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byexbyez · 9 hours ago

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hair wash day

⟡— an injured arm leaves you unable to wash your hair. luckily, your boyfriend is more than happy to help, sylus x mc/reader, domestic fluff, lots of kisses, pet names, self-indulgent, wc: 2.2K

⟡— a/n: this is a little something inspired by this post where i thought sylus would think that he could brush your curly hair dry. so this is for my peeps with curly hair routines! i know some of you have routines that take up 3 hours because of different curl patterns, porosity levels and whatnot but let’s just pretend that this is a condensed version. and if you have straight hair, be grateful that you don’t have to deal with this and keep on reading /j.

p.s. if i got the steps wrong just know that i only apply mousse and call it a day, so don’t come for me.

⟡— read on ao3.

“Come here so I can brush your hair. It’s messy.”

You’d whack him on the head if you could. Anything and everything sets you off lately, especially with how itchy your scalp feels. You can literally feel every single hair follicle on your head—painfully.

Before your arm had to rest in a cast, you used to wash your hair once every week, dedicating half a day to maintain your curls. It’s been well over a week and more, and your boyfriend who has set foot in your place for the first time today, now scrolling on his phone on the couch, thinks he can brush your curls dry. Completely clueless about how much time it actually takes to make your hair look remotely presentable.

“You absolutely cannot brush my hair, Sylus.”

Turning off his phone and chucking it between you two, he leans in, his competitive side bearing its head. “Why, you think I can’t do it?”

“Not that. If my hair was straight, I’d let you brush it any day. You can’t brush curly hair. I mean you can, but it would look terrible and the brush would literally get stuck in there. I need to wash it first.”

“And how are you going to do that with that arm, sweetie?”

“I’ve been putting it off,” you admit with a sigh, letting your head fall back against the couch.. “I don’t know, I’ll manage. I need to do it like yesterday. My head hurts and I feel disgusting. Maybe I’ll go to a hair salon tomorrow.”

“Let me do it.”

Your head snaps up. “You can? I mean, it takes a lot of time. You’ll be here for a while. And you’ll get tired.”

“That just means more time with you.” His thumb gently smooths the crease between your brows, releasing the tension there. “I doubt I’ll get tired from washing your hair.”

Oh, how wrong he was.

Sylus somehow manages to fit a chair in your cramped shower stall for you to sit. He has you tilt your head back to make washing easier, then positions himself outside the shower doors. Crouching slightly, he reaches in to turn on the water.

“You need to make sure all of my hair is wet,” you note. “it may look like it’s wet enough from the outside but the very middle part declared its independence and doesn’t want to soak up the water.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.”

And he does. His large hand forms a shield around your hairline, making sure water doesn’t get in your ears or eyes. You try to keep your eyes open as much as possible to see your boyfriend’s focused face, though the whole thing feels like you’re getting your hair washed in a salon, so you keep closing your eyes once in a while. Especially when Sylus lifts the shower head higher and unintentionally gets water on your forehead, despite his best efforts.

Once he’s sure that your whole hair is thoroughly soaked, he shuts off the water. “How’s your neck?”

“Fine.” It isn’t, the weight had started to pull on your neck towards the end, but you don’t mention it. You’re used to it.

Sensing the white lie, he cradles the back of your neck, lifting it just enough to press a kiss to your forehead. His fingers gently squeeze the muscles beginning to tense.

He’s so considerate.

“Now which one’s the shampoo?”

His big hands are a gift sent from heaven, you think. Firm yet gentle, working through the stubborn itches on your scalp, even scratching behind your ears with his knuckles. If he keeps this up, you’re going to fall asleep right here.

“Sweetie, you with me?”

“Mhm.” You melt into the chair but manage to open your heavy eyelids. “How are you so good at this? Did you do this before?”

He meets your eyes then, an indulgent smile playing on his lips. “No, you’re the first. I’ll take that as a compliment.”

The sound of soapy friction fills the bathroom again. You can’t take your eyes off Sylus, your gentle giant of a lover. Reaching out to cup his cheek with your free hand, you stop his fingers in your hair, distracting him from his task.

“What is it? Want to take a break?”

“No, please continue. I just wanted to touch you,” you murmur, stroking your thumb across his cheek. “let you know I appreciate you.”

When your thumb presses down on the corner of his mouth, he bends down, and your lips are already puckered, eager to welcome the tender kiss.

“Is this how you usually treat your hairstylist?” he chuckles against your lips. “Does seduction get you a discount?”

Playing along, you smirk and hook your index finger to the collar of his shirt. “I only seduce the ones who are stupidly good-looking. You’re the first.”

He grabs your hand from his collar, raises it to kiss it, forgetting the shampoo coating his fingers. “Using my lines against me, huh?”

The second round of shampoo is even more touchy. You nearly poke his nostril. Nearly. He keeps your finger away by pretending to bite it. “Behave.”��

“But I love your nose,” you whine.

After the shampoo is rinsed off, you can feel the hanging weight of a big clump. Of course, your hair was a tangled mess, with how long you’ve put off washing it. You tell Sylus to reach for the detangling brush and he spends a good minute trying to choose the correct brush from the rack.

His first mistake is starting from the roots of your hair. He was too quick for you to catch on.

“Ow! No, that’s not—start from the ends, please. And work your way up until you can smoothly brush it down.”

A kiss to your forehead again. “Sorry, sweetie. That was stupid of me.”

“It’s okay, you didn’t know.”

This part takes forever because Sylus diligently plucks the dead hair from the brush after each stroke, making sure nothing is preventing him from smoothing your hair down, asking every now and then if he’s hurting you.

“Look at how much hair you shed. You’d think I brushed a cat.” He straightens his back. Even if he feels a strain, he doesn’t let it show on his face. “The next step is conditioner, right?”

“Yup,” you hum. “right next to the shampoo.”

Cupping the back of your neck with both hands, he lifts it carefully, alleviating your own strain. “Let’s take a break first.”

“Tired this soon?” you tease.

“I don’t need a break, sweetie. But you do.” You think he’s about to kiss you again when he leans in, warm breath brushing your lips, his eyes low and intent. “You haven’t had water for a while.”

And he leaves you there waiting with a pout while he gets a glass of water.

After that, Sylus thinks you’re finally ready to sit upright. The conditioner only needs to be applied to the ends, after all. But trying to explain that you still need to bend your neck? That’s a sport in itself.

Bottle in hand, he tilts his head. “I don’t understand. What’s the catch?”

“I usually do this step with my head upside down. Since I can’t do that now, I still need to throw my hair back, so you can do it for me.”

“Upside down?” His confusion is adorable. However, thinking about the bajillion steps that still remain after the shower, you take a deep breath.

“Yes, with my hair in front of my face. For volume. Otherwise my roots stay flat. Now lightly squeeze the water out. Not all of it. We still need moisture—no, not like a towel!”

You teach him the praying hands method, he’s appalled by the amount of conditioner in his palms. “Sweetie, are you sure you need this much product? This is almost half of the bottle.”

“Yeah, I’m sure. Now you know where all my money goes.”

He looks at the brand name on the bottle, making a mental note to stock it up for you.

“Okay, thank you.” You bat your eyelashes at him, luring him in for a smooch. He obliges immediately, a big wet smack sound echoes in the bathroom.

The following step is scrunching the hair up to the roots with the excess product left on his hands. Yet again, he’s confused about why you need to do this. For the curls to form, of course.

“And when you scrunch all the way up, keep squeezing but not too hard.”

“Not too hard…” He murmurs to himself.

You skip the hair mask, because you’ve already been in the shower long enough, and tell Sylus to find a soft cotton T-shirt instead of a towel for drying, after he rinses about seventy percent of the conditioner out. Gotta keep the moisture, after all.

You’re sitting on the floor, pillows propping you up against the couch. Laid out in front of you on the coffee table are a spray bottle, leave-in curl cream, mouse, gel, oil, a curl brush, claw clips, and a dryer with the diffuser attachment. A handheld mirror rests in your hand.

Once he’s finished taking pictures of each product—including the different brushes and the diffuser attachment, “since you’ll need them back at the base”—Sylus settles behind you on the couch, legs bracketing you as he gets comfortable.

You guide him through the next steps: clip your hair into sections, begin with the bottom strands, mist them with water, and smooth in the curl cream. Later, he’d be applying mousse. The gel cast step is skipped. You’re not in the mood for that kind of commitment today.

He picks up the brush with the odd indents, combs through the section, then shakes the strands gently between his thumb and index finger.

Voilà. The curl forms on its own.

“If you tried this on straight hair, it wouldn’t hold,” you explain while he’s still figuring out how to flip the brush properly. “But this way, the curls last about a week.” You tilt the mirror higher, amused as his elegant long fingers wrestle with the brush.

His lips brush your temple as he asks, “You really do this every week?”

“If I have to be perceived by people—which is always—then yes.”

Sure, it takes him twice as long as it would take you, but the quiet “Poor thing,” he mutters, followed by another kiss to your temple while you watch through the mirror, makes it more than worth it.

Eventually, the styling phase is over. Time to diffuse. Your least favorite. Yay.

“This thing looks like a space weapon,” he says, inspecting the diffuser attachment like he would a gun.

“It sure does drain my life,” you groan, using his knee as leverage to stand.

Here you are again, head thrown back in the chair, while Sylus butchers the tune with a grin:

“Rapunzel, let down your haaaair.”

You squint your eyes at him. “I’ll see you with your sore arm when you’re done, mister.”

With the dryer on the lowest setting (two words from you: “heat damage”), your hair nearly takes one hour to fully dry. Sylus does not complain one bit, keeps humming a tune. Relaxed but focused.

The final step is softening the curls with a bit of oil by scrunching again.

“We are done?”

You laugh. “Why do you sound disappointed?”

“With the way you were exaggerating, I thought it would take longer.”

“Well, we skipped a couple of steps.”

His hand comes to rest over his heart as he gasps mockingly. “When I asked you to teach me everything? You wound me.”

“Next time,” you promise. “You know I’m stuck in this cast for a while.”

“Plenty of time to perfect the routine.” He nods. Coming to stand in front of you, he examines his work, seemingly satisfied with the result.

“Do you prefer cash or credit, sir?”

Gripping the back of your chair, his mouth is on yours again. A content sigh escapes his lips when he pulls back. “My preferred form of payment is cuddles, miss. No discount.”

Your fingers dive into the hair at his nape, scratching affectionately as they drift toward his ears. You roll and pinch his earlobe. Just because.

(It’s so soft.)

With the perfect amount of pressure, he begins to massage your neck.

“I’m so down,” you whisper against his lips. “How about we cuddle, order food, watch a movie, cuddle some more… and then you stay the night?”

“I was waiting for you to ask.”

Later, curled up on his chest and halfway across his lap, you drift off to the sounds coming from the movie. His nose rests in the crown of your head as he murmurs, “You smell divine, sweetie.”

“Thanks to you.”

“Don’t hesitate to ask me for help,” he says gently. “You don’t have to go through this alone.”

His voice, quiet and warm, draws you back from the edge of sleep. You giggle. “Okay, I’ll call you next week for a hair wash. You asked for it, don’t regret it later.”

“I never would.”

“Big words,” you sneer.

He nuzzles deeper into your freshly washed hair and presses a kiss into it, almost without thinking. “You know what I learned today?”

“Hm?”

“That I need to think twice before ruffling your hair again.”

“It’s okay. You get a free pass.” You turn your head toward him and meet his ruby eyes. A beat, maybe two, passes in silence before your smile takes over. “Thank you Sylus, I needed this.”

#sylus x mc #sylus x reader #sylus fluff #sylus qin #l&ds sylus #lads sylus #love and deepspace #lads fanfiction #sylus fanfiction #sylus x you #sylus x y/n #i wrote this in a day so please be kind (translation: heavily unedited.)

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uhuhmaries · 3 days ago

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Still Into You | CHAPTER 8

Warnings: NSFW/18+

⋆˙⟡ —⋆˙⟡ —⋆˙⟡ —⋆˙⟡ —⋆˙⟡ —⋆˙⟡ —⋆˙⟡ —

College kicks in like a punch to the gut.

You meet new people. A few friends from class. Some from your sorority. There’s this one guy, Milo, who walks you to your Art Theory lecture with oat milk lattes and tells you you’re too pretty to keep looking down at your shoes.

You laugh. You don’t flirt.

But you wonder if Harry would care if you did.

Harry’s busy. Really busy.

He’s trying to wrap up his Master’s coursework faster than anyone in his department. Football practices pile up. Frat house events double because of fall rush. You hear his name whispered from all corners— Styles. President. Captain. The one who could sleep with anyone.

But he still texts you. Sometimes.

u up? come over. missed u today. wanna ride me til i stop thinking?

And it’s always hot. Always intense. But always empty when he kisses you and falls asleep without asking how your day was.

You try to play it cool.

You throw yourself into your fashion classes. Join a sewing circle with upperclassmen. You go out more. You wear tighter skirts. Lip gloss instead of chapstick.

But when Harry forgets to reply to your texts for two full days, only to show up unannounced at your dorm and ask if he can “make it up to you” by going down on you until your legs shake—

You start to feel like you’re just the reward after a long day. Not the thing he thinks about during.

You throw a tantrum. Not loud. Not cruel. Just quiet. Icy. Petty.

You ignore three of his messages. You take selfies with Milo— nothing flirty, just enough to post. You tell Liv you might start dating for real soon. “Just for fun,” you say. “To feel something.”

When Harry does get a hold of you again, he invites you to a frat dinner. Doesn’t even say please.

So you show up in red. Red lips, red dress, red heels.

And you barely look at him.

Later that night, back in his room, when he grabs your hips and tries to pull you on top of him, you say it— a little louder than you mean to:

“You don’t actually care, Harry. You just want someone to fuck when your brain won’t shut off.”

He stills.

Your voice keeps going, trembling and furious:

“You don’t try. You say you don’t want labels but you act like I’m yours. You get jealous, you text me when it’s convenient, you call me baby when I’m naked— but never when I need it. I’m not your therapy. I’m not your fucking cure.”

Silence. He stares at you. And for the first time in weeks— he snaps.

“Jesus Christ, you think I’m not trying? You think I don’t have enough going on without adding a full-blown relationship with an eighteen-year-old who throws tantrums when I don’t say the exact right thing?”

You blink. He’s never raised his voice at you before. He scrubs a hand over his face. Frustrated. Ashamed. Angry.

“I’m sorry,” he mutters, but it’s clipped. Tired. Not tender.

“I’ve had a shitty day. My professor grilled me in front of the whole class. My knee’s fucked from practice. And I still came here hoping to see you and forget the rest of it. But you—you’re not happy unless I say all the perfect shit, and I can’t do that right now.”

You bite the inside of your cheek.

Your voice is small. “So you just want me to shut up and open my legs?”

He freezes. The air turns sharp.

“Don’t do that.”

You shrug. “Feels like that’s all I’m good for lately.”

“That’s not fair.”

You swallow hard. Then stand. Grab your bag before you turn your head to him.

“Neither is falling for someone who only wants me when it’s dark out.”

And then you leave.

Weeks pass.

No texts. No late-night knocks. No booty calls. No apologies.

Just silence.

The longest he’s ever stayed away.

You tell yourself it’s for the best. You tell your friends you’re fine. You focus on uni, your sorority, your sketches, anything that doesn’t have green eyes and dimples and fingers that once traced your body like a prayer.

But some nights— when your phone buzzes— your stomach still flips before you realize it’s not him.

It’s the week of the Northcrest football championship. The biggest one of the year. Frats are throwing bets. Sororities are choreographing cheers. People care more about this than finals.

Your roommates beg you to come.

“Just for the atmosphere,” they say. “Everyone’s going. You need it.”

You almost say no.

But you’re tired of sulking. Tired of wondering.

So you go.

The stadium is packed.

You’re wearing your school colors. Hair down. Lip gloss on. High heels. Just enough edge to feel like armor.

Your friends grab snacks, take photos, make TikToks you barely appear in. You try to stay present. Laugh when they laugh. Sip your soda and pretend your eyes aren’t searching the field.

But you are.

And then— There he is.

Harry. In full uniform. Helmet tucked under one arm. That damn jawline, sharp as ever. His biceps flex as he high-fives teammates, laughing like nothing ever touched him, like nothing broke.

Your throat goes dry.

He doesn’t see you right away.

But you see her.

A cheerleader. Blonde, ponytail too high, hands too familiar.

She clings to him before kickoff, whispering something in his ear, nails raking down his chest through the jersey. He grins. Doesn’t pull away. Lets her fix his shoulder pads like she belongs there.

You hear some girls nearby where you're sitting make casual comments.

“Is that Harry Styles?” “He’s so hot.” “Wonder if he’s single.”

You say nothing. Your heart is silent, too.

He finally spots you.

Right as the anthem ends, his eyes flick across the bleachers —just a quick scan— and land on you.

His smile falters for a second.

You look away before it can mean anything.

The game kicks off.

And he plays like hell. Fast. Aggressive. Focused.

You don’t know if it’s rage or pride or adrenaline— but every time he scores, the stadium goes feral. The cheerleaders scream. The crowd swells. And you… you feel nothing but cold.

Because you know what it felt like to hold him afterward. You know how quiet his voice gets when he’s tired. How soft his hands are after gripping the world too hard.

But now… you’re just another girl in the crowd.

The game ends in victory.

Everyone rushes the field. Your friends want to follow— but you don’t.

You stay behind. Stand still. Watch from the bleachers as he’s lifted onto shoulders, drenched in sweat and praise.

The cheerleader from earlier runs up to him, throws her arms around his neck. He lets her.

You’re still standing when he finally walks toward the bleachers.

Helmet off. Jersey soaked in sweat. Eyes scanning the small clusters of people who stayed behind.

When he sees you, he slows.

His lips tug into a cautious smile.

“Hey.”

Your heart gives a pathetic stutter. But your lips curve into something polite— something detached.

“Hi.”

He looks exhausted. Buzzed from the win, flushed from the cold, hands still red from gripping victory too tight.

“You came,” he says.

You nod once. “My roommates dragged me.”

His jaw ticks. A faint flicker of something in his eyes— amusement? Disappointment?

You keep going. “Congratulations. You played… amazing.”

“Thanks.” He sways slightly on his feet. “Means a lot. Coming from you.”

Before you can say anything else— She appears.

The cheerleader. Blonde. Perfect. Smug.

She wraps her arms around his waist, presses a kiss to his damp jawline, and grins at you.

She knows.

You can see it. You say nothing. Just glance down at her neck— and your stomach drops.

Bruises.

Bite marks. His marks. Fresh. Dark. All over her throat and collarbone.

She doesn’t cover them. She wears them like trophies.

You swallow hard.

His arm doesn’t move. He doesn’t push her off.

You nod again, lips tight. Turn toward his teammates— a few of whom you recognize from parties.

“Congrats to all of you,” you say. “Hell of a game.”

They thank you, one by one— a few giving sympathetic looks, like they’re not sure if they should say more.

Harry says nothing.

Neither do you. You just leave.

Liv’s text comes as you’re walking toward the parking lot:

Where r u? Let’s grab coffee. Just us.

You don’t say much when you get there.

Just sit across from her in a corner booth at a 24-hour diner, fingers curled around a plastic cup of iced coffee that tastes like water.

She watches you carefully.

“I heard,” she says softly. “About him. Her. You.”

You nod. Stare out the window.

“I’m done,” you say. Your voice doesn’t crack. “It’s over.”

Liv doesn’t argue. She just reaches for your hand.

And holds it.

“Let's go. Let's grab a drink.” Liv breaks the silence after she consoles you. She stands up and pull your hand. You follow her to walk to her car and a few moments later, you end up at a party near campus.

Well you weren’t going to go. Liv said you needed to let go, even just for a night.

So you drink. Hard.

Vodka shots. Champagne. Someone hands you a lime with sugar and it makes you laugh. You sway to music that’s too loud and bass that rumbles through your chest like a second heartbeat.

You dance with strangers. Let a guy twirl you like you’re light as air. Scream the lyrics to a song you don’t know.

For a second— it works. You forget. You’re just you.

Until someone at the keg says—

“Styles just showed up.”

You turn your head. And there he is.

Harry.

Still damp from the post-game shower. Wearing all black. Arm draped around her shoulder like he doesn’t even care she’s got fresh bite marks leading down her cleavage.

Your blood goes cold.

He sees you.

Stops.

But doesn’t move. Doesn’t come closer.

He just watches you. Eyes dark. Expression unreadable.

And beside him, the cheerleader smirks.

Leans up to kiss his cheek.

And makes damn sure you’re watching.

You take another drink. Too fast. Too much.

Your throat burns.

The room is spinning. Not fast— not yet. Just slow enough to make the lights too bright and the floor too soft.

You wave it off. But your eyes are on him.

You’ve been quiet for too long. Bitten your tongue too many nights.

And the alcohol is doing all the talking now.

You step forward. Your cup spills a little.

Liv’s voice echoes behind you— warning, worried, trying to stop you. But you’re already in front of him.

Your voice cuts through the bass:

“Did you fuck her before or after you begged me to keep things simple?”

The cheerleader freezes. Harry stiffens. People turn. A hush falls— the kind that only happens right before a car crash.

You don’t stop. You can’t.

“Is this why you didn’t want a label? So you could do whatever the fuck you want and call it freedom? So you could fuck around and not feel guilty?”

His eyes darken. “You’re drunk.”

You laugh— loud and bitter.

“No shit. I'm not even trying to hide it. You think saying that justify your whole charade? I’m not stupid.”

“You made me feel crazy for wanting anything real from you. For wanting to be someone you chose. And now you’re out here parading her around like I never fucking mattered?”

The cheerleader tries to scoff, step away like she’s not involved.

You step in closer.

“You knew I was younger than you. You knew you had all the power. And you used me like a warm body and a distraction and I still liked you.”

“But I’m done.”

Your voice cracks.

“I don’t care if you’re Harry Styles, golden boy of Northcrest, future fucking therapist— you're just another coward with pretty eyes and commitment issues. Fix your shit.”

The room is silent.

Harry’s mouth opens. But you don’t wait for him to speak.

You throw your drink to the ground— it splashes at his shoes, and stumble away.

The last thing you hear is Liv yelling your name— Then nothingness.

The next morning.

You wake up on the couch of Liv’s dorm, wearing someone else’s sweatshirt, your mouth dry and your stomach twisted in knots.

Your head pounds.

The sun is cruel through the windows.

Liv’s sitting across from you, a coffee in one hand, her eyes unreadable.

“…I fucked up,” you whisper.

She doesn’t say anything at first.

Just hands you a glass of water.

You drink, hands shaking.

“You don’t remember?” She asks.

Flashes come back.

His face. Your words. The way the crowd had gone dead quiet.

You groan, collapsing back into the cushions.

“You went off,” she says gently. “Fully. In front of everyone. Facts though.”

“What did he do?” You croak.

Liv shrugs, careful. “Nothing. He just… took it. Didn’t say a word. Watched you walk out like you ripped his chest open.”

You exhale.

She hesitates.

“…He was still there when I left. Alone.”

You press your hand to your forehead, heart pounding like it wants to crawl out of your throat.

Your phone buzzes.

One message. From Harry Styles.

I deserved that.

But I still wanted you to know I never touched her until after we stopped speaking.

And even then… it didn’t mean anything.

You stare at the screen like the words are supposed to make it hurt less. They definitely don’t.

Without thinking twice, you block his number.

Liv leans over and gives your back a firm, reassuring pat— like she’s proud of you for choosing yourself this time.

“If he really wants you,” she says gently, “he’ll grow up and show it. But for now… you’ve got your whole freshman year to enjoy. Don’t waste it on someone still figuring himself out.”

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THIS CHAPTER MAKES ME ANGRYYYY AHHSHAHSHSHHWHW

#one direction fanfiction #1d fandom #harry styles #harry fanfic #harry styles fanfic rec #harry styles x you #harry styles imagine #harry styles series #harry styles smut #harry styles angst #harry styles x yn #college au #frat boy harry

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steddiesmuttyseptember · 10 hours ago

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welcome to steddie smutty september 2025!

this event will take place for the entire month of september. there will be weekly prompts to choose from. you can write one of the prompts, multiple prompts, or combine all of them in one!

please keep in mind this event is for 18+ participants only.

there will be no maximum word count, however the minimum word count is 500 words.

prompts can and should be interpreted however you want, but please include the prompt(s) you chose towards the top of the post. all submissions should be steddie-centric, though other characters can be included, and should be written from third person POV.

all submissions should be rated m for mature or e for explicit. please put the rating at the top of your post, as well as any content warnings and tags you see appropriate. as a courtesy to tumblr users, please put any explicit content and/or anything more than 1000 words under a read more. please tag @steddiesmuttyseptember so it can be added to the queue of reblogs.

a '😏' will be commented once your post has been seen and added to the queue. please send this blog or @steddieas-shegoes a message if you don't see the emoji comment within two days of your submission.

late submissions will be accepted! please note that late submissions are any posts submitted after 11:59 PM EDT on the last day of the posting period. any late posts will be reblogged at the end of the event (starting october 1st) to avoid any confusion for people wanting to participate. late posts will still be included on the event masterlist, however any post submitted after october 1st will not be reblogged or added to the masterlist.

feel free to add your submissions to Steddie Smutty September AO3 Collection once you receive confirmation of it being added to the queue on here!

ATTENTION ARTISTS!

art submissions are welcome and encouraged! same rules apply:

must be rated m or e (put explicit/nudity under a cut), and should follow at least one of the prompts for the week.

due to the way tumblr tends to react to nsfw art, if you’re more comfortable posting on another platform and linking it here, please do so! please include a preview if you’re able to on here.

a ‘😏’ will be commented once the art is added to the queue and masterlist.

———————————————

2025 PROMPTS

WEEK 1 (SEPTEMBER 1-7) : hate sex, motel, sexting, vers

WEEK 2 (SEPTEMBER 8-14) : whimper, exhibitionism, tongue, leather

WEEK 3 (SEPTEMBER 15-21) : secret, love confession, knees, spit

WEEK 4 (SEPTEMBER 22-30) : wedding night, toys, pool, ice

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A QUICK GUIDE TO RATING M VS. E

while there’s no strict definition for either, here’s what seems to be the most common practice among fic authors:

rated m for mature: descriptions of sex (usually more detailed than just mentioning sex), making out (if partially or fully nude), frottage (or above the clothes getting off of any kind), BDSM in discussion, dirty talk

rated e for explicit: handjobs, blowjobs, rimming, penetrative sex, BDSM in practice

it’s up to your discretion what your fic is rated, and there will always be cases where you may feel more comfortable rating something e that might usually fall under m. any ratings chosen by the author are the author’s decision. please heed all tags and content warnings before reading.

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If writing or creating art that's rated M or E isn't for you, check out our sister event: @softsteddieseptember run by @mugloversonly

if you have any questions, feel free to ask the blog or @steddieas-shegoes!

have fun! - mickala 😏

Steddie Smutty September Masterlist

#steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #steddie smutty september #steddie events #stranger things #steve harrington x eddie munson

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lachesismoonmist · 2 days ago

Text

JK Drabbles - One Shot #6 - Easy

Summary: What happens when slightly shy creative designer meets tattoo artist biker chick, and they realise they have more in common then they thought? That includes being pig headed about their feelings. Especially when things feel too “easy”.

A bit of a slow burn. Warning: Smut at the end!

Rating: Mature. Minors dni Pairing: Jeon Jungkook / Reader Word Count: 8.8k

Also posted on AO3

MY MASTERLIST

Masterlist for JK Drabbles - One Shots

#1 - Welcome Home #2 - Be My Slave #3 - Wait (Song Inspired) #4 - Days Without Incident #5 - Selfish (Song Inspired) #6 - Easy (Song Inspired)

Lady in helmet photocredit: https://es.pinterest.com/pin/1050253575598278096/ Man with rolled up sleeves photocredit: https://www.realmenrealstyle.com/how-to-roll-up-sleeves/

Chapter 6: Easy Inspired by: "Easy" by Danileigh (Remix feat. Chris Brown)

“Let me catch a vibe, let's just take our time Just relax your mind, and take it easy Don't have to decide, you do, I do, I Don't have to be mine, let's take it easy”

The song lyrics within the story are in italics.

-------------------------

Jungkook had always been a little shy. When he’d moved into the apartment across from you, you’d been the one who’d said hello. He’d been having trouble unlocking his front door till you’d stepped in, twisted the key and rattled the door a little before it’d swung open. The previous tenant had taught you the trick.

That was eight months ago. You’d become fast friends. You were both in creative fields. He was a creative director in the marketing department of a big corporation. You were a successful tattoo artist. You were both movie buffs. You were both gamers. You were both gym rats. You both loved snacks, often making late night trips to the nearby convenience store just to load up on chips and ice cream. You had argued passionately whether Rocky Road or Strawberry Cheesecake was the ultimate best ice cream flavor. You had a bunch of gamer friends who crashed at your place regularly. Jungkook fit right in easily, making you a group of six. Soon they were crashing at his place if you were busy. It was total chaos. It was perfect.

In other areas, you were poles apart. He was shy around women. He’d been having a crush on a co-worker for months, but hadn’t dared make a move yet. You were confident around men. You weren’t looking for anything long term. You didn’t want to be tied down. You just wanted something fun, something easy. Jungkook would see you kiss a new guy goodbye in the morning at your door every other week or so. You’d smirked once when you’d made Jungkook buy you the biggest box of condoms on one of the late-night snack runs. His face had turned all red when he recounted how the motherly lady cashier at the convenience store had winked at him.

You were a dancer. He had two left feet. You used to do ballet, but a broken toe had forced your parents to accept that ballet just wasn’t going to be in your future. Your drawing and designing was. They grudgingly acknowledged your success as a tattoo artist. They ignored the fact that the only dance you did now was hip hop. You taught hip hop classes. You were good at it. You made it look easy. You’d left your former life behind. The ballet shoes, the ballet tights, the austere hairstyles, the bitchy ballet friends, the almost-fiancé tight-assed ballet partner.

Leaving that life behind was why you’d moved to a new city. Where you could start a new life. Where you could breathe a little easier. Where you could eat that last slice of pizza without worrying if your leotard might look a little tight during the next few rehearsals. Where you didn’t have to cover up your tattoos. In fact, you could finally use your own skin as your canvas. You could finally get that full sleeve you’d always wanted. Where you could walk around in leather pants, tube top, combat boots. Or cargo pants, tennis shoes, racer-back tank top. Where you didn’t have to restrain the girls anymore because most ballet dancers were quite flat chested and you’d been blessed to fill C-cups. In fact, now you pushed the girls into form fitting tops. You weren’t above flashing some cleavage when you were looking for someone to warm your bed. Your parents would have fainted at how vulgar it all was. You couldn’t care less. You were happier. Life was easier.

It's not that you wanted an easy life, as in not having to work hard. You were no stranger to hard work. You worked hard for the things you wanted. You worked hard to hone your design skills. You worked hard to set up your tattoo shop. You worked hard to push the boundaries of your art. You worked hard to establish a big presence on social media to help spread the word and now had a decent following which brought in business. Of course it helped that among your clients were some pro-gamers, a Tiktok influencer, a K-pop idol or two and even one Olympic sportswoman.

Another thing that would have caused your parents to faint was what you’d bought when you’d started getting a steady stream of customers. Something you’d always wanted. A motorbike. Not just any bike. A Ducati Super 950 in Ducati Red. With matching Ducati Red full-faced helmet. Your socials had exploded when you’d posted a photo of yourself sitting on it. #badassfemaletattoartist trended for two days. The Ducati sales rep who sold you the bike even called to thank you for the flood of enquiries they’d been getting for the bike. You smirked, knowing that the bright shade of red lipstick you’d chosen, close to Ducati red had definitely helped. Wearing the white spaghetti strap tank top with the plunging neck line definitely didn’t hurt either.

No one who have ever pegged you for a tutu-wearing, leotard covered ballerina. Only one of the guys in your friend group knew about your stuffy tulle and organza filled past. Jimin, one of your fellow dance instructors. Late one night after classes, you and Jimin had gone for a bike ride to the nearby hilltop look-out some 30 minutes away from the city to get some peace and quiet. Jimin had just broken up with his long-time girlfriend and was pretty broken up he about it. You gave him a listening ear and a shoulder to cry on. Some how you’d ended up telling him about what you’d left behind. You’d said you were happy now, and that was all that mattered. You didn’t think it was necessary to share this with everyone, so he promised to keep it to himself.

So life was easy. But you kept things interesting. Despite your similarities, or dissimilarities, there were some things both Jungkook and you had never done. So you tried them together. Bungee jumping. Skydiving. Flyboarding. Aerial yoga. Needless to say, if it involved signing an indemnity, you were the one who’d suggested it. You even managed to convince the whole gang to go for Laser Tag. They all complained when Jungkook and you killed everyone. They refused to play any sort of shooting games with the two of you again. Ever.

Some things, you’d introduced to Jungkook. Like riding a motorcycle. He’d stood there starstruck the first time he’d seen you ride up to the apartment building on your Ducati after work one day. You’d swung one very toned leather-clad thigh over the bike, pulled your full-face helmet off, your luscious locks falling free in a deep brown waterfall. It was almost clichéd. Cue the slow motion, sexy music, the sparkles at the way the strands caught the light of the setting sun behind you. His breath caught in his throat. His throat bobbed as he swallowed when he saw you smirking at him.

“Like what you see, Kookie?”

“Uh, yeah, that’s some bike. Almost 1,000 cc.” He tried to regain his footing by talking technical specs. Technical specs were always safe.

“Yeah, love having all that power between my thighs,” you said cheekily, relishing how his face turned red. Ok, that’d backfired gloriously. Now all he could think about were your thighs. How they’d feel wrapped around… ARGH! He was saved by Jimin turning the corner hollering for help to carry up tubs of ice cream and bags of snacks.

-----------------

Two weeks later, you’d finally convinced him to take a ride with you. He’d climbed on behind you, slightly nervous at how close your bodies were. He debated between putting his hands on your shoulders and on your waist. The former seemed more proper. The latter would allow him to keep his balance better, since he could lean forward a little. But you were wearing a crop top, which meant his fingers would be resting on skin. He held his breath and placed his hands on your waist. He hoped you couldn’t feel his fingers trembling. You didn’t seem to. You even placed your hands on top of his and squeezed.

“Hold on tight, Kookie,” was the last thing you said before your snapped shut your visor then started up the bike.

He didn’t know was more unnerving. The speed at which you navigated the streets, the fact that there was nothing between him and the asphalt if you crashed, or the fact that your skin was smooth and warm. He had to admit, it felt good. His thighs pressing on the outside of yours. Feeling how well you controlled the bike, leaning into the turns with you. Soon he was having fun.

You’d ridden up to the hilltop lookout point. There was a reason you’d brought Jimin there. It was beautiful. It was quiet. The city lights twinkled. There was a large flat rock that jutted out of the hillside. You lay side by side on it, looking up at the night sky. You’d told him that was your special place. Whenever life got too crazy, you’d lie there beneath the stars. They helped remind you that there was a whole universe out there. That your lives were just one moment in the entire fabric of time and space. It kept you humble.

That night, you’d told him about your former life. Y/N the ballet dancer. Y/N who’d been engaged. Y/N who’d left it all behind and was now a tattoo artist and part-time hip-hop dance instructor. Who didn’t want to be tied down. Who thought love was overrated. Who wanted life to be uncomplicated. Easy. Jungkook looked at you wistfully. You looked happy.

That night, he told you more about the girl at the office he was having a crush on. Lee Sooyi. She was in the sales department. She was one of the top performers. Pretty. Petite. Sharp as a whip. Long silky hair. Long legs. Tiny waist. Big eyes. Used her looks to her advantage. Had half the guys in the office drooling after her. You were almost disappointed that Jungkook had a crush on her. She seemed so… typical. You’d expected more from him. But hey, who were you to judge right?

He said it was rumored that she’d been dating the CEO’s son, Kim Taehyung, but they’d broken up. Twice, and they’d broken up again recently. Rumor had it Sooyi had caught Taehyung making out with one of the PAs in his office.

This Taehyung sounded like a real piece of work. But being the heir to an empire? Having the face and body that graced the covers of GQ? Women would throw themselves at him. You were pretty sure this Sooyi would forgive him in no time. But you kept your thoughts to yourself.

-------------------------

There was going to be a big office party next month at a new R&B/Hip Hop club that had opened about four months ago. All the guys in the office had been vying for Sooyi’s attention, in hopes of being her date. Jungkook had burst into your apartment in a panic. He was laughing maniacally but also panicking. You didn’t know whether to laugh or offer him a Valium.

He’d run into Sooyi in the office pantry, and in a moment of bravery he’d asked her to be his date for the party. To his utter shock she’d said yes! Jungkook was good looking. All the office girls talked about him, finding him extra cute because of how shy he was. Plus, unbeknownst to him, Sooyi planned to use him to make Taehyung jealous.

So, Jungkook was now having a mini panic attack. He didn’t know how to dance! He begged you to teach him. You scrunched up your nose, looked up at the ceiling, pretending to think really, really hard, then asked him what he’d do to convince you to teach him.

His desperation showed in what he threw at you: doing your laundry, letting you choose all the movies, paying for snacks. paying for take-out, washing your bike, cleaning up your tattoo studio, letting you win at Call of Duty. That last one made you splutter indignantly, saying you won fair and square anyways and hit his shoulder to make him take it back. You finally settled on cleaning up your tattoo studio for a month.

-----------

Jungkook has always been a little shy. Well, a little shy around people he didn’t know well. He’d be a little stiff and awkward. He didn’t move with that confident ease that some people possessed. People like you. Comfortable with their bodies. Comfortable being around other people’s bodies. He stood, stiff as a statue in the dance studio where you taught hip hop. You had the place to yourselves as there were no classes that morning.

He was dressed in a black hoodie, white sweats, sneakers. You had to admit, despite being loose, the soft fabrics clung to his toned physique, showing off his broad shoulders and trim waist. Those hours in the gym were definitely not wasted.

He stood in the middle of the dance studio, looking rather out of place. Hands stuffed into the pockets of his hoodie, the hood up, looking like he wished he could disappear into it. You laughed a little at him, pulling out your phone, scrolling through your music.

“Hmm… let’s see… the old classics, Montell, Tupac, Notorious BIG,… maybe too hard hitting. Bruno, En Vogue.. too fast. Ah, found something more chillax.”

The slow beats of Danileigh streamed out over the Bluetooth speakers.

Let me catch a vibe, let's just take our time Just relax your mind, and take it easy

You made Jungkook stand next to you, both of you facing the mirror. You showed him some basic moves, asking him to mimic you. He was so stiff, you couldn’t help but burst out laughing. His face and ears turned red.

“Sorry, Kookie, I don’t mean to embarrass you. You’re just so… stiff….” You wiped your tears away with the back of your hand.

“Relax, take it easy. It’s just me.” You told him to loosen his shoulders. Shake out his hands. Release the breath he didn’t know he was holding. You tried for a while, Jungkook doing his best to keep up. Soon he was starting to perspire. His brow completely furrowed as he did his best to contort his body. Finally he gave up and slumped on the ground. You started doing a robot routine, popping and locking before laughing and saying that he was more suited for that style, making him groan and cover his face.

“How are we going to turn this,” he gestured wildly at himself, “into that” he gestured at you, “in four weeks?” he whined dejectedly.

You took pity on him.

“We have time. You need to relax. Take your time. You need to catch the vibe.” You walked over to him and pulled him onto his feet.

“Come on, Kookie. Let me try something. Just close your eyes. Feel the beat. You don’t have to do anything fancy. Just close your eyes first.”

Jungkook looked at you dubiously, but closed his eyes. You reached up to push his hoodie off his head. He frowned, but kept his eyes closed.

You stepped in front of him, both of you facing the mirror. Your bodies not touching.

“Ok, now, put your hands on my hips. Keep your eyes closed.” You started swaying side to side with the beat.

“Can you feel that? Take your time.” You swayed slowly. Jungkook nodded. “Relax, take it easy. Don’t think. Just feel.” You continued swaying.

“Okay, if you feel it, you can start swaying too. You can open your eyes now.” Jungkook opened his eyes. He looked at you in the mirror. He was almost a head taller than you. He usually tried not to stare at you. Especially since that first time he saw you on your bike. Now he let his eyes drift. He admired the curve of your shoulder, your neck. The hint of cleavage when you moved your arms. The sliver of skin above the waistband of your sweats and your flat abs.

He blinked to break the spell you had cast on him. He focused on the movement. He was mesmerized by how you swayed, and how smoothly he was swaying with you. He never knew his body could move like that. You made it look easy. Now he found it easy.

Don't have to decide, you do, I do, I Don't have to be mine, let's take it easy

He grinned. You grinned. He felt it. He felt the groove. He forgot to be self-conscious. He let the bass of the music vibrate through his body. The beat bounce through his hips. The push of your hips travelled up his arm.

“I’m going to add a little twist to my sway, okay? But you just do you, okay? Do what feels right, you don’t have to follow me.”

You started adding a little grind to your sway, twisting your hip, left, then right. You added a little heel tap at the end of each sway. Jungkook was enraptured by your sinuous movement. Because your movements were now bigger, your hip occasionally brushed against his. He couldn’t help himself. His fingers dug into your hips. When you swished your hips from side-to-side double time. He was so lost in the music his hips met yours and moved in tandem.

Your eyes opened wide at how smooth his moves were. He was keeping up with you! You looked so good together in the mirror. You felt like something had clicked. Your movements identical, almost as if your thoughts had fused together. Your bodies moved closer. Your back was now pressed against his hard chest, your ass against his crotch. Your arm snaked up, your hand gripping him behind his neck. His hand drifted lower down your hip. His lips ghosted along the shell of your ear, his warm breath making your shiver.

Suddenly, he straightened up. grabbed you by the hand, spun you away. The moment shattered. He grinned as he pulled you back in, then dipped you, making you both laugh before pulling you back up. He released you quickly, awkwardly, rubbing the back of his neck with his hand.

The best defense is a good offense. “Wow, Kookie, we’ll make a dancer out of you after all!” you cheered, bouncing on your feet, clapping him on the shoulders. He blushed, party from your praise, but mostly because of how it felt when your ass rubbed against his crotch. Yes, you affected him. And he knew he’d affected you too, if only a little bit. But you were his friend. You were like one of the guys.

You were not his usual type – usual being the sweet, girly type. Talking to you was easy. Spending time with you was easy. Just being himself, was easy. You were so confident. You had men eating out of the palm of your hands. To be honest, initially you’d intimidated him.

So he just put it down to the dancing. In any case the moment had passed. Things went back to normal. Easy normal. Over the next few weeks, you’d walked Jungkook through some more popular hip hop/R&B favorites that were usually played in clubs. He had a girl to impress. He was a quick study. Once he’d gotten over his awkwardness, he was actually a pretty good dancer.

Something had shifted after that dance session with Jungkook. You couldn’t quite put your finger on it. But you started noticing little things you hadn’t noticed before. The little mole he had under his lower lip. How cute his dimples looked when he smiled. How his hair would fall into his eyes and he’s sometimes blow it out of his face annoyingly when he was concentrating on something. How he’d play with his lip ring when he was nervous.

But he acted like nothing had happened. You reminded yourself it was his crush on Sooyi that had gotten him started on dancing in the first place. He was doing all this in the hopes of impressing this other girl enough for her to want to date him! Why should things between you and Jungkook change? You’d already spent so much time together, done so much together. Things between you had been good. Easy.

Baby, when you with me, with me Got no worries, worries I love it when you touch me, touch me Feelin' so lovely, lovely He reminded himself it was his crush on Sooyi that had landed him in this situation in the first place. But this had now gone beyond just dance lessons. He was starting to enjoy spending time being closer to you. He liked how your bodies moved together. Now when the gang hung out, Jungkook would plonk himself on the sofa next to you, entire leg pressed against yours and you were fine with it. You just fit. When he passed you in the kitchen he'd reach out and twirl you before going to grab beers from the fridge. You’d shimmy against each other and laugh when trying to squeeze past each other in hallways or trying to get around furniture. Jimin looked at you knowingly, studying your faces. You’d scoffed, telling Jimin nothing was going on. Jungkook was crushing on someone else! Jimin merely nodded, smirking.

----------------

It was the day of the party. Jungkook was a bundle of nerves. He was just thankful you’d be there. The club owner, Yoongi, was a friend of Jimin’s. Your group of dance instructors had performed at the club a couple of times. In fact, your group had helped raised the club’s profile when it’d first opened by holding charity events, organizing regional dance battles, pushing out social media dance challenges. Yoongi was so grateful your group had permanent VIP status. Drinks were on the house, and you never had to stand in line. What’s more, Yoongi even let you park your motorbike right outside the club, encouraging you to take shots with it and the club’s signage in the background.

Today you were a little late. Your last customer’s session had taken a little longer as he was a bleeder, so you had to keep stopping to wipe blood away so you could see what you were doing. You’d joined the gang at their usual VIP booth, downed a shot then looked around for Jungkook.

Then you spotted him. He was with a fairly large group of corporate types. All sporting long sleeved shirts, rolled up to the elbows. Neatly pressed slacks. Same stuffy corporate air. You almost laughed at how uptight all of them looked. The women were no better. Pencil skirts. Silk blouses that clung, with more buttons being undone as more drinks were downed. Silky bouncy hair that was tossed over shoulders. Heavy make up and fake eye lashes. You wondered how their make up didn’t crack when they smiled. It was so thick.

You had to admit Jungkook looked good in his white button down and caramel colored slacks. He was sitting at one of tables at the edge of the club, his arm around the back of the chair of a slim brunette. Ah, that must be Sooyi. You looked at her with interest. She was pretty. She was chatting with the girl next to her. But you noticed that her eyes kept drifting to the tall, attractive man at the next table. You recognised him. Kim Taehyung. You’d seen his picture in GQ, the handsome heir to Kim Industries. When she saw that he was looking she leaned closer to Jungkook, putting her hand on Jungkook’s thigh, talking and laughing prettily.

Jungkook smiled at her, obviously enjoying the attention. He leaned towards her and brushed a lock away a lock of hair off her face, tucking it behind her ear. She fluttered her eyelids at him. She actually fluttered them! You scoffed and downed another shot.

“You okay, Y/N?” /Jimin asked, seeing you mutter to yourself.

“I’m fine,” you grunted, downing your third shot. Jimin eyed you suspiciously.

You saw Jungkook lean down to whisper something in Sooyi’s ear. She glanced at Taehyung to make sure he was watching, then nodded at Jungkook before standing up with him and making their way to the dancefloor.

The only pleasure you got out of watching them dance was seeing how smooth and natural Jungkook looked. No one would have guessed that just four weeks ago he was as stiff as a board and danced like a robot. Sooyi was doing alright. At least she had a sense of rhythm, even if all she did was wave her arms in the air and move her hips from side to side. She did, however intentionally brush her hips against Jungkook. The skank. You downed another shot.

Then you heard it. Familiar beats. You looked up in shock at the DJ who winked at you, knowing you liked the track. Danileigh. Your heart sank.

Let me catch a vibe, let's just take our time Just relax your mind, and take it easy

Jungkook’s eyes widened. He held Sooyi by the arms as he spun around looking for you till he found you. He caught your eye and grinned. This was it. This was his chance to show off some moves. He was so busy looking for you he didn’t see how Taehyung moved closer to the dancefloor, eyes trained on Sooyi. Or how Sooyi’s eyes never left Taehyung’s even when Jungkook held her closer.

You watched as Jungkook placed his hands on Sooyi’s hips. He started swiveling, catching Sooyi by surprise. She snaked her arms up his chest slowly, smiling coyly at him, one hand wrapping around his neck, the other going into his hair.

Jungkook closed his eyes. He moved his hands to small of Sooyi’s back. He pulled her closer till her body was flushed with his. His body continued moving to the music.

She moved along with him. She pressed herself against him, grinding her hips on his. She smiled. But she was not smiling because she enjoyed being close to Jungkook. She was smiling because she could see how jealous Taehyung looked.

You on the other hand couldn’t breathe. You felt a burning sensation in your gut. Jungkook looked like he was so into her. Eyes closed. Body pressed against hers. In fact, he’d pushed one knee between hers to get closer.

But who were you to feel this way? He wasn’t yours. You were friends. So, you gave him some dance lessons. You played games together. You’d told him you weren’t looking for anything serious.

But maybe you couldn’t lie to yourself anymore. The way you seemed to fit together. The way being with him was easy. The way he saw the real you. The good bits, the bad bits, the crazy bits, the broken bits. Maybe something really had shifted and you’d just been living in denial. You downed another shot as Jimin watched you with worried eyes.

Then suddenly you stood up, your empty shot glass clattering onto the table. Sooyi had stood up on tip toes and pressed her lips to Jungkook’s. One hand in his hair to pull his head down to hers. The other hand reached behind her to push his hand down so that he was gripping her ass.

You couldn’t watch anymore. That burning sensation in your gut flared. You felt like it was going to burn you up from the inside. Your heart was racing. Your feet moved before you even realized you were leaving. Jimin called after you, but you didn’t hear him. Your blood was pounding in your ears so loudly, you didn’t even register the sounds of the club. All you knew was you needed to leave. You jumped onto your bike, pulled on your helmet and roared off into the night.

---------------

It felt wrong. Everything felt wrong. He thought he’d enjoy being with Sooyi. After all, he’d been crushing on her for so long. But half an hour into the date, his mind started wandering. When she started talking about some clothing collection from a new designer, he thought about you. What time were you coming? Did your client like that new design? Did you see the trailer for that new PlayStation game? Focus, Jungkook! He scolded himself, reminding himself that Sooyi looked very pretty in her pink silk blouse. He smiled at her as she chatted animatedly, resting her hand on his thigh.

Then Sooyi suggested dancing. Jungkook readily agreed, confidence buoyed by your lessons. He thought Sooyi looked a little stiff, but she swayed to the beat. Her hips brushed against his, so he wasn’t complaining.

Then he heard Danileigh. The song that had started it all. He held onto Sooyi’s arms to swivel her around as he looked for you. There you were! This was your song! He grinned at you. You looked sexy as always. Tank top in urban camo print, beige utility boot cut pants, black combat boots. Hair done up in low bun. He pulled his eyes away from you before anyone could catch him staring, bringing his focus back to Sooyi.

He placed his hands on her hips and started swiveling, feeling the beat. He remembered how it felt that first time with you. Letting the vibe go through him. How right it had felt to have you in his arms. But it wasn’t you now. Sooyi snaked her arms up his chest slowly, smiling coyly up at him. She wrapped one hand around the back of his neck, the other reaching up to slide through the silky strands of his hair.

He thought it would feel very intimate, but something was still off. So he closed his eyes, hoping that would help his body forget what it felt like to dance with you. He moved his hands to the small of Sooyi’s back. He pulled her closer till her body was flushed with his. She was so petite and small. He continued moving to the music, still feeling a little confused as to why everything felt a bit off.

Sooyi moved her body along with Jungkook’s. Now she was really getting into it. She pressed herself against him, grinding her hips against his suggestively. He could feel her small, soft breasts pressing against his chest. He pushed his knee between hers to get closer, his hips moving against hers. His eyes were still closed, so he didn’t see Sooyi smiling widely, her eyes trained on Taehyung.

Suddenly, Sooyi stood up on tip toes and pressed her lips to Jungkook’s. One hand reaching into his hair to pull his head down towards her. Her other hand reached behind her to push his hand down to make him grip her ass. Jungkook was so startled his eyes flew open. He didn’t even kiss Sooyi back. He just pushed her away, eyes blazing. His skin crawling. Sooyi was smirking, but she wasn’t looking at him. He followed her line of sight and turned, then realized she was looking at Taehyung.

He whirled back around, about to confront Sooyi for using him but he saw Jimin rushing out of the club. Jungkook cast around looking for you but he didn’t see you. Something had been off the entire evening, but now that feeling was not just a vague sense of unease. It had escalated into a blaring alarm that something had gone terribly wrong.

Jungkook caught up with Jimin outside the club, just in time to see you roaring off on your motorbike.

“What happened, Jimin?” Jungkook asked, worry written all over his face.

Jimin sighed. “Y/N’s been watching you and Sooyi. When Sooyi kissed you, Y/N took off.”

“Oh. But,” Jungkook hesitated. “I didn’t kiss Sooyi back.”

“Y/N didn’t stay long enough to see that,” Jimin said. “Look, I’ve seen the way you two are around each other. You may not want to admit it, but you are good for each other. I don’t know why you insist that nothing’s going on.”

“Did Y/N say that? That nothing’s going on?” Jungkook asked.

“She told you about her past right? She closed herself off emotionally. I know she keeps insisting she doesn’t want anything permanent, she wants her freedom, keep things easy. She doesn’t show it, but she gets lonely too.” Jimin added.

“I thought this is what she wanted! That’s why I didn’t push it. I thought the attraction was one-sided. That maybe it was just me. She seemed fine with her flings. She could have any guy she wants! I mean, have you seen her?!?” Jungkook waved his arms about exasperatedly.

“She could. But in the last two months, she hasn’t had anyone over. Didn’t you notice? Then in the last four weeks, she’s spent most of her free time with you! Not that the guys are complaining. We know you guys have been in the dance studio. But Jungkook, I have to tell you. She looks happy. I’ve seen the way she looks at you. She’s fallen for you, Jungkook.” Jimin said quietly.

“Jimin, I have to find her,” Jungkook ran his hands through his hair in frustration. “She thinks I’m into Sooyi. She couldn’t be more wrong. Where do you think she’d go?”

“There’s only one place she’d go when this sort of thing happens. Come on, I’ll drive you there.”

--------------

Surprisingly, there was no one on the hill. You lay on your rock, staring up at the moonless sky. Clouds obscured the stars too. They reflected your mood. Overcast. Directionless. Lost.

You thought you had a handle on things. You thought you knew what you wanted. You had your art, your studio, dance, friends. Life was easy. You were happy. Weren’t you? In those years when you’d been building the life you wanted, you’d worked so hard to get to where you were today. But then, now what? You hadn’t allowed yourself to think about what came next.

You sighed, closing your eyes. You didn’t know how long you’d been lying there for. You’d left your phone with your bike, wanting to be left alone.

Your thoughts swirled as you thought about what had changed. What had changed was the presence of a doe-eyed man. Who’d somehow slipped into the spaces in your life you didn’t know existed. Slipped under your skin when you weren’t looking.

Now those spaces felt empty. Because he wasn’t yours. He was with someone else. You didn’t realize you wanted him till it was too late. You clenched your fists, the image of him kissing her making your jaw clench, your brows furrow. You wanted to scream.

“You know, if you light up the bat signal, you might get Batman to make an appearance.”

You shot up onto your feet. Eyes wide open in disbelief. Brows furrowed in confusion. “What… how…. why….. what…..? “

Jungkook laughed. “I have never seen you speechless. Wait. Let me enjoy this.” He took out his phone and snapped a photo of you.

You recovered from your shock. You looked behind him, eyes narrowing. You crossed your arms, raised your chin. “Where’s your girlfriend?” you asked him, voice sharp with hostility.

He seemed a little taken aback by your reaction. “Um, I don’t have one. I was hoping you’d be interested in the position?” he asked a little hesitantly.

“What? What game are you playing at Jungkook? I just saw you kiss someone else! Her hand in your hair, your hand on her ass. What happened? Did she not like the way you kissed? You know what, I don’t care. Just leave me alone. I don’t take any one’s cast offs.” You tried to step around him so you could stomp off.

He grabbed you by the arm and pulled you into a hug. “Will you just stop and listen,” he growled. “First of all, Sooyi kissed me. I didn’t kiss her back. Second, I didn’t grab her ass. She pushed my hand onto it. I pulled away. Third, she was only doing all that to make her ex jealous. She was just using me.”

You tried to wriggle out of his hold. “So what? That’s no concern of mine. Poor you, it must have been so terrible to have a pretty girl come on to you. You poor baby,” you crooned, voice dripping with sarcasm.

“Will. You. Stop. That,” he growled again, squeezing you to shut you up. You yelped as he crushed you, but you stopped wriggling and talking. “Something felt off the entire night. Right from the time we left the office for the party. I tried to have conversations with her, but I’d be thinking about you. I had to force myself to pay attention to her. Then she wanted to dance. Man, she was even more stiff than I used to be,” he laughed. You couldn’t help it. You sniggered, making him smile. You buried your face in his chest.

“Dancing with her, just felt all wrong. I tried closing my eyes, tried letting the music take over. Nothing worked. Then they played “Easy”, and I saw you. That’s when I couldn’t deny it anymore. The only one I wanted in my arms was you.” Jungkook held you at arms length so he could look at you.

“Yes, you, you stubborn woman. I was actually going to ditch Sooyi and ask you to dance with me when she decided to force herself on me.” Jungkook shuddered.

“So, nope, I don’t have a girlfriend, but I’m hoping you’d say yes to being mine.” Jungkook looked at you with his puppy dog eyes, playing with his lip ring nervously.

Instead of answering him, you cupped his face with both hands and drew him down till your lips met. His lips were pillowy soft, yet firm. Warm, in contrast to the cold of his lip ring. His tongue traced your lower lip, asking for entrance. You open your lips on a sigh and he slipped in, his tongue sliding on yours making you moan. His arms closed around your waist, crushing you to him.

After an entire night of things feeling wrong, this felt right. The way your lips moved in sync. The way your breaths mingled. The way your bodies fit together. The way the connection between you seemed to thrum. The air around you seemed electric, alive.

Jungkook broke the kiss, breathless, pressing his forehead to yours.

“Jungkook,” you breathed.

“Hmm?”

“Mine or yours?”

“Mine.”

---------

The clouds parted during the bike ride back to your apartment building. The moonlight painted patterns on your skin as Jungkook peeled off your clothes slowly, kissing each patch of newly exposed skin. When you were bare, Jungkook knelt next to you to admire you. Hair fanned out over his pillow. Big eyes staring at him with desire. Chest heaving, thighs rubbing together.

You reached out to tug on his shirt. “You’re wearing too much clothes Kookie,” you chided. He grinned, unbuttoning his shirt. As he undid the last button, revealing his glorious chest and abs, you got up, sitting back on your heels, smiling coyly at him. You unbuckled his belt, unzipped his slacks, reached into his boxers, freed his cock, leaned forward and took him into your mouth all before Jungkook could even register what you were doing.

He moaned, his mouth going slack. Your tongue pressing against the underside of his cock, down to the base as you took him all the way in. You sucked as you moved upwards, tongue swirling around the head, before you took him in again. The fact that you were naked, while he was still almost fully clothed just made it hotter. He gathered your hair into a ponytail, then he pulled on it, creating some tension. You grunted as you continued to pleasure him, his hips starting to roll.

“No,” he placed his hands gently on your head to still your movements. “Need to be inside you.” He pushed on your shoulders gently, to get you to lie down. He got up to stand by the bed, taking his clothes off. His muscles rippled with his movements. His big cock was rock hard, jutting out form his body, shiny from your saliva. He gripped his cock, pumping it slowly as he walked to his bedside table and retrieved a condom.

“No need, Kook, I’m on the pill.”

“But, you made me buy all those condoms.”

“That’s for safety and hygiene, not contraception,” you wrinkled your nose. “Come here, Kook.” You leaned back on your elbows, slowly spreading your legs. “I want you raw.”

He climbed onto the bed and settled between your legs, hovering over you. He leaned down to kiss you. “But first, let me worship this body.” He trailed kisses down your neck, over your collarbone, nipping you along the way. He moved down the swell of your breast, deliberating going past the nipple without touching it, then moving between the breasts, to the other breast. This time when he neared the nipple, he blew on it without touching it, making you groan.

He mouthed at your breast a few more times, before moving his lips over the nipple lightly, making you gasp. You tried to make him do more by grabbing the back of his head and pushing it towards your breasts but he caught both of your wrists in one hand and pinned them above your head, immobilizing you.

“Uh, uh, uh…. So impatient. Be a good girl and just take what I give you, Baby,” he said darkly.

Then he closed his lips around your nipple and sucked. Hard. Your whole body jerked.

“Aah! Koook!” You felt him smile against your skin.

He continued lapping at your breast, tongue flicking over the nipple while he grabbed and squeezed your other breast, pinching and rolling the other nipple. Your body arched off the bed. Pleasure shot to your core, making your clit throb.

He lapped at the other breast now, mouth and hand swapping sides. His kisses trailed lower, over your sternum, your stomach, your abs. He used both hands to fondle your breasts now, playing with both nipples.

He kissed your mound. “Hmm, smooth,” he said, approvingly. Then without warning he dipped his tongue deep into your folds and pressed hard on your clit, making you cry out. His big hands held your thighs open as he showed you no mercy. He alternated between fucking you with his tongue, licking your clit and sucking on it. Then he slid two fingers inside you as he sucked on your clit, making you mewl. He stroked your warm walls faster as he felt your muscles tightening. Your thighs were clamped around his head. Those thighs he’d admired that day he’d seen you on your bike. Those thighs were now quivering as you neared your climax.

“Kook!” you gushed, as he continued stroking and sucking you through the aftershocks. Your legs fell open as he climbed back up to kiss you, your taste on his tongue. He slotted his hips against yours, rubbing his cock against your wet folds.

“Need you inside me, Kook,” you panted between kisses. “Fill me up with your big cock, Kook.”

Jungkook groaned, slotting the head of his cock against your entrance, pushing in slowly. The stretch was delicious. You both moaned at the fullness. At the closeness. You wrapped your legs around his hips, digging your heels into his ass to pull him closer. When he was in all the way to the hilt, he paused for a short while so you could both enjoy the sensation. Then he pulled out suddenly till almost the tip and rammed all the way back in just as suddenly making you scream.

Over and over. He pounded into you. He straightened one of your legs and pressed it to your chest. He rolled you onto your side. He flipped you over so you were all fours. He pressed your shoulders down so that your chest was on the bed while your ass was up in the air, cheeks red from being smacked.

You pushed him down so you were on top. You rode him as he held your hips. You sat on his face. He flipped you so that he could lie on top of him, pussy on his face while you sucked him off. You both lost count of how many orgasms you’d coaxed from each other.

Then you soaped each other gently in the shower, washing each other with care. You were already almost asleep on your feet so Jungkook dried you, dressed you in one of his oversized t-shirts and put you to bed. He slid in behind you, wrapped his arms around you and succumbed to sleep.

--------

You heard the clinking of cutlery. Bacon, was that the smell of bacon? Your stomach rumbled. You opened your eyes blearily. Where were you?

Grey rumpled sheets. Grey pillows. Grey quilt. White walls. The only spot of color, a poster on the wall, from the game Monument Valley. Jungkook’s room. You looked down. You were wearing an oversized t-shirt. Jungkook’s. No underwear. Eating breakfast without any panties just felt wrong, so you went searching for your thong and found it in your pile of discarded clothes on the floor. It wasn’t much, but it made you feel a little less naked.

You walked out to the kitchen rubbing your eyes and froze. Five pairs of male eyes blinked at you. Seokjin was at the stove frying up bacon. Namjoon had a piece of toast halfway to his mouth. Jimin just spit out some coffee all over Hobi’s newspaper. Jungkook was seated at the head of the table, his eyes open wide as he took in your clothes, or lack there-of. The t-shirt wasn’t thin enough to be transparent, but it was obvious you weren’t wearing a bra. It was long enough to cover your ass, but short enough to see you didn’t have any shorts on.

Seokjin reached down to turn off the stove before his bacon burned. No one else moved. You took a deep breath. If can’t beat ‘em, join ém, right? So you held your chin up, sauntered over to Jungkook and deposited yourself onto his lap, one arm around his shoulders. You smiled at everyone.

“Good morning guys!” you said cheerily. “When did you guys get in? Did you save some bacon for me?” You reached down and stole a piece of bacon off Jungkook’s plate.

Jimin recovered first, having wiped the split coffee off his chin. Unfortunately, Hobi’s newspaper was ruined. “Hey Y/N. About an hour ago. Sorry if we woke you. You must have had a long night.” He looked pointedly at Jungkook, who looked a little shell shocked.

Hobi looked between Jungkook and you, then started grinning. “Finally,” he smiled. “Coffee, Y/N?”

“Yes, Hobi!” you beamed, throwing Hobi an air kiss.

Namjoon put down his half-eaten toast, looking totally confused. Seokjin came over with a plate of bacon, winking at you and Jungkook, taking the seat at the other end of the table. Hobi came back with coffee for you, Jimin and himself. Seokjin threw his arm around Namjoon, laughing as he tried to explain what was going on.

Jungkook, having recovered, leaned closer and whispered in your ear. “I left a note on the bedside table that the guys were coming over for breakfast so you wouldn’t just walk out in nothing but my t-shirt.”

“Well, I am wearing my thong,” you whispered back.

“That’s not much better!” Jungkook hissed.

“I didn’t see your note!” You protested. “I smelled bacon and I came running. Somebody wore me out last night!” You pouted

“Well, I didn’t hear you complaining about coming so many times last night,” he gloated.

“You know we can hear you guys, right?” Jimin smirked. The rest of the guys burst out laughing.

“Ok, ok,” Jungkook laughed. “Excuse me while I go put some clothes on my girlfriend.” Jungkook put his arms around you and stood up, lifting you up bridal style while you squealed.

“Or,” Jimin drawled, “you could take some clothes off. It’s a Saturday. Take your time. Maybe, another hour, or two? We still have time before we have to leave for the exhibition. We’ll just be here finishing breakfast,” he waved his hand dismissively at you, sending the other three into fits of raucous laughter.

Since getting some clothes on you was the goal, Jungkook carried you back to your apartment. Getting you dressed did indeed take another two hours. Well, getting you undressed came first, followed by you and Jungkook christening several flat surfaces in your apartment. Not before making sure your front door was bolt-locked. Then followed by another shower before finally getting dressed.

After breakfast you all went to the nearby museum to view the latest collection by one of the up-and-coming young artists in the country. Namjoon was a big fan. The art was supposed to be appreciated in silence, so visitors drifted around without talking. The six of you moved around the exhibits, reading the inscriptions.

Jungkook and you moved separately but always gravitated back towards each other. Once in each other’s orbit, you’d have to touch. A hand on your lower back. Your hand on his arm. His warm fingers holding yours. The silence was not awkward. It was easy.

The gang went out for a late sushi lunch after all that walking. You decided to interrogate them about what they seemed to know about what had happened between you and Jungkook.

“Come on, Y/N. It was easy to see what was happening between the two of you!” Hobi crowed. “The only person who was oblivious to it was you! Oh, and maybe Namjoon,” Hobi laughed, as Namjoon sputtered.

“But, …. But… I didn’t even realize it till…. “ you trailed off, ashamed to admit that it’d taken seeing Jungkook kiss someone else before you could admit to yourself that you had feelings for him.

Jungkook felt bad that you were being put in a spot. “Come on guys. To be fair, I could have said something earlier. I could have been more honest with myself too. I kept telling myself, there was no way she’d be interested in me. I thought I’d been permanently friend-zoned.”

“Why did you think that?” you asked curiously.

“Because…” he floundered. “Because… things were… too easy! Everything was just soo… easy with you! We got along so great! I’ve never met a girl like you before! You’re like one of the guys…. But way cooler…and … with nicer boobs!” The entire group cracked up.

You hit Jungkook on the shoulder. “Oh my god! I can’t believe you brought up my boobs! Now I have to show everyone my boobs because only you’ve seen them! How are they supposed to know they are nicer?” Your hands went to the hem of your tee, making Jungkook panic and jump up and grab your hands, his eyes wide open. The entire group cracked up even harder. You joined them this time.

He looked around at everyone, eyes narrowing at you, then he laughed too.

---------------

Eight Months Later

“There, all done,” you put down your tattoo gun and wiped the skin on Jungkook’s left ribs, above his heart. He held his left hand up to admire the matching tattoo on his ring finger. “Easy” followed by tomorrow’s date. You had a matching tattoo on your rib and ring finger too.

“Easy”, a tribute to the song that had started it all for you.

Tomorrow’s date, because tomorrow was the day you were going to put rings over those tattoos on your ring fingers as you said “I do”.

You’d both decided to have a small luncheon at the R & B Club for just family and close friends. Yoongi and the gang had even gone to the trouble of decorating the club, even though you’d insisted it wasn’t necessary. Jimin and Seokjin might have gone a little overboard with the extravagant white lily and tulip arrangements, balloon clusters and arches and glitter everywhere. Jungkook’s parents were coming, and to your surprise, so were yours. Jungkook had insisted you invite them even though you’d said they wouldn’t be caught dead in that sort of club, or in any wedding not held in a proper grand ballroom.

A wedding wouldn’t be a wedding if there was no dancing. Plus you were in a club! The DJ, who was obviously also invited had asked you what song you’d wanted for your first dance as husband and wife. You’d grinned at each other, then turned to the DJ and said in unison “Easy”.

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