, drinking, smoking, smut (fem. oral receiving, fingering, choking, spanking, diff positions, multiple orgasms, jungkook is biggg (duhhhh)), jungkook is a lil dom-ish but also sweet and a consent king!!
summary: As a backup dancer on BTS's latest tour, you've found yourself in the opportunity of a lifetime. Through different routines, countries, and continents, one thing remained the same: Jeon Jungkook was your boss yet you couldn't shake the feeling of wanting to climb his bones and for some odd reason, you think he feels the same about you.
word count: 15.3k
hi sweet friends :) welcome to the full fic! i hope you all enjoy and love reading it as much as i enjoyed writing it. jungkook you are the sexiest man to ever walk the earth baby don't let anyone tell you differently!!!
playlist: please by bts, one more night by bts, closer to you by jungkook, signs by tate mcrae, bed chem by sabrina carpenter, petting zoo by justin bieber
At times, you found it quite hard to refrain from staring off in the distance at random things. Your mind would wander with its racing thoughts with everything you needed to do for the day, the night, the week, the weekend, and on show days that before you knew it, you’d turn spacey. It was innocent really, at times just a lapse in your brain for a quick release of mental tension that you always seemed to carry.
This, however, was not one of those times.
Your viewpoint from this vicinity on the stage was clear as could be as you watched them all walk up one of the side ramps; each side by side except for one who trailed behind the group, one hand shoved in his pocket, one holding a microphone in the other.
Jeon Jungkook was painstakingly sexy, and it wasn’t just due to his lethal face card. He was multitalented and charming, soft-spoken, and funny when he wanted to be. You had come to realize over the course of the tour though; he preferred to keep to himself and the other members only. It was opposite of Taehyung and Hoseok, who mingled with everyone in the tour crew including you and the large group of dancers who traveled with them city to city, country to country.
“You’re staring. Again,” Sana, one of your closest friends in the dance crew, scolded from your left side.
Immediately, you whipped your head to her and threw a quick finger her way for good measure.
“Fuck off,” you muttered, “I was not.”
“Uh, it was quite obvious you were,” Josh, one of your other closest friends noted as he continued to stretch out his shoulders.
The seven members of BTS were starting to check their mics and once they were set, a quick afternoon practice of blocking the stage and running through a couple of songs would begin. It was routine in each city the day of each show to ensure everyone knew their marks and that the choreography would become muscle memory.
You allow yourself one last glance towards Jungkook before turning back to Josh and Sana.
“Shut up,” you half admit defeat as you work your way into a split on your right side.
They both snickered and you couldn’t help but let out a chuckle as well. Ever since the tour had started over two months ago, it was quite the joke between your closest friends who knew you had a raging crush on Jungkook.
Who wouldn’t?!
When you had first auditioned to become a dancer on tour, you had no idea who the artist you were auditioning to dance for was, as it was kept anonymous to prevent press leaks that BTS would be embarking on a massive world tour. When you got the job and found out who you would be dancing alongside of for the next year, it was the opportunity of a lifetime, and you couldn’t have accepted the offer quick enough.
There had been two months of rehearsals nearly every day for you and the other dancers leading up to the first show. It was exhausting, but there was no thrill like the one being able to stand on stage and dance in front of thousands of people every other night.
It nearly matched the thrill of being able to dance with Jungkook, but you wouldn’t admit that to anyone out loud, not even Sana.
Each member had been blocked a small group of dancers, and you had been placed in Jungkook’s cohort on his first day of rehearsal. From the moment you had laid eyes on him, your knees had wobbled. It was easy finding someone attractive on a phone screen, but seeing someone so hot in person was jarring. Each member was attractive in their own right, but there was something about Jungkook which set your insides on fire. You had debated at one point asking to move to another member’s cohort, but Sana talked you out of it.
“Oh my god Y/N, it’s fine! He’s sexy as hell! Just enjoy being able to dance close to him! You’ll be fine!”
And you had been fine up to this point, but you hated the obscene thoughts you had about one of your bosses one too many times a day.
Suddenly, a boom echoed in a microphone which jolted everyone in the vicinity. Eyes and heads looked towards the middle of the stage where Namjoon had apparently done something wrong with his microphone and his surrounding members began to cackle. Jungkook’s head tipped back as he laughed with that gorgeous smile, clapping his hands together as they tease the leader.
“Okay, okay, that’s enough,” Namjoon scoffed into his mic, shrugging off his own laugh, “Are we ready?”
At his queue, the entire crew was at attention, and you slipped out of your split before standing up and adjusting your trackpants. Just as you and the dancers were about to spread out amongst the large stage, Sana smacked your ass quickly before leaning in—
“Good thing he was looking at you, too,” it was a whisper and it was nearly impossible to decipher among the chaos that was the stadium during practice.
You gave her a death glare and rolled your eyes before walking away towards the man who was slowly becoming your undoing.
Yeah, right.
~
Per usual, practice and the show that night went off without a hitch. The boys, the dancers, and the crew always worked tirelessly each night to put on the best show possible for their fans. Each song was exhilarating in its own way, and each one required a specific set of energy, yet somehow everyone had to keep themselves going for nearly two straight hours. Naturally by the end of each show, everyone was exhausted, including you.
There were nights though, such as tonight, where the adrenaline that pulsed through your system wasn’t able to calm down. On weekend shows, you, the dancers, and even some of the members themselves would end up going out to clubs or bars after to unwind. However, tonight’s show was on a Tuesday, so everyone always opted for the more responsible choice of going straight to the hotel and resting.
You had been tossing and turning in bed for well over an hour now and the singular fact Sana was sound asleep in the bed next to yours was annoying you more than it should have. You glanced at your phone, seeing it was 12:27 AM.
You let out a deep sigh of frustration. Thankfully this had not been a common occurrence so far on tour, but the few nights it had, you had only seemingly found one solution.
Slowly and as quietly as possible, you crept out of bed and sorted through your luggage to find a workout set. You settled for a simple black set of leggings and a sports bra before grabbing one of your many pairs of tennis shoes you had brought with you. Not wanting to disturb Sana, you quickly changed out of your pajamas in the bathroom before grabbing the essentials for the gym.
Phone, headphones, hotel key—and you were off.
Touring with the biggest band in the world had many perks, but the hotels you had been blessed enough to stay at had been some of the nicest you would probably ever step foot in your entire life, and each one usually had an immaculate gym and spa.
Taking the elevator up the 18th floor of the hotel, you were able to successfully find the gym without a hitch. Pushing the door open with your shoulder, you were fumbling with your AirPods to put in your ears when you suddenly stopped, nearly dropping one of them from your hand.
Just off your left side on a cable machine, was Jungkook in the flesh. His back was turned to you, but you knew it was him. You had spent nearly every day alongside of him for months now, but his infamously tattooed arm was always the number one indicator of which member you were dealing with.
The adrenaline in your body only seemed to skyrocket at the sight of him. It was almost instinct to want to leave and give him the privacy he was potentially seeking by working out so late, but part of you stayed glued to the floor. You watched him carefully as he finished his set of pulldowns, groaning between each pull of the weight, before he stood up, his body turning smoothly.
Your feet almost, almost picked themselves up to turn the other way and run, but Jungkook made eye contact with you before you could bolt.
Fuck.
Jungkook’s brows furrowed before he suddenly took out one of his own AirPods.
“Y/N?”
Double fuck.
Instead of cowering, you decide to maintain the confident façade you tried so hardly to keep around him. Taking a few steps into the large gym, you give him a small smile.
“Hey, Jungkook,” you greet him.
It’s a strange feeling knowing that you are on a first name basis with one of the most famous people on the planet. You and Jungkook were acquaintances at best, but you still had gotten to know parts of him dancing alongside him for two months. He was always nice to you and never intruded on your space.
“I couldn’t sleep,” you resign to him even though he didn’t ask.
He raised an eyebrow, a small smirk—triple fuck—crossing his lips.
“Same,” he shrugged, pulling his sleeves up his arms slightly. It took everything in you not to watch the movement too closely. His answer though, made you feel better and if anything, it felt like a new camaraderie between you and one of your bosses.
Neither of you spoke again as Jungkook repositioned it headphones, turning around to complete another set of pulldowns. You took in a deep breath, a lame attempt to slow your cortisol before heading to a treadmill on the other side of the gym.
From the cardio area in the gym, your back was now facing where the weight section Jungkook laundered. As you scrolled through your monthly playlist, you quickly turned on an EDM song with the volume probably dangerously loud before you took off running. Anything to get out of your thoughts and the fact that Jungkook could see your every move if he wanted to.
Sana’s words from earlier in the afternoon rang through your head once again and to bury the delusion, your only cure was to speed up the static track beneath your feet.
~
The next day was a second show day in the city. The second, and if possible, third or fourth show days were always much calmer than the first. Everyone had already run the show at full capacity once, so practice for the dancers was always optional. You and Sana had opted out of practice today, chilling in the large backstage area for the dancers instead that afternoon.
You had finished your run and stretching around 1:30 AM the night before, but it had done the trick and once you took another shower and slipped into bed, you had slept in the latest you had thus far on tour.
“Did you leave the room at some point last night?” Sana suddenly asked as she looked up from scrolling on her phone. You were both sat on a small couch facing each other, legs entangled with each other’s.
Looking up from your own, her bleach blonde bob was always the first thing that caught your eye.
“Yeah, I went to the gym. I couldn’t sleep,” you shrugged lazily.
“Hm,” she mused, “You did that in Vegas too, didn’t you?”
You nodded absentmindedly. You had told her it was hard coming down from a show sometimes and she had her own methods of coming down which included marijuana which she always offered, but you didn’t like to indulge as frequently as she did.
You glance around the room to ensure no one close was listening in on your conversation before you leaned forward.
“Jungkook was there last night,” you whispered.
“Shut up!” she said way too loud for her own good which had the other dancers looking towards your couch curiously. You inwardly cringed, but soon enough they all went back to their own conversations and warmups.
“You’re kidding,” she spoke in a much calmer tone this time, “What happened?”
“What do you mean what happened?” you laughed, “He was working out, I ran a few miles and called it a night.”
Her face suddenly fell, “Ughhh, oh my god Y/N you are so boring sometimes,” she groaned.
You knew she was kidding, but you couldn’t help but shake your head and laugh once again.
“You’re telling me the hottest man alive who happens to be your crush, and you were in the same room, alone, and nothing happened?”
“Yes,” you responded in disbelief, “What was I supposed to do? Jump his bones?”
“Yes!” she said it as if it was obvious.
“Oh my god Sana,” you pushed her leg with your foot, “You’re ridiculous.”
“I’m not! I’ve seen how he’s been looking at you recently, so has Josh.”
“Stop saying that, no he’s not,” you shake your head, burrowing yourself into the pillow and looking back at your phone.
“Y/N look at me,” she commands and you follow meeting her dark brown eyes, “You’re hot. Why wouldn’t he look at you?”
“In case you forgot Sana,” you pause, “He’s technically one of our bosses. This conversation is unprofessional enough.”
Sana rolls her eyes dramatically before groaning, “Who cares? Everyone knows Hoseok is sleeping with Krystal,” she lowered her voice to a faint whisper.
You furrow your eyebrows, your eyes immediately darting over to Krystal who was doing her makeup with another female dancer named Tess.
“What?!” you whisper-scream back, “That’s news to me!”
“Well, when your only focus is Jungkook it can be hard to miss,” she said matter-of-factly.
Reaching down, you pinch the exposed skin of her left leg in her capris. It only brought out a laugh in her before she kicked your hand away.
“I’m just saying, it’s not out of what’s possible here,” she purses her lips as she raises a brow towards you, “You should go to the gym again after the show.”
“What? No! I only go that late when I can’t sleep,” you push the idea away immediately.
She gives you a look as if you were stupid and, in this moment, you’re sure she thinks you are.
“Y/N, you’re not getting it. If you go the gym, you can get time with him alone and who knows what will happen.”
“Sana, I appreciate the advice, but I think I’ll stick to my own lane. Besides I felt awkward, I think he probably just wants privacy after the chaos of each day. I don’t need to be in his way more than I already am on stage.”
Sana visibly relaxes at your words and you’re feeling elated it seems she may have just given up. You were good enough at feeding your own delusions, you didn’t need your closest friend on tour doing it either. Jungkook was just a work crush due the forced proximity. There was nothing wrong with having a work crush. It was only when it was acted upon would it be crossing a line.
“Y/N?!”
A voice from the front of the dressing room suddenly boomed and each set of eyes turned your way. It was your good friend and lead choreographer Eunwoo seemingly searching for you.
“Yeah?” you straightened yourself up on the small couch.
“Can you come out on stage for a bit? Jungkook wants to go over some sequences before their soundcheck.”
A sudden pit opened up in your stomach, and you felt the heat spread amongst your face and chest. You took a quick glance at Sana whose mouth was wide open, and you found Josh in the corner attempting not to burst out in laughter. The remaining dancers in the room either were ignoring the interaction and the other half were giving you intentional stares. For some reason, the way Krystal looked at you in particular made you feel even more uneasy.
“Y-yeah,” you found your voice through a stutter, “Yeah I’m coming.”
You quickly slipped your sneakers on before making your way over to Eunwoo as he led you away from the dressing room towards the stage.
“Do you know what he wants to go over?” you asked as you were raking through the setlist and the dances sequences in your mind. Nothing was too complicated for either one of you, so you weren’t sure what else he could want to practice at this point in the tour.
Eunwoo shrugged as both of you exited from the tunnel to outside, the giant structure of the stage greeting you under the sun.
“No idea,” he shrugged, “Said he thought he was missing something.”
“And you couldn’t help him?” you didn’t mean for the question to come across as rude, but part of you felt it did.
As Eunwoo led you up to the stage, your eyes immediately found Jungkook. They always did. He was standing with one of his managers, flipping his microphone in his hand absentmindedly.
Eunwoo stopped walking and left you to walk the rest of the way before he gave you a sidelong glance and another shrug, “He asked for you.”
Another drop hit your stomach, and you suddenly felt nauseous. You really hoped no one could see the way your heart was pounding out of your chest right now because it sure felt like it was showing through your skin.
Eunwoo leaves you alone and it takes all the courage in the world to pick up your feet again. Jungkook seemingly feels your presence when you’re no more than five feet away because his head turns to you, his chocolate brown eyes finding yours. He’s wearing a pair of sunglasses, but they are pushed up on his head to keep his hair out of his face. Something deep in your core churns at the sight.
“Hi,” somehow you manage to speak first, a bravado that turned on when you most nervous—a way to trick your brain that you actually weren’t internally freaking the fuck out. “Eunwoo said you needed help with something?”
Jungkook’s manager says something fleeting that you don’t catch before walking away leaving the two of you on the east side of the stage alone. On the opposite side, you briefly heard a loud laugh that sounded as if it was coming from Jin.
“Yeah, I just feel like I’m missing a step or something here,” he briefly moves his body in the counts and chorography that you immediately recognize, and you nearly forgot you were here to help him.
You glance him up and down one time, “Do it again,” you give him a stern nod of your head and watch his feet closer this time.
You see the exact moment to understand what he is missing. There were multiple half counts in this particular chorography, and he was indeed skipping over one.
“Okay I see, just watch me,” you tun around so you’re his directly mirror with your back to his. You repeat the sequence he just showed you, sans any mistakes, though a bit slower than usual so he could probably see what you were doing and he wasn’t.
“Did you see the change in my feet?” you ask him, turning over your shoulder.
“Feet?” he asks, dumbfounded.
You suddenly let out a chuckle, “Jungkook I meant watch my feet,” you give him a smile.
His brown eyes flickered down your face once before he began to chew on his lip ring, “You said to watch you, so,” he shrugged, though he didn’t seem sorry for it.
You tried your best to retain any heat to your cheeks, but you still think some pushed through.
“Watch again,” you nod to him, practicing patience.
You perform the two sets of counts once again and Jungkook suddenly lets out an ‘ah!’.
“You see?” you turn back around raising an eyebrow at him. Jungkook nods and you can visibly see the information processing in his brain. It was fascinating to witness.
“Show me,” you push him as you cross your arms over your chest.
Jungkook’s eyes meet yours for a second too long to feel comfortable before he smirks. He takes a step back from your frame and completes the two counts perfectly without a hitch.
“Very good,” you smile at him, “You catch on quick, you know?”
“Only when I have a good teacher,” he smirks as he removes his sunglasses before shaking his fingers through his thick, shiny hair.
You try to ignore the way his words affect you, shoving away any feelings, “Anything else you want to go over?”
“No, that was it,” he shook his head, pushing his sunglasses back up onto his head.
“Okay,” you nod once in resolve, ready to walk away from him before he stops you.
“Wait um,” he clears his throat and you almost sense an awkwardness alluding off him that you’ve never picked up on previously, “Sorry about last night. I didn’t realize until later that I thought I maybe came off a bit rude.”
You furrow your eyebrows at him, looking up to find his gaze. He honestly wasn’t much taller than you, but still your head craned upward.
“Oh no, don’t apologize,” you wave your hand, “I didn’t think anything of it. It was late and I was kind of spacey.”
Jungkook seems pleased with your response, his body language visibly relaxing.
“Cool,” he says simply and you don’t miss the way his tongue darts between his lips.
“Cool,” you repeat before taking a step away from him for your personal sanity, “I’ll see you later.”
“Looking forward to it,” are his parting words and you swear you felt your breath catch in your throat. Nearly tripping over your two feet, you turn the opposite direction to head back to the dressing room.
This time, there was no doubt in the way you knew he was staring at you as you walked away.
~
Five days later, another country, and two shows later, you and Sana were making your way back to your shared room after returning from the stadium. Your routine with her was always pretty much the same post show. You’d return from the show, eat ramen or something similar if you were hungry, shower and change into pajamas, and finally both of you would fall asleep watching re-runs of Sex and The City.
At the end of the day, you two were just girls, after all.
You were finally showered and digging around for a pair of pajamas before Sana gets your attention from where she laid on her bed. Aside from the bathroom, the lamp that split your beds in the room was the only source of light.
“Did you ever go back to the gym like I told you?”
Your entire body pauses as you step into your sleep shorts.
“No? I’ve been sleeping fine this week,” you answer simply trying to skirt around what she actually wants to talk about.
“Y/N are you kidding me?” she says it like she’s disappointed.
“Sana,” you warn her as you slip on a large t-shirt.
Suddenly, Sana throws her bedding off her frame and stomps over to where you stand near your suitcases. You eye her carefully before she snatches the towel from your hand.
“That’s it,” she snaps, “Put some workout clothes on and get your ass to the hotel gym right now.”
You stare in disbelief.
“Sana, I’m not doing that! I literally just got out of the shower—”
“So, take another one later! I’m telling you Y/N go. To. The. Gym. There’s no doubt in my mind that Jungkook is there.”
“Are you just trying to humiliate me or something? I have a stupid crush on Jungkook, but millions of people do! You don’t have to clown me for it—"
“I would never clown you!” she defends, her eyes turning wide and reproachful, “As your friend I can tell when people are interested in you. Jungkook is one of them,” she points a finger into your chest.
“You’re being ridiculous,” you shake your head at her. You love her, you really did, but damn was she persistent borderlining annoying sometimes.
“I think you’re being ridiculous,” she spats, “You have a golden opportunity here and you need to snatch it. If I’m wrong, I’m wrong but I’m never wrong about these things.”
You hated to admit it, but her words created a crack deep inside you that made your knees wobble. You know Sana would never do you wrong, but if this was something she was wrong about, you’re not sure if you could survive the aftereffects. However, part of you, the irrational part of you, desperately wanted to test the waters if it was true.
“If I go tonight, will you leave me alone about?” you deign.
A wide grin spreads across her face, “Yes.”
Sana helps you pick out another matching workout set—this one a pair of yoga pants that folded over your hips in a flattering way and matching sports bra, both a deep navy in color. You clipped your hair back before slipping on your tennis shoes. You check the time on your phone, laughing at yourself for doing this at midnight.
“Go get ‘em tiger,” Sana swats you out of the room with a key and your headphones.
You both part ways and as much as you really wanted to go to bed, you force yourself to make way to the hotel gym on the third floor.
As soon as you walk into the gym, you have to contain the bubbling of excitement that sits in your stomach. Sana was right—Jungkook was here yet again lifting upper body with some dumbbells. Jungkook seemingly notices you immediately but he’s mid-set, so he doesn’t do anything but send a grimace your way.
You give him a small wave before heading over the cardio deck. You choose against running a lot tonight, only pushing out a mile before you decide to walk the rest of the way. It’s when you’re halfway through mile two of walking, does Jungkook appear in your peripheral vision, hopping on the treadmill right beside of yours.
You glance his way and find he’s already staring back at you. He motions to your headphone, and you instantly take one of your earbuds out.
“Hey,” Jungkook says before he starts his own treadmill to walk at a pace matching your own.
“Hi,” you greet him. Neither have you spoken much since the last time before the show in the last country.
“Can’t sleep?” he asks curiously.
You push past the lump in your throat, hoping he can’t see the lie in your response, “Something like that.”
He nods as if he understands you completely, “It’s hard for me to come down sometimes. After the shows.”
“Yeah, I get that.”
“You’d think after the type of energy we expended, we would just want to pass out after,” he says and you nod your head, giving him a glance out of your eyes.
“Ironic, isn’t it?”
“Very.”
“Do any of the other boys come here after too?” you ask him out of pure curiosity.
“Not really,” he shakes his head, “Most of them winddown playing video games or something but I need to get my energy out differently.”
“My friend Sana is like that. She falls asleep within ten minutes of us watching TV in the room… do you know her?”
“Of course,” he pauses, “I know all of the dancer’s names.”
“Damn, really?” you don’t know why your first thought was that you didn’t believe him, but the little you know about him, you actually find it very believable. He’s quiet, but he’s always polite and caring with everyone around.
“Do you not?” he almost laughs.
“No, I do,” you chuckle, “But it took me longer than I’d like to admit getting everyone’s right.”
“That’s fair… we have a big crew for sure.”
“Was the last tour this big?”
Jungkook shakes his head slightly, “Yes, and no? I honestly can’t remember, it was so long ago. The memories are kind of blurry now.”
You furrow your brows, “Doesn’t that make you sad? If you can’t remember?”
He only thinks for a second before saying, “No… I’m okay with it because I know at the time I was very happy. That’s all that matters to me.”
You nod, finding a sweet resolve and acceptance in his words. It makes you think about your own experiences in life. You feel as if sometimes you try so hard to capture and hold onto to memories that you actually don’t remember the true feelings you held at the time. Jungkook’s perspective is interesting and one that has you intrigued.
“How long have you been dancing?” Jungkook asks randomly between the sounds of your treadmills going.
You do the quick math in your head in relation to your age, which is only two years younger than Jungkook.
“About twenty years?” when you say it out loud, you can’t help but laugh.
Jungkook’s already large eyes widen even more as he looks at you, “Twenty years?”
“Yeah, my mom put me in ballet school when I was like six,” you tell him.
“Wow,” he says incredulous, “That’s amazing.”
Your brain immediately thinks back to the years and years you had dedicated your body to the craft that is dancing. As most did, you started with ballet and worked your way up to pointe shoes by your early teens, but as you grew older, your body craved contemporary and more liberating ways of dancing. You quit ballet at fourteen and strictly began learning other genres, soon working your way into dancing for major musical acts over the years. You were lucky to have made it a full-time job because you think if you had stuck with ballet, you wouldn’t be here, in this very vulnerable moment with Jeon Jungkook.
“You have a lot to teach me then,” Jungkook says and you don’t miss the tease in his tone.
“I don’t think you need as much help as you think you do,” you tell him honestly. While Jimin and Hoseok were no doubt the strongest dancers of their group, Jungkook was close up there with them.
He sends a shrug your way, “I’m always working on myself in one way or another.”
“Like right now?” you muse and even though you’re looking straight ahead, you feel his gaze glancing your way.
“Exactly,” he agrees, “Sometimes it’s not even about sleep for me… every show day is so hectic and loud. I don’t get a lot of peace and quiet, you know?”
Your eyes find his side profile and trace his sharp jawline. An uneasiness waves throughout your bones as your guess may have very well been correct. You couldn’t wait to tell Sana to shove it up her ass at the revelation. As much as you needed the cortisol release sometimes, Jungkook would always need it more than you.
“Um,” you begin, slightly hesitant, “Sorry if I’m interrupting that for you. I don’t have—”
“No, no,” Jungkook quickly and surprisingly cuts you off, “It’s okay really. It’s nice having the company, and you’re not annoying me or anything.”
“Yet,” you send him a smirk, feeling resolve at his words. As long as he was okay with the random gym drop-ins, then you felt comfortable that you weren’t intruding on his space.
“I doubt that would ever happen,” he licks hips, pushing his sweaty hair back from his forehead.
He was always dressed simply and casually, but this was one of the few times you saw him with exposed legs in shorts. His legs were beyond toned and even though your muscles were classically trained, his very well might as well been too. His black long sleeve clung to his upper body, and you had to force your gaze away from his body, afraid he would catch you staring off once again.
You’re approaching your third mile and as much as you’d love to stay and chat with him some more, quite frankly you’re exhausted and need to go to bed. Without a warning, you press the stop button the treadmill and come to a slow. Jungkook immediately notices, turning his head towards your frame as you step off the machine.
“You done?” he asks.
You nod, “Yeah, definitely ready for bed.”
It was an understatement but soon your brows furrow in confusion as you watch him stop his own treadmill, floating to the end of the track before jumping off.
“I’ll walk you back to your room,” Jungkook says casually and your heartrate skyrockets.
“W-what? No, you don’t have to do that,” you’re protesting immediately and you can’t help but notice the playful smirk that spreads across his face as his large eyes meet yours.
“I want to,” is all he says before he leads you out of the gym.
“Jungkook it’s fine,” you’re not sure how much you’ve actually said his name out loud to him, but it stirs something deep inside of you.
“Y/N it’s fine,” he waves off a hand as you walk side by side, “What floor are you on?” he asks as both of you approach the elevator.
“Eight,” you tell him as you wait for the elevator to ding open.
“I’m on the ninth,” he says unprompted, shoving his hands into his pockets.
A silence falls between the two of you and you can’t tell if it’s comfortable or not. He’s willingly giving you intimate information you’re not asking for, but maybe he’s just being cordial? With someone as genuine as he was, it was nearly impossible to tell what his true intentions were.
The elevator opens a moment later and he follows you into the small space, pressing the button to only the eight floor.
“You’re not going to the ninth?” you ask him, ready to push the button if needed.
“I told you I’d walk you back to your room,” he reminds you, just as the door closes.
“I didn’t think you were actually serious.”
Jungkook’s eyes suddenly filter down your frame once, then twice, before meeting your gaze from across the way—the distance feeling palpable between the two of you. There’s something in his expression you can’t decipher and you’re not sure you even want to as he chews on his lip ring.
“How would I know what room you’re in then?”
His words hit you like a freight train and you’re sure the way he smiles at you isn’t exactly riddled with innocence. You do what you do best when you’re speechless, scoffing him off in a laugh. Neither of you speak again until you get off the elevator and actually approach your door.
“This is me,” you point to the room on your left, looking up to find his gaze already looking at you.
Jungkook nods, satisfied with the result before saying, “See you tomorrow?”
Your heart thumps out of your chest, “See you tomorrow. Well, today I guess, but yes,” you stumble over your words, attempting to be literal on your words but you realize how silly you sound.
Jungkook sends you a sweet smile that surely melts your heart just a little bit, “Goodnight, Y/N.”
~
The next few weeks of the tour are an exhilarating rush yet also a blur. You and the dancers have well established a routine. Show days are smooth and fun, off days are spent exploring the cities you’d never thought you see, weekends are spent drinking and going out with the dance crew, some days you and Sana just stay in your hotel room to completely rest and recharge. So far, nothing has been out of the ordinary except one small thing has changed in your routine.
The sporadic late-night adrenaline-fueled gym sessions have recently turned into a nearly every other night occurrence. Once you had debriefed Sana on that late night in Brussels when Jungkook walked you back to the room, she had squealed in delight and satisfaction.
“Eeek! I told you Y/N! He clearly is interested in you.”
“I don’t want to jump to conclusions Sana.”
“Oh please! He literally said, ‘how would I know what room you’re in?’ Bitch, he wants you. Or at least wants to know where you are at all times which is another thing in itself.”
“Which is?”
“I don’t know, maybe he’s like weirdly territorial over you or something.”
“Oh my god Sana, you sound insane.”
“You’ll think I’m insane when you’re fucking Jeon fucking Jungkook one of these days!”
Perhaps you had been blinded by your own feelings and crush towards Jungkook, but you couldn’t help but feel like maybe she was right? You’d started to go to the gym after nearly every concert and Jungkook would always be there.
Both of you did your own workouts—his consisted of mostly strength training and you focused on running and yoga for your muscles—but he always ended up on the treadmill beside yours at the end of his sessions. Some nights neither of you would say much, but other nights you would talk to each other for at least a couple of miles straight give or take. At times, he would join your running pace and soon would tease you for how slow you were which obviously prompted both of you to try to outpace each other. He won every time, but your dancer’s lungs kept up with him better than you thought.
After a few weeks, you felt you had really gotten to see another side of Jungkook that many didn’t. Most people knew him on stage as this fierce confident popstar, and he no doubt was, but in the quieter moments, he was a very normal guy with very normal interests, hobbies, and opinions.
You were fascinated with his level of fame, though it truly didn’t seem to bother him much. He had been famous for so long, he claimed it was hard to remember what life was like for him before. He was fascinated with your dancing and the longevity of your body. You were healthy and strong no doubt, but you couldn’t lie and say you didn’t feel pain a lot of the times. Your body had been through the ringer, and the tour was slowly pushing it beyond limits you didn’t even know you had.
No matter if the conversations were light, heavier, fun, or flirty, the one thing that stayed consistent was Jungkook’s persistence to walk you back to your room every night. And he did so without fail.
Sana was the only person who knew about your shenanigans with Jungkook, and she would stay up nearly every night to see you come back from the gym to debrief. Despite how crazy you initially thought she was, there was something exhilarating about having this secret with one of the most sought-after men in the world. First and foremost, he was one of your bosses, but you had slowly developed a friendship that was one in a million chance.
If you were lucky and played your cards right, you were confident it might turn into more.
Coming back to reality, the loud sounds of the stadium ring even through your in-ear monitors. You’re standing behind another dancer, Jinho, in formation readying for the next song. The crowd was so loud tonight that it had been difficult to hear anything from cues to the songs being sung themselves.
Thankfully the stadium had a breeze flowing through the air tonight, but you still were sweating like crazy. At this point, you knew the routines blind at this point and any second now, Jungkook would soon appear behind you to take his place.
You felt him before you noticed him—his presence was all encompassing when he was around. There was about thirty seconds until the next song would start with Taehyung from across the stage and you took in a few deep breaths to prepare yourself. What you couldn’t have prepared for though was the sudden feeling of a hand grazing at your low back.
It took everything in you to not jump out of your skin and luckily the lights were turned low so no one could see, but you quickly whipped your head around to find Jungkook’s gaze low on the floor, but his hand remained in place as it grazed the fabric of your top.
You really thought you were imagining things as you turned your head back around, but it was when his fingers squeezed the fabric of your shirt together did you realize you weren’t. Jungkook’s touch lasted only a second longer before the stage lights cued, the music started, and the muscle memory kicked in to start the third act of the show.
As the show went on, you found yourself glancing at Jungkook more than usual. He was cool, confident, silly, and all the things everyone loved about him, but he didn’t look your way one time the remainder of the show.
You couldn’t help but ask yourself, what the fuck?
~
Unlike previous interactions with Jungkook, you had kept what happened during the show to yourself. You weren’t sure why you haven’t told Sana yet, but a part of you was hoping it was a figment of your imagination. If it was real, it meant you had to confront it. Something had been simmering between you and Jungkook for weeks and you really thought you had just a silly, immature crush on him. The fact that it was potentially reciprocated, churned your insides and also turned you on like never before. You were pent up and letting loose tonight was more than needed.
With only two shows left in Europe, the entire dance crew had decided to go out in early celebration. No injuries, no sickness, all smooth sailing thus far and it felt like a huge accomplishment for all of you. Professionally and personally.
The club that had been decided on was a classic European club—a bit bare bones inside but loud techno and tech-house music shook the large room. The DJ was throwing down heavy beats, and it was easy to move and groove, feeling yourself letting go with Sana and Josh by your side. It was body to body everywhere, but you still had enough room to dance and jump freely with enough space.
You had been trying to ignore the entire time, but the entire group of seven had also decided to join the dance crew out tonight. It was a rare occurrence to see all of them out, but it was especially rare to see Yoongi and Jungkook in this environment. Taehyung and Hoseok were thriving at the private table they had rented out, Namjoon and Jin laughing at whatever the two of them were doing. Jimin, Yoongi, and Jungkook were all in deep conversation, but you couldn’t help but notice the way Jungkook’s eyes flickered in your direction every so often.
You were already feeling quite tipsy, but you had felt confident before alcohol even hit your lips. You had dressed yourself in black; daunting a mini dress that showed off your legs with a simple halter top that accentuated your breasts. Despite the aching of your feet from the show, you and Sana had worn a similar pair of black heels.
As you sipped on whatever vodka concoction Josh had bought you, Sana suddenly leaned in to yell over the loud music.
“So, are you finally going to fuck Jungkook tonight?!”
You scoffed, immediately pushing her away from your space, “Oh my god! Will you shut up already!”
“What?! He’s practically eye fucking from his seat over there!”
Curious, you flipped your hair over your shoulder to look his way and indeed, Jungkook was looking right at you and Sana. Not knowing exactly what to do, you send him a casual smile before turning back to Sana with wide eyes.
“I told you!”
“Don’t you think if he wanted to, he would have made a move by now?” you pout before taking a large gulp of your drink.
Sana rolls her eyes wide even in the darkness of the club, “You know how he is. He’s confident but he’s quiet. Besides, as you always love to say he’s your ‘boss’. Maybe he’s waiting on you to make the move, so he knows he’s not overstepping.”
You thought about her words, digesting them even through the loud music. In all honesty, Sana had so far been right in her assumptions. She was probably correct about this too.
“Ugh, but Sana do I want to sleep with him? What if it makes it weird! I’d have to see him every day for the next eight months.”
Sana’s face falls before Josh suddenly involves himself in the conversation.
“What are you two talking about?” he asks taking a long sip from his beer.
“Y/N just asked me if she even wanted to fuck Jungkook.”
Josh looks at you, deadpanning, “Earth to Y/N, hello! Are you in there?” he suddenly takes a fist and knocks on your head lightly.
“Yes, Y/N, you absolutely want to fuck him. I’ve never seen you want to fuck someone more.”
Fuck. She was right. You were unbelievably horny for Jeon Jungkook, and you just knew he was for you too. You just needed him to actually say it to prove it to yourself.
“Let’s go dance. I need to get drunker,” you tell them honestly before the three of you shove your way into the crowd.
You dance, you jump, you and Sana grind together, you drink, and shit, you haven’t had this much fun out in a long time. Touring was fun, but at the end of the day, work was work. This was the time where it made the long days and sweat worth it. You’d made lifelong friends dancing for the biggest group in the world. What was there not to be happy about?
The DJ continued mixing heavy house music and before you knew it, your drink was empty. You excused yourself from Sana and Josh to find the bar. If you lost them, it was no big deal—the entire crew was here, you’d find someone to tag along with.
You finally squeeze through the crowd to approach the bar only having to wait a few minutes to order your drink. As you pocket for your wallet, you groan when you realize you left it in Sana’s bag.
“Shit,” you say as the bartender slides over your martini and the check. You’re about to ask if they take digital pay, but someone beats you to it.
“Can you add a whiskey, neat, to this please?” Jungkook suddenly appears on your right side and your knees wobbled in your heels.
Like you, he’s dressed in all black. Black shirt, black loose-fitting pants, and an oversized leather jacket that still somehow defines his muscles through and through. His hair is still parted and combed back from the show, his perfect eyebrows on display as he takes in your own appearance.
“Needed some help?” he asks you, quirking his face to the side and you swear his gaze lingered on your chest for a second too long.
“I left my wallet in Sana’s bag,” you admit while grabbing the stem of your martini glass, “Thanks.”
You take a sip, the vodka strong but just what you needed—especially if this was divine intervention happening at the palm of your hands. You were expecting to say hi to Jungkook at some point tonight, but not like this and surely not alone away from the rest of the group.
Jungkook pays for the drinks with a black card before he grabs his glass, holding it out to you.
“Cheers,” he says simply.
You give him a smile, “Cheers.”
Your glasses clink together and you watch each other over the side of your respective glasses as you sip the alcohol. His dark eyes bore into your own and you’re thankful for the two other drinks you’ve already had before crossing paths with him.
“I’m kind of surprised to see you here tonight,” you say once you down the strong sip of the martini.
He smirks, though even in the darkness of the club, you could have sworn his ears reddened.
“Why do you say that?”
You give him a sweet smile, “You never come out with the dancers. Only Taehyung and Hoseok do on the regular.”
Jungkook shrugs, nonchalant, “All the members were down tonight. I couldn’t be the only one to say no.”
You take another sip of your drink, your gaze unwavering from his own. You felt nervous being so close to him and his entire attention on you without any distractions.
“Something tells me that’s not true,” you say quite boldly.
Jungkook slightly tilts his head, regarding your curiosity with ease, “It’s fun getting to go out with you guys, but sometimes I just enjoy the solitude more,” he pauses, his eyes studying you intensely “And honestly? I needed a fucking drink.”
A larger grins appears on your face as you hold back laughter, “Well, you came to the right place.”
Jungkook sips his drink again, though his gaze refusing to break from yours, “Trust me. I know.”
The implications of his words have your body heating from the inside out. He was being painfully casual, but it didn’t feel casual. Your chest begins to rise and fall more rapidly as a silence falls between the two of you. You don’t miss the way Jungkook’s brown eyes flicker down to your exposed cleavage.
Before you can second guess or overthink it, with the alcohol buzzing in your veins, you say—
“So, what was that about earlier?”
His face pulls for a second as he swallows his liquor, his gaze curious as he regards your frame.
“What?”
You narrow your eyes at him, “Don’t play dumb, Jungkook,” you pause, taking the slightest step towards him. In your heels, you were more even with his height, but his aura was still intimidating.
He regarded your frame as you leaned slightly onto the bar with an elbow.
“When you touched me on stage,” you spell it out for him when he remains silent.
A stupid, shit-eating smirk spreads across his stupid handsome face. You get a waft of his scent and it’s clean and masculine and sexy all at once.
“Do you not want me to touch you?”
His question took you nothing short of surprised. It wasn’t the answer you were expecting, and you couldn’t believe he was being so nonchalant about this. He’s purposely backed you into a corner which also dawns the realization this is him testing you as much as you are him.
“I—I didn’t say that,” you say, truthfully and bare as you study his features.
Jungkook’s eyes sparkle in the darkness, and you wish you could see him clearer, but you don’t miss the way his smirk stays glued on his face.
“You just can’t do that on stage,” you continue on, “What if someone saw you?”
He shrugs, “It was fine Y/N. It was dark, no one can see between the acts,” he sips his whiskey again.
“Well, don’t do it again,” you tell him earnest; the last thing you needed was to get caught up in a scandal when this was your job at the end of the day—crush on Jungkook be damned.
“But I can do it now?” he muses as suddenly he brings the back of his knuckles of his tattooless hand to graze the expanse of your arm.
The immediate rise of goosebumps is embarrassing, and you hope he doesn’t feel them as much as you do. He watches you carefully as your chest gives away your breath picking up. You’d never been more confident in your life that someone wanted you as much as you wanted them. He was giving you signs—c’mon play with me—and so play you would.
You pulled away from his touch, licking your lips before you say, “Dance with me. Then I’ll decide if you can.”
Jungkook’s tongue ran along the inside of his mouth, and you couldn’t hear it, but you could see the way he scoffed in laughter. Finally, after a few seconds of thinking, he nods slowly in response, and you hold out you hand for him. His large hand—soft yet calloused from all his weight-lifting—takes yours and you pull him into the crowded dance floor.
Given the crowd and audience, the risk of anyone knowing who he was under such obscurity was pretty low. There might be a handful of fans in the club, but by the morning, no one would even remember that BTS was amongst the crowd.
Once you found a comfortable spot for both of you to move freely, you dropped Jungkook’s hand and let the rhythm of the music and bass take you over. The high energy was exactly what you needed to get you through whatever was about to transpire with Jungkook. There was going to be no turning back after tonight and you just hoped you weren’t making a mistake.
You and Jungkook get lost in the music and he seriously is such a good dancer—he needed to give himself more credit. You watch each other as you groove through the beats and on occasion, Jungkook does something silly to illicit a laugh out of you. You’ve grown comfortable around him not just on stage, but in moments like this too. All the time spent alone in the hotel gyms over the weeks had paid off. There was a part of you that hoped he felt that way about you too.
You are noticeably drunker when your martini is almost finished and it was nearly instinctual when you turned your body around and danced close to Jungkook’s chest. His touch on your waist suddenly pulled you closer to press yourself against him, but you quickly pushed off of him, giving a look over your shoulder.
“Did I say you could touch me yet?” you retort and you swear Jungkook’s jaw clenched in the strobing lights.
You return to your dancing, hands roaming up and down your sides as the music gets you lost in bliss. At times it feels like your dress might be too short, but if anything, you know Jungkook has to be enjoying the view of your toned legs, so you don’t let it bother you too much. Your body grazes against Jungkook’s chest every so often and it honestly takes a lot of your own restraint to not press yourself against him.
Jungkook only last a couple more minutes before he’s suddenly leaning into your neck, “Y/N, please. I want to feel you against me.”
You meet his gaze at your peripheral vision and the fact you have Jeon Jungkook begging to touch you sends you into overdrive. You bring one of your hands up behind his head, curling your fingers into his soft locks of hair to pull him flush against your frame.
It’s instant the way your skin buzzes and electricity pulses through your veins. The weight of his body on yours feels heavenly and you can only imagine what it would be like to actually have his full weight on top of you. His hands encircle your waist as you move against him and you’re entrapped by him, but you’re right where you want to be.
The two of you continue to dance with each other as the alcohol keeps the courage in you to stay so close to his body. Jungkook’s touch is gentle and he doesn’t roam his hands anywhere inappropriate, but the touch of him alone sends you into overdrive.
As much fun as you were having, you selfishly wanted to have him to yourself in this moment. It was loud and sweaty, and part of you just wanted to talk to him. A casual conversation that always felt so easy with him.
The buzziness of the alcohol in your system is desperately making you crave a different type of buzz. You turn your body to face Jungkook, your hands loosely against his pectoral muscles. You lean into one side of his face and ask;
“Do you have any smokes?”
Jungkook pulls back slightly, giving you a short nod of his head. You nod in return, hoping he picks up your drift. Without thinking about it, you grab one of his hands and lead him towards a back exit of the club. You knew it was the right place as people were coming back inside from smoking their own cigarettes.
As Jungkook followed you into the back alley, there were just a handful of other people around. One group of three smoking and one group of two.
You situate you and him away from the other patrons for privacy. When you turn around, Jungkook is already holding a pack of cigarettes in front of you. You snatch the box from his hand before plucking one out and holding it between your teeth. You quickly pass the box to Jungkook before he switches with a lighter.
You light the cigarette between your lips but notice that Jungkook doesn’t pull out a cigarette for himself.
“You’re not?” you ask after you pull in a drag.
Jungkook watches you as he pockets the box and lighter into his jacket.
He begins to shake his head, “I quit a while ago.”
You give him a funny look as you glance between him and the cigarette in your hand.
“I keep them on me for friend’s sake,” he then explains which you suppose does make sense. Smoking was really only a bad habit you had whilst you were drinking, but many people you knew smoked them regularly.
“Aw, we’re friends?” you ask with a bold, sarcastic drunkenness your sober self would hate.
“Of course,” he returns quickly.
“I don’t know if it’s a good idea to be friends with my boss,” you inhale deep again, the nicotine coating your senses like candy.
Jungkook laughs, his frame directly in front of you and close enough you can still smell him, “Your boss?”
“I mean,” you blow smoke the other direction, “Pretty much, yeah?”
“It’s funny,” he takes a step forward, crowding your space, “I don’t really want to touch my friends like that.”
Your heart stops, the cigarette still burning between your fingertips.
“Like what?”
Jungkook takes another step forward, his eyes roaming from your own down your nose and onto your mouth. You’re frozen in place, mesmerized as he wet his bottom lip. In a ghosting touch, Jungkook’s fingers graze against your chin to hold your face to his.
“Like this,” Jungkook mutters as he leans forward, capturing your lips between his own.
Sirens alarm in your head as the feeling of his skin on yours comes to fruition. He makes a move on his lips, realizing you’ve stood still and haven’t reciprocated. You push past the alarms and close your eyes, molding your lips against his own. Jungkook obliges when you bring one hand around the back of his neck to bring him closer.
He kisses you gently, his lip ring cold as it touches your mouth. You’d always been curious at what that would feel like, though you have other areas of your body you’d prefer to experience it. Jungkook leans in, deepening the kiss as he pushes your body against the brick wall behind you. You’d drop the cigarette out of your hand at some point because you now bring your other hand to his hair, pulling him impossibly closer.
When Jungkook’s tongue grazes your mouth, the whine that escapes the back of your throat is quiet but noticeable. As if jolting to your senses, you suddenly pull away from him, placing your hands on his chest for space.
“Jungkook, we shouldn’t do this,” you whisper as his brown eyes glaze in the dim lighting of the alley. You take a glance towards the other groups and thankfully no one is paying attention to you.
“Why not?” he muses.
“It’s inappropriate,” you try your darndest to control your breathing.
Jungkook gives you a look of grievance, “We’re consenting adults are we not?”
“Don’t try to out logic me,” you narrow your eyes as he lets out a laugh, “You know what I mean.”
“If you really don’t want to, I’ll drop it,” he says, suddenly much more serious, “But I really want to. And I think you do too. If I’m wrong, we can act like this never happened, but if there’s anything for you to know, you’re all I’ve thought about for weeks.”
Your legs shake at his words, unsure if you just heard him correctly. Weeks? He was giving you a way out—a way out of his apparent fantasies about you—yet was still letting you decide where this would end up. The rational part of you knew you needed to drop it; go back inside and act as if this never happened. But the other half of you wanted to dive headfirst consequences be damned, it might be your self’s biggest disservice to deny this man.
“Really?” you ask him.
He nods immediately, “Ever since I met you, I wanted to get to know you more.”
You have to fight a blush, and you glance down at your feet for a second of relief, “And you know a lot about me now?”
Jungkook tilts his head, thinking on it for three seconds, “After the last few weeks, I know a lot about you, but there’s things I still want to know.”
“Like what?” you ask curiously, fighting your mouth wanting to smile so badly.
“Hm,” he pauses, only thinking for just a second, “Like what you look like when you come,” he crowds your space again, your face losing color under his gaze, “More importantly, what you sound like when you come.”
You’re lucky Jungkook is practically holding your frame against the wall because you’re sure had he not, your knees would have given out. Oh my god… this man was so horny for you. And the way his words made your center pulse, you were just as guilty.
Feeling confident in your resolve, you straighten your head to look him in the eyes.
“That could be arranged,” you whisper, “But not here.”
Jungkook smiles and it takes your breath away when he closes the gap on your lips again. He kisses you only momentarily before pulling away.
“Let’s go.”
~
A private driver had taken you both back to the hotel without question soon after that conversation ended. You messaged Sana that you weren’t feeling good and decided to call it a night, though she had yet to respond. You didn’t think much about it knowing she was drunk and having fun—you’d see her tomorrow anyways.
Luckily it was well past midnight, and the hotel was barren minus the staff. A silence had fallen between you and Jungkook as the elevator was taking its sweet time to come down to the first floor.
Your heart was beating out of your chest as you glanced his way. Jungkook was effortlessly attractive and it made your knees weak to think what was about to transpire. He was typing something quickly on his phone before the elevator dinged open. He lets you go first before he steps in behind you quickly pressing the button to the 19th floor.
As you stand in the corner of the elevator, Jungkook only regards you a few inches away. Eye contact could be difficult for you at times, but there was something in the way his brown eyes captivated your own. During shows, you’d found him more frequently finding your gaze and sending you smirks beneath all of the stage lights. Had you really been that bad at reading his signs?
As the elevator approaches his floor, he suddenly reaches out with a hand, fingers running down your exposed arm, to your elbow, and then finally settling in your hand. The elevator once again dings open and Jungkook pulls you out of the confined space to follow him to his room which happens to be a large corner suite at the end of the hallway.
As you step into Jungkook’s room, you’re hit with a soft glow of lamps and the overwhelming scent of him. Even between the sweat and exhaustion on stage and the gym, Jungkook always somehow managed to smell clean. Now being in his room, you realized what he smelled like when he did nothing. Still clean, but fresh and masculine; a slight musk peeking through.
His room was large enough for six people to sleep—the small entrance opened up into a large living room with a cream sectional couch, large TV mounted on the left wall, and even a small kitchenette off to the right. Jungkook was in the process of closing the remainder of the blinds and curtains, but you caught a balcony, too.
“Damn,” you say in disbelief, noticing the separate bedroom off to the left, “I should complain. Sana and I are practically climbing over each other every night.”
Jungkook chuckles, removing his leather jacket and putting it off the side on a table. His black t-shirt is tucked into his pants, and your eyes are immediately drawn to his arm of tattoos.
“Perks of being the, as you call it, boss, I suppose,” he smirks before going over to the kitchenette, “Do you want anything to drink? Water, wine?”
“I’ll have what you’re having,” is what you say, slowly making your way over to the large couch.
A few moments later, Jungkook reappears with two small glasses of white wine before he sits close to your frame on the couch. You quickly thank him, both of you taking small sips. It’s jarring compared to the liquor you had been drinking, but much more refreshing.
“Can I tell you something?” Jungkook suddenly asks leaning back against the sofa as his left arm extends long, fingertips barely touching your shoulder.
You nod, “Of course.”
“I only went out tonight because I knew you’d be there,” he says, his eyes flickering down to your lips.
You fight a smile, “You’re not exactly subtle, huh?”
Jungkook returns one easily, that gorgeous dimple forming on his cheek, “Being subtle wasn’t getting us anywhere.”
“Us?”
He shrugs, “I had a hunch.”
And my god was he right.
The alcohol had worn off mostly in the car ride over, but you still had enough courage to be vulnerable if he was.
“Fine,” you say setting down your wine glass on the coffee table. Jungkook does the same, watching you closely, “Sometimes I really couldn’t sleep, but most of the time, I was only going to the gym every night hoping you were there.”
“See,” he pauses, chewing on his lip ring, “A hunch.”
A momentary silence falls between the two of you, though it’s not uncomfortable at all. As nervous as you were, you felt confident in this very moment. He wanted you just as much as you wanted him. It was rare to find that kind of electric chemistry with someone and every time he glanced over your frame, you had to fight the urge to squirm.
“Well,” you chew on your lip, “Are you finally going to do something about it?”
Jungkook smirks, his fingers now happily caressing your shoulder. His eyes move between your eyes and then your mouth and you can see the way his brown orbs light with fire. He quickly adjusts himself slightly on the couch, leaning closer to your frame.
“Come here,” he whispers and its commanding, dripping in saccharine.
Unable to resist any longer, you obeyed him with ease and leaned towards him. Your eyes fluttered close just as you grazed his lips with your own. Jungkook’s hand moves up to your hair to pull you in, angling your head to deepen the kiss instantly. Your hands find his shoulders, fingertips running over his sculpted muscle.
He guides the kiss—it begins as slow, sensual and exploring and soon after, he’s pulling your body closer by the waist to which your frame straddles his own. Soon after, he dips his tongue into your mouth and as your town touches his as you continue to kiss, there it is—a whine deep in your throat escapes into his mouth.
Jungkook smirks against your lips before he suddenly pulls away, blinking up at you with a drunken, soft haze. Your breathing is heavy as you look down at him, admiring the way his perfect features created such a handsome human being.
“Do you want to do this?” Jungkook suddenly mutters and you feel his hands beginning to move from your waist down to the small of your back, hovering just above your ass.
You nod quick, “Yes,” it nearly sounds desperate.
Jungkook nods, leaning in to place a kiss on your chest right near your left breast, “Good,” another kiss working his way up as his hands make their way down, “If you want me to stop, just say so okay?”
His breath tickles your ear as he kisses just below where you neck and ear meet. Another small whine, you fist a hand into his hair, “Okay,” you agree, though you have a feeling you won’t be wanting to stop at all.
Jungkook’s lips capture your own again and his hands settle on your ass, pulling you directly to sit into his lap. Your pussy was scantily clad with a lacy black thong and once you brushed against his crotch, you could feel his cock swelling in his pants by the second.
Though you were on top of him, he was no doubt fully in control. He kisses you feverishly, a hands squeezing your ass to roll against his pelvis. You don’t fight him as you let him guide your hips over his as his tongue roams your mouth. The friction is small, but your pussy begins to ache with need. Despite the way your heart races, he keeps a heavy yet steady rhythm tilting his head to the side to deep your kiss.
“What’s your favorite way to come?” his voice is husky as he pulls away, looking up at you through his lashes.
You feel your face get hot at the question, but you answer him honestly—“When someone gives me head.”
Jungkook smiles, as if he satisfied with that answer. Suddenly, he pushes you off of him and makes his way to lay on top of you on the couch. Your leg’s part open for him easily as you make room, though your lips have stayed connected the whole time. He pulls away, his lips now tracing down your neck and exposed chest. The dress did make your boobs look insanely good and you knew Jungkook was enjoying it too as he squeezed your right breast on top of the fabric.
The dress had already ridden up to your hips and as Jungkook pulled away, his eyes immediately go between your legs. His gaze looks your way for only a second before he decides to remove himself from the couch. Confused as he moves you to the side and until he positions himself on his knees, you understood what his intentions were.
“I’ve wanted to do this,” a kiss to your thigh, “For so long,” a kiss to the other as he makes his way to your center. He spreads your lips a little wider and you know you’re already soaking wet just by looking at him between your legs on his knees like this.
He pushes the remainder of your dress up your hips, exposing the lace you wore. A smirk crosses Jungkook’s face before he leans in, placing a kiss between your pelvis and leg. He does it again on the other leg, but this time, his teeth start to take the flimsy fabric with him.
You lift your hips instinctually to help him as he pulls them down your legs. He uses his hands to fully remove once he gets them close to your knees. You can’t help but roll your eyes when you watch him pocket the panties into his pants. He gives you a short laugh before leans between your legs and you whine again in anticipation.
He large hands run smoothly up and down your thighs as he admires what lies between them. Gently, he suddenly maneuvers one of your legs to fall over his left shoulder to spread you further open. Between his delicate tattooed grip on your thigh, and the small kisses he places trailing up your exposed leg, you feel as if you might combust.
“God you’re so beautiful,” an open mouth kiss right where your hip meets your thigh, “So fucking pretty.”
When his mouth touches your pussy, your toes immediately curl beneath you. He doesn’t waste any time as he begins to make out with your pussy. His tongue forks between your folds, gliding up towards your clit with ease. It’s wet and hot, and the moans shortly begin to work past your mouth.
His hands grip around your thighs and widens the space between your legs even further. You’ve put a hand on his head to keep him in place as you can’t help but lean back into the couch a little bit, hips canting towards his face.
“Shit,” you curse as he suddenly switches between licking and sucking on your clit. The pleasure is fast and you could die right here, and it could be the best moment of your life. His lip ring at first felt cold, but it soon enmeshed with your own body temperature.
You begin to grind against his face and you’re unable to stop the moans and whines that escape your lips. He’s so good at this—you couldn’t believe you thought about ever denying him. He licks and sucks, tongue dipping inside you every so often and soon enough, you feel the familiar wave of an orgasm building in your core. It’d be so long since you had been with someone since being on tour. Getting yourself off and having a permanent hotel roommate was hard.
“Fuck Jungkook,” you whisper, “I’m going co—”
The orgasm hits you before you could even finish your sentence, harsh moans and groans eliciting from your throat. Jungkook rides you through it on his tongue and it washes over your body in waves. He only stops his motions once you push his head away as overstimulation begins to replace pleasure.
His gaze is ethereally intense as he glances up at you. His lips are glistening with yourself and it’s the hottest thing you’ve ever seen in your entire days on earth.
“Holy shit,” you whisper as he pushes himself up from your center.
He leans in, pecking your lips, “Was that okay?”
You nod, “Yes, oh my god, yes,” you chase his lips again, unafraid of tasting yourself on his lips.
You kiss each other forcefully once again before Jungkook starts to pull you up from the couch and its only then you realize you’re still wearing your heels. You bend down to take them off, but Jungkook quickly stops you.
“No,” he demands, “Keep them on.”
You bite your lip, nodding, eager to please and obey him. His hand finds your own and he pulls you towards the direction of the bedroom. Your knees are still wobbly from the orgasm, but once your eyes roam to the made bed, wobbles are replaced with tingles of anticipation.
You watch Jungkook’s back as he leads you over to the bed. He motions you to sit down on the edge before he moves to take off his shirt, quickly folding it and throwing it on top of an opened suitcase in the corner. He approaches you again closely; watching the way his abdominals contract with each movement, watching the way his tattoos color his entire arm and onto his chest.
“Take this off,” he says, referring to the dress clinging to your body.
You reach around to remove it, but you pause, looking up at him between your legs, “There’s a zipper. Can you help me?”
Sure, you could easily access the zipper yourself, but what’s the fun in that? Jungkook smirks as you tell him where the zipper is, and you soon let out a yelp when he flips you around on the bed to your hands and knees. He laughs playfully you can’t help but smile into the sheets. Aggressive and playful was your favorite combination.
His large hands find the zipper of your dress and as he unzips it, you undo the haltered neck. While still being careful, he yanks the dress down, leaving you naked in front of him minus the heels that remain on your feet.
“Fucking hell Y/N, you’re so sexy,” Jungkook says from behind as he admires your naked muscles and curves.
You glance over your shoulder to find him unzipping his pants, pushing them down his hips as he pulls his cock from his briefs. Your mouth slightly drops when you see the size of him as he strokes himself a few times.
“I want to suck your dick,” you exasperate watching him carefully as a playful smirk crosses his lips.
“Not yet baby,” he shakes his head, “This is about you right now.”
You fight back a blush with his words, biting your lip as he steps closer to you, his cock hard and ready to stuff you full.
“Fuck your pussy is so perfect,” he mutters as one of his hands disappear between your folds.
You groan at the contact, pussy now throbbing to be filled up by his large cock. You push your hips back to signal exactly what you want, but he only continues to slide up and down your slit, coating yourself with your own slickness.
He allows himself to dip one finger in you experimentally before adding a second digit to curl against your insides. You moan, fisting the sheets beneath your hands. With your ass still up, Jungkook squeezes it proudly as he starts to fuck you with his fingers. You’re so wet for him that it’s frictionless; gliding in and out of you with ease, your pussy continuing to ache thinking about his cock filling you up.
“Shit,” he groans, “You’re so wet Y/N. All for me baby?”
“Yes, yes,” you realize you are desperate now, “Just for you.”
His fingers suddenly exit your dripping cunt, and you feel him flush against you. You turn your eyes to see him still stroking himself as he meets your gaze.
“Do I need to use a condom?” he asks and it looks as if it’s painful for him not just shove himself inside you right now.
“I-I have an IUD,” you manage to say somewhat coherently.
He pushes again, “So you’re okay with this?”
He squeezes his bare cock in a way that makes you whine, “Yes, Jungkook yes. Please.”
Jungkook bites his lip ring as he deigns to your request. His thick tip brushes against your folds and you inhale a deep breath to brace yourself.
“Relax baby, it’s okay, you can take it,” he encourages.
Jungkook begins to push inside you and your jaw slacks as his size. Inch by inch, he’s slow and controlled, not wanting to hurt or make you uncomfortable. You can barely keep yourself up on your hands, your fingers gripping the duvet for stability.
“Jungkook oh my god,” you say as you feel him bottom completely out, his pelvis flush against your ass.
“Shit Y/N, you’re so tight,” he appreciates your warmth, his head throwing back for a moment. He stays here for a moment longer than you’d like and now you’re not afraid to ask for what you want.
“Jungkook please, fuck me,” you tell him, the most demanding you had been all night.
Lucky for you, he obliges and begins to pull himself out of your wet pussy but thrusts back in soon after. He’s angled deep and you moan each time he renters. He begins slow to get you used to his size, but his pace picks up a few minutes later which has you so sensitive, you have to drop to your elbows. Jungkook pushes your lower back down as he starts to pick up his pace even faster.
As he fucks you from behind, your moans begin to intertwine with his groans as he finds that extra sensitive spot inside you. Your body sets aflame when he suddenly brings a hand to slap your ass once, then twice, hard and controlled. The skin stings in its wake but you ask him for a third which he obliges.
“Goddamn Y/N,” he groans as his hands now hold your waist from behind, picking up his pace to fuck even somehow even harder. “You’re so perfect, my god—pussy just so perfect baby.”
Jungkook is so big and you’re so full that you can barely speak. As he brushes against your spot, you feel the semblance of another orgasm brewing. In one quick motion, Jungkook suddenly yanks your entire body upward to press your back against his chest to pound you from a new angle. A strong hand holds up your frame, squeezing your left breast with his tattooed arm, his other hand finding its way to your throat.
“Fuck,” Jungkook groans into your ear as you wind a hand around to grip his hair from behind.
The air in your lungs constricts in his grip but god does it feel unreal to have him bury himself inside of you like this. Jungkook’s lips and tongue play with your neck and on occasion, he nips at your skin, light pressure from his teeth sending chills down your spine as the pleasure only increases each second. Jungkook only keeps you in this position for another minute or so before he lets you go, shoving your front back down to the bed.
Cheek in the mattress, Jungkook suddenly pulls out and you’re all too empty. Only confused for a second, Jungkook suddenly flips you around and pulls you close to the edge of the bed.
He discards the remainder of his pants and underwear, positioning himself between your legs, he suddenly leans down and places a chaste, longing kiss on your lips.
“You okay?” he asks, fisting a hand into your hair.
You find his consistent checking in sweet, endearing—such a stark contrast to the kind of fucker he was proving himself to be. You nod giving him the reassurance he needs before your lips meet once again, tongues intertwining as you can still taste the remnants of yourself on him.
Jungkook pulls away from you parting your legs to find your center with his cock once again. Before he pushes all the way in, he suddenly lifts your left leg up using your flexibility as a dancer to his advantage to plunge into your pussy even deeper. He kisses your ankle as he starts to fuck you once again and you’re seeing stars.
Your moans fill up the room once again and Jungkook is fighting his own as he watches himself disappear inside and out of you. Despite his own euphoria, he’s clearly only focused on you as he suddenly wets his thumb before he begins to rub for your clit as you’re spread wide for him.
“Shit, Jungkook just like that,” you whine at the contact. Your tits bounce as he fucks you raw and hard, your hip straining against itself as he still holds you open, his hand gripping your skin roughly.
“You take me so fucking well. I always knew you could, always dreamed about this,” he’s rambling but fuck it does something to you as you feel your orgasm approaching faster than you could stop it.
The second orgasm shatters through your body and you nearly scream as it pulsates your senses. It might be the strongest orgasm you’ve ever had, and you feel an overwhelming sense of emotions run through you. Your body and mind on fire, unable to quiet yourself. You’re squirming underneath him and Jungkook suddenly releases your leg as you fight the overstimulation.
“Jungkook fuck it’s too much,” tears spring in the corners of your eyes as ecstasy fills your entire body, though you make no effort to push him away from you.
“I know baby, you can take it,” he says but soon slows his pace, “Scoot up the bed,” he commands in a hefty, lust-driven tone.
Of course, you oblige without question, and he chases your frame to hover above you, caging you in between his arms. Using one hand, he pushes his cock back inside you to which he slips in easily from the aftereffects from your orgasm. Your pussy is still sensitive, but you take him eagerly once again, squeezing as he reaches the hilt.
As much as pleasure wants you to close your eyes, when you find his gaze looking at you, you’re unable to look away. Your hands make way to his hair, pulling along the strands as he fucks you restlessly from this angle; skin on skin slapping with the force of hips. Your legs wrap around him, and he suddenly catches you off guard as he captures your lips with his own.
Despite the roughness of his fucking, he kisses you heavily with a passion you’d never experienced before. His tongue plays with your own and you hear the way his breathing changes as his groans turn more into soft whines in your mouth.
“Shit Y/N, I’m going to come soon,” he whispers against your mouth as you hold him close.
“I want you to come for me,” you encourage, nodding up at him, “Come inside of me Jungkook please.”
Jungkook crashes his lips against yours once more as his pace suddenly turns brutal as he chases his high. Your pussy is aching as it clinches against his hard length and it seemingly does the job as Jungkook suddenly announces he’s coming, a mix of moans and groans into your mouth as he slows down his thrusts.
Again, you and Jungkook share another kiss that feels a little too intimate for the situation at hand. He holds onto you just as tight as you hold onto him as he softens inside of you before he pulls out completely. Suddenly you feel a little too hollow, though his grip in your hair grounds you.
He pulls away, caressing hair away from your forehead, “That was amazing,” he admires the sweat built up on your face, “You’re amazing.”
“Thank you,” you give him a smile as you do the same, brushing some of his sweaty hair back from his forehead.
Before he rolls off of you, he gives you one more kiss. When he pulls away, he suddenly gets up from the bed quickly, your eyes only following his frame as you try to catch your breath. He disappears only for a moment before he comes back with a small towel.
He sits on his knees in front of you, widening your legs to clean you up gently. Once he’s done with the towel, his eyes drop to the black heels which have remained on your feet the entire time. He snickers before grabbing your left foot, undoing the laces that climb up your ankles. With one shoe off, he kisses the inside of your ankle before moving to your right foot.
“Foot fetish, huh?” you tease him as he removes your second shoe.
He glances, meeting your gaze before a smirk spreads across his face, “Why? Do I need to?”
Both of you laugh and you kick his side playfully before he finally lays back down beside you. He keeps his grip tight on you as he pulls you close to his side. You rest your head on his shoulder, hand coming to rest on top of his chest tattoo.
As blissful as the moment was, your mind (and heart) was racing. You glance up and Jungkook is already looking at you, his fingers brushing against your scalp.
“What?” you ask him, fighting the heat that wants to rise to your cheeks under his doe-eyed gaze.
He shrugs lazily, “I meant it… that was incredible.”
You look away, not embarrassed by the praise but just unable to keep his intense eye contact.
“What time is it?” you ask. The room is now quiet and it’s not uncomfortable, but you weren’t sure where to go from here.
Jungkook gives you a confused look before chuckling, “Does it matter?”
You hesitantly push yourself up from his chest, clutching the sheet to your chest, “I should probably get back to my room.”
Jungkook is quick to reach out and grab your arm, “What? No,” he caresses your skin gently, “Stay with me tonight.”
The words take you aback. His big eyes are fucked out and tired, but they look at you with an admiration and beauty you haven’t experienced in a long time.
“A-are you sure?” you ask him, still maintaining the distance between you two, “I don’t know if I should,” you tell him truthfully.
He moves his hand up to your shoulder, his eyebrows furrowing in disappointment, “Don’t do this now, Y/N,” he shakes his head, “I want you here. Sure, we just had amazing sex, but I want to get more than that out of you.”
“Really?” you retort, your body relaxing at his words.
“Yes, of course,” he pauses, licking his lips, “I like you a lot Y/N… please, stay.”
“But Jungkook,” your fingernails have now begun tracing the intricate pattern of his chest tattoo, “What about the tour? We technically work together—”
“I know Y/N,” he interrupts gently, his hand coming up to find the one on his chest, “And I know the risks, but I think you could be worth it. We’ll talk about anything you want to tomorrow, alright? I promise. Just stay with me tonight.”
As you gaze down at this beautiful man, your heart swells in your chest. You’d been so nervous to cross this bridge with him, but it seemed he was willing to help you across the way in any shape or form.
You give him a small smile before nodding, laying back down beside him in the crook of his arm.
“You’re very persuasive,” you mutter and he chuckles underneath your touch.
Jungkook suddenly pushes you on your back, “Good, because I wasn’t done with you anyways.”
Your laugh his captured between his lips as he crawls back on top of you.
~
The next morning had been rough from the alcohol and late-night shenanigans with Jungkook, but he had made it slightly better by getting you two coffee and giving you two more orgasms before 11 AM. There was a scheduled two-and-a-half-week break until the next show of the tour on a different continent. Jungkook invited you to spend it with him at his home back in Seoul. Initially you thought the request was crazy, but after that second orgasm, you’d realize you would be stupid not to go with him.
As you finally make your way back to your own hotel room to pack up and switch your departing flight to Seoul, Sana nearly jumps you as you cross the threshold.
“Oh my god! Where have you been and please tell me it’s where I think you’ve been?!”
You can’t hold in your laughter and fire heating your cheeks as you hold your hands up, “Guilty.”
Sana jumps up and gives you the biggest hug you’ve ever had from her, squealing in solidarity.
“Oh my god!” she says, “How was it? How big is he? Are you doing it again?”
You push her away and roll your eyes, “Wouldn’t you like to know,” you stick your tongue out at her, “But I may or may not be spending the next two-week break with him in Seoul.”
Sana’s jaw slacks open at the revelation, “What?!”
You nod, realizing how insane it sounds out loud, but you knew there was something between you two that needed to be explored, and not just in the confines of a hotel with every member, staff, and dancer on the tour.
Sana begins to clap, clearly amused, “Damn… your vagina must have powers.”
You let out a guttural laugh and as much as you wanted to push away the comment, you couldn’t help but shrug your shoulders, resigning her words.
You give her a smile, shrugging nonchalantly. Suddenly, your phone buzzes in your hand and it’s a message from Jungkook.
[Jeon Jungkook] i miss you already 😔
You quickly reply.
[You] I left 10 minutes ago…
[Jeon Jungkook] exactly… it’s been too long
You glance back up Sana who looks at you with bewilderment.
↳ summary: ten years of platonic safety, completely incinerated over cold kitchen marble. a frantic morning-after argument about a drunken confession turns into a dangerous game of chicken. you think you're being the smart one, desperately trying to protect a decade-long friendship from total wreckage—until a single, devastating kiss proves that neither of you can afford to stay just friends anymore.
↳ friends to lovers!au;
↳ pairing: idol!jeongguk x f!reader
↳ warnings: shameless smut, heavy praise and unprotected oral. features a completely undone, whiny, and pathetically submissive jeongguk who is brought entirely to his knees, begging for a taste before fucking you through his own overstimulation. brace yourselves........ :)
↳ word count: 13.1 k
a/n: this is actually my first ever request. here is the the original ask! the person who requested didn't reply anymore, so i took it upon myself to just run with it—yay for creative freedom and what not. hopefully i delivered question mark?
i’m a bit anxious about this ngl since it is a bit out of my comfort area so please lmk your thoughts :')
we absolutely love subkoo propaganda in this house. though i must admit, i could've made him even more sub, but baby steps am i right?
—
ONE SHOT
STARRING JEONGGUK
You’re very good at making bad decisions.
You and Jeongguk have been friends for a very long time. Platonic friends, of course. The kind of bond forged in the messy, unfiltered trenches of youth long before the rest of the world decided he belonged to them.
You remember every single time he’s been there for you, steady as an anchor. He was the one who sat on the kitchen counter at three in the morning, quietly listening to you cry over a brutal breakup, holding the pint of melting ice cream while you ranted. He was the one who dragged his exhausted body out of bed in the dead of winter just to jump-start your dead car battery, completely uncomplaining as his hands turned bright red in the freezing air. When you failed that massive university exam, he didn't offer empty platitudes; he just showed up at your door with a bag of cheap convenience store snacks and your favorite video game, sitting in silence with you until the heavy cloud in your chest lifted.
And you’ve been there for him just as fiercely. You were the one who held his hair back in a cramped, dimly lit bathroom after he drank way too much at a party, rubbing his back while he muttered pathetic apologies. You were the one who helped him pack up his entire life into mismatched cardboard boxes when he finally left his small hometown, taping the edges shut while he nervously paced the room. You even let him experiment on you with a box of cheap, questionable hair dye on a random Tuesday, resulting in a green-stained forehead and a frantic midnight run to a 24-hour pharmacy, laughing so hard your stomachs ached in the fluorescent aisles.
However, you didn't take into account that he would get famous at some point. Obviously, he had all the cards to do so, you weren't blind.
He’s attractive. He’s sweet. He has a good heart that bleeds through everything he touches.
And then there are the physical realities you've forced yourself to ignore for years. He has impeccable, impeccable hands—veiny, strong, and large enough to completely swallow yours. He has a fiercely toned body, hardened by years of relentless dance practice and gym sessions, a sharp contrast to the gentle soul inside him. And, of course, those sweet, round eyes you melt for every single time he looks up at you, completely disarming whatever defenses you try to build.
So when he texted you saying he was back home for a little while before heading out on the massive world tour again, of course you said yes.
Why would you not? He was your best friend.
Except you completely forgot that during his brief stints of downtime, Jeongguk had a tendency to pick up hyper-fixated new hobbies. Which is exactly how you found yourself standing in the doorway of his private garage, completely frozen.
He was entirely underneath the chassis of a sleek, vintage car, legs sprawling out across the concrete floor. He was straining against a stubborn bolt, and the physical effort caused his dark t-shirt to ride up drastically, exposing a wide strip of his lower abdomen.
Your eyes trapped themselves right there, staring directly at his happy trail. It was a sharp, dark line of hair cutting perfectly across his toned stomach, disappearing straight into the low waistband of his grey sweatpants.
Avert your gaze? Maybe you should. You absolutely had to.
Instead, a stray, dangerous thought crossed your mind, wondering exactly where that trail led and if it really was a happy place. You would certainly guess so, taking into account the sheer volume of women who willingly flung themselves at him daily on global television.
Jeongguk, meanwhile, was acutely aware of the shift in the room's atmosphere the second you walked in. From his vantage point beneath the metal frame, he heard your footsteps halt. He could feel the phantom heat of your eyes burning into his exposed skin. His heart did a violent flip in his chest, his fingers tightening around his wrench. He purposely stayed still for a beat longer than necessary, his breath hitching, secretly thrilled by the weight of your undivided attention.
To break the suffocating silence, you finally spoke, semi-yelling over the clinking of his tools, "Yo! Koo, what the fuck are you doing?"
Hearing your voice, Jeongguk finally kicked against the floor, sliding himself out from under the car on his mechanic's creeper.
When he fully emerged, the sight of him made your throat go completely dry. He had grease smudged across his jaw, a dirty shirt clinging to his frame, and a sweaty forehead. A few moist, dark hair strands were sticking directly to his skin, and the tiny silver hoop of his lip piercing glinted sharply in the garage lighting.
You gulped. Hard. Maybe it was just because you hadn't seen him in a while, or maybe it was because the platonic shield you usually wore was rapidly cracking to pieces.
Jeongguk blinked up at you, tracking the slight bob of your throat as you swallowed. A quiet wave of satisfaction washed over him, melting his internal nerves into something warm and soft. He let his head fall back slightly, looking up at you through his lashes with the sweetest, most innocent smile he could muster.
"Hi," he replied softly, his voice a low, raspy rumble that did absolutely nothing to help your racing pulse.
He laughed, a bright, breathless sound, and stepped toward you with his arms wide open. It was clear he wanted nothing more than to throw his arms around you after being separated by a massive ocean for months, but you immediately took a sharp step back, hands raised in a defensive barrier.
"Don't even think about it," you warned, eyeing the black grease smudged across his arms. "I am not getting engine oil all over my clothes."
Jeongguk paused, his arms still half-extended, his lips pouting into a familiar, dramatic frown. "So?" he asked, tilting his head with an entitled little whine. "It's just a shirt. I haven't seen you in forever."
Before you could reiterate that you actually liked your outfit, he reached down, gripped the hem of his dark t-shirt, and pulled it over his head in one fluid, practiced motion. Your breath caught awkwardly in your throat. Now, the toned lines of his chest and abdomen were fully on display, glistening with a light sheen of sweat under the garage lights. He didn't even seem to notice your sudden internal panic as he casually crumpled the expensive fabric into a ball, using it as a makeshift rag to roughly wipe the grease off his hands.
Tossing the ruined shirt onto a nearby tool stool, he stepped right back into your space. "Better?" he murmured, a cheeky, triumphant grin spreading across his face before he locked his bare, warm arms securely around your waist, pulling you flush against him.
You let out a defeated sigh, but you didn't pull away. You hugged him back, burying your face against the warm crook of his shoulder, the familiar, comforting scent of him cutting right through the sharp smell of gasoline and metal.
If you were being 100% honest with yourself, you did have a crush on him. You had been harboring a crush on him for a very long time.
You just never vocalized it. To you, it was always safer to remain a constant, unshakeable variable in his chaotic life rather than risk ruining something so irreplaceable. All of his past relationships had eventually crashed and burned, a pattern that only grew worse once global fame started violently colliding with his love life and relentless schedules. You had absolutely no intention of losing Jeongguk to a stupid, juvenile crush you’d developed nearly ten years ago—all because he’d sweetly given you his last cherry popsicle on a scorching summer afternoon.
Jeongguk squeezed you a little tighter before finally releasing you, though his hands lingered on your arms for a beat too long. "I want to throw a party tonight," he announced, his round eyes shining with genuine excitement as he swiped a damp strand of hair from his forehead. "Just like old times. I want to actually have fun without a million eyes on me."
You raised an eyebrow, crossing your arms. "Oh? Tell me about it. Who are we inviting?"
"Only old friends," he said instantly, his tone turning protective. "Nobody new. Nobody with a hidden motive or a vendetta. Just the people who knew me before... all of this."
You smirked, a teasing glint in your eyes as you nudged his bare shoulder. "What, so you didn't bring any international flings home with you in first class?"
Jeongguk let out a self-deprecating laugh, shaking his head as he ran a hand through his messy hair. "No way. I'm going girl-sober for a while. Women completely fuck up my senses."
He wasn't lying, and you knew it. Jeongguk was a hopeless, unapologetic serial romantic. He was a boy who loved with his entire soul, completely incapable of doing anything casual even if his life depended on it. It was his ultimate Achilles' heel. He wore his heart so openly on his sleeve, entirely defenseless, and people always seemed to have other, more transactional plans for it.
"Girl-sober, huh?" you echoed, trying to ignore the sudden, dangerous flutter in your stomach at his words. "Let's see how long that actually lasts."
"Oh, it will last," Jeongguk said, his tone dropping into a quieter, more deliberate register as he looked down at you. "You'll make sure of it."
You blinked, momentarily losing your train of thought as your eyes tracked a stray bead of sweat rolling down his collarbone. "Pardon?"
"You’re the only one I can trust with my heart right now," he explained smoothly, a completely earnest, unguarded look washing over his features. He stepped a fraction closer, the heat radiating off his bare chest practically enveloping you. "So, yes. You. Making sure no one is hurting your super hot friend."
Your knees almost buckled right there on the oil-stained concrete.
Super hot?
Did he just casually drop that into conversation like he hadn't spent the last ten years being your dorky, platonic sidekick? Before you could even formulate a coherent response, Jeongguk caught the sudden shock on your face. A playful, slightly teasing glint sparked in his dark eyes, his lips tilting up at the corners.
"Am I not?" he challenged softly, tilting his head as if genuinely waiting for your assessment.
You swallowed hard, your mind scrambling to put the platonic walls back up before he noticed how fast your heart was beating. "I plead the fifth."
Jeongguk let out a breathy, dramatic groan, throwing his head back before looking down at you through his lashes. "God, Y/N, you’re so dramatic. I can openly say you’re hot."
Your brain completely short-circuited. "Sorry?"
"What?" He shrugged his shoulders, completely unfazed by the bomb he’d just dropped in the middle of his garage. "It’s not like it’s federal information. You’re attractive, I’m attractive. You should be able to speak open truths."
You gulped again, the sound loud in your own ears as you looked anywhere but at the hard lines of his chest. "Fine," you grumbled, forcing the words past your lips like a confession under interrogation. "You’re hot. Happy?"
Jeongguk’s playful smirk instantly vanished, replaced by a dramatic, exaggerated pout. He whined, the sound high and petulant, as he crossed his arms over his chest. "No, see? Now I don't even want it anymore if you don't actually believe it."
You let out a sharp scoff, throwing your hands up in disbelief. "Where the hell is that coming from?"
"I'm serious," he insisted, his voice dropping into a quieter, more vulnerable register. He stepped a fraction closer, his shoes almost touching the tips of yours. He looked down at you, completely stripped of his usual idol persona. "I don't want you to say things just because I want to hear them. I have enough people in my life for that,Y/N. Millions of them. I don't need it from you."
The sudden, raw honesty of his words hit you like a physical weight. You looked up, meeting his gaze, and swear his eyes just got ten times more sparkly and round, shimmering with a sudden, intense vulnerability.
He was practically vibrating with the unspoken urge to be perceived, truly perceived, by the only person whose opinion actually mattered to him.
The platonic armor you’d spent so long building suddenly felt paper-thin. You let out a soft sigh, reaching out to gently tap his bare chest, right over his racing heart.
"Jeongguk," you said, your voice softening, holding his gaze so he knew you meant it. "You're hot. I'm not just saying it."
The second the words left your mouth, the heavy tension broke. A massive, radiant grin split across his face, his eyes crinkling at the corners into those familiar, endearing crescent shapes.
"Thank you," he sang out in a sweet, sing-song voice, practically beaming as he swayed his shoulders from side to side like a praised toddler. The transition from a brooding, shirtless man to a needy, praise-hungry boy was so fast it made your head spin, leaving you entirely at the mercy of whatever games he was playing with your heart.
You spent the whole afternoon prepping for the said party. You were beyond glad for his shiny black card, which you used with zero remorse. It could buy the good alcohol—the top-shelf stuff his agency normally rationed him on—along with an obscene mountain of incredible snacks that you knew you would half-demolish before the guests even knocked on the door. You had bags of high-end chips, imported chocolates, and savory finger foods piled high on his marble kitchen counters, casually stealing a handful of pretzels every time you walked by.
His apartment was massive, but it was also quite dark. He had a penchant for heavy, blackout curtains and moody industrial architecture, and you laughed a ton when you tried to string up some extra LED lights around the living room and hallways. You muttered to yourself while balancing on a stool, desperately trying to ensure people wouldn't step on each other's toes in the pitch-black tomb of his very boy-coded apartment.
It was a chaotic mix of state-of-the-art gaming rigs, massive speakers, random workout equipment in the corner, and a giant plush couch that screamed bachelor pad.
His bedroom, however, was strictly off-limits. Locked and closed for the public.
As you passed the heavy wood door on your way to the bathroom, you paused. You hadn't been inside his room in a long way, and your mind naturally began to wander, curiosity pricking at your chest. You started to wonder how it had changed from the last time you were there, back when it was just a messy pile of clothes and a mattress on the floor. Now, as even a more famous star than he was at the start, did he have silk sheets? A massive canopy bed?
More dangerously, you started to wonder what women had seen those sheets. Which faces had looked up at him in the dark?
At last, you forcefully pushed the burning thought aside, shaking your head to clear the sudden spike of jealousy. It didn't matter. You had a job to do, and besides, the guests were finally starting to arrive.
The heavy front door clicked open, and the quiet tomb of his apartment was instantly flooded with chatter and laughter as his oldest childhood friends spilled into the entryway. Jeongguk was already standing by the kitchen island, the grease long washed from his skin, replaced by a soft, oversized black sweater and a fresh scent. He’d clearly been anticipating the social buffering, because by the time the first three people crossed the threshold, Jeongguk had already thrown back two heavy shots of tequila.
His round eyes were already bright and crinkling with a loose, alcohol-fueled warmth.
Throwing his hands into the air, his silver lip piercing catching the glow of the newly strung lights, he yelled at the top of his lungs, "Welcome, party people!"
The room erupted into cheers, his friends rushing forward to swarm him, throwing arms around his broad shoulders and pulling him into a chaotic huddle of loud greetings and deep belly laughs. From across the room, you leaned against the kitchen counter, watching him instantly dissolve back into the boy he used to be, completely shielded from the crushing weight of his global fame by the people who loved him first.
The party shifted into high gear with the easy, unpretentious noise of people who had nothing to prove to each other. In the hazy glow of the blue and purple lights, the living room felt less like a celebrity’s multi-million dollar fortress and more like a time capsule.
"I’m just saying," Jin-woo, one of Jeongguk’s oldest friends from his hometown, gestured wildly with a half-eaten chip, "If a zombie apocalypse happens right now, Koo is the first to die. He’s too polite. He’d try to bow to a zombie before kicking it."
"No way!" Jeongguk protested, his voice a little too loud, a little too slurred as he leaned heavily against the back of the plush couch. He poured himself another shot of tequila, his hand shaking just enough that a few drops splashed onto his knuckles. "I have muscle memory now. I’d do a 360-kick. Boom. Dead zombie."
"You'd cry if you got blood on your designer shoes," you chimed in from the kitchen island, swirling the ice cubes in your cup.
Jeongguk’s head snapped toward you instantly. His sweet, round eyes were heavily hooded, a dark, glossy sheen over them as he tracked your movement. A soft, lazy smile spread across his face, his silver lip piercing catching the strobe of the lights. "Y/N... you’re supposed to be on my side. Always."
"I am on your side. I'm just realistic," you laughed, taking a slow sip.
You were barely on your second glass of vodka cranberry, the tart liquid still mostly full as you paced yourself. You had to. Someone needed to keep an eye on the house, and more importantly, someone needed to keep an eye on him.
Jeongguk, on the other hand, was throwing them back like water. The pressure of the upcoming tour, the suffocating nature of his daily life—it was all bleeding out of him in the form of liquid courage. He was drinking to forget the idol.
An hour later, the loud, stupid arguments dissolved into the inevitable late-night deep talk. Three of his friends were sprawled on the floor, debating the existence of aliens, while Jin-woo had moved onto the balcony for a smoke.
Jeongguk somehow navigated his way over to you, his shoulders bumping into yours as he leaned heavily against the kitchen counter. He smelled like expensive cologne and sharp alcohol.
"You're barely drinking," he murmured, his voice dropping into that low, raspy rumble that always made your stomach do backflips. He reached out, his large hand wrapping around your wrist, his thumb casually brushing against your pulse point. His touch was warm, heavy, and intentionally lingering.
"Someone has to make sure you don't break your own furniture," you teased gently, though your heart was suddenly hammering against your ribs. "How many shots is that now? Five? Six?"
"Doesn't matter," he whispered, stepping a fraction closer, completely ignoring the chatter of his friends just twenty feet away. He looked down at you, his large eyes shimmering under the dim kitchen lights. "Everything feels... too loud out there, Y/N. But when I look at you, it stops."
Your breath hitched.
"Jeongguk, you're drunk," you whispered back, trying to maintain the boundary, trying not to let your ten-year-old crush completely take over.
"I am," he admitted softly, his grip on your wrist tightening just a fraction as he leaned his forehead down, almost touching your shoulder. It was that physical surrender again—putting himself entirely in your space, begging you without words to hold him together. "But I'm only brave when the sun goes down. You know that. Stay 'til sunrise. Please."
"Fine," you sighed, trying to ignore the frantic pounding in your chest as you gently patted his broad, sweater-clad shoulder. "But you’re taking the couch tonight, Koo. I’m not carrying you anywhere."
A soft, breathy laugh left his throat, and before you could even brace yourself, Jeongguk leaned in. He pressed his lips firmly against your temple, a lingering, warm pressure that smelled faintly of tequila and mint. "Thank you," he murmured against your skin, a string of another quiet, drunken thank yous spilling out of his mouth as he finally pulled back.
You stood there, entirely frozen, your brain struggling to process how to function normally. Those sweet, tactile gestures of his had remained exactly the same over the last decade. It was just a temple kiss. It was the kind of thing he’d done a hundred times when you were younger, yet now, with his shoulders framing you and his deep voice vibrating in his chest, it rattled you down to your very core.
Before you could spiral any further into your own head, Hana—one of Jin-woo’s louder cousins who had tagged along—yelled from the living room floor, clapping her hands together to get everyone's attention.
"Hey! Enough with the alien talk," Hana shouted, swirling the ice in her cup. "We should play something actually fun. Like truth or dare... or better yet, truth or drink!"
The room instantly erupted into murmurs of agreement, but nobody moved faster than Jeongguk. His face lit up, his round eyes wide and sparkling under the blue LED's as he practically jumped at the opportunity to drink more.
"Truth or drink," Jeongguk cheered, his voice loose and excited as he pushed off the kitchen counter. He grabbed the half-empty bottle of top-shelf tequila by the neck, giving you a quick, triumphant look over his shoulder. "Yes. Let's do it. I'm choosing drink every single damn time, I don't care."
He stumbled slightly as he made his way to the center of the room, dropping heavily onto the plush rug right in the middle of the circle, looking up at everyone like a kid waiting for a game to start. He was already so completely undone, and as you walked over to join the circle with your barely touched vodka cranberry, a sudden, heavy wave of anticipation settled deep in your stomach.
You knew exactly how Jeongguk played games when he was like this. He was honest to a fault, but tonight, with the alcohol running warm through his veins he might start being too honest.
The bottle of tequila sat right in the center of the hardwood floor, spinning rapidly under the flashing lights until it slowed down, its neck pointing directly at Jin-woo.
"Alright, alright," Jin-woo grinned, leaning forward on his knees. He looked across the circle at Jeongguk, who was sitting cross-legged, a little loopy, swaying slightly to the music. "Koo. First round. Truth or drink. What is the absolute worst thing about being a global superstar? Give us the real dirt."
You expected Jeongguk to reach for his cup immediately. His agency spent millions of dollars training him to handle questions like this with perfectly polished, diplomatic answers. Instead, Jeongguk just let out a soft, hazy laugh, his eyes dropping to his hands.
"The loneliness," he said, the sheer honesty of his voice cutting right through the lighthearted party atmosphere. The circle went quiet. Jeongguk looked up, his round eyes wide and entirely undisguised by his usual idol armor. "You think you're surrounded by the world, but when the stage lights go off, you're just sitting alone in a sterile hotel room in a country where you don't speak the language, wondering if anyone actually misses you, or if they just miss the guy on the posters. It's suffocating."
A collective, sympathetic hum went around the room. Jin-woo blinked, clearly not expecting him to drop something so heavy in the first five minutes. You felt a familiar twist of pain in your chest, your eyes softening as you looked at him. Jeongguk didn't take a sip, he just gave a tiny, vulnerable shrug, completely comfortable laying his soul bare in front of the people who knew him before the fame.
Hana spun the bottle next. It whirled around before grinding to a halt, pointing straight back at Jeongguk.
"Oh, my turn," Hana perked up, a mischievous glint in her eyes. "Okay, Jeongguk. You said earlier today that you're 'girl-sober' right now. So tell the truth: when was the last time you actually kissed someone, and did it mean anything?"
You held your breath, your fingers tightening around your glass of vodka cranberry.
Jeongguk tilted his head back against the edge of the couch behind him, a slow, lazy smile spreading across his face. He didn't even reach for the tequila bottle. "Two years ago," he stated bluntly, his voice a low, raspy rumble. "A girl I met during a break between promotions. And no, it didn't mean anything. That was the problem. I tried to make it mean something because I hate casual stuff, but she just wanted to tell her friends she was dating an idol. It felt transactional. I hated it."
"Damn," Hana muttered, taking a drink of her own beer out of pure secondhand awkwardness. "You're really not holding back tonight, are you?"
"I told you," Jeongguk murmured, his dark, glossy eyes suddenly shifting across the circle until they locked directly onto yours. "I don't want to say fake things tonight. I'm tired of it."
Before the heavy silence following Jeongguk’s sudden drink can completely suffocate the room, Jin-woo quickly reaches out and gives the glass bottle another aggressive spin. It whirs sharply on the hardwood floor, a blur of green glass under the flashing blue lights, before slowing down and pointing its cap directly at you.
"Oh, finally! The spotlight shifts," Hana cheers, leaning forward on her elbows with a wicked, deeply intrigued grin. She doesn't hesitate for a second. "Okay, Y/N. Truth or drink. We all know you're fiercely independent in your daily life, but does that translate to the bedroom? Are you the type who likes to be completely in charge, calling all the shots, or do you prefer to submit?"
Your heart does a violent, erratic leap against your ribs. Out of the corner of your eye, you feel Jeongguk freeze.
You slowly turn your head to look at him, and the sheer intensity of his gaze almost makes you gasp. His sweet, round eyes are completely dark, his pupils blown so wide they nearly swallow the irises. He’s staring at your lips, his chest heaving under his oversized black sweater, practically vibrating with a sudden, suffocating hunger. He looks entirely undone by the question, his lips parting slightly as he waits for your answer with a desperate, breathless anticipation.
You clear your throat, forcing your voice to remain steady. "I think prefer being in charge," you reply, keeping it blunt and confident. "I like the feeling of control."
A low, collective “Ooooooh” ripples through the circle of friends, but you barely hear them. The absolute heat of Jeongguk’s unblinking stare is burning into your skin, making your throat go completely dry. Even though you answered the truth, you desperately need a distraction, so you lift your glass of vodka cranberry and take a heavy, long sip, letting the tart alcohol burn away the sudden spike of nerves.
"Knew it!" Hana laughs loudly, raising her cup to you in approval. "A total boss. Honestly, whoever ends up in your bed is a lucky bastard."
Hana grabs the bottle next, giving it a careless flick to keep the game moving. It spins and lands right back on her. Jin-woo immediately jumps in with a smirk. "Alright, Hana, truth or drink: Is it true you secretly cried when your ex got a matching tattoo with his new girlfriend?" Hana gasps, throwing a couch pillow directly at his face before grabbing her beer. "Shut up! I'm drinking, I am absolutely drinking for that one," she groans, chugging a massive gulp while everyone erupts into loud, teasing laughter.
The distraction gives you a brief moment to breathe, but when you glance back at Jeongguk, he hasn't moved an inch. He is still looking up at you from his spot on the floor, his silver lip piercing glinting.
The bottle gets spun again, whirring lazily until it grinds to a halt, pointing directly at another childhood friend, Jisung.
Jisung groans, rubbing the back of his neck. "Ah, man. Go easy on me. I've had a rough week."
Seojun leans forward, a thoughtful expression replacing his usual mischievous grin as the atmosphere shifts back into something a bit deeper. "Alright, Jisung. Real talk. Truth or drink: Since we're all getting older and life is pulling us in different directions, do you ever feel like you're getting left behind by the rest of us?"
Jisung sighs, a sad, honest smile touching his lips as he looks around the circle, his eyes briefly lingering on Jeongguk’s massive, luxurious apartment. "Yeah," Jisung admits softly, his voice quiet against the background music. "Sometimes it's hard. Like, I'm so incredibly proud of Koo, and I love seeing all of you succeed, but looking at my own nine-to-five... it makes me feel like I'm standing still while everyone else is running. It's a weird kind of pressure."
"Dude, no," Jeongguk speaks up instantly, his raspy voice full of genuine affection. He leans forward, completely breaking the circle's boundary to grab Jisung’s shoulder, squeezing it tightly with his hand. "Don't ever think that. None of this fame stuff matters if I don't have you guys to come home to. You're not left behind. You're exactly where you need to be."
Jisung smiles, visibly touched, and raises his glass to clink it against Jeongguk's tequila bottle. The warmth of their old friendship fills the room, but as Jeongguk pulls his hand back, his dark, heavy eyes slide right back to yours.
The rest of the party continued in a hazy blur of slurred words, loud, nostalgic belly laughs, and increasingly messy drinking. By the time the clock crawled past three in the morning, the high-energy atmosphere had completely dissolved. The final straw came when Jisung, looking pale and thoroughly defeated by the alcohol, stumbled toward the entryway and nearly threw up directly into a massive, expensive indoor plant pot.
Jin-woo caught him by the back of his jacket just in time. That was officially everyone's cue to leave.
There was a chaotic fifteen minutes of shuffling feet, mumbled thank-yous, and heavy slaps on shoulders as you helped herd his childhood friends out into the hallway. When the heavy front door finally clicked shut, the sudden, absolute silence of the multi-million dollar apartment felt deafening.
You turned back toward the living room, only to find Jeongguk dragging his feet across the hardwood floor. True to his word from earlier, he was clutching a plush, oversized pillow under one arm and trailing a heavy, dark duvet behind him, preparing to claim the sofa.
He was so incredibly drunk. His broad shoulders were slouched under his black sweater, his movements completely uncoordinated. As he tried to navigate around the low coffee table, his knee clipped the edge, causing him to stumble awkwardly. His hand shot out to steady himself, almost knocking an empty highball glass clean off the wood surface.
"Whoa, easy there," you murmured, quickly stepping into his space. You grabbed the glass before it could shatter, setting it safely aside, and then crouched down slightly to match his eye level as he heavily dropped his weight onto the edge of the cushions. "Koo... look at you. I think you should actually just take the bed tonight. I can sleep out here."
Jeongguk immediately gestured a clumsy, emphatic no with his hand, shaking his head so hard a few strands of dark hair fell into his face. The sudden movement clearly sent a wave of vertigo through him, because it was instantly followed by a pained, whispered, "Jesus..."as he tightly pressed his palm against his forehead, closing his eyes against the dim lights.
You cocked a brow at him, amused but secretly melting at how soft and defenseless he looked when the tough idol persona was stripped away entirely. "See? You can barely hold your head up. Go to your room, Jeongguk."
"No," he rasped, his voice incredibly deep and thick with sleep and alcohol. He slowly dropped his hand from his face, lifting his head to look up at you through his thick lashes. His sweet, round eyes were heavily hooded, wide and shimmering with some sort of vulnerability. "Don't go yet. Let's... let's talk for a while. I missed you. I missed you so much, Y/N."
Your heart did a violent, erratic hammer against your chest at the sheer desperation in his tone. It was a direct plea, completely unguarded.
Despite the warning bells screaming in your head about your decade-long crush, you found yourself complying. You let out a soft breath and sat down right next to him on the couch, the plush cushions sinking under your weight as his heavy, warm presence instantly enveloped you in the quiet dark.
The moment you settled onto the cushion, his heavy head fell sideways, landing directly on your shoulder. You were instantly engulfed by his scent. It was a fragrance so deeply familiar to you, cutting right through the tequila-infused softness he had going on tonight.
Jeongguk always smelled incredibly clean. Over the years, you had grown to associate crispy, clean cotton smells with his smile. Whenever his brutal, tight schedules didn't allow him the time to text or call you for weeks on end, you had found a strange sort of reprieve in those scents—buying detergents or candles that smelled like fresh laundry just to feel like he wasn't entirely a world away.
He shifted against you, his cheek rubbing into the fabric of your shirt as the quiet apartment settled around you both. He noted the sudden, heavy silence in the room and tilted his head up just enough to look at your profile, his bottom lip pushing out into an almost childlike pout.
"Did not you miss me too?" he asked, his deep voice muffled against your neck, raw and terribly needy.
You couldn't help the soft smile that tugged at your lips. You turned your head slightly, your breath brushing over his hair. "Obviously, Koo. How could I not? You’re my best friend."
At the word friend, Jeongguk let out a low, vibration-heavy hum in his chest. It wasn't a happy sound. He closed his eyes, his brow furrowing as he tightly gripped a fistful of the dark duvet resting on his lap.
"I'm so confused," he whispered, the admission sounding small and cracked.
You blinked, shifting slightly so you could look down at his face. "Why?" you asked softly, your heart doing a nervous, anticipatory flutter against your ribs. "What's making you confused?"
"Because it should feel different," Jeongguk muttered, his voice dropping into a register so low and raspy it sent a physical shiver straight down your spine. He didn't lift his head from your shoulder. He just pressed closer, his warm breath seeping through the fabric of your shirt.
You grew thoroughly confused, your fingers tightening around the edge of the couch cushion. "What? What should feel different, Koo?"
He let out a ragged, heavy sigh, his chest expanding against your side. "Everything," he whispered. "I’ve been thinking for a while... that love, real romantic love, should feel at least as deep and all-consuming as the type of love I have for you."
The wind was completely knocked out of your lungs. For a terrifying second, you forgot how to breathe entirely. Your mind raced back over the last ten years, the late-night phone calls, the quiet domesticity of your friendship, and the heavy, burning crush you had tried so desperately to bury. You bit your lip hard, the sharp sting of pain the only thing keeping you grounded, in a desperate attempt to steady your trembling voice.
"Jeongguk," you breathed, your voice barely audible over the hum of the refrigerator in the quiet apartment. "What... what do you mean by that?"
He finally pulled his head back from your shoulder, shifting on the plush cushions so he could face you fully. He looked entirely undone by the alcohol and the sheer weight of his own thoughts. He started explaining with his hands, his long fingers cutting through the dim light. His intricate tattoos shifted across his skin, and the silver rings on his fingers glinted sharply in the dark as he gestured in frustration.
"I can't do casual, Y/N," he said, his eyes wide, glossy, and swimming with a desperate, heavy sensitivity. "I can't. Because I know how true love should feel. I know it because of you. Every single time I’ve tried to date, every time I’ve tried to build something with someone else, I find myself associating what I feel for them in comparison with you."
A beat.
Two beats.
Three beats.
The silence in the room became so heavy it was suffocating.
"And every single time," Jeongguk whispered, his head tilting down as he looked up at you through his lashes, completely stripping away his defenses and surrendering his heart right into your hands, "I’ve found that they always come short. In comparison with you."
You tried to diffuse the situation right then and there. Your brain was working in overdrive, frantically constructing walls because the alternative—believing him—meant stepping into a territory that could ruin everything you had built over the last years.
He was drunk. He was clearly not thinking straight. He was currently trying to be girl-sober, and in your mind, he was just projecting his deeply ingrained, serial monogamist tendencies onto the closest, safest thing he had. You.
It wasn’t true. It couldn't be true.
"Jeongguk," you said, your voice tight as you forced a breath into your lungs, desperately trying to ignore how loud your own heart was knocking against your ribs. "I think you’re just projecting. You're exhausted, you've been lonely on tour, and you're just confusing comfort for something else."
He muttered a low, ragged "Jesus..."again, his hand rising to tightly press against his forehead. He didn't even seem to fully process what you said, completely deaf to the frantic rhythm of your chest as the alcohol and the emotional weight of his own confession finally dragged him under.
The raw intensity in his eyes flickered out, replaced by heavy exhaustion. Without another word, he let his upper body slide sideways, his head plopping heavily onto the plush pillow he’d thrown on the edge of the couch.
He curled his body slightly into the cushions, his dark lashes fluttering shut as a deep, uneven breath left his parted lips, leaving you sitting there in the dim blue LED light, completely frozen next to him.
That’s when you realize his bedroom door was probably still locked, a solid block of wood protecting a room you weren't allowed to enter.
You had absolutely no option but to sleep on the couch next to him. Letting out a quiet, defeated breath, you grabbed the edge of the heavy, dark duvet he’d brought out, pulling it over both of your bodies to shield against the air conditioning. You shifted your weight, settling into the cushions as best you could, and tried to sleep.
It was impossible. Seven thousand thoughts were swirling in your mind, a chaotic storm of memory and denial.
But Jeongguk was drunk.
He was completely out of it, his deep, even breaths rising and falling against your side. He wouldn't remember this in the morning, you told yourself. Tomorrow, the sun would come up, the platonic armor would go back on, and he would just be your best friend again. You closed your eyes, letting the clean cotton scent of him anchor you as you finally drifted into a restless sleep, completely unaware of how thin the line between you had truly become.
But the next morning, he was nowhere to be seen.
When you finally opened your eyes, blinking against the harsh, bright sunlight piercing through the cracks of the heavy blackout curtains, the couch beside you was completely empty. You checked your phone—it was god knows what hour of the late morning—and the realization that you were alone in the vast, quiet space hit you like a cold splash of water. The heavy dark duvet was pulled back, the plush pillow still holding the indentation of his head, but Jeongguk was gone.
So naturally, you grew a bit anxious.
A tight, familiar knot formed in the pit of your stomach as you sat up, the silence of the multi-million dollar apartment suddenly feeling incredibly heavy. Your mind instantly began to scramble, racing back through the events of the previous night. You hoped with everything you had that he would just forget what he said last night. You prayed the tequila had completely wiped his memory, that the slurred confessions about true love and people coming up short in comparison to you would just evaporate into the morning air. If he forgot, everything could go back to normal. You could go back to being the constant, unshakeable variable in his life.
But then the darker, terrifying thoughts started to bleed in, turning your anxiety into full-blown panic.
What if he remembered? What if he woke up with a pounding headache and a crystal-clear recollection of every single word that had left his mouth? What if he was so thoroughly mortified, so repulsed by the fact that he had crossed that sacred platonic line and laid his soul bare, that he had physically chosen to flee his own home just to avoid looking you in the eye?
You stood up, your knees slightly shaky, your eyes darting toward the hallway. His bedroom door was still closed, but the heavy silence in the apartment made it feel like he had abandoned the entire place just to escape the mess he’d created in the dark.
That’s when you heard the faucet running.
The sharp, metallic hiss of rushing water cut through the suffocating silence of the apartment, drawing your attention toward the kitchen. Your heart skipped a beat, the knot of anxiety in your stomach loosening just a fraction, only to tighten again with a completely different kind of tension.
With small steps, your feet padding quietly against the cold hardwood floor, you made your way down the hall. Every single breath you took felt like lead, heavy and burning in your chest. You braced yourself for a tense, awkward confrontation, preparing to play off his drunken rambling as a massive joke.
Instead, you rounded the corner and saw him in all his glory, completely naked from the belt up.
The bright morning sunlight poured through the kitchen window, hitting the sharp, fiercely toned lines of his back and shoulders as he stood in front of the sink. He had a clean pair of grey sweatpants hanging low on his hips, exposing that dark, dangerous happy trail you’d been obsessing over the day before. His skin practically glistened, completely washed clean of the previous night's sweat and alcohol, and his dark, damp hair strands curled slightly around his nape. He was rinsing out a couple of mugs, hands moving with effortless, domestic grace.
As if sensing your presence, Jeongguk turned around.
There was no repulsion on his face. No awkwardness, no frantic desire to flee. Instead, his sweet, round eyes instantly crinkled at the corners, and a warm, lazy grin spread across his face, his silver lip piercing catching the morning light.
He greeted you in a sweet, entirely normal manner.
"Morning, sleepypants," he murmured, his voice a low, gravelly morning rumble that vibrated pleasantly in the quiet air. He set the mug down and gestured toward the espresso machine on the counter. "Coffee?"
You sit down awkwardly on one of the high barstools at the marble kitchen island, your hands folded in your lap as you nod your head. "Yes, please. Black is fine."
The silence stretches between you for a bit, heavy and thick on your end, though Jeongguk seems entirely unbothered as he presses a button on the espresso machine. The low whirring of the grinder fills the space, and the rich, dark scent of coffee begins to bloom in the air. Your mind is still a frantic mess of questions, the sheer weight of his shirtless torso in the bright morning light not helping your ability to think straight.
Unable to take the suspense any longer, you clear your throat. "Koo?"
He hums in response, not turning around just yet as he watches the dark liquid drip into the mugs, patiently waiting for you to continue.
You swallow hard, tracing a invisible line on the marble counter. "Do you... do you remember last night?"
Jeongguk freezes for a split second, his shoulders tensing just a fraction before he slowly turns around to face you. He leans back against the counter, crossing his tattooed arm over his bare chest, a totally blank, deadpan expression washing over his features.
"Last night?" he repeats, blinking his eyes with exaggerated confusion. He tilts his head, looking down at his own bare torso and then back up at you. "Wait... what year is it?"
You instantly catch onto the stupid joke, a rush of exasperated relief flooding your chest. You reach out, grabbing a random crumpled tissue you found sitting on the edge of the counter, and throw it straight at his face.
He ducks, but it clips his shoulder anyway. Jeongguk bursts into a loud, boxing-glove laugh, his eyes crinkling into those familiar, endearing crescents as the heavy tension in the room instantly evaporates.
"Yes," he says, his laughter dying down into a soft, knowing smile as he holds your gaze, his voice dropping back into that low morning cadence. "I remember last night, Y/N."
Your stomach drops straight through the floor. The relief you felt a second ago evaporates, replaced by a sudden, choking wave of heat that rises all the way to your face. You fumble with your words, your tongue feeling thick and clumsy as you try to form a coherent sentence.
"You—you remember?" you stammer, your hands nervously gripping the edge of the marble counter. "Then... what you said on the couch. Before you fell asleep. Did you... I mean, did you actually mean it?"
Jeongguk stays quiet for a while. The playful morning light suddenly feels too bright, too exposing. He doesn't move from where he’s leaning against the counter, but the easy grin vanishes from his face. He looks down at his feet, his throat bobbing as he swallows hard, his chest expanding with a deep, deliberate breath.
When he finally lifts his head, his eyes are dead serious, devoid of any tequila-induced haze.
"Yes," he says, his voice a low, steady vibration. "I meant it."
You blink, your chest tightening so fast it hurts. "What... what did you mean, Jeongguk? Exactly?"
"I meant what I meant," he mutters, his jaw clenching as he shifts his weight. He crosses his arms tighter over his bare chest, a defensive instinct kicking in as he tries to maintain his footing. He’s trying to stay casual, trying to play the enigmatic card, but the slight twitch in his silver lip piercing gives him away.
"Yes, but what does it mean?" you push, your voice cracking slightly out of frustration. You lean forward on the barstool, completely done with the riddles. "You don't get to drop a bomb like that, tell me everyone else comes short in comparison to me, and then just say 'I meant what I meant.' What does that mean for us, Jeongguk? What are you actually saying?"
Jeongguk stares at you, the silence stretching out between you like a taut wire. You can practically hear the furious looping in his head, the terrifying friction between the decade of friendship holding him back and the raw, suffocating desire to just stop hiding.
"It means exactly what you think it means, Y/N," he says defensively, his voice rising a fraction. "Why do I have to spell it out?"
"Because you were drunk!" you snap back, your own walls going up because you're terrified of getting your hopes destroyed. "Because people say crazy things when they've had six shots of tequila! You told me I'm the standard for your love life. Do you have any idea how insane that is to hear from your best friend?"
That's the breaking point.
Jeongguk cracks. The stubborn, defensive posture completely shatters, his arms dropping to his sides as he takes a sudden, aggressive step forward, closing the distance between the counter and your stool. He looms over you, his bare chest heaving, his eyes wide and burning with a desperate, chaotic intensity.
"It's not insane!" he bursts out, his voice cracking with a raw, emotional force that echoes through the quiet kitchen. He grips the edge of the marble island right next to your thighs, leaning down until his face is just inches from yours, entirely undone. "It's not the tequila, Y/N! I've been sober for months on tour and I thought about it every single day. Every girl I look at, every person I talk to, I'm just looking for you in them. I'm tired of pretending I don't. I'm tired of the mystery. I meant that I’m in love with you, okay? I’ve been in love with you for years!"
"You're crazy!" you snap back, the pure panic in your chest bubbling over into anger as you push yourself back against the barstool. "You are completely crazy, Jeongguk! You can’t just wake up one day and decide to ruin a ten-year friendship because you had a breakthrough on tour! You don't just get to tear down everything we built because you feel like it!"
He flinches as if you physically struck him. The fierce, looming intensity drains from his posture in an instant, leaving him looking raw and incredibly small despite his broad frame. His eyes turn visibly sad, a thick, glossy sheen coating them under the bright kitchen lights. His jaw tightens, his silver lip piercing trembling just a fraction before a bitter, hurt laugh leaves his throat.
"Well, excuse the fuck out of me if I have feelings," he spits out, his voice cracking with a dangerous mix of anger and absolute rejection. He pulls his hands off the marble counter and takes a step back, wrapping his arms tightly around his torso again, as if trying to shield his chest from you. "Excuse me for actually trusting my best friend enough to be honest. I didn't decide to feel this way, Y/N."
"It’s not even about that!" you yell back, your hands flying into the air out of sheer frustration. You slide off the barstool, finally standing on your own two feet so you don't have to look up at him. "Jeongguk, think for one second! Could you actually afford to lose me if a relationship goes south? If we do this, if we cross that line and it blows up in our faces, we don't get to go back to being friends. I'm gone. You're gone. Everything is ruined. Can you honestly afford that?"
At your words, his entire demeanor shifts from heartbroken to super pissy and defensive, the vulnerability of his ego being bruised making him lash out.
"It wouldn't go south!" he barks, his chest heaving as he glares down at you, his face flushing a furious, hurt red. "Why are you already deciding we're going to fail? And you know what? It doesn't even matter because you’re standing here acting like you have the high moral ground! Like you're the only one who cares about our friendship and I'm just some reckless idiot trying to break it!"
"I don’t have a moral ground!" you shout, stepping right into his space, your voice matching his volume. "I’m just trying to be smart about this! Someone has to be, because you're clearly letting your emotions run completely wild right now!"
"Why should you be smart?!" Jeongguk erupts, his frustration completely breaking through the ceiling. He throws his hands up, the silver rings on his fingers flashing aggressively in the morning sun. He steps so close you can feel the radiating, shirtless heat of his skin, his breath hitting your face in short, ragged gasps. He looks down at you, his eyes searching your face with a suffocating anger. "Why do you always have to be the logical one? Tell me the truth, Y/N—have you ever even thought about me that way? Even once? Or am I just the only idiot who’s been suffocating in this for years?"
"Of course I’ve thought about you that way!" you burst out, the truth ripping through your throat before you could even try to stop it. "Every single day for the last ten years, Jeongguk! I have been suffocating right next to you, watching you date other people, watching you become a global superstar, completely terrified that if I said a word, I’d lose you forever!"
Jeongguk completely freezes. The furious, pissy retort dies right on his tongue, his mouth hanging open slightly as his chest heaves. His round eyes widen, the glossy unshed tears making them look impossibly huge as he processes your words.
"You..." he stammers, his voice becoming a breathless, vulnerable whisper. "You have?"
"Yes! But you’re sitting here acting like it’s so simple," you say, your voice trembling with an overwhelming mix of anger, frustration, and a decade's worth of built-up tension. You take a step closer, your eyes locking onto his parted lips, then tracing up to the raw, completely undone expression on his face. He looks so helpless, so utterly desperate for your touch, standing there shirtless in the bright morning light.
You need him to understand. You need to prove to him that this isn't just some casual, easy dynamic he can play with. You want to prove a point—to show him exactly what he's playing with, exactly how dangerous this boundary truly is.
Before he can utter another word, you reach out, your fingers gripping the soft fabric of his sweatpants at his hip to pull him in, and you slam your lips against his.
Jeongguk lets out a sharp, muffled gasp into your mouth, his entire body jolting at the sudden impact. But the hesitation lasts for less than a second. The moment he realizes you are actually kissing him, he completely shatters. A low, desperate groan rumbles deep in his chest, and his tattooed hands flies to your waist, his fingers digging into your skin with a terrifying, suffocating hunger.
The kiss is chaotic, fierce, and overflowing with ten years of unspoken agony. You pour everything into it—all the logic, all the smart choices, all the fear of losing him—crushing your lips against his until your teeth click. He tastes like the rich espresso he just brewed and the sharp, lingering heat of his own desperation. He follows your lead completely, surrendering to the dominance you admitted to just hours before, letting you call every single shot as he whimpers against your mouth, his frame trembling beneath your hands.
When you finally pull back, your chest heaving, your lips swollen and tingling, you try to step away to establish the boundary again. "See?" you breathe out, your voice shaky as you stare at his dark, completely blown-out pupils. "That is what we lose if—"
"No," Jeongguk whines instantly, the sudden loss of your lips making him sound incredibly small and pathetic. His hands tighten on your waist, physically yanking you right back against his bare, warm chest. His nose brushes against yours, his breath hot and ragged. "No, Y/N. Please. Just one more. One more."
"Jeongguk, I'm trying to make a point—"
"I don't care about the point," he groans, his voice turning super whiny, his bottom lip pushing out in a desperate, pouty expression that completely contrasts his heavily tattooed, muscular frame. He leans his forehead against yours, his eyes fluttering shut as he practically begs. "Just one more kiss. Please. Y/N. One more, and then I’ll listen to the logical stuff. Just one more."
You melt away entirely under the pathetic, desperate drag of his voice. Every ounce of your hard-earned logic completely liquefies, dripping away into the space between your pounding hearts as you slide your hands up his radiating chest to cup the back of his neck, pulling him right back down to you.
The moment your lips meet again, Jeongguk kisses you like it’s the only thing he was ever put on this earth to do.
It is an agonizingly deep, consuming kiss that destroys any remaining illusion of your platonic past. He devours you, his plush lips parting with a fierce, wet desperation that immediately slicks your skin. He uses his tongue with a heavy, deliberate stroke, sweeping into your mouth to claim you entirely, tasting intensely of the bitter espresso and the sweet, clean mint from earlier. Every tilt of his head is a calculated shift to press deeper, his silver lip piercing sliding hot and sharp against your bottom lip, an intoxicating friction that sends a jolt of pure electricity straight to your core.
You let out a helpless, broken moan right into his mouth, the sound vibrating against his teeth.
The small noise completely undoes him. Jeongguk’s hands abandon your waist to roam frantically all over you, his palms hot and heavy as they map out your body. He slides his hands down the curve of your back, his blunt fingernails digging into your clothes, before lifting up to cup your jaw, his tattooed thumb firmly pressing against your pulse point to hold you perfectly still for his assault. His chest presses flush against you, the hard, sculpted lines of his abdomen crushing into your frame until you can feel the frantic, booming rhythm of his heart matching your own.
He is entirely consumed, a slave to the sudden shift in your dynamic.
He briefly breaks the kiss, his lips only parting a fraction of an inch from yours, leaving a string of wet, heavy breaths between you. His glossy eyes flutter open, looking at you with a gaze so completely wrecked and swimming with desire that it makes your knees buckle. He whines against your skin, a high, desperate sound cutting through his deep morning rasp as his forehead drops heavily against yours.
"I'm gonna make you feel good," he pleads, his breath hot and ragged against your swollen mouth as his hands slide back down to desperately grip your hips. "Please, Y/N... please let me make you feel good. Just let me. Please."
You don’t reply right away, your mind completely fracturing into a thousand pieces as you stand frozen in his kitchen. Your thoughts pull you in every direction, desperately trying to analyze the wreckage of the last five minutes.
The damage is done. You already kissed him—not just a gentle slip of the lips, but a fierce, devastating confession of a kiss that blew every single one of your carefully constructed boundaries right out the door. The sacred line of the friendship hasn't just been crossed; it’s been entirely incinerated.
As you stare down at his flushed face, a dark, heavy thought slips into your mind, taking root before your logic can tear it down: Would it really be so bad to just go through with it?
If everything is already broken, if the mystery is gone, why keep fighting the very thing that’s been suffocating you both for a decade? You look at his chest rising and falling in sharp, ragged gasps, his skin radiating a maddening heat that pulls you in like gravity.
Before a single word can tumble past your swollen lips, Jeongguk completely unravels. His knees give out, hitting the hardwood floor with a soft thud as he drops down right in front of you.
The global superstar, the man who fills stadiums worldwide, is entirely brought to his knees, looking up at you with huge, glassy, pleading eyes. He looks so sweet, so raw, and completely submissive to whatever you decide next.
"Please," he whimpers, the word spilling out of him like a broken prayer. "Please, Y/N."
He doesn't wait for your permission. His hands slide up the back of your legs, his palms scalding hot through the fabric of your clothes as he pulls your hips closer to his face. He buries his face against you, his warm forehead pressing firmly against your lower stomach as a ragged breath hitches in his throat.
"Let me make you feel good," he begs into your clothes, his voice dropping into a desperate, deep vibration that resonates straight through your skin. "Just let me do this for you. Please."
Then, his plush lips press against your clothed thighs.
He kisses you right through the fabric, his mouth hot and damp, leaving heavy, branding presses of his lips along the sensitive skin of your inner thigh. He nuzzles his face deeper against your legs, whining softly when you don't immediately push him away. The absolute friction of his silver lip piercing catching against the material, combined with the desperate, worshipful way his hands tighten on the back of your thighs, makes your breath hitch sharply in your throat. Your hands fly to his bare shoulders just to keep yourself steady, your fingers digging into his smooth, firm skin as the room tilts on its axis.
Your fingers sink deeper into the smooth muscle of his bare shoulders as the sheer weight of his worship pulls you under. The internal debate, the frantic logic, the fear of what happens when the dust settles—it all completely evaporates.
"Okay," you finally whisper, the single word cutting through his desperate, ragged breaths. "Okay, Jeongguk. Do it."
The permission hits him like an electric shock. He doesn't waste a single second, his hands moving with an frantic, desperate urgency. He grips the waistband of your pants and underwear together, his knuckles brushing against your skin as he tugs them down your legs in a breathless hurry. You kick out of them, your feet hitting the cool hardwood floor, leaving you completely exposed to him in the middle of the bright kitchen.
When he leans his head back in, you let out a sharp, involuntary hiss as the hot, concentrated burst of his breath hits your sensitive pubic area.
But he doesn't touch you yet. Jeongguk just stays frozen on his knees, his hands still tightly gripping the back of your thighs to anchor you in place. He’s just looking. His sweet eyes are wide and completely dark with a devastating mixture of awe and pure hunger. His chest heaves, his silver lip piercing glinting as his lips part slightly, his gaze completely tracing every inch of you as if he’s memorizing a holy text.
The intense, unblinking weight of his stare makes you shift your weight, a sudden spike of heat rushing to your face. "Jeongguk," you breathe out, your voice trembling. "What... what are you doing?"
"I need more room," he rasps, his voice dropping into a thick, desperate growl.
Before you can even process the words, his large hands slide under your thighs and around your back. In one swift, effortless motion, he lifts you completely off the ground. You let out a small gasp, your arms instinctively wrapping around his neck as he carries you out of the kitchen. He moves with a singular, fierce focus, and in a matter of seconds, you’re in his bedroom.
He lays you down onto the mattress, and you find yourself completely sprawled across the dark, silk sheets of his bed, the heavy clean cotton scent of him enveloping you entirely.
Jeongguk doesn't even let you catch your breath. He crawls up onto the mattress immediately, his large, heavy body looming over yours for a fraction of a second before he slides right back down between your thighs. He hooks your knees over his shoulders, pinning you open, and buries his face directly between your legs.
The first touch of his tongue is a wet, heavy stroke that makes your entire body arches off the bed. He eats you out like it’s a form of salvation, his mouth hot, wide, and utterly ravenous against your wet skin. He uses his tongue with a frantic, consuming rhythm, lapping at you with deep, deliberate strokes that pull a loud, undone moan right from your throat. The slick, wet sounds of his mouth against you echo in the quiet room, completely destroying any lingering sanity.
Even as he devours you, the desperate, pleading energy from the kitchen doesn't leave him. Every time you twist your fingers into his damp, dark hair to pull him closer, a muffled, high whine breaks from his throat, vibrating directly against your clit. He nuzzles his face deeper into your heat, his silver lip piercing sliding sharp and intoxicating against your most sensitive spots, making you sob his name into the empty air.
"Please," he whimpers against your wet flesh, breaking his rhythm for only a split second to breathe your name, his voice cracked and completely wrecked. His hands grip your hips so tightly his knuckles turn white, silently begging you to hold him there, to let him keep drowning in you. "Please tell me it's good. Tell me you like it, Y/N. Just let me stay right here."
You can only cry out in response, your hips instinctively rolling into his mouth as his tongue darts back inside, deeper and more desperate than before, completely surrendering his entire existence to the rhythm of your pleasure.
The sound of his name ripping from your throat sends a visible shiver straight through his broad, shirtless frame. Hearing how undone you are only makes him more desperate, his tongue working with a frantic, wet rhythm that has your hips rolling blindly into his face.
"You're so good, Koo," you gasp out, your knuckles turning white as you fist your fingers into his damp, dark hair, pressing him closer. "Ah—yes, right there. You're making me feel so good. So good..."
Jeongguk lets out a muffled, high whine directly against your core, the high-pitched, needy sound vibrating straight through you. The praise completely undoes him. He sucks a hard, bruising path up your inner lip, his silver piercing scraping perfectly against your most sensitive flesh, pulling a loud, broken sob from your lungs. He is utterly buried in you, his hands gripping the undersides of your thighs so tightly that his bicep muscles bulge under his smooth, tattooed skin. He nuzzles deeper, lapping at your slick heat with a ravenous, worshipful speed, swallowing your whimpers like they are the only thing keeping him alive.
The friction is too much. The intense, deep heat building in your lower stomach is expanding so fast it feels dangerous, blinding you to everything else in the room. You are getting so entirely into it, the overwhelming pleasure clouding your logic until you can't breathe, can't think, can't handle the agonizingly slow burn of just his mouth anymore.
You want him. You want all of him.
With a breathless cry, you pull your hands out of his hair and adjust the position you're in, your palms sliding down his broad chest, past his tensed abs, to the low waistband of his grey sweatpants. Jeongguk senses the shift immediately, his head lifting, his lips glistening, dark hair falling wildly over his wide, blown-out eyes as he looks up at you with a breathless, questioning whimper.
You don't say a word. You simply hook your fingers into the cotton of his sweats and underwear, tugging them down past his hips in one swift, demanding motion.
His cock springs free, thick, heavy, and leaking a bead of pre-cum that glints in the bedroom light. It twitches against his lower stomach, fully erect and radiating a maddening heat. Jeongguk lets out a raw, hitched breath, his hands trembling on your mattress as he hovers over you, completely exposed, his chest heaving as he waits in agonizing suspense for what you're going to do to him next.
You wrap your fingers firmly around the thick, pulsing base of his shaft, the skin scalding hot against your palm. Jeongguk lets out a shaky, pathetic gasp the moment your hand closes around him, his hips twitching forward instinctively. Without giving him a second to recover, you lean forward, parting your lips, and slide the plush, leaking head of his cock straight into your mouth.
He completely loses his mind.
A loud, ragged moan rips from his throat, echoing sharply in the quiet bedroom. You swirl your tongue around the sensitive ridge, catching the slick pre-cum, before sinking your mouth lower, drawing him deeper down your throat. The rich, clean scent of him mixes with the musk of his arousal, entirely consuming your senses. You use your tongue to stroke the sensitive underside of his shaft, your lips wrapping tight around him to create a fierce, suffocating vacuum as you bob your head in a steady, demanding rhythm.
He throws his head back, hair spilling over his forehead as a continuous string of broken groans and breathless whimpers spills from his parted lips. He doesn't try to hold back, his chest heaving as he watches you through hooded, blown-out eyes, his silver piercing catching the light every time his jaw slacks.
"Ah, God, Y/N," he pants, his voice cracking with pure, unadulterated worship. His large, tattooed hand flies to your hair, but he doesn't push you down—he just cradles your head with a trembling, gentle grip, completely submissive to your pace. "You're so perfect. Look at you... fucking hell, you're the most beautiful thing I've ever seen. Please, you're destroying me."
The praises are heavy, thick with a devotion that makes your chest ache. He’s praising you in a way you've never been praised before, treating your mouth like a sanctuary, completely unbothered by his own ego. You take him deeper, your thumb rubbing over his balls, and the combination makes his hips roll blindly against your lips, a low, desperate whine vibrating in his chest.
The edge is getting too sharp for him. The friction of your wet mouth and the agonizingly sweet torture of the rhythm has him shaking from head to toe. His fingers tighten in your hair, his breath coming in short, panicked gasps as he feels himself reaching a dangerous point of no return.
He suddenly pulls back just enough to slip his cock from your lips, a heavy string of saliva connecting you for a fraction of a second. Jeongguk hovers over you on his knees, his entire body trembling, his face flushed a dark, beautiful red as he looks down at your wet, swollen lips.
"I can't—I can't just take," he begs, his voice breaking completely as he drops his forehead against your chest, his chest heaving against your skin. He is entirely undone, crying out as his hands slide down to grip your hips, physically pulling you back down onto the mattress. He positions himself right between your soaked, aching thighs, the heavy head of his cock rubbing torturously against your wet core. "Please, Y/N. I need to be inside you. Please let me come home. Please let me inside."
A dark, heady rush of power floods your veins as you look down at him. Seeing the man who fills stadiums worldwide reduced to a trembling, pleading mess right under you is intoxicating. You smirk against the flushed skin, your fingers sliding up his damp neck to tilt his face up.
"Put it on then, Koo," you murmur.
You say your consent, and the word acts like a green light. Jeongguk scrambles, blindly fishing a condom from the nightstand drawer—you aren't even paying attention to where he gets it from, your eyes locked onto the sharp, beautiful lines of his tensed muscles as he tears the foil open with his teeth.
His hands are shaking so violently it takes him two tries to roll the latex down his thick, pulsing length.
The moment he’s protected, he doesn't wait. He lines the wet, heavy head of his cock against your slick opening and sinks into you in one deep, agonizingly slow push.
A loud, broken sob rips from your throat as he fills you completely, stretching you out until you're entirely consumed by the sheer size of him. Jeongguk lets out a guttural, trembling groan into the crook of your neck, his large frame collapsing over yours, his full, shirtless weight pinning you into the dark silk sheets.
"Ah, God, Y/N... you're so tight, you're so warm," he whimpers, his voice completely wrecked as he begins to move.
The friction is instant and overwhelming. Jeongguk doesn't fuck you with the practiced, cocky rhythm of a man in control; he fucks you with a desperate, frantic hunger, his hips snapping forward in deep, heavy thrusts that rock the entire bed. He is completely starved for you, his tattooed hand sliding under your lower back to lift your hips higher, taking every single inch you have to offer. The wet, slapping sound of his skin hitting yours echoes in the quiet bedroom, mixed with his continuous, vocal praises.
He’s riding the absolute edge from the very first stroke, the decade of built-up desire making him impossibly sensitive. His breath comes in short, panicked gasps against your ear, his silver lip piercing grazing your pulse point as his pace turns frantic, unhinged.
"I'm gonna—Y/N, I'm close, I can't hold it," he cries out, his voice cracking. He gives three more deep, blind thrusts, his entire body locking up as a low, ragged scream tears from his lungs. He spasms against you, his cock twitching violently inside your walls as he finishes first, spilling himself entirely into the condom.
But he doesn't stop.
Even as his climax ripples through him, leaving him completely overstimulated and trembling, he refuses to pull out. He knows you haven't crossed the line yet. With his jaw clenched and his eyes swimming with tears from the sheer, burning sensitivity of his post-nut state, Jeongguk forces his hips to keep moving.
He whimpers miserably with every single stroke, the friction against his overstimulated skin clearly driving him crazy, but he keeps pushing inside you anyway.
"I've got you," he pants, a high, needy whine breaking from his lips as he drags his body up and down yours, his movements slower now, heavier, grinding his pelvis right against your clit with agonizing precision. "I'm not stopping... please, baby, come for me. Let me feel you clamp down on me. Please."
The sight of him pushing through his own overstimulation just to please you completely shatters whatever restraint you have left. Your internal walls collapse. Your hips begin to roll frantically against his, your toes curling into the silk sheets as the tight coil in your lower stomach snaps.
You scream his name as a violent, crushing orgasm ripples through your body. Your internal muscles clamp down tightly around his thick shaft, milking him through the latex. Jeongguk lets out a loud, pathetic whimper at the tight squeeze, his forehead dropping heavily onto your shoulder as he rides out the wave of your climax with you, completely spent, completely yours.
He collapses right besides you, his massive, shirtless frame molding perfectly against you as he pulls you into his chest. Both of your chests are heaving in the quiet room, the only sound the ragged asymmetry of your breathing slowing down. Jeongguk nuzzles his face into your hair, tracing his plush, swollen lips along your jawline before kissing you tenderly on the cheek—a soft, lingering pressure that feels entirely detached from the frantic, consuming chaos of just moments ago.
You lie there, the cool air of the bedroom hitting your bare skin where his body isn't pinning you down. The reality of what just happened begins to settle into your bones, the heavy fog of pleasure lifting to reveal the massive, uncharted territory you’ve both just stepped into.
"Jeongguk," you breathe out, your voice still a little raspy. You turn your head slightly, trying to look at him. "We should talk about it. About... us. What this means."
He lets out a soft, tired groan, burying his face deeper into your neck. His large, tattooed arm wraps securely around your waist, pulling you so close there isn't a single millimeter of space left between you.
"We will," he promises, his low rumble vibrating right against your skin. "I promise we’ll talk about everything you want. Just... please let me enjoy this moment for a second. Let me just hold you."
You agree, nodding your head slightly against his chest, but you are visibly lost in your thoughts. Your eyes trace the unfamiliar contours of his bedroom, the dark silk sheets, the heavy shadows on the wall. The anxiety hasn't completely vanished, it's just waiting on the periphery, whispering questions about tomorrow, about his career, about the fragile ten-year foundation you just risked.
As if sensing the sudden shift in your energy, Jeongguk shifts. He props himself up on one elbow, hovering over you just enough to look down into your face. His eyes are incredibly soft, completely clear of the tequila from last night and the blinding lust from minutes ago. He reaches up, his gentle thumb tracing your cheekbone, wiping away a stray bead of sweat.
"Hey," he murmurs, his piercing catching the soft light. He looks at you with an unwavering certainty that makes your heart skip a beat. "I’m going to make sure nothing goes south. I promise you. I love you, Y/N."
Hearing the words spoken so clearly, without a drop of alcohol or adrenaline to hide behind, makes the last of your defenses crumble.
"I love you too," you whisper back.
He smiles—a genuine, boyish grin that reminds you exactly of the teenager you met a decade ago—and pulls you back down against him. As you nuzzle your nose deep into the warm, clean-scented crook of his neck, listening to the steady, unshakeable beat of his heart beneath your cheek, the frantic thoughts in your mind finally begin to quiet down.
Maybe the logic didn't matter. Maybe, against all odds, it really was going to be okay.
⤷"mini" one-shot!! in which....The perilla leaf debate in general is supposed to be nothing more than a stupid internet argument, until Jungkook nearly starts a war at dinner over Jimin helping you separate yours.
pairing: bestfriend!jungkook x fem!reader
warnings: friends to lovers, jk is down horrendous, jealousy over vegetables, mutual pining, lovesick idiot behavior, perilla leaves almost ruin a friendship, secondhand embarrassment, yearning, jimin stirs the pot for fun, kissing, tooth-rotting fluff, jk loses the perilla leaf war but gets the girl
word count: 1,5k
masterlist
The group chat has been blowing up since 4 p.m.
taehyung: pls tell me someone wants to go have dinner tonight. i'm dying of academic boredom
hobi: literally same. i haven't seen sunlight in 3 days
namjoon: i found this place downtown. it's called "korean fusion." wait, i'll send the address.
jimin: i hope everyone is coming... unless i might have to delete a certain someone's animal crossing save files
you: threats??? really???
jk: she's coming
you: umh??? i didn't even answer yet
jungkook: you're coming
The restaurant is the most Instagrammable place you've ever seen, and you would have gotten there faster if your roommate hadn't been in desperate need of moral support over a situationship. You see Jungkook look up at you the second you enter his peripheral vision.
"Finally," Taehyung says.
"Sorry, sorry." You slide into the booth, and there's only one spot left, wedged between Jimin and the wall, directly across from Jungkook. "Emergency friend duties."
"More important than us?" Hobi asks.
"You'll live," you say, but you're not paying attention because Jungkook is still staring at you. Your eyes meet. He doesn't look away. Your stomach flips, and you wonder if you should have done this another day because emotional rollercoasters don't sound like a great idea on an empty stomach.
"Hi," he says.
"Hi," you say back.
A few minutes later, the drinks and the banchan arrive. Jungkook is laughing at something Taehyung is saying, beer in hand, but he keeps glancing at you every time you reach for the banchan. You don't notice as you are trying your best to separate the stack of perilla leaves.
"Oh my God," you mutter, trying to separate them with your chopsticks. "Why are they like this?"
"Here," Jimin says, and his chopsticks slide in from your left, holding the stack steady while you pull one free.
"Thank you," you breathe, relieved, and you don't see the way Jungkook's knuckles go white around his glass.
You look up, and Jungkook is staring at Jimin, and it's nothing like the soft, longing looks he's been throwing your way all night. Jimin, oblivious, or perhaps not, hums as he sets the separated leaves on your plate.
"Jungkook-ah," Namjoon says from across the table. "Pass the garlic?"
Jungkook passes it without looking up.That's when you realize he's staring at the perilla leaves.
Oh.
Oh no.
You know about the perilla leaf debate. Everyone knows about the perilla leaf debate. It's a stupid thing where people argue whether it's okay to help someone else's partner separate their perilla leaves, whether it crosses a line, or not. Usually, usually, it's just internet debates and topics for variety shows.
Jungkook, however, looks like he's about to flip the table.
"So," Jimin says, "how's work been? Did you finish that powerpoint presentation?"
"Yeah, finally," you start to say, but Jungkook cuts in.
"She finished it yesterday," he says, pouring soju into your glass without asking.
Jimin's eyebrows lift. "Did she?"
"Mhm. She texted me at three in the morning," Jungkook says.
Namjoon looks up from his phone. Hobi pauses with his mouth full.
"Jungkook, that's not-" you say, blushing.
"Do you want some meat?" he asks instead, grabbing the kitchen scissors and carefully cutting the grilled pork belly into bite-sized pieces before placing them on your plate.
"Thanks..." you say slowly.
Jimin watches with his head tilted. He looks between you and Jungkook, then back to the perilla leaves.
"Ah," Jimin says softly.
"Ah what?" Taehyung asks.
"Nothing," Jimin says with a grin. He reaches for the perilla leaves again. "Do you want another one? These are really good." His chopsticks hover over the stack.
Jungkook's chopsticks hit his plate with a clatter.
"You don't have to. I'll do it," Jungkook says quickly.
"It's fine," Jimin says sweetly, separating another leaf. "I don't mind."
"I said," Jungkook replies, enunciating each word, "I'll do it."
He takes the leaf from Jimin's chopsticks and places it on your plate himself. Then he looks at Jimin with an expression that makes your stomach flip.
"Jungkook..." you say quietly.
"Eat," he tells you, looking at you with those soft eyes that could kill you.
Jimin leans back, studying Jungkook.
"What is it?" Hobi asks, looking between them.
"Just... perilla leaves," Jimin says. "You know the debate, right? Whether it's okay to help someone else's person with their leaves?"
The table goes absolutely silent and you want to disappear into the floor.
"Guys, seriously, it's not-"
"Some people think it's too intimate," Jimin continues, looking at Jungkook.
"And what do you think?" you ask.
Jimin shrugs playfully. "I think intention matters."
"What's your intention?" Jungkook asks.
Jimin holds his gaze for a long moment. Then he laughs, breaking the tension, and reaches over to pat Jungkook on the shoulder.
"Relax, maknae. I'm just teasing."
The rest of dinner passes quickly. Every time Jimin speaks to you, Jungkook finds a reason to touch you or get your attention. For the first time, it's not meant to be subtle. It's almost like a competition to see who hands you your coat when you leave or who walks closest to you on the way out.
Everyone agrees to walk to the Han River, grab some ice cream from a convenience store, and sit on the benches by the water. None of you are ready to go home yet.
You hang back, letting the others drift ahead. Jungkook stays beside you, his hands tucked into his pockets.
"You didn't have to do that," you say quietly.
"Do what?"
"Mark your territory."
He stops walking. You stop too, turning to face him.
"Is that what you think I was doing?" he asks.
"I don't know what you were doing, Jungkook. You acted like Jimin committed a crime by helping me with dinner."
He looks away. "You don't get it."
"Then explain it to me."
"The perilla leaf thing is stupid. I know it's stupid. But...I always want to be the one helping you. And I know I don't have the right to feel like that, but I do."
"Jungkook..." you say softly, trying to get him to look at you.
"Don't say whatever you're going to say. Let me just... let me have this one moment where I pretend it's okay that I feel this way, even though I'm your friend and I'm supposed to just be cool with Jimin flirting with you."
"He wasn't flirting."
"He was," Jungkook insists, finally looking at you. "Maybe he didn't mean it like that, but he was, and I hated it. I hated it so much. I wanted to be the one helping you, even with something as stupid as perilla leaves."
"You know," you say softly, "you could have just said something instead of starting a silent war at the dinner table."
"I don't know how to say things," he admits. "I only know how to... want... from a distance."
"That's the problem," you say as you reach out, your fingers finding his. His hand relaxes, and he threads his fingers through yours. "You think you're being subtle, but you're not. Everyone at that table knows exactly what's happening."
"Did you?"
"Yeah." You smile. "I know... and I think I've been waiting for you to help me with my perilla leaves for a pretty long time now."
"Don't joke."
"I'm not joking."
"Jimin was testing you, Kook."
"Testing me?"
"Yeah. He was messing with you. It was so obvious he was challenging you. He wanted to see if you'd finally do something about it." You smile. "He's not stupid. He saw it before either of us did."
Jungkook groans. "So I played right into his hands."
"And you were very dramatic about it," you say with a sigh.
"Shut up," he says, smiling.
"I liked it. I really like it when you stop being quiet about wanting."
He takes another small step closer. "So... can I help you with your perilla leaves next time?"
"Only if you're not doing it just to be polite."
He smiles nervously "I'm doing it because I want to be the person you reach for."
You look at him, at the tiny chocolate-chip mole beneath his lip that you've wanted to kiss for months.
Then you do.
You have to.
He's standing there with his heart in his hands, offering it to you like it's nothing.
His hands come up to cradle your face, his thumbs brushing softly along your jaw as he kisses you back.
When you finally pull away, his forehead rests against yours.
"Does this mean I won the war?" he asks, breathless.
"You were the only one fighting it, you idiot," you laugh, giving his chest a light shove. "Jimin wasn't actually interested. He has a crush on the barista at his coffee shop."
Jungkook blinks. "What?"
"Namjoon told me last week."
He stares at you, dropping his head to your shoulder. "I made a fool of myself for nothing."
"Not for nothing," you say, running your fingers gently through his soft hair. "You finally stopped being quiet."
He lifts his head.
"I can be loud," he says. "If you want. About this, about you."
"Show me."
"Gladly."
And he does. He kisses you again, deeper this time, and you smile against his lips.
Then Taehyung's voice carries over from farther up the path.
"Finally! Took you long enough!"
You laugh into his mouth and pull him even closer.
Summary: While getting ready to travel with team avatar for Aang's journey to preserve the air bender's culture, you find out that you may or may not have been too loud the night before.
Pairing: Fire Lord Zuko x Fire Lady!Reader
Word Count: 0.8k
Content Warning: minor spoilers for new movie but no plot is mentioned, established relationship, suggestive content mentioned, fluff, slice of life, they're freaks, second person, no use of y/n
A/N: i watched the movie and i'm obsessed please send zuko recs i'm so sat for him. kind of a mess bc i whipped it up in like two hours. as always, i hope you enjoy <3
•───────•°•♡•°•───────•
"And here I thought I packed too much."
Holding your husband's third bag over your head, you hear him scoff while taking it from you. He always had a habit of packing heavy, and it's only gotten worse with age.
Sokka starts to snicker to himself, but quickly masks it with a cough when the Fire Lord sends a look his way.
"Just because we're on a trip doesn't mean our responsibilities disappear." the over-packer attempts to justify his bag filled with scrolls.
"It's like four days, your highness," you finally string your own backpack over your shoulder, climbing up Appa's side, "I think the Fire Nation will just fine."
"And I think you have too much faith in our Grand Chamberlain, my dear." he mutters, wrapping his hand around yours, pulling you onto the flying bison.
Hooking your free hand on the railing of the saddle to push up, Zuko's hands move from your hand to find their favorite spot at your waist. He picks you up with a practiced ease he's used to from the bedroom. Your grip moves to his biceps, steadying yourself as he places you down right in front of him.
Dropping a quick kiss to your forehead, he slips his hand on the strap of your backpack to take it from your grasp. This was the longest you'd ever lasted holding something. He always offered to hold your bags, or just take them.
"Ever the gentleman," you laugh as he throws your only bag amongst his three.
"Only the best manners for my Lady," he hums, his back facing you.
A cheeky grin crosses your face as an idea enters your mind.
"I don't know how true that is, My Lord." you take the ends of his ponytail and wrap them around your index and pointer fingers, "I'm recalling some manners last night that were not necessarily up to par."
He freezes, the words registering instantly. There's an indulgent memory playing from your shared tent behind his eyes. You watch as the back of his neck tints to a color oddly similar to his robe; your grin only grows wider at the sight.
"Darling," he starts dangerously, turning his head sideways to meet your gaze, "correct me if I'm wrong; but I was under the impression you liked it when-"
"OKAY YOU TWO, THAT'S ENOUGH!" Sokka's voice cuts through the air loudly next to you.
Not being able to hold it in any longer, you burst out laughing. Zuko's face now flushes entirely, but he matches your sentiment with a knowing shake of the head.
"I'm sorry Sokka-" you manage to get out between laughs, "he's just so fun to tease."
Sticking his tongue out at you, your husband only adds fuel to the fire of your cackles.
"I swear," he grumbles to himself, "you guys are almost as bad as Aang and Katara."
At that, Zuko snaps his neck in Sokka's direction. It's terribly obvious that a protest begins to form in his throat, only to be shut up by Toph popping up next to you all.
"Speaking of," her voice gets closer as she rises on the stone pillar, "Where is Twinkle Toes? Aren't we supposed to be leaving soon?"
"He was meditating near the new air temple."
"Katara went to go get him a little bit ago," you add onto Zuko's information.
"Oh great," Sokka starts again flatly, "we're lucky if we leave by midnight."
"Ye of little faith, they'll be here soon."
"Yeah sure," he scoffs unbelievingly, "we'll leave on time when Zuko stops pretending he doesn't like it rough."
"Okay that's-"
"Sorry I kept you all waiting!" a cheery voice that could only belong to one man rings from behind the pillars.
Aang doesn't seem to notice that you and Zuko's faces now mirror your nation's colors, Katara does though. She looks to to the other three faces, trying to read the situation before making eye contact with you. Raising an eyebrow, you just shake your head as a response; a silent plea that she won't add to the situation.
Thankfully, she understands and keeps quiet.
Aang continues through the crowd, preparing the others for the journey.
"It's your fault for being loud," Zuko mutters into your ear, moving so his front meets your back.
Twisting your neck to look up at him, betrayal paints your expression. "Correct me if I'm wrong darling," you repeat his words back to him, "but I was under the impression you liked me loud."
The ends of his lips start pulling into something that might resemble a smirk, but he purses them before it can be completed. "I do."
You huff indignantly and he wraps his arms around your waist. Pulling you closer to him, he rests his chin on the crown of your head.
"But I like it better when it's just for me."
•───────•°•♡•°•───────•
A/N: I'm trying something new with making the text small, lmk if yall like it!
summary: one second, you're larping being army, and the next you're being transported to a second location where seven men claim that you're their soulmate. what is a girl to do...
note: ok im spoiling all of you now because im going to be so busy for the week ok so no update till the weekend 😐 ALSO CAN U IGNORE THE TIMESTAMPS im still figuring ts out ok.
warnings: USE OF Y/N. kind of trauma later in the story, mentions of abuse, mentions of eating disorders and my humor.
word count: 5k+
index | next
CHAPTER TWO : where do i sign?
You wake up with a headache. There’s a heavy pressure in your chest as you feel the weight of the seven bonds settle. Your entire body feels like it’s on fire.
You groan before shoving your head into your pillow. There are quite a few things on your list today that you are less than excited to tackle. First is getting out of bed. The next is the very obvious elephant in the room: the tiniest problem of your soulmates being the world’s biggest K-pop boy group.
You kick your legs in frustration. “Fuck my life.”
You turn your phone over as you scroll through notifications and see a couple of messages from unknown numbers.
Unknown: We need to talk. What time are you free tomorrow? This is Namjoon, btw.
You reply quickly, explaining that you are free all day but wouldn’t mind if he decides not to drag you out of your house before 12PM.
The next text is from Amelia letting you know that she stocks your pantry with Buldak and to check outside your door for her online delivery.
Bless her soul.
With your newfound connection with the Goddess of Fanfiction, you are sure you can pull a few strings.
You gather your blanket, a notebook, and your laptop and plop them all on your dining table. You start a cup of coffee and get to work. You are over 13 years behind, and you have to know everything about BTS before this afternoon.
You find out your soulmates have been in military service up until last summer. You also discover that you are the youngest at 25. You and Seokjin have an eight-year difference. You wonder what he thinks of that. Not that you necessarily care. You need to be his controversially young girlfriend. You can practically feel your toes curl at the thought.
Your phone buzzes, and you answer the call without looking at the ID. The only person who cold-calls you is Amelia. Yes, you do have friends other than Amelia. You’re not that much of a loner.
“No, Lia, I cannot bring you bunny food. You have a hamster. It is going to explode.” Amelia has been blowing up your phone asking about that for the past hour. You decide not to entertain her.
“Do hamsters generally explode in America?” Namjoon’s rich voice asks you. His English is slightly accented, but his voice goes straight to your dick. Or it would if you had a dick. You silently curse yourself.
“You’d be surprised,” you reply. “What can I do for you, Namjoon?”
“Does around one today work for you?” He asks. There is a rustling in the background as if he’s trying to move away from something.
“It seems to work perfectly fine for me, but I’m open to testing it out?” You jest. You think you are pretty clever for your joke and contemplate high-fiving yourself.
Namjoon’s silence dampens your mood. “That was horrible,” a different voice informs you. You must be on speaker.
You recognise it as Hoseok’s. You resist the urge to harumph. You are not secretly decrepit and indignant; you will handle this with grace and composure.
“Oh, who is you?” you grumble. “Can we get the other one on the line? I need to confirm a plan.”
“I’ll text you the address,” Namjoon’s voice sounds distant as if Hoseok has taken his phone far, far away from him.
You decide that these are not your monkeys just yet and therefore this is not your circus to deal with. With your mind at ease, you hang up and resume your task at hand.
The gentle hum of the 1975’s discography plays in your living room, and you surf the internet. You enjoy your newfound task and honestly understand why AMRY are so in love with their leaders.
Though, does this make you the leader as well or just another groupie? Would you have to larp as a leader? You feel another headache coming on.
You don’t think you are ready to lead. You will have to tell Namjoon this. Though speaking of headache, the pounding in your head has subsided to a gentle thrum much like your own heartbeat. You suspect foul play.
Soon enough, the time arrives for you to meet your soulmate. You push your feet into a pair of flip-flops and switch off all your lights as you leave your house.
The second you get into your car, you call Amelia.
She picks up on the first ring.
“What?”
“Hi, my angel baby!” You exclaim. Her suspicion is evident. “I’m going to go meet..them.” You are not sure if there is a spy in the network, so you refrain from mentioning your soulmates. You also haven’t broken the news to her yet, for fear of shots being fired.
“Them…?” Amelia plays like she is rock stupid.
“Them.” You offer no further clarification. Amelia is not an idiot; she will connect the dots herself or leave the room.
“BTS?” Amelia, the loudmouth, says at last. You hush her quickly. “Do not say such things out loud.”
“You are such a curious creature,” she tells you, her amusement clear. You do not correct her or say that you really are meeting BTS.
“Touché, sister.”
“I’m so nervous right now,” you tell her. “I feel the hair on the back of my knees standing up.”
“Why do you have hair on the back of your kneecaps...?” Amelia asks, clearly focusing on the big picture.
“Do you not?” you ask, genuinely curious.
“Obviously not. You’re so weird and testosterone-filled.”
“You’re so bald,” you retort lamely.
“Just drive in silence,” Amelia tells you. What are you if not good with instructions?
As you round the corner, you feel the light tremor on your hands travel further down your body.
Having a soulmate sounds daunting, but the concept of having seven feels like a noose on your neck. You value your independence and, most importantly, your autonomy. The concept of having a soulmate robs you of the choice to pick your romantic partner.
Logically, seven billionaires being held at biological gunpoint to serve you at your beck and call doesn’t sound like a horrible life to lead. But you are terrified that it will be a dull, dull life to lead. God, you must be the world’s worst avoidant.
You feel like there are claws trying to lodge themselves into your throat. You shake your head, trying to snap out of it as you park. You quickly bid Amelia goodbye and take in the scene in front of you.
Here you stand in a pair of worn-out cotton shorts, a tank top, and a jacket to cover you, flip-flops, and there the building stands, looking like a scene out of a movie. You decide you hate billionaires and will force your soulmates to donate their wealth to charity.
The receptionist seems to share a similar sentiment when you ask her where the room number Namjoon has sent you is.
This feels so much like a spy movie that your previous nerves are forgotten, replaced by a sudden thrill. It is just so secretive. You love it.
You wonder if you will have to save their numbers in code names so that if your phone gets hacked, their identity won’t be in jeopardy.
You nearly giggle.
You could practically hear Amelia sighing as she calls you a schizophrenic.
You stand before the looming wooden door and wonder if it is too late to just go back home. You could block Namjoon and mind your business. The rest of your life is right there. You shake your head. You are no coward.
You can do this. You will face this situation head-on because your mama didn’t raise you to be a quitter.
You knock.
You are greeted by Jeongguk at the door. He grins at you and motions you inside. “She’s here!” he calls. You need a gun.
“I have a name.” You grumble, trudging past him. Your displeasure in this situation is obvious, but it is also obvious that they don’t really care.
Jeongguk walks beside you, his joy radiating in waves. He is like a wire strung tight. Shuddering, you decide you will sit far, far away from that.
The room is huge, with a common room and separate rooms within the suite. It makes sense, considering that they are RICH rich.
You remove your flip-flops at the door as you trail inside, tracing your hands on the walls. You wonder what your life will be like with them. They have such busy schedules, and they are currently in the middle of a world tour. You are going to make it big in Milan as a fashion mogul. Your dreams just do not align.
You aren’t willing to give up your pursuit of becoming a fashion designer. They most definitely aren’t willing to give up their music career. You try not to think about the obvious red flags as you enter the common room. Jeongguk has been silent the whole time, so you turn to him.
He is watching you carefully. You don’t know what to make of that. “Where is everyone?” You ask. He nods towards the room.
The first thing you notice is a man you don’t recognise, and that next to him Namjoon is sitting on the couch with Yoongi on one side and Seokjin on the other. You feel yourself blush.
Pathetic. You fight your groan.
You are so gone for the man; it makes you a little disgusted with yourself.
Jimin and Taehyung are on the floor with Hoseok playing what seems to be tic tac toe.
Seokjin is the first to notice you and greets you with a smile. “Y/N,”
You blush again. You can’t seem to turn it off. You really need a gun. You wave awkwardly at the group. “Hey,”
“Come sit,” the man pats the cushion beside him. You regard the space as if it is infested.
“I think I’m good on the floor,” you tell him. The last thing you need is him getting a face full of exactly what happens when you are near him. He doesn’t seem to take it to heart.
“Would you like a blanket? The floor is cold.” Is all he says. God, is your face genuinely heating up? Oh my god, you need to die.
You shake your head. “All good,” you murmur, trying to pretend like you aren’t representing tomatoes all over the world.
This is an awkward situation. It is bound to feel awkward, you remind yourself. You have only been able to put a face to a name as of three days ago and have barely scratched the surface of their seemingly never-ending digital footprint as of this afternoon. You cannot be blamed for your discomfort.
You are also alone in a room with seven men. Anyone in their right mind would be a little cautious.
You pick at your fraying shorts as you give yourself a minute to collect your thoughts.
There is quite a lot you have to address. The most prominent issue is your conflicting schedules. It will be a nightmare pursuing a relationship with the insanity of time zones and the intensity of their line of work. There is also the slight issue of your disregard for soulmates.
You open your mouth to speak just as Namjoon begins. He quiets down when he sees you. “Go ahead.”
You shake your head. “No, you first.”
“I insist.” He says.
You sigh deeply. “Well, if you insist.”
“I don’t think I’m ready for the commitment that comes with having a soulmate,” you say quietly. Let alone seven. But you don’t say that part out loud.
At this, everyone zeroes in on you.
“What do you mean?” Taehyung is the first to ask.
“For starters, I’m 25.” You begin. “I like to think that I have a whole future of possibilities in front of me. And I don’t particularly like the idea of having a soulmate.” You practically whisper the last part.
“You’re 25?” That is Seokjin. You nod. "26 this year!" You cheer. No one else seems excited at your future achievement. You deflate.
"You guys also have so much of your own career ahead of you." You are a pioneer. You take a deep breath before you continue, but Namjoon beats you to it.
"We have worked so hard for all these years to be in this exact position," he says. "What would be the point of all this fame and money if we can't even afford to support our soulmate?"
The question seems reasonable enough, but you are not about to tell them that it isn’t them, it is you. You and your crippling fear of ever being reined in. "I don't doubt that you can support me," you tell them gently. How are you supposed to phrase this?
"It's not that I'm against the idea of soulmates," you say. You are. "I just think we should be focusing more on our careers." True. You are at completely different points in life with the age gaps. The group doesn’t seem to like your reasoning very much. Surprisingly, it is Jimin who speaks.
"We've focused on our careers for over half our lives," he says. He's uncharacteristically bitter, and for some reason that bothers you. "I think we're in a position where we can think about other things. What is this really about?"
You need a GUN. Why is it that the universe seems deaf to your pleas?
"My career, I guess?" you say. "I just-" you breathe deeply. You are calm and gentle and kind, and all the goodness in the world is going to manifest itself into your heart, because you truly are pure of heart. The purest even. "I don't see how this is going to work? You are in the middle of a world tour, for starters. I am actively trying to find a job just to make ends meet. We are at such different points of time in our careers."
"We can provide for you." Taehyung is speaking now. "You don't have to work."
You blink, clearly taken aback. That was never an option. Your family hasn’t immigrated to this country for you just for you to throw it all away because you suddenly have rich boyfriends. You are more than that.
"That is very...kind," you say. "But I'll pass."
Taehyung frowns. "But you're saying that you barely make ends meet. We don't lack money. We can help."
You know he means well. This poor boy isn’t telling you to quit your job; he only means that it doesn’t make sense when they can just pay for you. Seven credit cards pave a golden brick road for you, but you aren’t sure if you want that path.
You have big dreams and expectations of yourself. You are going to pursue this fashion designing job. You will have to start small, yes, but Rome wasn’t built in a day. You will become a household brand. But for that, you will have to work.
You are going to work.
You only shake your head, your attention returning to your fraying shorts. You don’t want to argue; that’s not why you are here. You are here to politely decline their invitation for Amelia’s wet dream. You are going to pull the career card and get the hell out of here. It seems something is easier said than done.
"Taehyung isn't trying to restrict your autonomy," Namjoon says, perceptive as ever. God, you are really hungry. It just dawns on you that the last thing you had was a cup of coffee.
"Men usually don't." You hadn’t realised you’d said that out loud. You slap a hand over your mouth. "Sorry, that wasn't like targeted or anything." For the millionth time, where is that GUN?
Namjoon only raises an eyebrow. Yoongi seemed to hum thoughtfully. That is the first interaction you have with him. You really wish you could talk to each of them, one at a time, instead of feeling bombarded. It seems they come as a package deal, though, and you aren’t about to separate them for your own comfort.
"Fine. Say we were to give this whole thing a shot. What would that look like?" you ask. You don't miss the relief in Namjoon's eyes or the way the tension in the room seems to slowly ease away.
"We would obviously have to speak to our managers," he says. He motions to the man beside him. "We would need to figure out a way to protect your privacy, and there will be a lot of paperwork." He winces.
You fight a groan. Maybe you should take it back.
"We likely will have to keep in close proximity in case our Soul Marks manifest. If it's something like Touch, then it's better safe than sorry," he continues. That seems fair. When the Touch Mark first manifests, soulmates need to constantly be in contact lest the bond thinks you're trying to reject it and, in turn, rejects you. Soul Bonds might be the ultimate avoidants.
"As for your job, what is it exactly that you do?" Namjoon asks. The question isn’t phrased to be condescending; you know that. Still, you chew the inside of your cheek, taking a moment to reply.
The group waits for you while you sit there wondering if you should just leave yourself a complete enigma.
"Makeup artist," you finally say. "I work at a salon." It isn’t a lie. Half-truth will get you places.
At that, Jimin seems to brighten. "You can join our team!" He says, excitedly. Your head shoots up. Seokjin shushes him, and you let yourself stare at him for a little while.
Seokjin is really, really pretty. But unfortunately for you, he isn’t the only one. It seems a requirement to be part of this band is that you have to be undeniably beautiful.
Each member has you captivated in their own unique way, but you always find yourself stunned by Seokjin every time you see him. You quickly make sure that your mouth isn’t hanging open like a fool.
Unsure how to respond to Jimin, you purse your lips in thought. Currently, you are craving a breakfast burrito. You might give someone head in exchange for a breakfast burrito. Much to your disappointment, the odds of you getting a breakfast burrito at two in the afternoon are slim. Slim but never zero. It seems to be a recurring theme in your life.
Inspired, you plan to order yourself a breakfast burrito when you go back home.
You smile kindly at Jimin but make no further comment. Instead, you turn to Namjoon. "I do have a question."
He nods encouragingly.
"You guys are like mega ultra famous, so how exactly would your fan base react to all seven of you having the same soulmate?" you ask. You genuinely do fear online backlash, not that you are one to take those kinds of things to heart. Or so you believe. You are a believer of not knocking things till you try them.
You're such a fucking hypocrite. Amelia's voice echoes in your head. You are sure you are losing your mind.
What would hypothetical Amelia know about the inner workings of your mind?
"We try to remain optimistic and hope for a positive response, but there's always going to be someone who won't be happy. Some things are beyond our control." Namjoon tells you. You nod sagely.
You win some, you lose some.
You draw up your knees to your chest. "Is it alright if I make a call?" you ask at last. The group shares a glance at who you assume is the manager. He smiles kindly at you, “Please feel free, but try to refrain from mentioning who your soulmates are. It would also be preferable if you could put your phone on speaker for damage control.”
You shrug; you don’t really care as long as you get to call. Your hands practically fly to your phone as you dial Amelia's number.
"Hello?" Her voice is groggy when she picks up.
"Were you seriously taking a nap?" you ask. You cannot believe this. Twice you have been caught in an unconventional, possibly dangerous situation, and both times your best friend has been completely carefree.
"I'm fucking tired, Y/N. What do you want?"
You cut her off with a loud shush. "I need your opinion on something."
Amelia yawns.
"You are far too codependent," is all she says. You know there’s no true malice behind her words. "But I give you my blessing."
"That’s not-" That is exactly why you’d called. You aren’t sure if this is a good idea. Yes, they are your soulmates. But in truth you don’t know them at all. You have read too much dark romance for this. But Amelia would know. Amelia always knows. “What are you talking about?” you ask, kind of confused because you haven’t mentioned anything to her.
"Just sign the damn NDA. You deserve this Y/N, you deserve love and joy and all the good things in the world. Now, stop calling me and talk to your soulmate before I kill you." She tells you. There's shuffling, and you hear a loud yeowl. Likely her cat. “You also owe me the biggest story time in the world.”
"Promise?" you ask her. She only hangs up on you.
You stare at the blank screen before dragging your gaze up to your soulmates. There is a shared amusement as they watch you.
You sigh deeply. "Where do I sign?"
⋆˚꩜｡⋆
Much to your dismay, having famous soulmates means a disgusting amount of paperwork. The manager, who you quickly learn is named Sejin, has laid out a spread of documents in front of you. They are all titled ‘Standard High-Profile Soulmate NDA & Contingency Agreement.’
You are still sitting on the floor, but all the paper is placed on a coffee table in front of you, with your soulmates crowded around you as Sejin explains each document to you on your right.
On your left, Jeongguk and Jimin decide to insert themselves in your personal bubble. Jeongguk takes to tracing your ring finger on your left hand. His touch allows for a million tiny sparks to tingle along your arm.
You frown as you come upon a living arrangement clause. “I have to live with them?” you ask Sejin. You hadn’t meant to sound so indignant, but you are understandably disturbed.
Sejin nods, albeit sheepishly. “We suspect that a Touch Mark will manifest for one of the members, considering how your interactions went. This would mean that you would have to move in regardless; this is just a legal precaution.”
You hum. Moving? To Seoul? Is this man out of his mind?
You drum your fingers on your right leg. “Okay, does this mean I have to go everywhere with them on tour?” you ask. Sejin nods. Next to him, Namjoon winces.
You sigh. That was to be expected; it’s not like you can just avoid and neglect your Soul Bonds. You are divinely required to go through with this.
“Hypothetically speaking, say I left my job and my entire life and did join them on tour, what would I be doing? I can’t have a 10-month void on my resume.”
Sejin nods. “We understand. You’d mentioned that you work as a makeup artist and one of ours has just recently retired. We would love to evaluate you for the position, but we can’t play into favouritism. If nothing else, we can create an internship position for you where you can gain hands-on experience, at the very least.”
You consider it. You don’t particularly like your job, hence why you’d quit it two weeks ago. It doesn’t hurt to try, and besides, you would have to be with them for the next ten months regardless. You might as well get some work experience. You could definitely learn things about styling and costuming on tour. You consider that important knowledge.
You hum and continue reading.
You’ve been trying to ignore your soulmates’ gazes for the past hour because every time you look up, you see one of them smiling or staring at you. You especially can’t look at Seokjin.
You come across a clause that explains a Nexus bond. You blink. “What’s this?” you point at it.
It is Namjoon who answers you. “The seven of us are a part of a nexus bond,” he says. “We all have a platonic soulmate bond with each other, but there’s no anchor to it, well, until we met you.”
Sejin nods. “The clause is basically lawsuit protection,” he says. “The nature of your relationship with the boys will vary depending on both parties; we cannot confirm or guarantee a relationship of romantic or platonic nature.”
Could you have platonic bonds? You send up a silent prayer that your relationship with Seokjin would be romantic, and if it is, you would genuinely become religious.
God, if you’re there?
Your horror must be clearly written on your face since Hoseok bursts into laughter. “Don’t worry, I don’t think any of us feel platonic attraction to you.”
You blush at his words.
That feels like you are cheating on Seokjin, considering he’s been the one to take your blush virginity. He seems to share your sentiment when you glance over at him.
You try to suppress a smile at his pout.
“What’s this blank page for?” you ask Sejin.
“The NDA is to protect both parties,” he explains. “While you aren’t allowed to expose or hint at any relationship with the boys, it goes the same for them, except their families will be notified. The page is for you to decide who you would like to notify about this…development.”
You nod sagely. Fairs.
You bite the pen cap, trailing your fingers over Jeongguk’s thumb as you think.
You aren’t in contact with your dad. Your mom…probably. That leaves your group of three friends and your mother. You quickly list Amelia, Kiera, and Allison’s names and contact information.
Jeongguk frowns as he looks over your shoulder. “You don’t want to tell your dad?”
You shrug. “I don’t have his contact information.”
Jimin seems to deflate beside Jeongguk. “I’m sorry to hear that,” he says.
You shrug. You are at a point where you don’t really care anymore. Your father has brought whatever life he is living into himself, and he is no longer your problem.
You look around the room, taking in Seokjin’s comforting smile and Hoseok’s encouraging nod. Yoongi’s eyes are trained on you; he hasn’t said much to you, but you haven’t really taken the initiative either. You will have to remedy that.
Jimin and Jeongguk are practically vibrating with excitement, and Taehyung only smirks at you. Namjoon is the one who looks the most worried.
You wished you could lean over and pat him on the shoulder.
If you sign this document, you will have to leave behind your entire life for the seven of them. Your career, your friends and family, and your beautiful apartment. You feel a pang in your chest as you think about the apartment you share with your three friends and how you all have painstakingly decorated each room together.
You look over at your future, the men you will be spending the rest of your life with. The men you will be marrying and loving till your last breath. Is it a fair trade? Not necessarily. But it is temporary. A lot can change in a year.
Nodding to yourself, you sign the document.
The rest of the hour is spent going over the details: their schedules, how soon you should be packing (tomorrow), what time you need to show up for the interview position (tomorrow).
By the time Sejin leaves, you are exhausted and have been introduced to words you never thought would be relevant to you.
You slump into the couch behind you. “God, I need to tell my mom,” you mutter.
You glance at the time. Your soulmates have an hour till they have to be at rehearsal, and you need time to process. You decide this is where you will leave them.
“Okay, I need to get back home and get started on…everything.” You sigh. “I’ll see you guys tomorrow.”
There is a general consensus. “We don’t have anything tomorrow, except filming Festa. If you would like, you can come as well?” Hoseok asks you. You ponder.
“Sejin said he’ll send me a shared calendar that you have and the interview timings. I’ll let you know once I know.”
He only nods.
Taehyung brightens. “We need to add you to the group chat!”
You blink. Of course they have a group chat. Wow, you are moving a million miles a minute.
Seokjin rolls his eyes. “Yah! Let her process everything first before you all bombard her.”
You giggle. Apparently anything is funny when you’re trying to get laid.
Your phone buzzes with texts from your friend group demanding you return the car, if not yourself. The four of you share a car because, let’s be honest, California is disgustingly expensive. For four girls freshly out of college with two still working on their PhD, it can be a lot. Hence the shared living arrangements.
You frown. “I need to go home,” you tell your soulmates.
Soulmates. Why was that so weird?
Why?
You startle. You hadn’t thought that. Are you actually schizophrenic? Have you finally lost your mind? Is this…
God? you echo in your mind.
No, Min Yoongi.
There is amusement in the voice.
You stare at him.
Namjoon is the first to clock it. “Do you have a Mind Mark?” he asks you, following your line of sight to Yoongi.
“No, he just has a staring problem,” you grumble, standing up.
Yoongi’s laughter echoes in your mind, and you stumble.
Jeongguk steadies you. “Are you okay?” he asks, studying your face. You only nod, your eyes lingering on the silver ring on his lips. You shake yourself.
“Gotta go. I’ll be seeing ya!” You cannot leave fast enough. Yoongi’s amusement lingers in your mind long after you leave.
ok everyone who wants to be added to a tag list go like this psot pls pls pls so i dont miss anyone ok thanks
summary: one second, you're larping being army, and the next you're being transported to a second location where seven men claim that you're their soulmate. what is a girl to do...
note: guys pls this is my first fic ever ok like idk what im doing this is genuinely a self indulgent crack fic so dont take it too seriously ok..? promise me. ok love ubye.
warnings: USE OF Y/N. kind of trauma later in the story, mentions of abuse, mentions of eating disorders and my humor.
word count: 5k+
index | next
CHAPTER ONE : you need a hitman.
It all starts when Amelia Wren slams her phone down in front of you, claiming she has a life-changing offer.
“You literally cannot say no.” She says, shoving what seems to be the Ticketmaster app in your face. You try to put some distance between yourself and the phone to see its contents more clearly, but before you can, she’s moving already.
“What is this thing that I am being denied the right to deny…?” You ask.
“I got us tickets for…” She turns to you expectantly. Several years of friendship have apparently prepared you for this exact moment. You begin to drum roll.
“BTS!” She exclaims, her excitement palpable. You are grateful that your best friend thinks of you at such a time in her life; you really are, but it seems that she’s forgotten a very important detail.
“I don’t—” You begin.
“Listen to BTS. I know! But I literally have no one else to go with, Y/N. You’re my best friend in the whole entire world, pleaseee!” She pleads.
You bite your lip. “I don’t know, Lia. I feel like you should take someone that knows more than two songs off their entire discography.”
She rounds her eyes comically in mock surprise. “You know two whole songs!?”
You roll your eyes. “I don’t think there’s anyone on this God-given Earth that hasn’t heard Dynamite or Butter at least once.”
“See! You know so much already!” She throws her arms around you. “You have to come, Y/N. For me! Pleasee.” She pulls away and bats her eyelashes at you.
In turn, you stare back at her blankly. She huffs. “Okay. I invoke the Pact.”
“Don’t you dare.”
“No. If you say no to me now, you are turning your back on the sacredness of our friendship.” She informs you, taking a seat beside you and staring back at you, equally blank.
You groan, putting your head in your hands. You and Amelia had created “The Pact” in high school as a way to hold the other accountable. It included a long list of things, but one of them included showing up for the other, especially in desperate times.
“This is an abuse of power.” You inform her through your hands. She simply shrugs. You are honestly mostly worried about going to the concert and just standing there while some girl snipes you and posts you on TikTok talking about how you didn’t even go there.
That would be a fate worse than death. You hate coming off as a larp. But Amelia has invoked the sacredness of your friendship, and you honestly value that more than your life, which essentially decides for you.
“Fine.” You finally say. “I’ll come.”
That was over two weeks ago. Now the two of you stand in the parking lot of the stadium trying to get through a sea of people. The heat has gotten to both of you with the 4 o’clock heat that is a Californian summer. Amelia groans as she places an iced water bottle to her head. “I think I’m going to die of heat stroke before I see Jimin’s abs.”
“I hope we do.” You murmur, moving your mini fan between the two of you. After extensive research, you and Amelia had decided to match for your concert outfits. Amelia is wearing a red latex tube top with black shorts and knee-high black boots. You, on the other hand, are wearing a black V-neck top with denim shorts and a fat ass belt. You move your hair aside as you let the fan trail down your neck.
“I told you we should’ve arrived at least at 3.” You tell Amelia.
She rolls her eyes at you. “That’s crazy work, and you would have to put a gun to my head before I even consider that.”
You whine when she grabs the fan from you and gives you the water bottle. “We are going to die.” You inform her. “And the last thing I will see will be that big fat Arirang logo.”
“Seeing them live in turn for your life is a sacrifice I’m willing to make,” Amelia informs you, her mouth tugging up at the side. You place a hand to your heart. “Now who’s turning their back on our friendship?”
Amelia tilts her head. “This is for the sake of our friendship, honey. Don’t worry, you'll thank me later.”
You highly doubt it. The only thing you vaguely remember about BTS is when they’d colored their hair akin to an assortment of cotton candy and their terrifyingly loyal fanbase.
As preparation for the concert, Amelia has had you study each member of the band and remember at least one trait about them lest you get kidnapped and interrogated.
You find the idea fairly probable.
“Did you go through the list again?” Amelia asks, digging in her backpack to fetch her phone. Through your bickering, the line has moved around surprisingly smoothly. There are only five people ahead of you. You nod, “My favourite is…Seok..Jin..?” You ask rather than say.
“Correct! He’s the..” She trails, waiting for you to complete.
“He’s the oldest of the seven,” you say. “And he’s got beautiful shoulders,” you sigh.
“Correct!”
After scanning your tickets and thanking the staff, you and Amelia start to navigate your way to your seats through yet another crowd. You can feel your legs hurt already from how much you’ve been standing, especially with the four-inch chunk beneath your boots.
“Did you get us floor seating?” Your shock is a living thing. You have a clear view of the stage and are close enough to the front that you could touch the stage. “Amelia, are we rich?” you ask her.
“And it cost me an arm, leg and your kidney,” Amelia informs you. You pat your torso where your kidneys would be. “Stop gambling away my body parts.” You murmur, moving down the aisle with her towards your seats.
Amelia giggles. “I found a really good reseller on Depop.”
“At least you weren’t scammed within an inch of your life,” you shrug.
“I won’t lie to you, I was shaking till they scanned our tickets.”
You lean over to ruffle her hair, to which she whines in protest. “Stop that! If tonight is the night Jimin decides he wants me, I need to look beautiful.”
You roll your eyes. “Statistically, I have more of a chance of that happening than you do.”
“Says who.”
“Wattpad!” You grin.
“You’re sick in the head, Y/N L/N.”
“Touché, Amelia Wren.”
The cheering of the crowd around you drowns out the rest of your conversation. The concert has begun.
Amelia clings to you with a vice. “Oh my GOD!” she squeals. You only pat her shoulder. “There, there,” you murmur.
Amelia has been an ARMY since 2015. This is clearly a huge deal for her, and you will be as supportive as possible for her.
“Is this from ARIRANG?” You ask her. She nods feverishly. “First song off the album,” she tells you.
The crowd loses it the second the boys are spotted.
You watch with rapt fascination as a simple move causes nearly the entire stadium to lose its shit. It is like witnessing the occult. You also can’t really blame them; BTS is beautiful. Even you can admit that. You may not remember their names, but you are plenty good with faces.
They have enough of those to go around.
The boys start to sing, and the crowd starts to go crazy. There is a voice in the back of your head that urges you to pay closer attention. You are officially convinced that you might be showing early signs of schizophrenia. Regardless, you listen lest the voice turn out to be a malicious spirit.
Near the end of the concert, when your anxiety really starts to settle into you. BTS runs around the stage waving flags as they go, saying hello to fans and singing as they do. Amelia practically pushes the two of you forward before they reach your section. She waves her hand out like much of the section and pushes yours out as well. You do your best to keep your hands as far away as possible. As the band makes its way through the crowd, you start to see the golden string that is your soulmate bond materialise in front of you. It is something only privy to the soulmates and tends to be especially bright before First Contact.
You curse the universe for its handbook to Find Your Soulmate 101.
The Tattooed One gets to your section first. He seems to be following the trail, and you know there is no hiding it. So naturally, you hide behind Amelia.
And of course, the universe decides to take a fat piss on the mess that is your life. The Tattooed One high-fives Amelia. You are sure she is going to faint right then and there, and you will have to hatch a plan to carry her cold body out of this stadium by yourself.
Then you feel the shot of electricity shoot up your arm. Your head snaps towards the source, being once again the Tattooed One. You frown, cradling your hand to your chest, and he stares back at you, his eyes slightly widening. Your eyes snake down to the golden string that confirms the worst of your fears.
Ding! Ding! Ding! You are Soulmates!
You could practically feel your stomach drop to your ass.
What. The. Fuck.
It seems that your stats aren’t too far off.
You really hadn’t meant to speak your crack fic into reality. You really need to start watching what you say.
If there is a God, they seem to be giggling at your expense. No. There clearly is, and it is one that reads fanfiction apparently.
You need to be sniped. You are going to order a hitman.
He is holding back the crowd, but it doesn’t seem like he cares.
You tilt your head at the man, and he only stares at you, his shock a living, breathing thing between the two of you. Then, like the universe has finally decided to take pity on you, he is pulled along with the crowd. You make a point to keep your hands to yourself.
“What was that?” Amelia asks. “Why did Kookie just stare into your soul?”
You shrug, “I told you. Wattpad statistics never lie.” It isn’t like you are far from the truth. That thought unsettles you. You still feel like you are having an out-of-body experience. Your words feel like an echo inside of your own head.
“You lucky bitch,” Amelia grins at you. “So what do you think?”
The band has gone off stage, likely for another dress change. You force yourself to snap out of it. The chances of BTS being your soulmate are slim but never zero, and apparently you have become a manifestation master through mysterious means.
You turn to her, forcing a smile. “I understand your dreams for a polycule orgy, okay?”
The rest of the concert feels like a blur to you. Tattooed One, or as Amelia has so politely named you, “Kookie”, and the palpable shock between the two of you is constant even without him near you.
You try to shake yourself out of it, even participating when ‘Dynamite’ starts playing. It is of no use; you are too lost within yourself.
I throw up your hands and plop down onto your seat. You are a woman of science. You are in no way a fool enough to believe in misguided notions of soulmates. You decide what has just happened is a sign from God for you to get a mental wellness check. You are, in fact, not tethered to a member of the world’s biggest K-pop boy group.
With your heart slightly at ease, you stand once again as the boys sit on the rotating stage.
In that moment, you realise three things:
Seokjin’s shoulders are truly as broad as the legends claim, and you are about to lose your mind.
Your Korean lessons have paid off well, and you can actually comprehend what they are saying to a certain extent.
Tattooed One is searching for something in the crowd.
You sit the hell back down.
You really need to stop leaving the house.
Amelia seems obvious to all your turmoil. She squeals every time one of them speaks and shakes you hard enough that you are sure you are one shake away from your brain dislodging itself.
Then with all the fanfare of a long lost welcome, they bid the crowd farewell and disappear into the tunnel for the last time.
There is confetti everywhere as people cry. Despite everything that has just gone down, the doped smile on Amelia seems worth it.
You sigh deeply and turn to Amelia to ask if she’s ready to leave when someone clears their throat behind you.
You turn to apologise, but it dies in your throat. A tall, lanky man stands behind you with a clear microphone to an earpiece. You tilt your head.
“Can I help you?” you ask, watching as Amelia packs her things. You think you know what this is. At the sound of your voice, she looks up, her face twisting in confusion.
“Ma’am, could you follow me backstage?” The stranger asks. You raise an eyebrow. “Can I see some ID?” you joke.
The man only stares. Thought you swore you saw his lips twitch.
Amelia stands beside you, all intimidation. She is going to scare this man away, and you two will stop at Taco Bell on your way home. Everything will be alright.
“What for?” Amelia inquires. Amelia was a lawyer, much to everyone’s (including yours) surprise.
“I am not in a position where I can disclose information. Please follow me.“
You turn to Amelia. She’s shaking her head. “You could very well be lured into a murder den right now.” She informs you.
“Okay, and you’ve prepared me for this moment with your insistence on me memorising everything about BTS,” you tell her.
“I’m serious, Y/N. Are you sure about this?”
You shrug. “Come with me?”
Amelia sighs deeply. “Always.”
The man clears his throat again. “I apologise, but only she is authorised,” he says, pointing toward you. You exchange a glance with Amelia.
“Y/N…” she starts. You smile at her and pat her shoulder. “I promise you that I will be okay.”
“Okay, if you don’t text me within ten minutes, I’m going to assume you are bleeding in a sewer.” She tells you. You pinky promise her that you will even send her your location before following the man.
You assure yourself that you will be fine if this turns out to be a kidnapping attempt.
You could scream really loudly.
Instead of being taken backstage, the you are lured into a secret parking garage where three big fat SUVs are parked.
“Right through here,” the man says. You can sense his disapproval of you following a strange man around, but it isn’t like he hasn’t instigated it. “For safety reasons, the group needs to return to their hotel,” the man says. “You will be riding in this one.” He motions to the SUV in the middle.
You push the thought aside and follow the man towards the SUV.
He knocks twice on the door before opening it for you.
You try not to look inside too soon. You decide you will stay oblivious to the facts for as long as you possibly can. You thank the man for his effort and clamber into the car.
There are rows, and you’ve been assigned a seat at the very back next to Kim Seokjin.
Seokjin’s eyes are closed, and his head is leaning against the window.
You keep to yourself and try to make as little noise as possible as you sit down.
No sooner has the door closed before two heads peek at you.
“Hi! I’m Jimin!” The blonde one says, waving brightly at you. Beside him, there is a man with what seems to be an attempt at a blonde peek-a-boo.
Was that… “Taehyung?” you whisper. The man grins.
“Hello,” he says.
“What’s your name?” Jimin asks. You are being punked. The universe is going to clap three times, and you are going to go back in time to the concert.
“Y/N,” you tell them.
“Aish,” says a voice beside you. You startle when you realise Seokjin is, in fact, awake. “Leave her alone. Wait till the hotel room.”
You were blushing. You had never blushed a day in your life before. You didn’t even know you were capable of it. And the culprit for this newfound development was none other than Kim Seokjin. You tried to blink it away, but it seemed that was not how blushing worked. Were you also supposed to feel this warm when you blushed?
Seokjin smiles politely at you before returning to his initial position. The other two disappear into their seats, leaving you alone with your thoughts.
You need to text Amelia.
You pull out your phone and lean back in your seat.
You: I am alive.
Lia Bear: [sent photo]
You frown. Why is she not overjoyed for your safety?
You open the photo. It is a picture of Amelia stuffing her face with sushi.
Now you are irritated.
You: Your greed sickens me. I’m going to block you now.
Lia Bear: Don’t hate the player, hate the game.
You: You have blocked this contact
On hindsight, that is probably not the best move to make when you are being taken to a second location in a car full of men. You undo the action.
You groan and put your head in your hands. Today might have just been the worst day ever.
First, you find out that you have not one but seven soulmates. You aren’t entirely sure how you feel about that just yet.
Then, instead of overwhelming concern and distress, your best friend is stuffing her face with food without worrying whether you will live or die. Would you do the same? Yes. But are you still pissed? Yes.
You pull your legs up to your chest and rest your head on the window, mimicking Seokjin.
You decide once this whole ordeal is over, you will order yourself enough sushi to give you a fat tapeworm.
After what you’ve just been subjected to, it feels like a reasonable request.
The reality of the situation is that you are alone in a car with seven men. No one you know has your location, and you don’t know where they are taking you. This is the stuff of nightmares.
You feel a headache coming on. You really need to stop leaving your house. Or maybe you just needed to stop listening to Amelia.
You’re not sure when you’ve fallen asleep, but you wake up convulsing in pain.
Your body is on fire, and it feels like someone has injected hellfire into your veins. Seokjin’s concerned face looks over you, and you can see a head of blonde and black hair behind him. The door is open, and there is cold air streaming through the car, but you feel as though you are being roasted alive.
“Hurts,” you manage to choke out. You are such a pathetic loser. You hope someone has hired a hitman and the second you step out of the car you will be put out of your misery.
Seokjin looks over at Jimin with a glare. “I told you to wait for Jeongguk.” He speaks rapidly in Korean. You aren’t about to let it slip that you can speak Korean. Not just yet.
“What’s wrong with her?” Taehyung asks, glancing between you and Jimin.
“Only Jeongguk has made First Contact. If the rest of us touch her, she has to go through the process all over again. For now, only he can touch her.” He says, running a hand through his hair.
You feel a sharp pain shoot through your abdomen and flare up into the rest of your body. You promise whatever is up there that you will dedicate your life to being a nun if it means that this agonising pain will stop. It genuinely feels like your body is trying to rewire you at a molecular level.
Within minutes, you see Jeongguk. His tattooed hand reaches out to gently cup your cheek before he pulls out of the car. One hand slides under your knees and the other on your back. His touch feels like being splashed with cold water, and you nearly cry with relief.
“Are you…okay?” he whispers as he walks past the rest. The others trail behind him, and they enter a building. You nod, subconsciously letting your head fall against his chest. You pull away almost instantly. “Sorry,” you mutter.
He ignores you.
You are now inside an elevator with multiple other people. Their voices overlap, and you feel your head pound. It feels like someone's heartbeat was syncing with the pulsating headache you were feeling.
You groan and turn your face towards Jeongguk. The entire elevator silences itself.
Maybe you do have Black Magic. You will test this theory out later.
Jeongguk sets you down on what seems to feel like a couch. You shoot up despite yourself and cringe when your body makes contact with itself. Again, seven strange men and now you are in a room with them. Far be it from you to simply lay down in front of them.
Jimin’s anxious face hovers near you. “I’m so sorry,” he keeps repeating, keeping his distance from you. You aren’t sure what that would do considering First Contact has already been made. You only shake your head. “It’s alright, Jimin,” you tell him, trying to smile.
He looks at you weirdly. Then he turns to Jeongguk. Jeongguk seems equally at a loss. Did you have spinach on your teeth or something..?
“Hyung—“ he begins. Seokjin is all up in your face again. You blush. Then you smack yourself in the forehead for doing so.
“You’re flushed. Do you feel hot?” he asks, gently moving your hand from your forehead.
This time the pain nearly takes you out. You lean forward and clutch his shoulders in a vice, and pain racks through you.
You groan loudly.
Jimin’s face twists in worry, his eyes practically welling. He sits on his knees in front of you and strokes your arm. “We’re so sorry, Y/N,” he says. His touch feels like a cooling balm. You lean into it.
Seokjin looks like he wants to smack himself.
“Hyung, you told us not to touch her; why would you touch her?” Jeongguk scolds.
“Are you feeling alright?” Seokjin asks, ignoring Jeongguk.
“Yeah,” you say. “All good.” Jimin makes to stand and takes his magic hands with him. You nearly whine, but you decide you need to keep the remnants of your dignity intact.
You need a fucking break.
If this is what you will feel like every time one of your soulmates touches you, you decide the bond could go unrecognised.
The door flies open, and there is a loud shout in Korean. “Where is she?”
Seokjin calls for them to come to the room you are in.
A tall man rushes in; his hair is spiky and a little dishevelled.
He kneels on the floor next to Seokjin. “I’m Namjoon,” he quickly introduces himself. “How are you feeling?“
You are sick of the question. It seems that everyone is informed on your current state of agony and despair. You wish they would leave you alone with it.
The others settle around you on the couch.
You make sure to keep your distance from everyone. Maybe you lean a little into Seokjin. And maybe you lean in specifically towards his broad shoulders.
If a beautiful man stands before you—worried for you —far be it from you to reject his comfort.
“Overwhelmed?” you answer Namjoon.
“I apologise for that,” he winces. “I am guessing you know why you’re here?” he asks.
You nod woefully. “It seems I am all of your soulmates.”
Namjoon nods. “We were surprised to find out you were ARMY. We’d never seen glimpses of you listening to our music before.”
Your eyebrows furrow. You were unsure of what he meant by ‘glimpses’, but you had bigger things to worry about.
“I am not ARMY,” you say quickly. “My best friend is, though. She wanted me to go with her to your concert.” You set the record straight.
Namjoon’s lips twitch. “So you are not ARMY?”
“Correct. I am a bystander.” You say primly.
His amusement is visible. You ignore it.
A golden string between you two hums as if pulling you into each other. You decide to cling to Seokjin’s shoulders instead.
He seems to be getting suspicious of your body part of choice.
It isn’t like he can blame you. You are, after all, a girl with needs.
He awkwardly pats your hands before gently removing them from his body and standing up. You resist the urge to frown.
“Every time we touch her, she goes into shock,” he tells the others.
“Not with me,” Jeongguk informs the others proudly. You nod in agreement. “It just felt like a tingle,” you say. Jeongguk grins at the information, and Taehyung rolls his eyes at Jeongguk’s antics.
The group turns to look at you. “You speak Korean?” Namjoon asks.
Busted. Where the hell was your head at? You’d gotten so used to hearing their voices that it seemed you’d forgotten they were currently real.
“A little bit,” you say, sheepishly.
“How much is a little bit?” Namjoon asks once again.
Over the past decade and a half, you and Amelia (mostly you) have subjected yourselves to countless K-dramas without subtitles, weird language learning apps, and so much more to teach yourselves the language. Amelia has thought you a fool and has cursed you out plenty for forcing her on this journey with you, but it seems to have ultimately paid off.
“I can hold a conversation,” you say, in Korean. You really don’t want to oversell yourself. The relief in the room is palpable. You realise a language barrier would be quite tedious if you were all to spend the rest of your lives together.
You shudder at the thought.
“That’s so wonderful!” Jimin’s joy is a living, breathing entity. It seems to radiate off him in waves. His smile stretches wide, and his eyes form small crescents.
He is so adorable; your heart clenches.
Your body decides now is a good time to remind you of the fact that there might be literal hellfire in your veins. In a blind effort to save yourself, you grab Namjoon’s hand. Realising your mistake, you jerk away from him. But the damage is done. You really, really need to get a fucking grip.
But unlike before, there is no body convulsing electrical current that greets you, but rather a clarification for the gentle beat at the back of your head.
You can feel his heartbeat, you realise.
Well, this is certainly a welcome surprise. You wish all your Soul Marks could be this peaceful.
“Your heart is beating really fast, soulmate,” Namjoon tells you, the amusement clear in his voice.
“Your heart is going to stop beating if you don’t shut up, Namjoon,” you say in a similar tone.
He grins at you. You realise he has dimples. He is stunning, and you need to stop staring at him. You feel your heart race. Namjoon seems aware of this as his smile curves into a smirk.
You decide you’ve had enough of him. He is being too smug. Before you can curse him out, there is yet another loud bang. Two men rush into the room; one is a little shorter and is wearing glasses that make him look extremely sophisticated, along with a taller man with frosted tips. The latter’s eyes zero in on you before rushing towards you. “Is this her? Is she okay?” He asks in the general direction of the group. Namjoon nods at him. “This is Y/N,” he says. Our Soul Marks are manifesting differently on her, but after Jimin’s Touch, I think it’s best if we let her be for a while,” he tells the man. You squint at him.
You know this one; he has been the first one that Amelia had pointed out to you. You have found his smile beautifully genuine since it also happened to form a heart.
“Hoseok?” You say. You are just saying his name, hoping you are correct. He startles at the sound of your voice. You wave at him shyly. God, you are pathetic.
He smiles warmly at you. “Hi!”
The other man sits a curious distance away from you, as if assessing you.
Namjoon moves away and starts to make phone calls. Hoseok sighs beside you. You raise an eyebrow in question.
“He has to let our manager know about you,” Hoseok tells you. “You need to sign some forms and contracts, I think,” he makes a face. “But it’s to ensure that we’re all protected the best we can be.”
You nod slowly. It made sense; they were pretty famous and obviously something like this would need to be kept under wraps until the company was ready to announce it. The last thing you wanted was to be the reason their career plummeted.
A loud ringing interrupts you. You frown and look at the called ID. It is Amelia. You’d forgotten to update her. The poor girl probably thinks you are dead. You look at the group apologetically before picking up.
“Are you alive!?” Amelia practically yells. You hold the phone away from your ear.
“Yes.” You reply.
“Are you being held at gunpoint? Snap once if yes.”
“No, but speaking of gunpoint, what are the chances you can hire a hitman to take me out?” You inquire.
“None, why would I waste money on something I can do myself?”
“Ok, received.”
“Where are you? Who are you with?”
“I’m not really sure, and I can’t tell you.”
“So you are being kidnapped?”
“No.”
“Are you with BTS?” she asks. She obviously meant it as a joke, but you hesitate for a minute. The group shakes their heads at you, and you fight a groan.
“Why would I be with BTS, Amelia?” You ask, looking at BTS.
“You said it yourself; statistically you have a higher probability of ending up in a situation with them.”
“Your stats being fanfiction?”
“Correct.”
“Okay, I’m hanging up now, okay?”
“Wait! Are you safe?” she asks.
“Yes, honey, I’m safe,” you reassure her before hanging up.
You smile sheepishly at your soulmates. “That was my best friend, Amelia.” You tell them. “She was just wondering if I was still alive and breathing.”
You lean against the couch, your shoulders brushing Yoongi’s leg. You move away a little, unsure where anyone stands on physical touch. Well, that was a lie. They all seem pretty comfortable with physical touch, but you were pre-warned about Yoongi’s selective aversion to it. Namjoon was more forward about it, you knew.
“I think I’m going to hit the hay,” You inform them. “Who volunteers to drive me home?”
“It’s pretty late,” Namjoon says. “It would be safer to stay the night. We can book you a separate room, if you’d like?”
You shake your head. “No, don’t go through the trouble. I can call myself an Uber,” you tell them. Jimin hesitates.
“Would you like my number?” you ask no one in particular. Namjoon nods. “That would be easier,” he says sheepishly.
You blink. “How else were you planning on communicating with me?” you ask, writing down your number on the hotel’s notepad.
Namjoon doesn’t dignify you with a response.
You spend the ride back home wondering how exactly you ended up in this position. Amelia was going to kill you when she found out.
guys im acc excited im gonna pee
ok i prmise ill try to update every weekend ok...? ok! bye lov eu
