#Bts smut

[lovieku]

INTRO ⋆ 정국

you’re jeongguk’s secret santa this year, so you give him the best gift he’ll ever receive.

⋆⁺₊❅. 1/6 from christmas & chill

pairing virgin!jk x fem reader

genre smut, fluff, friends to lovers, first time

warnings painfully oblivious jk, even more painfully oblivious oc, mutual pining unlike anything you’ve seen, jk being a hot nerd ceo who’s loaded rich and unaware of his potential, please imagine him as nam joohyuk in start up, oc just creaming her pants for jk, hand job, lowk strip tease, dry humping, nipple play (m&f), unprotected p in v sex, creampie, jk is so needy and impatient but also very polite, smut is kinda rushed because well… it’s his first time! sawrry! also i open gifts on xmas eve please don’t come for me and my traditions (it’s lich just because i’m impatient)

word count 8.3k

author’s note hello hello hello!!! i’m so nervy to post this because it’s what finally inaugurates c&c!!!! i hope it can be a pleasing (intro)duction to the series hehe… either way you’ll get something totally better from miss lyssa tomorrow so stay tuned Wink 🩷 luv u always

banner by the talented @awrkive ⟡ ݁₊ .

Secret Santas have become the only way you’ve been able to deal with Christmas. When it comes to gift-giving, you’re embarrassed to admit that creativity in that department doesn’t exactly come naturally to you.

You try your best, truly. But you either end up going over budget, striving to please all your loved ones with unnecessarily expensive gifts which will only leave you with empty hands and an empty wallet, or having your brain completely stop working, if not to come up with the most basic and useless options that will get you forced smiles and polite nods in fake recognition.

It’s exhausting, demoralizing, and frankly, a recipe for holiday burnout.

So when two years ago, on the brink of giving up entirely and seriously contemplating hibernating through winter, your dear friend Jimin swooped in and suggested Secret Santa, it completely reshaped your next Christmases.

Exactly a month before Christmas Eve, you reunite over drinks and food at Jeongguk’s house to draw names. His place always ends up as the default spot for dinners, movie nights, or even football matches. Those don’t usually get the attention of everybody, especially of some of the girls, and it wouldn’t get yours either.

But you never skip game night. Correction, you never miss an excuse to be in Jeongguk’s space, even if it means sitting through 90 minutes of men chasing a ball on a screen. After all, you’re never truly paying attention, always stealing glances at the boy who seems almost even more uninterested than you.

It’s about witnessing him in his house— which, truthfully, is more of a mansion. The spacious, cozy interiors mirror a part of him that’s hard to miss: his perfectionist side, the one that likes to keep things understated but can’t help leaving subtle, telling marks of his presence on everything he touches, is woven into every corner.

Over time, you’ve naturally come to associate the place with holidays, laughter, and celebrations that fill you with a sense of belonging. Being here, surrounded by your closest friend, makes you feel profoundly grateful.

And there’s so many traces of you all, too. The faint wine stain on Jeongguk’s carpet that is only still noticeable if you squint, the one that spilled from your glass when Hoseok’s jokes had you laughing too hard; the long, slim scratch on the kitchen door, courtesy of Eunbi, who thought learning how to balance glasses on her forehead would get one of her coworkers to finally fall for her; the wobbly vase on the coffee table that was knocked over during one of Jimin’s overly enthusiastic attempts to kick a water bottle open.

Watching Jeongguk deal with the chaos you all force into his space might be another big reason why you love being here. It seems to squeeze out his most genuine reactions and quirks, and you can’t help biting your lips at those, almost pornographically so.

For someone who works so hard to appear composed, and who’s also extremely shy and reserved, Jeongguk is hilariously transparent when things don’t go his way. Brows furrowed, as if that’s where he keeps all his control. Although, no matter how flustered he gets, Jeongguk almost never gets choleric. His instinct is never to lash out but to scramble, a picture of barely contained stress insisting that everything is fine.

And the more he insists, the more you find yourself wishing it wasn’t fine. Sometimes, you want to see him lose it— especially at you.

You’ve tried, too. You’ve pushed boundaries, done little things to test the limits of his patience, all for the slim possibility of seeing him crack, just for you. But it never works. The best you get is an awkward smile, maybe a quiet laugh. It’s not nothing, but it’s not what you want, either.

You don’t think you’ve ever felt this crazy about someone before. Not in the way where everything he does sends your brain spinning with possibilities. It’s maddening. His obliviousness is maddening.

Chiefly tonight, when you’re trying extra hard to keep it under control, the whole group gathering in a circle around the bowl that holds all your names, each one carefully folded into a little square, waiting to be drawn.

But when your slim fingers brush against one of the many crumpled pieces of paper and decide your fate, you send a small prayer to whoever might be listening. Please, don’t let it be Jeongguk.

It doesn’t really come off as a coherent request, especially considering how much your body has betrayed you tonight. Your thighs have been pressing together most of the evening, a subconscious reaction every time your gaze wandered — lingered — on Jeongguk’s lower half. Those low, slouchy grey sweatpants, hanging effortlessly off his narrow hips, have been the source of many inappropriate thoughts that you wish would make you grow some shame within yourself. Instead, they only make you grow hotter in your seat.

No, you would love to be Jeongguk’s Secret Santa with the blatant, embarrassingly huge crush you have on him. You think you’d be happy about it in any other universe, except this one.

Jeongguk is difficult. And not because he’s ever been argumentative, looking to start quarrels, never willing to agree or see past his nose. He’s far from those. He’s one of the easiest people to be around, rarely judgmental, even when you were drunk off your mind and you jokingly grinded on very-gay Jimin to make up for your lack of sexual activity. On those occasions, you didn't exactly see judgement in his eyes. Just reticence. Maybe. It wasn’t clear.

What is clear is that Jeongguk is incredibly particular. He’s picky about what he likes and even more so about what he doesn’t, though dislike might be too soft a word. When he hates something, it’s impossible not to know. He doesn’t even try to mask his disappointment.

It’s not malicious, of course. He’s not the type to be spiteful. It’s just how he is, an open book, his expressions giving him away without fail.

It’s one of the many reasons you love watching him, other than hoping your eyes would telepathically convey your undying desire to fuck him and cuddle him close to your chest afterwards. But most of the time, studying the shifts in his features is a way for you to decipher what he’s thinking.

And that’s why this moment feels so high-stakes. The last thing you want is to be on the receiving end of one of Jeongguk’s polite smiles or barely-there nods of acknowledgment, the kind he gives when he’s unimpressed. It would crush you, the ultimate failure in your short-lived career as a gift-giver.

It’s not just that he’s hard to please. Jeongguk is also the last person who seems to need anything. He’s loaded, his success as a game developer has afforded him a life where anything he wants is within reach. And yet, despite his wealth, there’s no arrogance about him. If you didn’t know him so well, you might think he was just another college student scraping by.

Who else but Jeon Jeongguk could walk around in a hoodie and square glasses, looking like he just rolled out of bed, while being the CEO of his own company?

But, of course, none of this is important. Because as you unfold the piece of paper in your hand, it’s there. Jeongguk.

You don’t think you enjoy Secret Santa as much anymore.

With the bowl continuing its journey around the circle, you spend the rest of the game staring holes into the back of Jeongguk’s head, desperately trying to figure out what in the world you could possibly get him. Your monthly budget feels laughable in comparison to his lifestyle, but you’re already prepared to go way over it if that’s what it takes to impress him.

You wonder if he’s as insecure as you are when he quietly unfolds the small, paper square he picked up and scans the name. His bug eyed expression doesn’t hide an evident surprise, the twitch of his eyebrows managing to conceal a possible disappointment.

For someone who’s usually so easy to read, Jeongguk seems uncharacteristically guarded in this moment, and it drives you crazy. You squint at him, frowning as you try to decipher any small detail on his face. Is he annoyed? Or worse, completely indifferent?

Either way, it doesn’t look like a positive reaction. If it ends up being you, you’ll rethink back to this moment and cry yourself to sleep.

With the first step out of the way, the night goes on following its usual rhythm. Only by the end of it, Jeongguk’s space starting to empty, you quietly help him put some order to the mess left behind by a too drunk Hoseok paired with his too drunk best friend Taehyung.

You keep yourself busy with storing some leftover food, managing to keep your tone unbothered when you ask, “Hey, Gguk. Wanna help me with the party planning this year?”

Always obliging to your every request, he only stutters slightly in his movements, the glasses he was cleaning clinking together. He clears his throat, “S—sure. I’ll help you, goldie.” The stammer doesn’t seem to be caused by any kind of hesitation, just an usual consequence to his nature. Reserved, quiet.

You nod, gulping way too loudly at the special nickname he has for you, and both of you keep your focus on your doings instead of witnessing the faint blush dusting your cheeks, “Cool. I’ll text you the details tomorrow.”

Details texted, your efforts to divert the conversation into something remotely playful failed miserably. Jeongguk is painfully formal, methodical as ever, hyper-focused on the party. When you sent him a TikTok you deemed adorable enough to nudge him toward a different matter, maybe hint at the dog being the cutest thing he’s ever seen and that you two should definitely adopt three of them and move in together, he still doesn’t get it.

gguk🤍: Oh… I asked my brother to keep Bam for Christmas Eve. I thought he would be too much of a hassle, especially with Iseul not being fond of dogs.

You had stared at the ceiling for a long moment after reading that text. Jeongguk is endearingly dense, and you don’t mind it most of the time. But it’s starting to cause quiet bursts of frustration when it comes to whatever undefined thing you two have, and what is clearly simmering for the eyes of everybody to see, except his.

You’d thought giving him his first handjob when he quietly confessed he’s never been touched, his voice a tremble in the calm aftermath of a chaotic group sleepover, would be enough to make him see. His quiet whimpers were hypnotizing calls that only you were meant to hear, and your fist pumping his girthy length with intent was speaking all you were afraid to voice.

Jeongguk came hard and unannounced all over your hand, pleasured sounds muffled in the side of your neck, and you’d assured him it was okay; he did good; that you would get something to clean him up. You didn’t sleep that night, and he didn’t either, spending the rest of it next to each other on his couch talking pointless conversation.

If that hadn’t opened his eyes, you were beginning to wonder what would.

“So… Do you have any idea what to gift your person?”

Jeongguk stirs his latte for the fourth time. You’d decided to meet at a café halfway between your cramped flat and his mansion, because it was the easiest way you managed to make your busy schedules merge.

“No, Gguk,” you acknowledge his question without meeting his eyes, focusing on the grocery list on your laptop instead.

What would? You’re starting to think subtlety isn’t cutting it. Maybe it never has. Perhaps the only way to break through that frustratingly thick skull of his is to go full throttle, strip naked right here in the middle of this café and spell it out for him.

Your eye involuntary twitches at the thought in relation to his question. Crazy Christmas gift, you reason as you stare maniacally at your bright screen. Yeah. Totally crazy.

Shaking your head, you can’t resist glancing up at him. The idea doesn’t seem so irrational anymore, not when your insides twist at the sight of his absorbed expression, his brows furrowed as he scribbles out unheard-of maths on a piece of paper to figure out group expenses.

With your chin resting in the palm of your hand, you abandon your pretense of being productive and let yourself watch him work. A teasing lilt slips into your voice as you prod him in your usual way, “Why should I believe you already don’t know who it is?”

He blinks up at you, promptly, like he always does when you speak to him, and he stumbles, “Huh— I don’t—”

“You so do. You probably already guessed it all with your nerdy brain.”

Despite looking mildly offended, his ears turn red anyway, “Nerdy brain—”

“Glasses look cute on you,” that shuts him up; his mouth, his brain. Completely unable to cater to any of their functions.

You smirk at the way he diverts his gaze, pointer finger unconsciously fixing the specs on the bridge of his nose, and you wonder how much longer it’ll take for him to notice that you don’t just go around calling everyone’s glasses cute.

Sighing, you continue, “Anyways. It’s not you.”

“W—what? Is it really not?” When he looks up at you with even wider eyes, you feel bad for lying to him but you still shake your head. He mutters, “Shoot. I was so sure I had it.”

A playful scoff escapes you, “See! You did sit in your nerdy room and tried to guess!”

“Stop calling me a nerd,” it’s a request grumbled in the most adorable way you’ve heard, and there’s no real heat behind it. Especially when he goes back to be exactly what he doesn’t want you to refer to him as, “Well, if it’s not me, it must be Taehyung.”

You pretend to busy yourself with your touchpad as you ponder on his eagerness. Then, you voice the result, “What’s the fun in knowing right now?”

Jeongguk hesitates for a moment too long before admitting, “I don’t know. I guess it makes me less anxious.”

It’s a raw kind of honesty, much like what he was painted all over with when he came from your touch, and it has you shifting your gaze back on him, now absorbed in doodling stylized portraits of Bam right next to numbers and additions.

You don’t know if it’s the hot chocolate still simmering in your tummy, the warmth from the coat laying on your legs, the café’s natural heat or Jeongguk’s proximity, but you buzz with something homely.

Ariana Grande’s version of Last Christmas replays for the third time in a row, and at this point you’re starting to believe it’s a conscious choice, but you don’t mind it.

Jeongguk belongs to the world the soft melody is building, hugged by a woolen white sweater, the wide glass window behind him giving the perfect view to a classic winter scenery, snow softly resting on any surface it finds and unconsciously bringing magic to dullness. Or maybe it’s just him adding that last bit.

You smile at his small confession, reassuring with your tone, almost drowning in the lively chatter of the place surrounding you, “You don’t have to be.”

Jeongguk only nods, tapping the pencil on his temple as he studies what he has so far with sudden doubt. He looks at your laptop, scanning the long forgotten visual board on your Pinterest, then back to his calculations.

Giving one more glance at the screen, he concludes, “By the way, I really don’t think that color would look good in my living room.”

Ugh.

You think you want to strangle him when he deflects so easily from these moments. And mostly, the burgundy he’s so easily refusing happens to be one of your favorite shades. Do your tastes ever match?

God, as much as you want him, you hope he’s not your Secret Santa.

────⋆｡˚❆˚ ｡⋆────

Jeongguk is your Secret Santa.

And on Christmas Eve, he’s pacing the length of his living room back and forth, his socks brushing against the polished wooden floor with each step. You’re supposed to arrive any minute now to help him with the final touches before the others come for dinner, and the idea of having you here alone is enough to make his hands clammy and his thoughts stumble.

The neatly wrapped gift with its shiny red paper sits tucked under the towering Christmas tree, the one adorned in messy decor that his friends jumbled up together. The item hidden inside the bag doesn’t share his anxieties, though he suspects his downstairs neighbour might have caught on to it with the incessant pacing.

When you ring the doorbell he’s jolted out of it and, practically tripping over his own feet, he rushes to the door and yanks it open. He would have let you in just as rapidly if his brain didn’t stop short at seeing you standing there.

You’re cladded in a soft sweater that looks two sizes larger, its beige tones complimenting the warm brown of his own jumper, and your short skirt peeks out beneath its hem, edged with lace ruffles. At your feet, a pair of chestnut Uggs that he can only hope are enough to make up for the cold shivers on your bare legs. Not that he’s staring, so intently he has to gulp down an impulsive thought. No, he’s just a naturally observing guy.

And that brings him to notice that your hands are empty, save for a small purse and a bottle of wine. No bag, no box, no sign of a gift.

When his gaze flickers back to your face, your eyes are wide and darting nervously between his own, narrowed by the frown that he can’t quite hide but bug sized the moment he catches a trace of insecurity in your shaky voice, “Hi.”

It could be the cold causing the brief greeting to tremble, small snowflakes laying on your neatly styled hair, shimmering for a brief moment before melting away. It pulls him out from his unabashed study of you, and he steps aside to let you into his much warmer space.

Your vanilla scent inebriating his senses has him forgetting all about your seemingly non existent gift, and how he suddenly finds himself wishing he truly did get something messed up in his calculations, that you’re not his Secret Santa.

But you are.

Many drinks later, filling up everyone’s stomachs along with shared food and belly laughter, it’s time to exchange gifts and the expression on your face is unlikely anything he’s caught on so far.

A huge contrast to the mellow Christmas tunes indistinctly playing in the background, your eyes are impassive as you word your excuses, “I’m sorry, Gguk. I forgot your gift at home.”

“Oh. It’s okay,” he says quickly, the words spilling out with genuine ease. And it really is okay. He’s not upset— far from it. The thought of you giving him anything at all, even belatedly, is enough to make him feel content.

But now, as the group’s attention turns toward him, his heart races for an entirely different reason. His gift for you, a lavish, over-the-top gesture that far exceeds the modest budget they all agreed on, sits waiting on his lap.

When it finds a new home atop your own crossed legs, you’re eager as you rip the paper, but your eyes don’t follow your movements. Instead, you focus on the nervous boy sitting across from you, your very own Secret Santa who’s monitoring your hands for you while subtly rocking from one side to the other.

His anxiety is endearingly soft, but you can see something more to it, almost an irrational fear of tripping on the wrong step, messing up something that’s supposed to be simple.

You hear it before you see it. The whole room inhales sharply in a collective surprise, with some gasps muffled behind hands pressed to mouths. You scramble for an explanation in their expressions, jumping from one face to the other, stopping on Jeongguk’s own, gaze glued to his fidgeting fingers, head bowed down to his lap.

When you slowly look down at what’s resting on yours, you almost wheeze. If they could, your eyes would leap out of their sockets.

Your palm instinctively presses on your lips as you look between the gift and the gifter in a frantic attempt to catch any sign that this is not what it is. With the music being the only sound eerily filling the sudden silence, you add to it, even if barely, with your voice a whisper, “What is this?”

Jeongguk gulps and finally meets you, “It’s m—my gift for you.”

It’s not like you even opened it yet. But the simple sight of the box had you grasping for support. On the pale, textured surface of the square box, the unmistakable gold lettering is what’s making your orbs shake in confusion: Dior.

You trace the sign with your pointed finger, tilting your head up to look at Jeongguk through your lashes, and you don’t know how else to put it, “Ggukkie… Were you there when we set the budget?”

Jimin butts in with a scoff, “Yeah, that’s like fifteen thousand won multiplied by another fifty thousand.”

Jeongguk doesn’t know what he should say. He’s scared of the deafening silence that follows, the way Jimin’s comment seems to linger in the air, the way you seem to struggle with finding something to say in response.

He begins, tries to, “I—”

“Fuck, Gguk,” the simple sound of your words has his mind spiralling, palms clammy with doubts that question his every choice leading up to this moment, feeling foolish for even thinking this could be right, a shot worth trying. What if you think he’s showing off? Or worse, overcompensating?

But what he fails to notice is the toothy grin that follows your shameless surprise, your fingers gingerly lifting the lid of the box, and really, if only he had the courage to look up at you he’d have avoided the worries.

He misses your reaction at the reveal: the prettiest earrings sit on a soft cushion, gleaming gold with delicate CD initials and cream pearls dangling gracefully beneath them.

“These are the prettiest thing I’ve ever seen. I love them. You didn’t have to.”

Jeongguk’s head snaps up. He meets your face painted with the most beautiful grin he’s ever seen you wear, your cheeks burning with red and your nose scrunching as you carefully slip the earrings to take a better look at them. With you, everybody else around him seems in awe, too. Their soft, endeared whispers begin to fill the earlier suffocating silence, melting into a sweetness reserved entirely for Jeongguk.

He exhales quietly, the welcomed warmth in his chest replacing the cold. He admits, no stutter, no fear, just a sheepish smile, “I wanted to.”

Jeongguk really did want to. It felt like his one shot. A desperate, last-ditch attempt at making you see him the way he’s always seen you; a declaration wrapped in gold and pearls.

He wants you to see him as more than the shy, awkward boy who stumbles over his words and blushes too easily. More than the nerd who spends too much time working on equations and codes half the world doesn’t know about. More, just to have you look at him a bit closer.

He wants to be a man, one who badly wants you, in your eyes.

They’re gleaming with adorable excitement as they flicker back to his, sheepishly accompanying your quiet request, “Can you… put them on for me?”

Jeongguk is at your side in no time, handling the earrings with care while trying to keep his usual clumsiness at bay as he fastens the dainty jewels in place. He begins to understand why it’s hard to see him as anything else but gawky when he feels his heartbeat speed up from the simple way his skin is brushing against yours.

Namjoon’s voice cuts through the spell, playful, “Oh, what a pretty princess. Jeongguk truly has an eye for this stuff.”

With the group following with chuckles and mindless banter, Jeongguk feels uncharacteristically bold, gaze fixated entirely on you as he lets himself spill something meant for you only to hear, “I think it’s just you. You’re beautiful.”

You’re clearly caught off guard, and it stings a little when he realizes the only reason he doesn’t get to see you this flustered often is because he’s usually busy being the flustered one. Blinking up at him through your lashes, your laugh comes out a little breathless, and the sweet way you let your cheek rest on your shoulder has him daring to hope.

“Nerd.”

But no. There it is again.

That’s all he’ll ever be in your eyes.

He forces a smile that barely reaches his eyes, but you’re too engrossed with having your pearls admired by the rest of the group to notice. Those weren’t a waste; he would do it all the same. You deserve everything that makes your eyes shine, that brings the corners of your lips into that grin that shakes him, that can ever bring you joy. He just wishes it could bring you more than that; bring you to a bigger sentiment, a bigger realization.

Perhaps that’s why he can’t shake off the awful mood that pervades his senses throughout the rest of the night, the earrings hanging from your ears catching the twinkly, warm lights and mocking him with delighted amusement. There’s nothing else you can do, you nerdy boy.

Perhaps that’s also why, when the house starts to empty and you’re in his kitchen making yourself helpful with dishes, he slips on composure when you accidentally let a glass slide from your dainty hands.

It breaks the moment it meets the ground, and the sound penetrates his ears, both of you jumping at the impact. He hisses, “What— what the heck, ___!”

You’re startled, blinking up at him. It’s not the chaos from the glass, not its tiny pieces covering the floor and reaching your feet. It’s the deliberate frustration of his tone, one he’s never let free, especially with you.

You pant for apologies, but they can’t seem to be let out. Wide eyes jumping between his own bug ones, your brows draw up in shame. It has never been this easy to get him bothered. Hell, you’ve even struggled to.

Jeongguk only sighs, dragging a hand across his nape, and he regrets the quiet sharpness in his voice the second he lets it out, “God. Be more careful next time.”

He’s still quicker than you on his feet, moving to sweep the mess you’ve created before you can even react. You seem to move in slow, infinite motions, kneeling down to pick up the bigger pieces, all while keeping an unusual silence.

He steals a glance up at you, biting his lower pierced lip in sudden guilt, “Are you okay?”

Your hands pause, clutching a fragment of glass as your eyes flicker up to meet his. You nod, distant, and it does nothing to convince him.

He doesn’t even seem to be paying attention to your hesitant confirmation, rather he’s hyper-focused on your fingers, and before you realize the shift in his expression, he alarmedly blurts out, “Goldie. You’re bleeding.”

The sting barely registers for you until his words bring it to your attention. Looking down, you see a sharp, red line running across your finger, small but enough to make Jeongguk spring into action.

You’re lifted off the floor and ushered to the bathroom in fractions of seconds, letting yourself be handled like you don’t own your body. The only thing you want to be aware of is the switch in his behaviour. He’s back to normal once he’s in his quiet bubble of concentration, movements precise as he cleans the barely visible wound and carefully places a band aid over it.

All while he can’t stop apologizing, “I’m sorry for yelling at you. That was not your fault. But, this. This is my fa—”

“Jeongguk, it’s just a scratch.”

The way he meets your eyes with his face drawn tight and brows furrowed makes you rethink your statement. Maybe it’s more than a scratch. Maybe it’s the only thing that snapped him out of his frustrated daze.

“It doesn’t matter. You didn’t deserve that.”

Your first instinct is to giggle; it’s a resonance of the butterflies childishly swarming in your belly from the proximity and his careful words. Both your gazes soften as you accept each other, even the faulted versions of tonight, and a timid smile stretches over his lips.

You hesitate before speaking again, your mouth opening only to close, reconsidering your words; but then you finally let out what you had foolishly planned as your next desperate attempt to cling to him.

“Can you… My car is… Can you take me home?”

What you’re now sure you like the most about Jeongguk is how he caters to your needs before you even have to voice them. The soft kindness in his eyes, the way his body instinctively shifts to act before his mind even fully processes the request. He’s already nodding, ready to make it happen for you.

“Yeah. Of course.”

The heat in his car fans over your cheeks, dusting them with a soft red that has his Adam’s apple bobbing every time he turns to steal glances at you at stoplights. You keep talking, filling the air with contentment about the night’s events, and it’s like that subtle slip of his never happened.

It’s almost too easy to surrender and pretend that everything is fine, that he doesn’t feel the ache of wanting more. If staying a nerd in your eyes means getting to be this close, to hear your laughter, to see the slight curve of your lips as you speak, then maybe it’s enough.

His subtle gestures — adjusting the temperature so you’re comfortable, his hands gripping the steering wheel a little tighter when your giggles spill into the cabin — don’t go unnoticed. They settle into you and have your heart beating anticipatedly.

God, you won’t regret what you’re about to do.

By the time he pulls up in front of your place, you promptly turn to him before he can offer anything else, voice a bit too eager, “Would you like to come inside?”

“Huh—”

“I’ll show you my gift.”

Jeongguk sits on your couch, because you tell him to wait there. And of course, he’s a great listener. Very obedient, willing to follow your every order.

His fingertips drum restlessly on his thighs and he can only busy himself with his surroundings, every detail speaking for you. What’s definitely more prominent is the intoxicating scent of vanilla that clings in the air, of which he hopes his lungs inhale the entirety of, never getting enough of everything that is you.

When you come into his vision again, walking down the stairs in quiet steps, you’re tightly hugged in a trench coat, the textured belt cinched snugly around you and accentuating the small of your waist. Under it, your legs are bare. It has his mouth drying and his legs spreading stiffly on the couch.

He thought he got better at hiding his concerning infatuation. He hopes he did.

That’s why he initially manages to chuckle and attempt a joke, “Are you going somew—”

“Ta-da.”

Jeongguk doesn’t think he’s breathing. He doesn’t think he can even breathe anymore. His blinking fastens, brain stumbling over itself as it tries to make sense of what he’s sitting in front of.

You’ve loosened the coat just enough for the fabric to fall and reveal what you’ve carefully wrapped for him. You’re a gift coming in a red lingerie set clinging to your perfect curves, your boobs deliciously spilling out from the sides of your lace top and the line of your panties thin enough to leave little to the imagination.

He pants, scanning over your body once, twice, three times, questioning if the wine was perhaps laced with stronger substances, “What— What is this—”

“It’s my gift for you. Merry Christmas, Gguk.”

Meeting your face again, he nearly groans. You’re almost bare before him, yet you still sport a crimson blush and your teeth graze your bottom lip in a sheepish smile, in a way that is so achingly you. He can feel himself throbbing painfully in his pants. Thinks he could cum just from this view, tip over the edge without a single touch, no matter how bad he needs it.

“Fuck.”

You’ve barely ever heard Jeongguk curse throughout the time you’ve known him for. He only sometimes reserves that for his monitor, Overwatch games causing his composure to slip in adorable loud whispers.

But it’s like you’ve broken his dam, and he only lets more slip as you walk slowly but certainly closer to him, coat discarded on the floor, “Oh my, fuck. Holy shit. Thank you. Thank you. I— I don’t know what to do.”

It’s a quiet plea, the one that’s hidden in his strained words but clear in his full eyes glazed over with anticipation, his hands hovering uncertainly over his thighs, chest still heaving and struggling with manual breathing. He’s begging to feel deserving of this, to have you prove to him that it’s what you truly want for the both of you, to have you touching him and to be touching you.

He can’t help the moan that escapes him when you position yourself in between his spread legs, bodies close yet not touching, but he’s dying to feel you.

Now your turn to bend at his every request, your head tilts and your smile widens the more he’s forced to crane his neck up to keep your gazes connected, pending off your every syllable, “You don’t have to do anything. Will you let me take care of you?

“Yes, please,” the confirmation is immediate and empty of hesitance. Under you, Jeongguk nods promptly with his lips agape, watering with want when you straddle his lap to sit yourself on him.

He wails, throwing his head back and searching for all the strength it takes from holding back his instinct to snap up against your core, snuggled atop his raging hardness. At his shameless desperation, your giggles fill his ears, and when they’re followed by your cold hand on his cheek redirecting his gaze on yours, he feels feverish.

Delirious, eyes barely keeping from rolling back, his brain reduced to senseless blabbering, “My God. Thank you for this.”

With his brows adorably drawn up, he focuses on your dilated pupils now that your faces are mere centimetres apart, and you close the distance with small pecks that trace his jaw, up to his ear lobe, whispering against the skin, “Are you seriously thanking God while I’m about to take your virginity?

Jeongguk hisses in a frenzied surge, his hands still unsurely keeping from touching you, and your sarcastic pun has him full on rambling, “Shit, sorry. I don’t even believe in God. This just feels too good to be true. You look like a fucking angel.”

“Ggukkie, language!” Your seductive tone along with your chuckle reverberates right against his chest, your hands moving to lead your own palms up and down his broad front, and when you subtly roll your hips against his clothed length, he breaks into a cry.

“Oh, fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck. I’ll come so soon,” you don’t know if it’s the adrenaline of the moment, but you’ve never witnessed such a bold Jeongguk. It only spurs you further, your hand traveling down, and down, until it sneaks under his sweater.

When you find his nipple, you playfully roll it between your pointer and thumb, his trembling body bucking up in an unstoppable urge, quiet whimpers working to keep his tone down. But you want to hear him scream under you, just as loud as you can feel his heart beating.

You bite your lip as your eyes drift downward, watching where your bodies meet in slow, teasing drags. His wide palms press into the cushions on either side of you, his knuckles turning white from the force of his grip, and when you lift your gaze to meet his face again the delicious buzz pooling low in your stomach intensifies, your lips parting instinctively. A pretty blush creeps up his neck, painting his sharp jaw and cheekbones in shades of red, and his eyes, clouded, desperate, and burning with unfiltered need, lock onto you with a gaze that makes your knees weak even as you straddle him.

The simple grinding through the layers of clothing you still have on has you releasing whiny gasps in the air, his cock sliding torturously between your folds, and if you’re so affected by every shift you can hardly fathom what he must be feeling under you.

So you wonder out loud, voice rough the more you feel his stiff nipple under your fingertips, “How long since you’ve been touched properly, hm?”

His body hiccups, shaking with the barely contained lust, “Since— Since you last did, goldie.”

You coo, slowing down your movements and bringing your fingers to the hem of his jumper only to lift it and toss it behind you carelessly, “You’re so sensitive, aren't you?” At the view of his exposed chest, you can’t help roaming the expanse of it and feeling the tensing muscles under your skin, and by now you’re sure your panties must be ruined.

“Puh— please,” the plea is barely coherent, whispered out messily through high-pitched moans, but he begs again, “I wanna touch you too.”

“Then…” You let your hands speak for you, moving them to lead his own big ones to rest at your thighs, letting them drag up the curve of your ass. You’re impossibly close to his lips now, fanning against them, “Feel me, Gguk.”

Unable to resist, you fall forward and catch his mouth with yours in a kiss that struggles to find a rhythm, that has your tongues tangled in an uncoordinated dance, but that inevitably has you both humming loudly in an effort to almost devour each other, and his hands digging in your bare skin only force a gasp out of you.

In an impatient rush, you urge him to unclasp your bra, his unpractised and shaky fingers being joined by your experienced ones to finally free you from the tight confines, and as much as he wants to make kissing you a sport just to win every gold medal and break record after record, he can’t help separating from your lips with a wet sound to look down at your exposed breasts.

Jeongguk groans, and this time he doesn’t need you guiding him. It’s his own palms moving to cup you, and the innocent, light feather touch causes you to throw your head back and resume your slow grinding on top of him.

Both of you are panting messes, his moans significantly louder the more he gets to knead at your softness only to slice his thumb over your hardened nipples, the contrast making his brows furrow in hazed need, and when you arch your back into him he squeezes your tit to his mouth, eliciting a surprised wail from you.

Even when he gets closer, your sensitive nub engulfed by his swollen lips, he keeps looking up at you for approval with wide, teary eyes that beg for you to praise him. And with a hand gripping his wavy locks, you nod repeatedly for him to keep going, “Fuck, baby. Just like that, oh my God.”

He hums lowly with his mouth stuffed, his fingers digging in your flesh the more you drag your cunt mercilessly over the outline of his thickness, and he has to release you with a pop and rest his head on the couch behind him, palms keeping you somewhat still by the waist, panting out a desperate request when he feels himself throb dangerously close to his high, “G—Goldie, I can’t. Don’t— Don’t wanna cum like this.”

You lift your hips just enough for the both of you to whimper at the loss of friction, and you murmur through a string of kisses along his exposed neck, “How do you want to cum then, huh?”

He only whines, cheeks flushed with want and eyes glossy, forehead creasing with the way his brows are stressing, “Please.”

You show no mercy, flashing him with a wicked smirk and a teasing tilt of your head, “Ah-ah. Say it.”

Gulping with effort, his waist twitches up unconsciously to seek for your touch once again, and with his face turned to the side he admits in the smallest voice, “‘Nside of you.”

“Good boy. Gonna give you exactly what you want.”

He voices a loud cry just from the sound of your promise, only echoing more intensely when you hastily work at his zipper. It’s messy, uncertain, and it elicits breathy giggles from the two of you, drunk on adoration and high on desire.

Eventually, he’s stripped free from his confines, and his cock stands proud and hard, veins pumping the blood that has it throbbing against his toned stomach.

Jeongguk can feel your hooded eyes on him, can sense his tip wettening with the simple way you seem starved and eager to taste him, your hand coming too close to where he needs you the most before he gently grabs your wrist to stop it.

Automatically, your head snaps up, and the look on his face is one of nervous desperation, “Wan’ you to kiss me, please.”

You’re ready to comply to his every demand, and this one is as easy as it gets. You want to give him everything— whatever he wants, however he wants it.

Your lips mold with his in worldless acceptance, absorbing all you were afraid to voice to each other, making up for all the time you wasted, devoting to a sealed promise, the one that dances between your connected tongues, saliva making it wet and breathless.

Even more when your slim fingers trail down his torso before wrapping around his length, your wrist expertly flicking in a teasing touch, and his moan is unrestrained as it tears through the kiss. You swallow the sound greedily, steadying you against his chest rising and falling in frantic pants.

Before he can protest, his own hips bucking up in a silent beg for more, you steal the air from his lungs when you move your panties to the side and align your entrance with his tip, just to sink down on it.

The drag is slow and it has both of your eyes rolling back, pleased groans filling the air and straining against your throat when you fully sit yourself wrapped around his dick. You search for him, “You okay?”

“Shit,” Jeongguk seems hypnotised by the view of his thickness wrecking you in half, and his palms come to rest at your waist where his fingers dig into the skin. Your own playing with the hair on his nape only seem to make him more vulnerable, “This is perfect. You feel so good and warm, fuck.”

You’re not used to hearing him curse so openly and so often, and it naturally makes you giggle, the sound tickling his ears and leading his dilated pupils to look up at you through his lashes. Your sweet laughter fades into a lasting smile, one he can’t help but kiss, even if it’s all teeth, the contagious sight of your happiness getting to him too.

The moment is sickeningly sweet, bodies connected in more ways than one. With your kiss only deepening and your chest melting against his, you pull him impossibly closer by the back of his neck and start attempting slow motions on top of him.

You hear him through his thundering heartbeat, “Goldie… I— I don’t think I can last any longer, I’m so sorry, I—”

“Oh, shit, baby,” one particular shift has his length, deeply stuffed in your tight walls, finding your spot and teasing it with an electric buzz that travels through your body, “It’s okay. I’m so close too.”

The moment you try a firmier bounce and feel him find you again, you can’t help the way your movements fasten, your moans thick and low against your throat, his own louder and ricocheting through the walls.

You steady yourself with one of you palms on his thigh, leaning your weight back and finding a new angle to fuck yourself on him. He watches in awe as you work your fingers on your clit, rapid circling movements causing his mouth to hang open at the squelching sounds.

He pants, his wide hands guiding your riding, pushing you up and down, “Can— Can I touch you?”

You hum, but it sounds more like a whine, “Hm, of course, pretty boy,” the hand that was stimulating your sensitive nub now comes behind you to help support yourself on both of his muscular thighs, flexing under every shift.

Jeongguk is unpracticed as he leads his thumb to rest at your clit, applying a soft pressure and mimicking the same pattern he observed from you. He only seems to be focusing on his doing for the first few moments before he searches up for the reaction on your face, and he whimpers when he finds your bottom lip trapped between your teeth, your brows drawn up in pleasure.

You smile at the unconscious twitch of his chin, and give him just what you know he wants, “Always seeking my approval. You’re so good.”

The simple praise only has him working on you with more confidence, collecting some of your wetness and sliding it up along your lips. He learns fast, listening to your every sound and centering on your pleasure, as best as he can with his own knot getting closer to bursting.

You’re clearly affected by the simulations, your hips stuttering and riding around him, but you still make sure to concentrate on him first, “I’ll tell you when to cum, hm? You’ll listen to me, right?”

Jeongguk nods before he even knows what he’s agreeing to, “Y—yes. Yes, yes, fuck. I’ll be good. Wanna be so, so good for you. Wanna c—cum for you.”

“You’re so filthy, baby. Naughty boy. Fuck me.”

His hips meet you up with harsh thrusts that have you lose your balance on him, and you can only throw yourself with your arms around his broad shoulders, face hidden in the crook of his neck as he lets his desire take over, fucking up into you with a desperate need for release.

You think you see stars with the way he relentlessly pounds your hole, wet folds sliding along his length and causing a mess between you, his own slickness mixed with yours trailing down and pooling at the base. The sounds are inglorious, and they merge perfectly with your wails.

Breathing in his scent, you know he’s close from the way his thrusts are stammering sloppily, and his moans are closer to strained whines. You concede, “F—Fucking cum, Gguk. Cum inside me, fuck.”

He nods, slamming you down to meet his movements, desperate to feel you before he can stop himself, “Cum with me, pleas— Oh.”

When your walls spasm around him with your orgasm hitting you like a tidal wave, causing you to shake in his embrace around you, he feels himself cum unannounced, hard and thick, sprouts of white liquid relentlessly pumping inside your warmth.

You milk him dry, both your wails drained with the effort and fading into breathless gasps, his arms around you falling limply at his sides. You’re sprawled on his chest, emptied from any energy, and he is just as spent with his head lolling against the back of the couch.

But you feel it in your heartbeats syncing, the realization of what happened, what finally happened. You feel it in his face moving down to find your lips and catch them in a sweet peck, his fingers trailing up again to trace lazy patterns on your back before tangling in your hair, grounding himself in you.

It’s your own smiles breaking through the kiss, lashes tickling, and both of you laugh senselessly as you come down from the moment.

“Fuck,” Jeongguk breathes out, voice raspy, “This was the best Christmas gift ever.”

You snicker, biting your lip to hold back your amusement, “Oh, baby. It was just an excuse to fuck you. I actually did forget your gift at home.”

“W—What?” His brows shoot up, his post-orgasm haze momentarily replaced with incredulity as his cheeks redden even more.

When Jeongguk straightens on the couch, so do you, steadying your weak frame with your hands splayed against his chest. Sheepishly, you confess, “Yeah. Bought you that Mario game yo—“

“Princess Peach: Showtime?”

“Yea—”

Jeongguk gasps dramatically, his excitement so pure it’s almost jarring considering what just transpired, and that he’s no longer a virgin, “God, I fucking love— that game. That is the best Christmas gift ever.”

You can’t hold back your laughter this time, shaking your head at how easily he slips back into his usual self, the one that had you buying a Victoria’s Secret set in that shade of burgundy he said he didn’t like just to attempt a crazy chance at having him.

Leaning forward, you press a lingering kiss to his lips that brings you back to the realization that you finally did get to have him, before murmuring against them, “Well, that and a second round. What do you say?”

“Please.”

[myjungkookthighs]

MY FAVORITE JUNGKOOK FANFICS & RECOMMENDATIONS PART1 ✮⋆˙────────୨ৎ───────˙⋆✮

My first lists! These from my favorites JJK fics writers and how amazing their works and most of the fics are top-notch and i really recommend y'all to read it and show some love to their works!! 💗 ( Most of the fics are 🔞+ ) @myjungkookthighs

♥︎— NEEDY | Part 1, Part 2 by @girlygguk ( I'm going to say i love all of my baby lyssa's works she's an amazing writer that i adored so much. All her fics like a drugs to me , top-notch! lol)

nerd!jk x cheerleader!(f)reader

hiding his feelings when you didn’t even know his name was hard. hiding his neediness and obsession when you finally did know his name and you were his fucking girlfriend? impossible. well, then it's a good thing you like him needy.

♥︎—FIRST CLASS | Part 1 by @girlygguk ( chef kiss🤌)

rich student!jk x (f)rich student!reader

in which you are just another spoiled, bitchy, annoyingly gorgeous trust-fund baby who has everyone at Yonsei University eating from the palm of your hand. and jeon jungkook, your spoiled, fuck-boy, annoyingly gorgeous trust-fund baby best friend, is always first in line to take a bite.

♥︎—CRAZY | Part 1, Part2 by @girlygguk (addicted like a mad person)

ceo!jk x employee!(f)reader

you know it sounds twisted. that most people would see hyungwon as the perfect boyfriend. healthy, balanced, all the things that relationships should be. that’s when you realized... you weren't like most people. but that's okay. because neither is jungkook.

♥︎—HABITS (STAY HIGH) | Part1 by @girlygguk

student plug!jk x rich girl!reader

You9:06 PM do you be 🙄’ing other bitches yes or no

♥︎—BAD THINGS | Part 1 by @girlygguk

jock fuckboy!jk x nerdy fuckgirl!reader

getting jealous, sending mixed signals, simping for a gorgeous geek who has no idea what effect she has on him... it's just what jungkook does best. oh, and football. he's really good at football.

♥︎—DENIAL | Part1, Part2 by @girlygguk

idol!jk x (f)actress!reader

it's been a plethora of secret meetups, quickies in the bathrooms of his award shows, and 2 am 'you up?' texts during your year-long situationship with jungkook. you both agreed in the beginning that your careers are far too hectic to commit to anything serious, but you can't shake the shitty ache in your chest every time the high wears off, or when you're crawling out of his bed in the middle of the night. trying to exile the shitty feeling of longing that you harbor for him, you spend time with another one of your guy friends. jungkook sees, and he's ma

♥︎— BETWEEN THE RIDE AND THE ROSES (series) by @focusonkayjay

biker!Jk x flower shop owner!Reader

There's an insane turn of events when your calm and peaceful life is intruded by Jungkook, a biker boy who sets up his loud business right next to your own. Your paths cross under unlikely circumstances, starting with a clash of personalities but gradually you find yourself establishing a deeper connection with the annoyingly attractive biker jerk. You both have no idea what's in store for you guys as you try your best to put up with each other.

♥︎— FRIENDS WITHIN TOUCHING DISTANCE (series)by @dailynnt (Shout out to my love, her fic so amazing !!)

Best friend!Jungkook x Fem!Reader fwb!

What happens when two best friends try to get along under the same roof? You've been living with Jungkook for three months now, but your cohabitation is still a challenge for you. He continues to live like a real bachelor without following the rules you agreed upon from the beginning of your decision to live together. Should you find a compromise or should you find a new place to live?

♥︎—OLDER by @lovieku

dilf!jk x inexperienced!fem reader (i'm sucker for older or dilf jk!😭)

you’ve tried, but you can’t help yourself from crushing on your best friend’s dad. hot, buff, tatted up and successful, mr. jeon is the starring actor in all of your wettest dreams. and as you wake up from one while sleeping over at his house after his daughter’s birthday party, you don’t expect all of them to suddenly come true. but they do.

♥︎—HANDS ON ME by @lovieku

nerd!jk x popular!fem reader

it’s about to look like jeongguk’s birthday everyday with you.

♥︎—OBVIOUS by @lovieku

bookstore employee!jk x virgin!fem reader

you lose your virginity to jeongguk, the only boy you’d ever trust with such weight. and what you both feel for each other couldn’t be more obvious.

♥︎— GUYS MY AGE (one-shot) Drabble 1, Drabble 2 ,by @kooktrash

dilf jk x female college student!y/n [she/her] ( i had read 3 times cuz i'm sucker of it bcs IT'S CHEF KISS🤌)

a summer spent at your friend’s place wasn’t something to be anything to look forward to. her hot, young dad would seem to change that for you when you decide a game of teasing would suffice your boredom. you got more than you bargained for when you realize he’s not a fan of games.

♥︎— INFRUNAMI by @kooktrash

friends to lovers. y/n[afab, she/her] x best friend jungkook

you’ve made great friends throughout the years but none like jeon jungkook. he’s there for you when you need him and although at times when things get complicated between your feelings and thoughts… there’s one thing for certain. you both have been wasting time acting like there’s nothing between you.

♥︎— DEPEND ON ME by @kooktrash

Hybridbunnygirl!reader x human!jungkook

you’re so used to letting Jungkook do everything for you. he babies you almost and you’re both constantly reminded of the strangeness in your friendship. you’ve always loved him but he can’t see you as anything but the little bunny girl he used to protect. you change his mind

♥︎— NEVER AGAIN by @kooktrash

neighbor!jk x Reader

jeon jungkook is just your nosy neighbor who can’t seem to be anything less than a selfish, heart breaking, prick in your eyes. yet somehow he manages to wiggle his way into your life but is it enough for him to change your mind or will he prove your judgements right?

♥︎—MY DEAR FRIEND by @kooktrash

friends!jk x experienced!reader, f2l ( about a few day need to moved on from this fic)

just friends? keep telling yourself that, you and Jungkook have always danced on the line of friendship and something more but lately you’ve struggled being able to tell where you guys stand.

♥︎— BUNNY ADVENTURES by @kooktrash

hybrid!Jungkook x human!reader

you had absolutely no intentions of ever owning a hybrid until jungkook came along. a mistreated, misunderstood rabbit hybrid who’d only ever wanted was to be treated like an equal.

♥︎— RISQUE (series) by @mercurygguk

older!jk x reader age gap au (my all time favorite 😭)

in which jungkook struggles to keep his relationship with you strictly appropriate and it’s not like you’re making it easy for him.

♥︎— THE DILF INSTALLMENTS (series) by @mercurygguk

dad!jungkook x f. reader

this series follows jungkook’s life as a divorced father. but wait, how exactly does one balance being a father, a boyfriend, a friend, and a respectable boss at the same time? read the installments below to find out!

♥︎— THE ART OF (DILF JK SERIES) by @venusiangguk

 dilf jk x grocery store clerk reader ( never over this bcs it's cute 🤧)

you find a baby in your store and in turn, a dilf finds you

♥︎— ONLY WHEN IT'S US (series) by @luvismenu

Uni! Jungkook x Fem Reader Strangers to??

you both say it’s nothing serious, but with every touch and argument, it gets harder to stay away.

♥︎— STARBOY (series)by @luvismenu

popular classmate!jungkook x class president!reader

everyone assumes you two can't stand each other, but is that really true?

♥︎—BED CHEM (Mini Series) by @muniimyg

Uni student!Jungkook x uni Student! Reader Frenemies to lovers!

after overhearing jungkook fuck someone else; you can’t help but want out of being his frenemy

♥︎— BABYDADDY!JK (series) by @muniimyg

ex!au jungkook x ex!reader

Co- parenting

♥︎—ITBOYFRIEND!JUNGKOOK | (1) (2) (3) (4) (5) by @muniimyg

ITbf!Jk x Fem Reader

♥︎—JUST TAKE IT (series) by @ahgasegotarmy116

Inexperienced f!reader x Best Friend's Dad Jungkook (20 year age gap) dilf! jk

A turn of events has the people you thought you trusted stabbing you in the back and leaving you broken hearted and betrayed. Who knew though that sometimes things just happen for a reason

♥︎—BANG-ABLE (mini one-shot/drabble) by @ahgasegotarmy116

f!reader x Sex Bot Jungkook (I'm obsessed!! 😭)

You've been single for way too long and you're done with causal sex and all the drama that comes along with it...so why not try something new?

♥︎— DEEP SIX (mini series) by @bratkook but i read on AO3

biker!jk x reader

It’s like a stranger had a key, came inside of my mind and moved all my things around. He didn’t know snakes can hear the prey, can’t try to break the psyche down.

♥︎— CHAMPANGE CONFFETI by @margotw10bis

boyfriend!Jungkook x camgirl!reader

Your boyfriend loves watching you on live but his whole mood changes when he reads one specific comment from one of your fans

♥︎— PARADISE (series) by @minisugakoobies i read on AO3

 Stripper!Jungkook x Reader (my absolute favorite!😭)

That sexy man on stage - the one currently giving your friend the lap dance of her LIFE - is your super shy neighbor, Jeon Jungkook?!

♥︎— THE PINK PILL -"3 DAYS" by @dollfaceksj

best friend!jungkook x fem!reader (top-notch!i read twice😭)

In each of these universes, you find yourself consuming what is known as the pink pill. This pill is essentially a drug that enhances your libido to the max and you’ll quite literally never experience arousal like you do when you’ve taken this pill. Thankfully, in each universe, there’s a man that’s ready to help you explore and reach your peak of sexual euphoria.

♥︎— THE WEEKEND by @chryblossomjjk

dilf!jk x babysitter reader ( the best thing ever! 😭)

every weekend, you give jungkook a little taste of something he’s missing monday through friday.

♥︎—SUGARPLUM ELERGY by @bymoonchild

College!Jungkook x Reader , fwb (i can't let go of this story top-notch)

You know no bounds nor depth with Jungkook. While your fuck buddy loves sleeping in your bed and doing laundry for you with his favourite fabric softener, you are in love with a mysterious honeyed, velvety voice on Soundcloud. All’s fine, until you find out that the voice that metaphors your heart to a sweet sugarplum melody actually belongs to the boy who has been taking up a special spot in your bed and in your heart, strumming at your heartstrings all this while. Or, Jungkook has one braincell, but it’s heart-shaped.

♥︎— MICROWAVE (MIS)ADVENTURE by @bymoonchild

housemate!Jungkook x Reader

Out of all things to be afraid of, Jungkook, the seat-stealer of your 8am class and annoying housemate whom you despise with every fiber of your being, chooses to have a phobia of microwaves, but he loves buying microwaveable food – because come on, they’re irresistible – and you somehow find yourself getting dragged into his microwaves (mis)adventures. Cue chaos, sarcasm-laced banter and an unplanned romance.

♥︎— COLD NIGHTS AND BLURRED LINES| WARM NIGHTS & CLEAR LINES| cnbldrabbles by @awrkive

basketball!jungkook x nerdy!(fem) reader,fwb (i'm crazy over this 😭)

jungkook and you have been in a sexual relationship with each other for four months now, and it’s casual for the most part. but as time passes, you can’t help but feel that some of the lines suddenly got blurred in the process. is it a cliché to blur the lines with your fuck buddy? it definitely is. will you do something about it? both of your emotional constipation have a hard time saying yes.

♥︎—CAN'T LET IT GO (part 1)| PHYSICALLY OBSESSED(part2) by @chunghasweetie

dom!oc x nerdysub!jjk

loser nerd jk has crushed on her for years and is assigned to be her college tutor for her calculus class. studying doesn’t go exactly as planned and he ends up losing his virginity in the best way possible.

oc finally cuffs jk and they celebrate

♥︎— HE GIVE IT TO ME (Part1) | WONT TOUCH YOU LIKE ME (Part2)by @chunghasweetie

fem!oc x dealer!jjk

always giving out free shit to his favorite customer.

after a petty argument jungkook spots you showing out at a party with the hosts arm around your waist.

♥︎— MERAKI by @taegularities

grumpy!Jk x sunshine!reader

Jungkook finds you irritating; far too energetic and insistent. But his perception of you changes bit by bit, minute by minute, when he's persuaded into spending an entire night with you at places he doesn't know.

♥︎—NO NUT NOVEMBER by @2hightocare

dilf!jungkook x fem!reader

Jungkook didn’t think stuff through when he made a bet for “No Nut November” he seemed to forget that he can’t say no to you.

♥︎— FOR ME (DILF!JK DRABBLES COLLECTION ) by @personasintro

dilf!jungkook x reader

A collection of drabbles accompanied with dilf!jk

♥︎— BURNING HOUR by @jungqkook

Richbf!jk x gf!reader (you gonna need holy water later lmao!)

there’s nothing better than spending an entire day at your boyfriend’s yatch, tanning and waiting for the sunset with a drink in your hand… too bad your boyfriend had other plans for you.

♥︎—BETTER BOYFRIEND THAN HIM by @jungqkook

friend!Jk x reader

jungkook makes it a mission to prove to you that he can be better than your boring boyfriend. when it comes to sex, at least.

♥︎— FIGHT FOR YOU (series) by @ahundredtimesover

bodyguard!jk x heiress!reader

Working at a private security agency has its perks. The downside? Being the personal bodyguard of spoiled, rich heiresses like you. But there are things that Jungkook didn’t expect, like rejecting you, falling for you, and realizing what he’d been missing all along.

♥︎— GUARDED by @junghelioseok

bodyguard!Jk x Reader

❛❛ good girl. ❜❜ ❛❛ don’t get shy on me now. ❜❜

♥︎—BODYGUARD by @sxtaep

bodyguard!jk, idol!reader

when you’re stuck in a near-death situation, your high school crush, now your bodyguard, begins to regret ever rejecting you 5 years ago.

♥︎—STRIKE THREE by @avveh (ao3)

Bodyguark!jk x Bratty!Reader ( i'm obsessed!)

When discipline and chaos meet, one will always rise to the top.

♥︎— EVERYTHING IN YOU |Part1, Part2 , DRABBLE1, DRABBLE 2, DRABBLE 3 by @jjungkookislife

roommate!sperm donor Jk x pregnant! Reader (my favorite iso cute)

You want a baby and Jungkook is willing to help

♥︎— BABYMAKER by @badbtssmut

bestfriend!Jk x Reader

You want a baby, but you just broke up with your boyfriend but your best friend Jungkook offers you the solution to your heart break, he’ll give you your baby, no strings attached.

♥︎— SPECIAL PREPARATION by @badbtssmut

Piercer!Jungkook x Reader

You go to a piercing shop to get a clit piercing but your piercer Jungkook has an interesting way of prepping his clients.

─────────────────────⋆⋅☆⋅⋆───────────────────

Actually i like all Miss Cherry @redcherrykook fics and i read them all and her works always the bomb never disappointed me and here i will share my most favorites from her🤪💗

���︎— SAFEWORD

daddy!jungkook and sub oc

♥︎—SPOT ME INSTEAD

gymrat!JK x gymrat!reader

♥︎—MIDNIGHT SNACK

idol!Jk x gf!Reader

♥︎—MILK AND CREAM

sub!JKx noona!Reader

♥︎—BAD BOY,GOOD GIRL/HIGHSCHOOL SWEET

highschool sweethearts!jk x Reader

♥︎— (TENT)ATIVE ENEMIES

friendnemie!Jk x Reader

♥︎— Kinktober D1-SOMNOPHILLIA

needy JK x reader

♥︎—Kinktober D8- OFFICER PLAYS & CUFFS

roleplay!!JKx bad girl oc

♥︎—Kinktober D10- SPANKING & PUNISHING

DADDY KINK JK! x sub oc

♥︎—Kinktober D12- MIRROR SEX

idol bf! Jk x gf! Reader

♥︎—Kinktober D16- MARKING

possessive bf! JK x Reader

♥︎—Kinktober D19- DACRYPHILLIA (crying kink)

Daddy! Jk x Crybaby! reader

♥︎—Kinktober D22- EXHIBITIONISM

bf!jk x gf reader

by @redcherrykook

That's it for part1 !

[hongjoongscafe]

Angry F*$!

Drabble

Pairing: Jungkook x reader

Genre: smut.

Summary: maybe getting angry sometimes isn’t too bad.

Word count: 3.1k+

Warnings: orgasm denial, pussy slapping, spanking, creampie, spitting kink, face slapping, hair pulling, name-calling, smoking, oral, fingering, panty sniffing (he stuffs his boxers in her mouth, too), unprotected (wrap it up, people, wrap it up or else Namjoon will spank you), cum eating, degradation, daddy kink, doggy style, cuffs, anal, breath play(?), choking, biting, aftercare ('cause I love it).

Note: lemme know if you wanna be added to the taglist. Unedited.

Masterpost.

“Do you even know how dumb you make me look?” your husband, Jungkook, screams at you. “Fifteen fucking years together and this one bitch comes and you trust that cunt over me?”

“Am I wrong?” you scream back. “A hot, sexy assistant is what you got to know and why wouldn’t you wanna have a taste of her?!”

Jungkook’s new assistant is, to say the least, known for wrecking homes. And somehow that bitch wrapped your naive heart in her fingers and filled you with rumours regarding him and herself accidentally as she didn’t know you were his wife as if you two haven’t been together out on the events and face of every possible magazine at least once.

Jungkook’s jaw ticked as he stood up and walked towards you with a feral look in his eyes. “Taste of her?” he growled.

“Yes, taste of her. Isn’t that right? Wouldn't you want to fuck her; someone sexy, hot, desirable?” you push his chest.

“Why would I?” he yells.

“Why wouldn't you?”

“Fucking-,” he cut himself off and hold you by the roots of your hair and pull you with him to the mirror. “Because I wanna fuck you and love you forever!” he makes you look in the mirror, nowhere being gentle.

“I don’t believe you!” you turn around in his hold and slap him across the face. Your jealousy hitting the skyline.

Jungkook’s face turned dark. Your only warning before he threw you on the bed was “Then let me make you believe.”

You bounced as you landed on the bed. He roughly pulled your legs up, yanked your shorts down your legs and threw them somewhere behind him. “Mrs doesn’t believe,” he scoffs. “Now you fucking will and never forget.”

You gasped as he pulled you up by your hair and draped you across his lap as he sat down on the edge of the bed. He harshly pulled up your thongs, making you inhale sharply as the flimsy cloth rubbed against your clit. He rubbed your ass gently before landing a tight slap across your perfect ass cheek, “fuck,” you groaned.

He dipped his fingers under your g-string and pinched your clit making you moan pathetically. “Be a good bitch and count,” he pinched it harder when you didnt start counting.

“One!” you gasped.

He hummed and landed another smack, worse than before. Your pussy clenched around nothing. “Two.”

“Look at your fucking pussy already leaking through his sorry piece of panty,” he pulled and snapped back. “Might as well get rid of this shit,” he growled as he tore it apart and brought the big wet patch to his nose and sniffed it deeply. “Oh,” he moans. “Keep the counting going.”

Like you weigh nothing, Jungkook picked you up and threw you back on the bed. You looked up at him as he removed his pants and white button-up. His hot abs are now on full display. His muscles flexed as he climbed over to you and ripped your tank top off you. Your boobs jiggle free and your nipples tighten with the utter, shameless need for this sinful man in front of you. You looked down at his huge bulge as your mouth watered.

“You want me to agree with you as you claim to cheat allegations on me?” he muttered, darkly. “You want me to agree with you that I will leave my fucking sexy wife and fuck some fucking assistance who is nowhere near as beautiful as you?”

Your heart rammed against your ribcage. As much as your insecurity flared in front of that sexy bimbo, you felt filthily gorgeous as he was looking at you like an animal. Deep down you knew she was getting into your head but your doubt on yourself was too much to argue with her.

“What? Cat got your tongue. Hm?” he snarls. He spreads your legs wide open as he lowers himself between them. He buried his nose between your wet folds and sniffed as he groaned. Look into your eyes.

“Jungkook!” a surprised scream left your lips as he slapped your wet pussy, hard. His palm inflated on your pussy as rubbed it painfully slowly.

“And leave my delicious cunt for someone else,” he bit your inner thigh, leaving his mark there.

You were gasping for air from his harsh treatment. He had never been this hard on you. And now when he is being hard, you crave it more.

Jungkook could feel your clit throbbing against his palm, hotly. “You like that, huh?” he bites again. “You like it when I bite you, huh? Such a fucking whore,” he spits on your cunt and wraps his lips around your clit and sucks it in his mouth, his tongue flat against your nub, playing with it.

Your back arches and fingers fist his hair and push him flush against your pussy. He works down and thrusts his tongue in your hot cunt, his big nose rubbing deliciously against your throbbing clit. “Please,” you don’t know what you are demanding.

“Shut up!” he snaps and slaps your clit, making your whole body shudder. You look at him wide-eyed. Jungkook has spanked your ass plenty of times but your pussy? Your eyes roll back as he lands another one, harder than the previous one. “Count.”

“Three… four,” you whine as he shoves his two thick fingers into your hole.

“Look at that,” he kissed your thigh as he watches his fingers in your cunt. “Your fucking cunt is swallowing my finger like the greedy cunt that it is.”

“Mmm,” you hummed as he groped your tit. He crawled up, his fingers still inside you, and sucks your other nipple. His soft hair brushes your chin. Your breath hitches and let out another moan as he slaps your dripping cunt again. “Five,” you whisper in his ear.

Your walls clenched around his fingers as he thrust them back. Knowing you were cumming, he removed himself from your trembling body.

“No!” you cry out loud at the loss of his touch. You were so close to coming undone but he ripped it apart.

His chest was pumping up and down with his laboured breath. You looked so fucking fuckable as you lay there covered in sweat and that needy fucking look in your sexy eyes.

He removed his boxer briefs and bunched them in his hand. “Open your mouth,” he orders. But you just gape at him like a damn fish. Already running low on patience, he squeezed your cheeks and stuffed them in your mouth.

Your fingers fisted the sheets. Everything was turning you on more and more. It felt like your body was on fire. And he was just fueling it more and more.

He pulled out your favourite pink fluffy cuffs. Pulling you in a seated position, he cuffed your hands behind you and pushed you back all while you shamelessly eyed his long, fat cock swinging with each and every move he made. A pearly bead of precum was shining on top. All you wanted to do was to lick and choke yourself on his length.

“I’ll make sure you never fucking forget that I will only fuck my slutty cunt,” he rubs hot length against your slit, making it wet and ready with your slick. He thrust his thick, angry pink head in your pussy and mercilessly fucks you.

Your bed bangs against the walls and makes a creaky noise. His cock hits deep inside you, fucking your spongy spot, making your toes curl and eyes water.

“Fucking, whore,” he growls. His thumb rubs tight circles of swollen clit and his other hand wraps around your neck. He chokes you just enough to make you lightheaded.

You moan loudly against his boxers as he fucks you into the mattress. You were already going half-dumb under his sinful spell.

“Look at you,” he taunts. “All whiny and dumb for me.”

His fingers were digging in your neck. You could feel all of his angry thrusts in you. He was hitting the spot with each of them. His breath was coming as wretched as yours. The sweat was beading down his hard chest and abs.

Jungkook removed his hand from your clit and neck, still inside you, he grabbed a cigarette and lit it. As he took a deep drag, he removed his boxers from your mouth and blew it in your mouth. He smirked as he felt your walls trembling around his length.

“Jung-,” your breath hitched and turned into a moan as he thrust back into you.

“Oh, fuck,” he hissed. Your loud moans and his groans filled the room. “Fuck!”

He bent and squeezed your mouth open, “gimme your fucking tongue,” he rasped. You barely followed his order and he spat on your tongue. “Swallow.” Your eyes rolled back as you swallowed. Surprised by his lewd acts, you clenched around his length as you came all over his cock.

You gasp when he lands a slap across your face. It was not painful but just hot enough to make your cunt clench painfully around him. “Did I ask you to fucking cum?”

“N-no,” you whined.

Jungkook pulled out and manhandled you on your belly, pulling your hips up. His large hand pushed your face into the mattress, gripping by your hair.

“Then how dare you fucking come,” he moaned as he plunged back. “Fuck, your cunt is always ready to take my cock,” he rasp, spitting on his cock as he pushes back in.

His other hand holds the cuffs around your wrists, cigarette clutched between his fingers. “Daddy, please,” you moan and bite the sheets.

“Such a fucking slut, my whore,” he pulls your head back and spits on your face, smearing it and pushing his fingers down your throat as you choke on them.

His hand left the cuffs and brought the cigarette to his mouth and clutched it between his teeth and wrapped that hand around your neck, keeping you in place.

The drool was running down your chin to your breasts. He has never been this rough with you but fuck, you would poke him every day if he turned into this demon.

You turned your head to the side to look at his face. His hair was sticking to his face, his lips wrapped around the cigarette. He took a drag and blew it in your face. He was hot.

Your tongue licked his fingers and moved as if giving a blow job. A smirk pulled on his pretty face. He plastered your back to his hard front, removing his fingers, he tossed you back on your back.

“Open your mouth,” he said as he climbed on top of you and slapped your face with his heavy cock. He ran his pink head around your lips. You wrapped your lips around his swollen head and sucked it with hollow cheeks. You moaned around him, tasting yourself on his cock. He pushed it all into your throat, making you gag around him. He was all the way down your throat. He pinched your nose and fucked your mouth. You could taste his salty precum in your mouth.

With every second, his thrusts got sloppier. Your lungs burned with the lack of air. You thrashed under him.

“Fuck,” he moaned as the thick spurts of his cum started to hit the back of your throat. He pulled his cock out and pained your face with the rest of his cum.

He sat next to you and smeared his cum all over your face. You were so fucked, and coughing as you were finally able to breathe again. “Would I let myself cover that bitch in my cum? Fuck no.”

He brings the same hand down to your cunt and fingers your hole “or this?” he said and stumped the burning butt on the ashtray.

“Daddy,” you whimper.

“What?” still fingering your quivering pussy. “You thought this was over?” he scoffed and stood up.

From the drawer, he pulled out the lube and unclasped it. Pulling you by your legs, he brought you to the edge of the bed.

Pushing your legs apart, he bent you in half. Your knees were touching your chin. You could barely keep your eyes open. Your body jerked when he poured cold lube on your tight rim.

“Wha-” you began.

“Take whatever I give you,” he rubbed your rim with his fingers and slowly pushed them in. “So fucking tight,” he groaned. “Gonna fuck you so good, y/n, gonna fuck that shitty thought out of your fucking brain,” he scissors your tight hole. “Look at your cunt, I knew you were a fucking whore for me. You are dripping everywhere,” he runs his fingers across your sensitive cunt and bends down to suck your clit in his mouth as he helps you get used to his fingers in your ass.

When relaxed enough, he replaced his fingers with his cock. His blunt head pushed past your back hole. “Daddy!” you screamed at the intrusion.

“Yes, baby. Scream for Daddy. Beg me to fuck your hole full of my cum,” he sank more and more of his cock into you until his pelvis was touching your thighs, growlung. He pulled your legs around his shoulder and leaned down to capture your pointed nipple in his mouth, letting your hole ease around his length. “So fucking tight. Remind me to fuck you more here.”

“Fuck me!” you whimper, letting him know you were ready. Your loins were on fire.

Jungkook found it hard to keep his breath equal. He was just as ruined as you were. He finally pulled his aching cock slightly out then plunged it back inside with a forceful thrust. Slowly, he started to fuck you harder and harder.

Your mouth fell open, hot noises came out of your mouth. Your tits juggled with each sharp thrust. You had no thought left in your brain. If someone asked you your name, you wouldn't remember.

Jungkook looked at your juicy pussy and pushed his fingers, his thumb rubbing circles on your clit. Your back arched painfully and you let out a silent scream, clenching around his cock tightly, you came all over him.

His eyes were wide open as he looked at your cunt squirting over yourself and him. He slapped it, making you tremble with shocks running down your body.

His cock twitched in your hole, finally bursting and filling your asshole with his hot cum. He slowed his thrusts and slumped over your shivering body.

He had never come so much before. His own body was trembling with how hard he came into your hole. Your heartbeat was running wild against his ear, matching his own.

Your sight was to behold. Your face was covered with his cum and spit. Your makeup was running down your face. So fucked and beautiful. Your pussy and asshole was throbbing with how sensitive they were. Your cheeks, both face and ass, were red from the slapping and spanking.

Jungkook pulled his phone and took a picture of you so that he could show you just how fucked and gorgeous you looked when you were not dazed.

“Did you see what you just did?” he asked you, looking at your dazed, cum and spit-coated face. “Baby?” his eyes widened when he saw you breaking down.”

You surprised Jungkook and yourself by squirting. Now once in your whole life, you ever squirted. “Mmm,” too tired to speak. You just wanted to hug him close and cry, not because you were hurt but because you were overwhelmed with strong orgasms he pulled out of you. “Hands,” you whispered.

Jungkook quickly pulled out, making both of you hiss in sensitivity. He took the key and unlocked the cuffs from your back. Your wrists were red and bruised. The sheet underneath was torn by how hard you were clutching them. Jungkook pulled you into his lap and kissed your wrists.

You wrapped your arms around him and silently cried in the crook of his neck. “I’m sorry, I’m so so sorry, baby. I shouldn't have been so harsh. I'm sorry,” kept repeating.

You pulled slightly and took his face between your hands. “I loved it,” you muttered around his lips. “I’m just overwhelmed and overstimulated, that's all.”

Chuckling, he kissed your lips. Your tongue tangled with his as he rubbed your back with a soothing hand. He then picked you up and brought you to the bathroom. “I would run you a bath but I can't wait to cuddle you, baby.”

He helped you under the warm shower and clean yourself. His gentle hands washed every part of your body. You flinched when he cleaned your pussy.

Soon, you were wrapped in a fluffy towel and sitting on the sofa chair in your room as Jungkook changed the sheets.

You both ruined the previous one completely. “Maybe we should keep them in memory of our first filthy fuck,” He joked but you knew he would indeed wash them and keep them in his closet.

Jungkook brought you to the bed and helped you under the blanket. He rubbed the ointment on your wrists, too, and gave you water and a little snack.

Cuddling you close to his chest, he lit another cigarette, kissed your shoulder and then your head. You both shared the cigarette back and forth while talking.

“Baby, never doubt my loyalty for you,” he muttered. “Why would I cheat on you? You are my part. My love. My heart. My soulmate. My freaky partner. My everything.”

You shifted in his hold, “I just— I don't know, she is so much better.”

Jungkook frowned, “the fuck not. She is not. You are! You are my woman, my wife. The most gorgeous, beautiful, magnificent, immaculate, majestic, marvellous woman ever.”

You giggled and hugged him tighter. Your body was still recovering from all the lewd things he did to you. “Promise me you will fuck me like this more often?”

Your husband laughed and tickled your sides. “Aren't you a dirty girl?”

“Only for you,” you kissed his chest.

“If I had known, I would have fucked you like today way before… and made you squirt…” he peppers your skin with kisses. Then he looked into your eyes with seriousness. “Tomorrow, the first thing I will do is to fire her, yeah? I don't want that bitch to work under my name. I won’t accept such behaviour. And she made you cry and doubt my love so she must suffer.”

You would ask otherwise but this one time, you won't mind. You don't want her to work for him either. “Thank you.”

“Anything for you, baby…” he cuddled you even closer and dropped an innocent kiss on your lips as you slowly drifted away, letting the sleep overtake you.

“I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

…..

Taglist:

@veneziamadness @cheline @sansmilkbread @jayb17 @constantlydelulusional @8tinytings @tea4sykes @chimmisbae @demonshauntingthedoves

@jjkkkk15

Have a nice day/night💓

[hopegdbbggloss]

this is seriously amazing like WTFFFFF literally everything about this is perfect: the dialogues feel so real, the dynamic, the CHEMISTRY and JOON IS SOOOOO FINE OH MY GOD i cannot handle this you're so amazing thank you for writing this beautiful piece of fanfiction i adore you

a word from our sponsors | knj

you’ve co-hosted a podcast with namjoon for three years; have known him even longer. the two of you have always been the picture of platonic, but that hasn’t stopped the internet from doing what the internet does. the shipping? a little weird at first, but you can understand it: two attractive twenty-somethings always in close proximity to one another, obvious (platonic!) chemistry—people have created ships for less. the fanfiction, though? also pretty funny… until you can’t stop thinking about it. 🎙️

pairing: namjoon x f. reader genre: podcast, friends to lovers au; crack, smut, fluff rating: explicit. minors do not interact. warnings: parasocial relationships galore, a m*n with a p*dcast, author abuses italics, swearing, alcohol, reader uses a pseudonym/nickname (piper) because writing the meta fanfiction scene would've been too weird without one and i refuse to use y/n, dialogue-heavy but it is a fic about a podcast, everyone is down horrendous, mentions of social media & fake r*ddit posts, ex-boyfriend yoongi but in a good, healthy way. let me know if i missed anything but mostly this is just two goofballs not realizing they're in love with one another. smut warnings: kissing, oral sex (f. receiving), fingering, unprotected vaginal sex (fiction), protected vaginal sex (nonfiction), a lil squirting, mild degradation, mentions of a p*ss kink but there is no actual pee i promise (...lest?), i didn't intend to write size kink but it's namjoon so it just showed up anyway, slight dom!joon, everyone orgasms. wordcount: 17.5k credits: this was entirely inspired by that one episode of the basement yard where frankie reads the smut fic of him and joe, so credits to both that author and that podcast. spotify, for their podcast name generator. astro-seek for helping me drag namjoon astrologically. an extra special, gigantic thanks to @effortandmore for writing the meta fanfic (3k of it, no less!) and not batting an eye when i said it could have pee in it as a joke. this is as much yours as it is mine. finally, @hot-soop and @the-boy-meets-evil for reading this over for me and telling me i'm funny. author's note: happy birthday, indigo! here i am to validate every fear you've ever had that the people you write porn about may one day read it. live and on air. :)

You’ve co-hosted a podcast with Namjoon for three years.

You can learn a lot about a guy in that amount of time.

None of it is especially salacious. You know all about his family and his dog and the brand of recycled paper towels he insists on buying in bulk. You know what he’d written his grad school thesis on and what he’d looked like in the thick of it, when he was staving off his fifth mental break of the week. You know how fidgety he gets when it’s closing in on Friday night and he’s got a date—how much he stresses over which restaurant to pick, which cologne, which expensive cashmere sweater to wear.

You also know what the internet thinks about him. Intimately.

Kim Namjoon, according to the internet, is peak husband material. He has cheeks ripe for pinching and thighs small countries would go to war to defend. He has a lap that doubles as a seat and dimples people want to get baptized in. He has Instagram selfies with hundreds of thousands of likes and comment sections full of intelligible keysmashes, especially the ones he posts from the gym.

Kim Namjoon, according to the internet, is a man written by a woman.

Looking at him now, you aren’t sure that’s true, you think people just need to raise their standards. Namjoon is just… Namjoon. He’s intelligent and kind and up to date on modern feminist theory, is all. And, sure, maybe in the current political landscape that puts him far above the rest of men, but the way the internet has latched onto him is a little concerning.

“There’s another post about whether or not we’re dating,” you say, pushing your glasses up the bridge of your nose.

sooo let’s be real here, we ALL think they’re dating, right?? Posted by u/pod-shipper 2 hours ago

Just like he always does, Namjoon huffs out a soft laugh, makes his way around to your side of the table. Puts his large hands on your shoulders as he leans in close to read from your screen, snorting every time he reads a sentence he finds particularly amusing. Whichever cologne he’d chosen this morning is, admittedly, very nice.

It’s sooo obvious, especially in the episodes they film and post on YouTube. The way they look at each other?? I don’t even look at my HUSBAND like that! (+1264) ↳ omg ur sooooo right! i could MAYBE buy that they aren’t full on dating, but they’ve def at least slept together. Namjoon is so 🔥🔥🔥 (+791) ↳ um how can namjoon be dating her when he’s already married to me 😌💅 (+3) ↳ For the millionth time, can we not speculate on their personal lives? This is weird and reinforces really harmful ideas that men and women can’t just be friends. (-51)

“How come they never talk about how hot you are?”

You can tell by the look on Namjoon’s face that he hadn’t meant to say that—or, if he did, he didn’t mean to say it like that, with an entire pout, eyebrows raised nearly to his hairline. “Cursed to be ugly and dumb,” you joke to ease the sudden tension, reading the comment that simply says you’d have to be the dumbest person alive to not sleep with Namjoon.

He scrunches his nose at that. Returns to his side of the table. “Yeah, I don’t think so, lots of people haven’t slept with me.” Starts to unpack all the gear from his bag before he says, “Hey, all that stuff—does it bother you?”

“What do you mean?” you answer, the corner of a protein bar stuck in your mouth. Namjoon always insists on recording at the most inconvenient times.

“People thinking we’re together,” he clarifies.

You shrug. “I dunno. Not really. Comes with the territory, I think, not to mention how much you love to overshare—”

“Hello?”

“I’m just saying,” you retort, hands raised in self-defense. “There really was no need for you to mention you blew your grad school stipend on a porn scam.” Namjoon looks affronted, like he can’t believe you’d stoop so low as to bring that up. “Or that you lost your virginity at fifteen.”

“We have a relationship podcast,” he states simply. “That’s kind of what we do, right? Talk about relationships? And the spectrum of human sexuality is part of that.”

You slump back in your chair as you quirk an eyebrow. “No one said it wasn’t, I just said you overshare. Which you do.”

“And that’s why there’s a dozen Reddit posts a week discussing whether or not we’re dating? Because I overshare?”

“Yeah, exactly. That’s the kind of behavior that leads to parasocial relationships. People latch onto that shit. Makes them think they’re your friend.” He glares. “Don’t give me that look, you know I’m right. It’s bad enough you’ve word-vomited all this highly personal information about yourself, but to not even do it under a pseudonym? It’s like you’re begging for trouble.”

Another comment he doesn’t even realize he’s making: “I don’t beg. For anything.”

To this day, you’re not sure why Namjoon asked you to co-host a podcast with him.

His reasoning had been simple: “You’re my best friend and we don’t agree on anything.” Hard to argue with that. Namjoon has seemingly endless patience, even in the face of things he shouldn’t entertain, and you… do not, to put it simply.

You’re not a cold person. Your fuse isn’t short. You’re just a little jaded, is all. Have far less propensity for bullshit than Namjoon does, so the two of you play well off each other. You end a sentence with a well-punctuated full stop and Namjoon’s right behind you to sigh and say maybe you shouldn’t be so hasty, not everything in the world can be so black or white.

Except some things are. Somewhere along the way, the podcast—which Namjoon had affectionately named Place Him Gently in the Garbage, even though some people should be shoved in there with force—had picked up a following. A big one. And now, every week, you’re inundated with emails ranging in severity. Sometimes people just want to vent after their tenth bad date in a row or share funny stories, and Namjoon lets you take the lead on those, but sometimes it’s a little more serious. That’s where Namjoon shines, all that endless patience, and people love him for it.

“What’s on the agenda today?” he asks, accepting a thick stack of papers from Jungkook.

Ah, Jungkook.

You aren’t sure what he actually does. Some kind of social media manager, which is obvious from the wildly out-of-context clips he posts of you to TikTok, and it’s his responsibility to go through the thousands of emails you get from listeners, but aside from that all you’ve got are your suspicions that he just sticks around to swindle Namjoon out of more and more money.

“I’m in a silly goofy mood,” comes Jungkook’s reply, and you let out a witch cackle as Namjoon winces. Nothing good ever comes of Jungkook being in a silly goofy mood, and that’s quite alright by you.

Fifteen minutes later finds you with a camera in your face that you greet with an unamused, flat stare. Jungkook is used to it by now. Just films for a few seconds before turning his attention to an unaware Namjoon. Head down, pen and highlighter going a mile a minute as he pores over the stack of papers with all the doggedness and eagle-eyed stare of a literature professor.

That’s the thing about Namjoon—he takes this really seriously. So do you, but not in the ways Namjoon does. He’s all skill and determination and you’re color commentary. It works. It clearly works, so you aren’t too bent out of shape about it, but sometimes you worry. Namjoon takes this really seriously and sometimes you worry that he takes it too seriously, that he carries the burdens and worries of all these strangers, that he’s trying to solve and fix things that aren’t his responsibility to solve and fix.

So he takes it really seriously and you don’t take it as seriously as you maybe should, and everything is by design. Balanced.

Twenty minutes later finds you staring across the table at Namjoon, who asks, “Are you ready?” and does one last equipment check before he launches into, “Welcome back to another episode of Place Him Gently in the Garbage with Namjoon and Piper. What’s new with you, Pipe? Any fun news?”

Pipe. It drives you nuts. Feels like nails on a chalkboard. “I see you almost every single day,” you respond dryly. “But for the sake of entertainment, I’m thinking about getting a cat.”

“A cat?” Namjoon parrots, and his eyebrows disappear beneath his fringe because he knows what that means.

You’ve co-hosted a podcast with Namjoon for three years, but you’ve known him even longer.

Since your first year of college, which is also when you met Yoongi. Yoongi, your ex. Yoongi, the person you’d been with for six years and had planned a life around. Yoongi, now one of your closest friends, because the two of you still love one another but no longer in that way, which is fine. But also—Yoongi, allergic to cats.

So, yeah. Namjoon knows what that means, and he has the good sense not to mention it. Unlike him, you’re intensely private and keep your cards close to your chest. Your listeners don’t even know your real name, let alone that you’d gone through a breakup a year ago.

“What kind of cat?” he continues, like his entire world hasn’t just been turned upside-down.

You shrug. “Eh, I don’t know. Probably one that’s been in the shelter a long time, I guess. I’m not too fussy, you know?”

“Right, a cat is a cat,” Namjoon says, thinking he’s done something. You and Jungkook gasp at the same time. “What? Why are you giving me that look?”

“Because that’s a fucked up thing to say! A cat is not just a cat. They have little personalities, just like people. You’ve got—”

“But you just said you’re not fussy,” he interjects. “And I know they have personalities and that you have to find one that suits your lifestyle! Like, you can’t have one of those really cool cats that likes to go kayaking and shit, it’d never work—”

“What does that mean? Why couldn’t I have a cool cat?”

“Hey, all you cool cats and kittens,” Namjoon mocks, and you can tell he thinks he’s done something again, but his impression falls flatter than flat. An awkward silence fills the studio. He coughs. “Anyway. Do you have pictures?”

“Yeah. I also have a list of candidates ranked by how cool their names are. Number five, Casserole.”

“That’s cute.”

“Mhm,” you agree, “but Casserole is a kitten, and I’m not sure I’m ready for that kind of responsibility.”

“They do say you should adopt kittens in pairs.”

“And that’s how they get you. You want one kitten and they talk you into two, and before you know it you’ve got, like, twelve cats. Number four, Party Girl.”

“Sick name.”

“Number three, Toddler.”

“Toddler?”

“Number two, Flat.”

“Just Flat? Understandable.”

“And, finally, number one: Human Torch.”

“Yoooo.” Namjoon laughs. “You have to adopt Human Torch. Let me see.” You pull up a picture on your phone and hand it over. “Okay, for our listeners—Human Torch is a young, male Domestic Short Hair. He has stripes. I don’t know what that’s called.”

“Tabby,” Jungkook chimes in.

“Jungkook says he’s a tabby. He’s cute. Adopt him.”

You return your phone to your pocket. “Maybe. I still think I want an older cat, but I’ll consider it. What about you, though? Any new dating horror stories to share?”

Ah, the dating horror stories. Your most dedicated shippers are convinced they’re fake, that Namjoon just makes them up on the spot to keep them off your trail. If only. Not in the if only they were fake and Namjoon and I were actually dating kind of way, but the holy shit one of my closest friends is a fucking disaster and it’s a little embarrassing kind of way.

“Not really,” he answers. “I’ve got a date this Friday, though. Trying to decide if dinner and a movie is too boring.”

“It’s a classic for a reason. What are you gonna see, My Big Fat Greek Wedding 3?”

“Three?” Namjoon emphasizes, truly sounding scandalized. “Since when are there three? I haven’t even seen one or two.”

“Okay, first of all, the original is a classic and it’s a crime you haven’t seen it.”

“And second of all?”

“There is no second of all. Repeat point one.”

He snorts. “I’m not gonna see that, anyway. Maybe the re-release of Howl’s Moving Castle.”

“Subbed or dubbed, though?”

“Are you trying to get me canceled?”

“Absolutely.”

“I like both,” he chickens out. “Now, let’s stop wasting time and get to the point of the show.”

“Talking about cats is a waste of time?”

“I—no, we’ve just got a lot on the agenda today.”

“Like what?”

“Well, there’s lots to talk about on the celebrity front—”

Namjoon loves this part. As esteemed and educated as he is, not even he is immune to good old celebrity gossip. (Inside him there are two wolves.) Lives for it. Texts you about it at all hours of the night. Sends you links to Reddit threads with hundreds of comments. Has more opinions on Celebrity Big Brother than he does on Ludwig Wittgenstein, sometimes, and when that’s the case you know you’re in for a long evening. You’ve never even seen an episode of Celebrity Big Brother.

But Namjoon loves it, so you’ve become fond of it by association. Reminds you a bit of Yoongi and his love for sports and sports anime.

“—one should we start with?”

“Whatever you want,” you answer, because you haven’t been paying a lick of attention and you aren’t sure it matters anyway. Namjoon can talk to a wall on a good day, but he’s an entirely different beast once mundane, innocuous celeb gossip gets involved.

And even though you hadn’t been paying attention, it seems like this was the right thing to say, because Namjoon smiles so wide his dimples crater his face. “Cool. Let’s start with Taryn Manning. Did you see that bizarre—”

“Who?”

“What?”

“Who is Taryn Manning?”

Namjoon looks a little dumbstruck. Even Jungkook’s arching an eyebrow at you. “Are you serious? She was in Orange is the New Black and Crossroads.”

“The Britney Spears movie?”

“Yeah.”

“Oh. Weird, okay. Continue.”

Your co-host shoots you a very pointed look. “I will, thanks. Anyway, she posted a video on social media talking about this affair she had with a married man. Like, she pulled over on the side of the road to record this. Said she can’t stand the man’s wife because she called her a quote-unquote lunatic.”

“I—huh, thought we weren’t supposed to say that anymore. Alright.”

“But wait, it gets even more bizarre. Listen to this quote—and this is direct. This is a direct quote from the video, I can’t stop thinking about it: ‘Don’t you ever threaten me when your husband came to me to get his butthole licked.’ Can you—”

“What? Namjoon, what in the fuck—”

“It’s crazy, right? She was gonna buy this guy a boat.”

“Namjoon, this is a family show, you can’t just talk about ass-eating unprompted.”

“No it’s not.”

“Well, you still shouldn’t talk about ass-eating unprompted. It’s unbecoming.”

“You’re unbecoming,” Namjoon fires back, because he can’t help it. The words are out of his mouth before he can think. “Sorry, that was out of line.”

You sigh. Know whatever look Jungkook is catching on his camera right now is exasperated and pointed, the corners of your mouth probably tugged up just a hint. “Unbecoming, like I said.” Namjoon scoffs. “Anyway, so this actress was gonna buy this married guy a boat and was eating his ass?”

“Yeah. Apparently it was her friend’s husband? They all went to a Taylor Swift concert together.”

“Jesus, this keeps getting worse. Big year for Hollywood cheaters.”

“It is, right? Cheaters and divorces. Something in the water, I guess.”

“I saw the astrology girlies saying a bunch of planets are in retrograde, so—”

“Can you explain that to me? Like, what does it mean for a planet to be in retrograde? Why is it causing divorces?”

“I don’t know, I’m not an astrology girlie. That’s why I said the astrology girlies. What are your big three, though?”

“What’s that?”

“Your sun, moon, and rising signs.”

“How do I find that out?”

“Ugh,” you intone, “don’t worry about it, I’ll do it myself. What time were you born?”

Namjoon rattles off a time.

You grab your laptop. Pull up the page, type in Namjoon’s date of birth and birthplace, and wait. Then you’re staring at a circle with a bunch of lines in it that also don’t make a lick of sense to you. You roll your lips to keep from laughing and school your voice into something deadly serious. “Bad news: it says you’re a virgin.”

“Virgo,” Namjoon corrects, not taking the bait. “I already knew that.”

You scroll a little further down the page. “Your moon is in Sagittarius. Oh god, listen to this, they’ve got you pegged: ‘The greatest need is to always search for something. In order to feel safe you need a philosophy or belief’—”

“Haaa, that’s not—”

“—’You need to have a goal or mission that gives your life meaning. Your faith must be voluntary and it is a paradox that fighting against dogmas may lead you to other dogmas.’ Yeah, that’s you.”

“That could apply to anyone,” he argues. “There are seven-billion people on this planet; I’d imagine a sizable amount of them would say that also describes them.”

“Hm, sounds like your faith in astrology is not yet voluntary. Did you know you’re a Scorpio rising?”

“No. I’m sure you’re gonna tell me all about it, though.”

You smile. “Correct. ‘People with Scorpio on the Ascendant need to fight against dark and destructive power in their life.’ Is that true?”

“Yeah, you’re the dark and destructive power. You keep sidetracking me and we need to get to the point of the podcast.” He grabs the stack of papers Jungkook had given him. Looks more highlighter than paper, if you’re being honest. “I guess Jungkook thought we needed a lighthearted kind of day.”

“That was nice of him, considering what he gave us last week. I guess we’re allowed to have faith in humanity today.”

To your left, Jungkook scoffs.

“Alright,” Namjoon starts, putting on his Very Serious Podcast Guy voice, “first up we’ve got a question from one of our listeners in Canada. It says, ‘Hi, Piper and Namjoon. I recently agreed to go on a blind date with a friend of a friend. She said he was a bit old-fashioned but really talked him up so I thought I was in good hands—and then he showed up to get me in a ‘67 GTO and exclusively referred to me as doll. He didn’t use my name once. I’m torn, because he was really nice and I had a good time otherwise, but this is weird, right? Should I see him agai—’”

“No,” you interject.

“Can I finish?”

“You don’t have to. This guy sounds greasy.”

Namjoon pinches the bridge of his nose. “And why is that?”

“Ignoring the fact that this guy has arguably one of the lamest classic cars around, he didn’t use their name once? Not once, in all the time they spent together? That’s really disrespectful.”

“Some people are just pet name people,” Namjoon argues.

“With absolute strangers, though? It’s really giving the impression that he didn’t even know it, not to mention some people are uncomfortable with pet names. The whole shtick is super lame.”

“I agree it sounds a bit misguided, but—”

Ignoring Namjoon, you say, “Sorry you had to go on a date with the ghost of less-cool James Dean. Into the garbage he goes.”

And, just like he’s done a million times before, Namjoon rolls his eyes and says, “If you really like this guy and want to see him again, a bit of communication will go a long way. Tell him the pet name made you uncomfortable—if it did—and offer to pick him up for the next date. I don’t think he’s completely destined for the garbage, yet.”

“You’re just saying that because you don’t have a license. You probably think a 1967 Pontiac GTO is the pinnacle of romance. That’s probably like picking someone up on a Specialized Aethos to you, eh?”

“That’s a fifteen-thousand dollar bike, I’ll have you know.”

You groan. “Oh my god.”

Ep: #183 - Namjoon is a Virgin

I think Namjoon had the right idea on this one. Sure, the car can be considered lame, but I think a lot of men are deeply insecure and therefore overcompensate when it comes to dating. Women are hard to impress when they have unlimited options. You have to stand out, so I’m glad he advocated for him. Piper can come off like such a misandrist sometimes. (-649) ↳ just shut up bro namjoon would fuckin hate u (+204) ↳ Imagine caring about something like this when they’re getting a cat together 🙄 (+19)

You think about the cat thing for nearly a week.

Adopting a cat is certainly not the worst idea you’ve ever had, and truth be told it’s been a little lonely, living by yourself. No more Yoongi in your space; no more Holly. So, having a new little friend around might do you some good.

It’s just—

It’s a big commitment, and there’s also the dog sitting-shaped elephant in the room. Ending things on good terms means you’re still Yoongi’s second-choice sitter whenever he has to go out of town, and while you love Holly dearly (the two of you had adopted him together, after all), he’s a lot like his father in a lot of ways.

Should I get a cat, you type out, and it’s only been in Yoongi’s inbox a few seconds before the most unflattering picture you’ve ever taken of him is flashing across your screen.

“Are you dying?” you ask, because Yoongi doesn’t call you for much else.

And you already know what his response is going to be. “We’re all dying.”

“Lighten up, Yoongi. One might say being so existentially nihilistic before noon causes wrinkles.”

There’s a split-second pause. “It’s nine p.m.”

“Sure, but it’s before tomorrow’s noon, so it still counts.”

“Whatever. Listen, before you adopt that cat, I need a favor.”

“You going out of town again?”

“Yeah. Shouldn’t be long, though. A week at the most, five days if I’m lucky.”

“That’s fine, bring him over whenever. Yijeong’s busy?”

This pause is far, far longer. “No,” comes Yoongi’s eventual response, but it’s slow. Unsure. A two-letter word has never taken so long to say in the history of ever. “He’s, uh. Coming with me?”

Oh, you think. This is where your ex awkwardly and hesitantly breaks the news of his new relationship. You’ve known this day was coming, and this is what you get for staying friends with him. “This is a fanfiction plot,” you accuse. “Hot, mysterious man moves into a gaudy apartment complex after ending a long-term relationship and meets his equally-hot and mysterious neighbor and they fall in love.”

“I—that’s not—my apartment is not gaudy.”

“Yes it is. There’s a giant gold bust of a weird bird in the lobby.”

“Weird bird?” he parrots. “It’s a swan.”

“I see you’re not denying the in-love-with-your-neighbor accusations.”

“Am I on trial?” Yoongi retorts, and it’s such a Yoongi thing to say when what he means is, is this okay? He means, are we able to talk about this without it being weird? He means, I won’t ever say as much out loud, but your acceptance means a lot to me, and I’d like for you to give me this.

So you lower your voice and soften the edges because it’s not really something to joke about, and you say, “No, of course you’re not on trial,” and Yoongi knows what you mean. “And if you were, you'd get locked up for fifty years. You can’t lie for shit.”

There’s a beat of silence before he clears his throat, mutters a thanks that is so quiet you almost don’t catch it. “Send me pictures of the cats.”

Later on, once you’re freshly-showered and tucked into bed with a candle and a book (Eloge de l’amour by Alain Badiou at Namjoon’s insistence and request), your phone buzzes with a text from Yoongi—

Yoongi: toddler is a fucking hilarious name for a cat but so is flat Yoongi: it’s a tie for me You: Okay well pick one 🙄 Yoongi: yijeong says get both You: Both???? Is he paying my vet bills? Yoongi: kinda out of line to proposition him for money. flat is also good with dogs, js You: If he’s now being raised by you two, my perfect, well-behaved son is probably long gone. Does he even count as a dog anymore? Yoongi: me and yijeong both say fuck off Yoongi: holly too. he says he doesn’t miss you anymore and he’s not coming over now Yoongi has added Yijeong to the group Yoongi has changed the group name to #ThirdWheelChat Yijeong: Please don’t drag me into this. Also I did not say “fuck off” You have changed the group name to People Who Have Seen Yoongi Naked Yoongi: fuck you

You should’ve known something was going on with Jungkook, because it’d started like this:

(When you and Namjoon started the podcast three years ago, it was in the living room of his apartment.

Surrounded by books and plants. He loved to record in the afternoons back then—Namjoon loved to say it was because of his grad school schedule, but you’ve always suspected he just wanted to preen in the golden hour light, much like he’s doing now.

“Is this really necessary?” Jungkook whines from his spot on the couch. He’s already swindled Namjoon out of two bags of microwavable popcorn and three cans of sparkling water. “It’s a Saturday afternoon; I could be doing something so much more fun than this.”

Namjoon scoffs. “Are you saying this isn’t fun?”

“Yeah. It sucks, actually. This could’ve been an email.”

And because Namjoon is accomplished, mature, and absolutely incapable of not taking Jungkook’s bait, the space between his brows creases as he sends a murderous glare Jungkook’s way. “Stop eating my food, then. And drinking my drinks. And lounging on my couch like that—”

“I’m not lounging,” Jungkook argues.

“You’re manspreading all over the leather!”

“This is how I sit!”

“Well, knock it off! My couch is only for fun and people who think I’m fun!”

Jungkook rolls his eyes. “So you fuck on it?”

“What?”

“What other fun things could you possibly do on a couch?”

Namjoon blinks. “Watch… watch a movie?”

Jungkook groans, throws himself backwards against the pillows as if he’s suffering a Victorian ailment. “Jesus. No wonder you can’t score a second date.”

“Okay, that was a little uncalled for. There are a ton of reasons a person might not want a second date, and no one is obligated to go out with me—”

“Uh-huh. Anyway—”

You clear your throat. Try to hide your own can of seltzer you’d taken from Namjoon’s fridge in the midst of his and Jungkook’s bickering. “Not trying to be rude, but I have an appointment at the shelter at three. If, y’know. You wouldn’t mind speeding this up a little.”

“Oh! Yeah, of course—”

“Oh, so you’ll speed this up for her but not—”

Namjoon pinches the bridge of his nose. “She,” he begins, jerking his thumb in your direction, “isn’t needlessly complaining and actually has someplace to be.”)

It was just a quick little rendezvous in Namjoon’s living room to come up with a rough draft for the following month’s episodes. He couldn’t do it over text because he’d fallen down the steps at his office and landed on his ass on the corner of a step and his phone had been in his back pocket. Cracked clean in half. And he couldn’t do it over email because he—rightfully—knew Jungkook would ignore them because he has his inbox set up to send all of Namjoon’s personal emails to the trash.

But Jungkook holds onto things like that. Grudges. Loves to let Namjoon think bygones are bygones and pop up a few days later with some evil scheme. Hence:

“What is this?”

Jungkook smirks. Rocks back on his heels. “It’s fanfiction.”

“I can see that, but… why?”

This is where Jungkook shines: the ominous, cheshire cat grin; the aw, shucks demeanor that gaslights Namjoon into thinking Jungkook couldn’t possibly be fucking with him. “Well, you were having trouble coming up with ideas for episodes, and there’s an email in there from someone whose partner reads really expli—”

“Jungkook, this is fanfiction about me.”

You can’t help the laugh that escapes you. Of all the weird shit you’ve seen on the internet (and there’s been a lot), fanfiction of people you know—your friends—was something you’d managed to escape. Probably by virtue of not knowing anyone famous enough to warrant fanfiction being written about them.

But you should’ve known. You really, really should’ve known.

“Oh my god?”

You’re not sure who says it. Could be you or Namjoon, but the sentiment is the same. He mouths a what the fuck at you that’s met with a shrug. You’re in uncharted territory now, too. “Where did you even find this?” you ask, taking the stack of papers from Namjoon. “And why did you print it out?”

“Because I’m going to track down whoever wrote it and get them to autograph it. Then I’m going to buy a nice frame and hang it on the wall behind him, so we never forget this historical moment in Place Him Gently in the Garbage lore.”

“It’s a podcast,” Namjoon deadpans, “how can it have lore? And how much lore can there possibly be?”

“It’s the internet,” you concede. “The lore possibilities are endless. Don’t tempt them.”

Jungkook nods sagely, well-versed in the degeneracy of the internet. “Yeah, that’s how you end up with shit like 4chan.”

“4chan? There’s Space Jam porn on there.”

As the youngest, all Jungkook can do is roll his eyes. “Sometimes explaining this shit to you feels like trying to teach old people how to rotate PDFs—”

Namjoon scoffs. “I’m not that bad. I know how to rotate a PDF.”

Wow, Jungkook mouths. “Anyway, back to the fanfiction—”

“I don’t want to talk about it,” Namjoon interjects. He looks at you. “It’s weird, right? Like, it’s weird that people have written this about us?”

About us.

Your scope of the world narrows to the size of a pinhead. It’d just been about Namjoon before. This is fanfiction about me, he’d said, and you hadn’t been included in that. Now it’s written about us and you’re included.

“I—what?”

“It’s about us,” Namjoon repeats.

Jungkook rolls his lips. “It’s about the two of you fucking, to be specific.”

“Can you not—”

“Fucking a lot,” Jungkook continues. “So much fucking.”

Namjoon looks at you, and it’s all you can do to keep from laughing. The look on his face is pure bewilderment, both that Jungkook has cooked up this idea and is hell-bent on executing it and that he remains employed. And maybe it’s a little bit of nerves, too, because neither of you are ignorant of the risks. Reading fanfiction about yourselves—about the two of you as a couple, specifically, or at least two people who have sex—is weird. Not something you can unread.

And maybe it’s because you’re so determined to not make it weird that you send Namjoon a cheeky, exaggerated wink, shrug your shoulders, and say, “I’ll need a couple drinks, but I’m down.”

Jungkook throws his head back and cackles wildly, and that look of bewilderment on Namjoon’s face morphs into something else. Trepidation, maybe; definitely disbelief, because sometimes he lets himself get swept away in Jungkook’s schemes, but it’s rare that you follow suit.

As Jungkook continues to laugh, you wonder if you should’ve said no.

Namjoon has two stipulations: the two of you have to film the episode completely alone, and he, too, needs to be a little drunk.

The latter? Piece of cake, considering Namjoon has become some sort of whiskey aficionado in recent years. His drinking is streamlined and to the point—he knows exactly how much and what to drink to get him where he wants to be. You can’t say he isn’t efficient.

The former, though? Borderline impossible. From the second Namjoon states his terms, Jungkook is having none of it. Argues that he’s the one who found the story and the one who cleared it with the author, so he deserves to witness the fruits of his labor.

“No,” Namjoon repeats for the nth time, “no way. I’ll barely be able to do this with just her, let alone both of you.”

And that—that doesn’t bother you, right? You force a laugh, because why would it bother you?

There are few secrets between you and Namjoon, except your respective sex lives have been staunchly off-limits. Namjoon could be a virgin for all you know, and as you study him—the way he keeps bobbing his leg, the slight shake in his hands—you wonder if that’s the reason he’s being so weird about this.

It’s just a story.

Fiction.

Most people don’t have to worry about someone writing stories about them fucking their friends. If they do, you reckon even less actually read them. So, sure, it’s a little strange, but people from all over the world send in stranger stuff all the time, don’t they? It’s literally the reason you’re in this predicament.

Eventually Jungkook agrees. His whining has gotten him nowhere, so he just throws up his hands. Posts a cryptic little “u guys won’t believe what the next patreon ep is lmao” that sends the internet into a frenzy. Doubles your Patreon numbers almost immediately, and both you and Namjoon do a good job of pretending the pressure isn’t overwhelming.

Jesus. You have to read explicit fanfiction about yourselves. On camera.

Namjoon gets caught up with work and isn’t available until the weekend, so you’re forced to sit with the nerves for a few days. Not too bad at first, but you’re nearly coming out of your skin by Thursday with the need to know. You’re well-versed in the world of fanfiction, but this is fanfiction about you: your name, your likeness, maybe even your personality.

What will they know of Namjoon, though?

Will they get it right, the way he looks with his jaw clenched? How impossibly deep his voice can go, both when it’s raspy with sleep and when he’s fully at ease? Will the Namjoon in the story be closer to the Namjoon you know, or the version of himself he presents to the public?

And you’ve known him a long time—long enough that there are few secrets between you, but you don’t know the most intimate parts. All the parts the internet loves to speculate on. All the little gaps that, apparently, need to be filled in by fanfiction.

Will they know what Namjoon looks like when he gets off?

No, you scold yourself, jerking awkwardly like you’ve been burned, and neither will you.

Because you are not going to think about this. Your thoughts are not going to go there. Namjoon is your friend, and you’ve listened to him scold an endless amount of men on the podcast for exactly this behavior. Sexualizing their friends. You’re not going to do it, too.

Maybe that’s why you’re kind of seeing double when it comes time to record. Namjoon needed an extra shot and offered you one as well. You’d necked it without a second thought and now you’re here, trying to ignore the slight tilt of the room as Namjoon adjusts the camera.

“How’s the shot look?” he asks, gesturing vaguely behind him at his laptop screen because Jungkook had refused to lend you his fancy cameras if he wasn’t allowed to be involved.

It’s a completely normal question.

It’s a question you’ve asked and answered a million times.

Except—there’s something horribly distracting about Namjoon in this moment. The outline of his back muscles through the thin fabric of his t-shirt. The way the sleeves are tight around his biceps. He’s always been a gym rat, always carries around a protein shake that smells and looks completely foul, but you can’t remember it ever being this obvious.

And you take too long to answer, because Namjoon straightens up just enough to send you a concerned look. Which does not help. You are not imagining what else might cause his brows to pinch like that, what might have his lips parting, have sweat dotting his hairline.

You swallow. Hard.

“Looks fine,” you manage to say. He’s still staring. Are you on fire? You feel like you’re on fire, which would make sense. Would explain Namjoon’s sweating and concerned stare and the fact that he cannot stop staring at you. “Maybe a tiny bit to the right if we’re being picky,” you tack on, hoping it’ll break whatever spell the two of you are ensnared in.

It works. “To the—the right, yeah, makes sense,” he rambles.

He moves it an inch to the left.

—

Things are tense, to say the least.

Recording hasn’t been this awkward since your first episode, or maybe ever. You’re sat across from one another like you always are, and usually Namjoon would be making quip after quip by now, talking endlessly until Jungkook shushed him long enough to get the intro filmed. Now, there’s just silence.

“Should we…?” Namjoon startles. Bangs his knee on the underside of the table and drops a string of curses. “Sorry, are you—”

“I’m fine,” he says, cutting you off. He gestures vaguely toward the camera. “I’ll just… yeah.”

Showtime.

You wipe your hands on your jeans, unsure of when they got so damp. Unsure of when you’d grown so nervous, too, because you’d been fine an hour ago. Had strolled in with two cups of tea and a little too much confidence, giddy at what you were about to do.

Maybe the nerves had shown up alongside the alcohol. This sounds reasonable, and you do not, under any circumstance or for any reason, think about Namjoon’s back. Or his biceps.

Namjoon makes it through the intro, dimples deep and wide as he smiles, and you also don’t think about the way his voice cracks and gets a little breathy when he introduces you. It’s only because he’d been drinking, and the flush on his cheeks attests to that. The same flush that creeps down his neck, still a little sweaty; disappears beneath the hemline of his shirt.

“—Jungkook had. Right, Piper?”

Now it’s your turn to startle, and there’s not much you can do to hide the obvious except ask Namjoon to redo the shot. Because it’s bad enough the internet already overanalyzes every move you make, every word choice, every instance you’ve stared at Namjoon a second longer than they thought you would—this is a blatant display of… affectedness.

“Sorry,” you say, “I wasn't paying attention. Can we redo it?”

You’re expecting a playful scolding. A ha ha, get it together, because that’s what you usually get. But there’s nothing aside from Namjoon studying you and nodding. Asking if you’re okay. Saying, “Is this—this is weird, right? Is it too weird? Maybe we shouldn’t—”

An out. Namjoon is giving you an out, and you should take it, you know you should take it, so there’s absolutely no reason at all you shake your head and say, “No, no, it’s fine! I think I’m just a little, uh. Drunk?”

“Are you sure? We can—”

“It’s fine, Joon,” you insist. “Besides, it’ll be good content, right?”

“Good content,” he parrots. “Yeah, for sure.” He fidgets in his seat, runs his hands down the span of his thighs. Very, very thick thighs. “I’ll grab us some water.”

You faceplant onto the table as soon as he’s out of the room. When did his thighs get so thick?

But the water helps. Cures whatever strange, insatiable thirst has come over you, because you feel much more human after a few glasses. Less drunk, too, which makes sense. Yoongi could barely escape your drunken, horny wrath when the two of you were together, so you chalk it up to a Pavlovian response.

Namjoon does the intro again. Introduces you strong and steady, not a hint of nerves, and explains, with a fresh blush taking over his upper body, what the episode’s going to be about. “Someone wrote fanfiction about us,” he says, scratching at the back of his neck. “It’s, uh, pretty explicit. Jungkook thought it’d be funny if we read it.”

You snort. “He might get fired, depending on how this goes.”

“He should get fired regardless,” Namjoon deadpans. “Anyway, we have permission from the author to read this so don’t come after us, and, as always, we’ll put all the credits in the video description.”

“Special shoutout to Jungkook, though, who was not allowed to be here with us for this momentous occasion.”

Namjoon laughs. “I’m sure he’s having plenty of fun at home.” You both pause. “That’s not—I’m not implying anything with that! I just meant—you know, like. He’s hanging out and enjoying his day off.”

“Uh-huh.”

“Moving on. I have two copies of this. Do you want your own?”

You grin, wicked and wide. “Nah, just read it to me.”

“Making me do all the work,” he huffs. “Typical.”

“There’s a stack of papers in front of you that might say otherwise.”

It’s clear you catch him off-guard. He cocks an eyebrow, opens and shuts his mouth a few times like a goldfish. An obvious question sits on the tip of his tongue: You think you’d be in charge? Instead he coughs, jerks his head to the side, and says, “I guess we’ll see.”

It sounds like a challenge.

Thirty seconds is all you get before Namjoon’s shuffling his stack of papers and clearing his throat. Asking if you’re ready and jumping right into it once you say you are. Reads the first few lines like they’re some old lecture notes, and they’re conservative and safe-for-work enough that you start to relax.

And then Namjoon reads, “A louder one wonders if Namjoon is a pet name person—if he’d call her ‘honey,’ or ‘gummy bear,’ ‘babe,’ or ‘baby,’” and you choke.

“Gummy bear?”

Namjoon laughs along with you—the weird one that almost sounds like a dog panting. “You want me to call you gummy bear?”

“I want you to call me a Lyft,” you snark. “I’m leaving.”

He continues:

And that’s how it starts, wandering thoughts, wandering fingers—the first time Piper comes to the thought of Namjoon calling her baby, pushing inside her, showing her that he definitely doesn’t beg, but she does… Well, she’s a little ashamed. She’s apparently got a reputation to maintain, anyway, not to mention a friendship.

His eyes leave the paper and lock onto you. “Or maybe you’d prefer baby?”

“Fuck off.”

Weeks after that first time, it’s become a habit, thinking about Namjoon as something more than a friend. It’s confusing and a little mortifying and it’s starting to affect her in ways she hadn’t expected. When they record, she feels fidgety—she’s jumpy when he gets close, has all the stupid obvious tells of an unwanted crush: her breath hitches when he whispers (why the fuck is he whispering in her ear, anyway? Doesn’t he know what that does to a person?) inside jokes to her so Jungkook can’t hear, her heart rate spikes when their fingers accidentally brush, she feels itchy and hot and a little embarrassed whenever he holds eye contact with her. It’s terrible, and it’s only made worse by the way he’s doing all of those things more than usual. Or, at least she thinks he is, thinks she’s not imagining the way his eyes linger on her more than she can remember happening before or the way she’s caught him staring at her lips when she chews on the end of her pencil mindlessly. 

You’ve completely forgotten how to breathe.

Namjoon’s staring again. You need to salvage this. He’s only on paragraph three and you’re already squirming in your chair and imagining things that are not appropriate. So you roll your lips, return his teasing. “Well? Do you stare at my lips?”

It works. “No,” he scowls.

“You sure?” you joke, morphing your face into something half-pout, half-duck face.

“We’re never gonna finish this if you keep making comments.”

“You started it,” you point out. “Go on, then.”

There’s some dialogue. Some prose that hits way too close to home, has you wondering who on earth wrote this and how they plucked every single thought from deep within your psyche. A pang of fear that maybe you haven’t been as subtle as you’d thought all these years. A moment to confirm to yourself that, no, you haven’t been harboring a secret, deeply-buried crush on Namjoon.

Then he reads—

And then he kisses her. It’s greedy and hot, his lips like a branding iron. She moans a little against her better judgment when he licks at the seam of her mouth, and in return, she can feel Namjoon’s lips curve into a smile against her own. It’s better than she’d been imagining it, really. He’s a good kisser—firm at the right times, soft when she needs it, careful but not cautious. He holds her jaw with one hand and keeps her right where he wants her beneath him (as if she’d want to move, anyway).  When their lips finally part, he rests his forehead on hers. It’s intimate in a way she hadn’t expected, and he looks at her as if she’s the answer to every question. Finally, he whispers, “What’re we doing, Piper?” His lips are still wet and pink and a little swollen from kissing, and she barely hears the question—she’s too busy thinking about kissing him again, about pulling his plump bottom lip between her teeth, teasing and…  “Kissing,” she says finally.  “What do you want?” he asks, sinking to his knees in front of her. And if that alone isn’t an answer to his question… “Whatever you’re willing to give,” she replies. It feels like she’s wanted this forever, this and so much more. Once she got the idea in her head, it’s hard to know if she ever felt differently, ever truly thought they could just be friends. Or, if in the back of her mind, in the dark corners that she never lets see daylight, she always knew she wanted Namjoon. Always knew she loved him.

—and everything goes right out the fucking window.

Namjoon sits with those words for a moment. Scans the paper in his hands and frowns a little when he confirms what you already know. “The rest is, uh. Porn.”

“That is why we’re here.”

“Last chance to back out.”

“I’m not scared,” you lie. “Are you? You’re the one who keeps stalling.”

He huffs. “You’re a pain in my ass,” he retorts, and then nothing is all that funny anymore.

Because Namjoon was right: the rest is straight-up porn. He’s barely able to read the part where he goes down on you with a straight face, turning a deep shade of crimson. Stutters through the part where you pull his hair, and that is not something you needed to know about your friend. You think he loses his grasp of language entirely when he reads, “When he slides a long finger into her and brushes past her most sensitive spot, she arches into him and lets his name fall from her lips in a soft cry. Piper, notorious skeptic, is a babbling, trembling mess as she gets closer to her orgasm,” because all the words are garbled together, producing nothing but gibberish. You think he’s ready to keel over and die when he reads, “Namjoon pulls away briefly, lips slick with her juices, and licks over his top one, pausing to tell her how good she tastes before he dives back in.”

“That was nice of them to include. I appreciate their attention to detail in regards to my personal hygiene.”

“This is so embarrassing,” he whines.

You roll your eyes good-naturedly. “Gimme. I’ll finish it.” He hands over the papers immediately.

Except you regret it immediately. The words you’re staring at are not words you ever thought you’d read or recite in your entire life. Not even for a million dollars. “Oh,” you say instead.

“See? Not as easy as it looks.”

“This is really embarrassing,” you confirm. “I might need another shot.”

“Y-yeah. Alcohol sounds good.”

Namjoon staggers forward obligingly, looks completely fucked out and pliant, willing to do whatever she asks. She remembers the sounds he made when she pulled his hair, wonders if he likes being bossed around, if he wants her to tell him what to do, to be a little mean to him. Maybe it’s different from her dreams, maybe he will beg her. She wants him so badly, she’d do anything for him. So, she pulls his briefs down to expose his absurdly large member, already mostly hard, and slaps it. Gently at first to see how he’ll react, and when he shudders and jerks his hips, she does it again, a little harder. “Look at you,” she whispers, “such a needy boy.”  He whimpers at that, eyes pleading. “Please, Piper…” he whines.   “Please what?” “Please let me fuck you,” he begs. She wants to, wants him so much, wants to feel him stretch her open, and from the looks of his cock, thick and long and drooling with precum, he could. “Should I?” she asks. She musters all her confidence to keep the condescending tone up. It feels wrong given how desperate she is to get him inside her, but it also seems to be getting him worked up and equally as desperate. “Do you even know what to do with that big, stupid cock?”  Namjoon’s cock twitches, and he begs, “I—I’ll fuck you so good, Piper…. I know how, I promise. Just… please?”

“Oh my god,” the two of you say in unison.

You so badly want to ask if this is biographical. How Namjoon feels about a little degradation; what he’d do if someone actually called his cock stupid. Ifsomeone has called his cock stupid. You dare a glance at him and conclude that someone’s had to. Namjoon just has that kind of energy.

But you can’t ask because it’d be weird, so you keep reading.

“How do you want me?” she asks softly when their lips part. There’s a wild look in his eyes, like he’s processing all the possible options out of everything he’s considered. And then it occurs to her. “Have you imagined this before? Thought about how you’d fuck me?” she teases him as she stands, stepping into him. Piper pushes one hand through his hair, brushing it back off of his forehead and wraps her other around his dick, squeezing a little for emphasis on her words. “Yes,” he groans as she strokes him, thumbing at the head of his cock. “Tell me what you want, then. Want me on all fours for you? Want me to show you how it’s done, to let you lay back and ride you so you don’t have to put in any work?” Namjoon’s breathing is getting heavy, pupils blown wider with each suggestion. 

“I told you!” you shriek, laughing in between the words. “I told you I’d…” And then your gloating tapers off, because what happens next has your brain malfunctioning.

“All of that,” he whines as she lets go of his hair and brings her hand down to run a fingertip over his perineum. “Want all of that. Want to bend you over the table and fuck you right here. Hear your sounds in the microphone.” Even in her dirtiest thoughts about him, she hadn’t considered the microphone, hadn’t considered recording it. When she thinks about it though, it makes sense. Namjoon is exactly the kind of person that would get off to someone’s voice. So, she does. She makes a show of turning around and slowly bending over the table, sliding her upper body across it carefully until she can reach her microphone and turn it on. When she says into it, “What’re you waiting for?” she sees over her shoulder the way that Namjoon shivers.

This is… not good. You’re never going to be able to look at a microphone the same way, which is extremely not good for a person who supplements their income with a very popular podcast that requires them to speak into a microphone for extended periods of time.

This is very, very bad.

Namjoon must be thinking the same, because he lets out a strangled a-haaa that’s less of a laugh and more a plea to God, the gods, the entire gamut of higher powers that might be able to save him. No one’s going to, you think, staring down at the paper again. This godless piece of fanfiction will be preserved on the internet forever, will be seared into your mind forever, and no amount of praying is going to erase it.

“I should, uh. Just read the rest, yeah? Get it over with?”

“Mhm. Yep. Yes, please.”

Don’t say please, you almost say. You can’t take it; not after what you’ve just read.

So you put on a show. Steel your expression and your nerves and take it seriously. Use voices and sound effects and desperately try to stave off the awkwardness you know is inevitable because a smut fic is probably only going to end one way, and that’s with you acting out Namjoon having an orgasm.

Maybe you’ll have another one, too, if the author is nice.

It’s sweet, she thinks, the way he’s easy for her, takes his time with her. Strokes his fingertips along her sides and kisses the back of her neck reverently. As much as she loves it, part of her hopes he’s not always like this—hopes he’ll give as good as he takes, hopes he’ll put her in her place. She can feel his cock hard against the cleft of her ass, not even inside her yet, and still, she thinks about next time and the time after that. “Still okay?” He breathes into her ear as his tip rubs against her cunt.  “Yeah—want you, Joon.”  “Never thought I’d hear you say those words.”  “I never thought you’d record them,” she teases, eyes glancing up to the flashing light showing the mic picking up all of this as he starts his slow slide into her.  Piper falls even further forward when he bottoms out, letting her forehead rest on the table. He’s whispering filth in her ear, about how he has something to prove, how she’ll never want anyone after this, how no one can fuck her the way he does.  She hates that he’s right.  Each stroke brings a new sensation: sparklers, butterflies, nerve endings on fire as he fucks into her and licks and sucks at her neck, her shoulders, her ear. Piper can’t even think, and this is what people mean when they talk about being fucked stupid, she decides.  It’s perfect.  Every time she thinks she’s getting close again, he changes something: fucks her a little shallower, moves his hips just a little, slows down, speeds up… It’s driving her crazy.  “Come on,” she whines. “I’m so close…” At least she can tell he is, too. No longer able to sustain the dirty talk, he’s breathing heavily, letting out broken moans and sighs of her name. He’s moving rhythmically now, thrusts consistently faster.  “Oh, fuck, Piper,” he groans, “Gonna cum.” One of his hands finds her clit and he rubs careful circles over her, bringing her to her peak along with him, no more teasing.  When she comes, it’s with a loud moan into the studio mic, and that seems to be what tips Namjoon over the edge, too. His hips stutter into hers as he comes, her cunt clenching around him for what feels like forever.

You deserve an award, you think. An Oscar. You didn’t even groan when you had to read the word “cunt,” and that’s a feat in and of itself.

“Is it over?” Namjoon asks, words muffled by the hands covering his face.

“Not quite,” you answer. “There’s some aftercare, and at the end you ask if I’ll piss on you.”

Namjoon gags. “I asked you what—”

“Today’s episode has been brought to you by Stamps-dot-com—”

HOLY SHIT THE NEW PATREON EPISODE???????? Posted by u/pod-shipper 4 minutes ago NO WAY. NOOOOOOO FUCKING WAY DUDE THERE’S NO FUCKING WAY THEY DID THIS AS AN ACTUAL EPISODE WHAT THE FUCK WHAT HTE FUCK WHAT EHTU FKF DFGLKDG;L (+705) I wasn’t sure if they were messing around before, and I was quite critical of the “shippers,” but now I’m pretty convinced. (+423) ↳ we’ve been telling y’all for YEARS 😤 (+197) ↳ Glad you’ve seen the light, u/RandomAcorn2058! (+5) ↳ ugh. they weren’t messing around before and they aren’t messing around now. do you guys not listen to what they say? namjoon’s been dating, and piper got out of a six-year relationship just over a year ago. if they’ve had something going on for “years” that means they’re both cheaters, and that’s a really shitty thing to assume about them. not to mention it makes the entire point of the podcast moot. (-63) Why do you guys think Jungkook “wasn’t allowed” to be there? (+314) ↳ So they could fuck lmao it’s so obvious (+329) ↳ because it’s awkward af? would you wanna read porn about yourself w all your coworkers in the room? (+2) ↳ the “it’s awkward” excuse is sooooo lame he’s the one who found it and is the one who edited the episode, he’s gonna see it regardless. (+15) ↳ Tbh I’m more curious about how he even found it to begin with? Do they have a throuple thing going on? Like, why was he looking for smut fic about his bosses? (+38)

You do not get through recording unscathed.

You are very scathed. Perhaps the most scathed a person has ever been.

Jungkook texts the group chat sporadically throughout the week, cracking jokes and making memes at your and Namjoon’s expense which is par for the course and shouldn’t have you off-kilter, but something inside you feels deeply wrong. Feels like someone’s given you devastating news; feels like it used to back in uni when you knew you’d failed an exam and were just waiting to see how badly.

It both helps and doesn’t that the internet is so invested. All the clips Jungkook keeps posting have re-doubled your Patreon numbers, and jumping up a tax bracket never hurt anyone, you included. But all of those jokes and memes largely went unanswered by both you and Namjoon, still too close to the incident to find the humor in it from the other side.

The two of you had sex.

Not literally, of course, but you figure you might as well have with the way you’re feeling. The way you’re avoiding one another. Someone wrote a story about the two of you having sex and you both read it and something about that, days later, feels really fucking unsettling.

In a bad way? You aren’t sure. It’s not like you’re mad or upset or any other synonym. You just feel… off. Itchy from the inside out, and that’s far from the norm in your and Namjoon’s friendship. In all the years you’ve known one another, you’ve never once avoided each other, including the time you’d set him up with a close friend and he showed up 45 minutes late to their date and ghosted after.

(Unsurprisingly, that friendship had not lasted.)

Maybe it’s because Yoongi had always been there as a buffer. You aren’t of the belief that men and women cannot be platonic friends, but being in a years-long committed relationship nixed a lot of awkward interactions and assumptions off the bat. Even Namjoon had known Yoongi first. Had introduced himself to you in your shared 100-level psych course with a, “Hey, you’re Min Yoongi’s girlfriend, right?” because they ran in the same underground circles and Namjoon had idolized him from afar for years.

Pretty fucked up, then, that Yoongi’s off in Los Angeles with his hot new boyfriend and you’re on your couch, Holly at your feet, pointedly ignoring your texts.

“I’m gonna get a cat,” you say to the dog, trying to redirect his attention when he starts chewing on your sock again. Holly doesn’t offer any input, of course, and he’s a lot like his father in that way. “I can’t believe you have a stepfather. You’re a proper child of divorce now, Min Holly.”

There are a pile of unread texts you continue to ignore in lieu of showing Holly pictures of adoptable cats. A few more memes from Jungkook, one from Namjoon’s new phone asking to move the recording date a few days because “something came up at work,” one from the food delivery service you admittedly use too much offering 10% off your next order, and two from Yoongi. This reminded me of you, the first one says beneath a picture of an ice cream cone on the ground, and another one of him holding a water gun that says send me a picture of my son or else.

You eventually reply back with a picture of your middle finger, Holly nothing but a blurred brown blob in the corner of the frame.

That’s how it goes for the better part of a week. Namjoon’s work issue lasts four days. He doesn’t offer an explanation and you don’t ask for one, you just wait for the all-clear text and try to quiet the nerves once you get it.

You’ve never been nervous to see Namjoon before.

The more popular the podcast became, the more money rolled in. The more money that rolled in, the more you could afford nicer things. That meant going from recording in Namjoon’s living room to a bona fide office space. Third floor, an expanse of windows and natural light, thirty-five minute commute by train.

Today, it feels more like thirty-five seconds.

You can hear Jungkook’s witch cackle from the stairwell, and your mind fills in the blanks of Namjoon’s exasperated sigh. It helps, your brain reminding you that you know these people. You know this is Jungkook’s late gym day, so he’ll be in a pair of sweats and a hoodie that drowns his frame. You know that when Namjoon has work issues and feels like an inconvenience, he always shows up with two boxes of baked goods from the bakery near his place, and you know both of them will save the best donut for you.

So you walk in and Jungkook’s in a hoodie and sweats just like you expect him to be, and there are two boxes of baked goods next to the coffee machine. Both of them say hello and wave and, for all intents and purposes, everything is normal.

Except it isn’t.

Because Namjoon looks… different.

Not in a bad way. Not in a bad way. He almost always dresses nicely, always looks polished and put-together, usually because he’s either going to or coming from campus—fitted shirts, either of the tee or dress variety, and earth-toned cardigans; tailored trousers that are sometimes corduroy; polished loafers. Sometimes, if he’s feeling extra casual, a stark white pair of tennis shoes.

Today, he wears none of those things.

No, today torture comes in the form of form-fitting jeans and a t-shirt a little oversized so he can roll the sleeves. His hair is brushed back off his face instead of parted down the middle. He’s wearing gold jewelry that glints in the sun. A pair of off-white Converse high-tops. And, much to your horror, he’s also wearing his glasses.

According to the internet, Kim Namjoon is peak husband material, which you can usually ignore, but not when he’s wearing glasses.

You avert your gaze, convinced you’ll burst into flames if you stare too long, not to mention Jungkook will notice and that’s a ribbing you’d rather die than take. So you avert your gaze and pointedly ignore Namjoon, who’s talking about his work crisis to no one in particular. Something about a co-worker going on an unexpectedly early paternity leave, and Namjoon being asked to cover some of his courses until they could find a more permanent fix.

Jungkook asks a question you don’t catch. Because paternity leave means his co-worker and his partner had a baby, presumably via old-fashioned methods, and it’s not a direct mention of sex but it’s close enough to send you into a coughing fit you have to blame on your donut. Neither of them buy it, but Namjoon is a good enough person to look genuinely concerned. Reaches out, probably to slap your back, but the thought of him touching you is just… too much.

So he barely gets out an, “Are you o—” before you choke down whatever’s left in your mouth and cut him off with a, “Yep, all good!” before you’re scurrying off to the opposite side of the room like a little rat.

It doesn’t get any better.

Both of you are so stilted and awkward during recording that Jungkook has to be the voice of reason and call it, suggest trying again tomorrow. Luckily he has enough b-side stuff he can release if need be, Namjoon’s work emergency providing a decent cover, and he sends the two of you home for the afternoon with all the exasperation and incredulity of a disappointed parent.

Thirty-five minutes back home.

Thirty-five minutes to sit in the embarrassment of not being able to do your job. Thirty-five minutes to catastrophize and wonder what you’re going to do if you can’t get it together. Namjoon will keep the podcast, of course; you’ll be replaced with someone else. Maybe someone less cynical, maybe someone more, but undoubtedly a man. After this mess, you can’t imagine Namjoon would want another female co-host.

But as embarrassed as you are, your traitorous brain keeps thinking about Namjoon.

Thirty-five minutes to think about his glasses and his rolled-up sleeves and the way the denim of his jeans contoured perfectly to his thighs. Thirty-five minutes to think about, “Please let me fuck you,” he begs. Thirty-five minutes to squeeze your thighs together and overanalyze the way he stumbled over his words today; how he could barely make eye contact. Thirty-five minutes to draft a dozen resignation texts and delete them all.

You groan, head thunking against the train window. You’ll take a cold shower as soon as you get home.

That’ll cure you.

You get home and walk Holly so long he gives up halfway through and you have to carry him back to your apartment. You take a cold shower and actually find it pleasant once the initial shock wears off, so it doesn’t work to keep all your rogue Namjoon thoughts at bay. You make a simple dinner and don’t think about Namjoon sitting you on the counter and having his way with you. You tuck yourself into bed far too early and consider going back to therapy, because clearly something very, very bad has happened to your psyche.

Needless to say, nothing cures you.

But it’s a new day, and you’re determined to get your shit together. Yesterday was a fluke, because you’re so normal and so capable of being in the same room as Kim Namjoon.

Except—you’re not.

Jungkook’s there when you arrive, mindlessly scrolling through his phone. Barely looks up at you to say hello, and barely returns it when you do. You double-check the time, because you can count on two fingers the amount of times you’ve shown up and Namjoon wasn’t already there, jotting down extensively-detailed notes, circling and highlighting and chasing down Jungkook to ask questions.

“Where’s Namjoon?”

Jungkook shrugs. “Dunno. Not here.”

You roll your eyes. “Super helpful, thanks.”

Jungkook rolls his eyes right back. “You don’t pay me enough to also be his handler.”

You bite your tongue. Arguing with Jungkook means you’ve already lost the war. Not worth it. But it still eases your worries a bit that he doesn’t know any more than you do. That Namjoon hadn’t only texted him to say why he was running late because he didn’t want to—or couldn’t—talk to you.

So you wait. And you wait and you wait and you wait. Jungkook lets you talk to people on his dating apps and tells you about his new gym routine until your eyes are glazing over. Orders food delivery for the two of you because he gets hungry after an hour and had already eaten what was left of the snacks before you arrived. Cracks a joke that isn’t really a joke about calling the police, because Namjoon still hasn’t shown up and he hasn’t said anything and none of your texts are showing as delivered.

You’re halfway to hour two when the office door bursts open and Namjoon stumbles through, soaked with sweat and stammering over apologies.

“I am so sor—I broke my phone again so my alarm never went off and then I missed my bus? And apparently they’re not running the regular bus schedule today so the next one was a half-hour wait, but then I…”

You don’t catch the rest, because Namjoon is covered in sweat and breathing heavily and a week ago you could’ve survived this. A week ago you would’ve cracked a joke and handed him a towel and told him to get to work. A week ago you would not have been paralyzed in your seat, transfixed on the sweat rolling down the side of his neck.

You are fucked beyond belief.

Jungkook elbows you in the ribs, bringing you back to reality. “...even paying attention?” You startle, face warming in embarrassment. Namjoon still isn’t looking at you. “This is so sad to watch,” Jungkook mumbles, and thankfully it’s only loud enough for you to hear. “Like some stupid shit you only see in nature documentaries.”

Well, you can’t really argue with that, now can you?

But you’re a professional above all, so you hum an acknowledgment and take your regular seat. Pointedly ignore Jungkook. Wait for Namjoon to assume his position as well, and you’re surprised to see the space in front of him empty. No notes. No script. There’s just… nothing.

“Are you okay?” you ask, gesturing to the space in front of him when he seems confused. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you without a stack of notes in front of you.”

“I forgot them.”

“Don’t think I’ve ever seen you do that, either.”

Your tone is light and airy, not at all accusing or confrontational, but Namjoon’s jaw clenches nonetheless. He scoffs, fires a shitty little, “Were you not paying attention when I was talking about what a horrible fucking morning I’ve had?” at you that makes even Jungkook flinch. A few moments of stunned silence, and then, “Oh fuck, I’m so sorry, that was rude—”

“Yeah, it was,” you agree, and all of a sudden you feel too big for your body. Feel like there are ants beneath your skin, feel like everything is wrong, and you don’t want to be here anymore. “It’s fine. Let’s just—”

Namjoon looks like he wants to argue, but he just sighs and says, “I—yeah, okay.”

This is where Namjoon would usually launch into the intro, a dimpled smile already plastered on his face that’d drop as he discussed another failed first date with that brand of self-deprecation that makes him so endearing. This is where he’d say what have you been up to, Pipe, and you’d try not to groan because how hard could it possibly be to add one more letter, another syllable, but Namjoon seems incapable of it. This is the part that, for three years, has been seamless and easy and instinctual, just two friends having a conversation.

There’s a red light on your microphones that indicates you’re recording. It’s on and it mocks you, because Namjoon is not doing the intro or telling you about a failed date. He doesn’t use that cringey nickname. He doesn’t say anything at all. His mouth opens and shuts and no words come out. What’s worse is that you know exactly why he can’t speak, because you’re thinking about it, too.

“So, uh,” you begin, and Jungkook makes a gagging sound from behind you. “Come here often?”

Namjoon ignores you. “Right, right, the intro…” He sucks in a breath. “Welcome back to another episode of Put Him in the Trash, I’m—”

“Joon—”

“Namjoon, and my co-host here is—”

“Joon, that’s not—”

“Piper. Wait, why are you looking at me like that?”

“That’s not the name of our podcast.”

“Huh?”

“You said Put Him in the Trash.” Namjoon just blinks. “It’s Place Him Gently in the Garbage.”

“Is it? Since when?”

“Since forever?”

He looks at Jungkook, who is hiding behind his hands. “Is she right?”

A beat of silence. “I can’t do this,” he half-shouts, half-whines. “Are you two going to be like this forever? Because if you are, I’m quitting. I’m so serious. I’m gonna quit. I can’t take it anymore. The two of you are insufferable.” Another beat of silence, before Jungkook stands at full height and lords over you and Namjoon. “Forget today. Just go home and try again on Monday. This is so—I’m seriously gonna quit.”

Yoongi comes on Saturday afternoon to pick up Holly.

Yijeong isn’t with him, which is almost disappointing. Now that he’s dating again, you were looking forward to seeing just how awkward it could get with the three of you in the same room, but he looks good. Refreshed. The trip clearly did a world of good for him, and you can’t even bring yourself to crack a joke at his expense.

He, however, has no such hang-ups. “You look like shit.”

“Weird way to say thank you.” You click your tongue and look down at Holly. “Do you see how your father treats me? You should bite him.”

“My son would never. But also, thank you.” He flops onto the sofa. “You do look like shit, though. You wanna talk about it?”

“Not with you, preferably.”

“Oh, gross, is it a dating thing, then?”

“I—no.” You pause. It’s not a dating thing, but you still feel like you’ve got motion sickness whenever you think about it. How would you even begin to explain this to Yoongi, anyway? Someone wrote a porn fic about me and Namjoon. You remember Namjoon, right? Namjoon, that I’ve known and have been friends with since college. Yeah, that Namjoon. Anyway, someone wrote fanfiction about us having sex, and it fucked me up so bad I can no longer be in the same room as him.

No fucking way.

“You look like you’re holding in a fart.”

“You know, I’m getting really sick of you. Did you just come here to insult me?”

He snorts, but his smirk dissipates a few seconds later, a familiar seriousness filling the void. “We’re okay, right? Was the Yijeong thing too soon?”

“No,” you answer immediately, leaning over to flick him on the forehead. “We’re fine, and if you’re happy, then I’m happy for you.” He still looks doubtful. “You want me to start singing ‘I Will Always Love You’ or something? It’s just… weird work stuff.”

“Depends. Are you singing the Dolly Parton or Whitney version? And real work or podcast work?”

“Podcast work, and obviously the Whitney version.”

Yoongi seems surprised by this, eyebrows disappearing beneath his fringe. “Like, the podcast with Namjoon?” He presses his tongue into the fat of his cheek when you nod your head. “Not gonna lie, I didn’t think that was possible.”

“Like I said, it’s weird. It wasn’t, like, an argument or anything.”

“How weird?”

“You’re so fake, Min Yoongi. You act like you’re so distinguished and above drama, but really you’re just as hungry for gossip as the rest of us.”

He shrugs. “I’m not denying it.”

God help you, you’re going to rip off the band-aid. “Someone… Jesus, this is so embarrassing. Someone… wrote? Fanfiction? About us.”

“About you and Namjoon?”

“Yeah.”

“Oh my god—”

“About us… uh. Having sex? Specifically.”

“Oh my god—”

“Jungkook found it and thought it’d be funny if we read it for an episode.”

“Oh my god?”

“So we did? And it was really weird, which I expected, because I’ve known Namjoon for a long time, and I never, ever thought about having sex with him because we were together and me and Namjoon are friends, so yeah, it was fucking weird. But now… I don’t know. I can’t stop thinking about it? And now we can’t even be in the same room as one another.” Yoongi is a concerning shade of red. “So our show is gonna get canceled, because we can only release b-side stuff for so long until people realize something’s up, and it was Namjoon’s podcast to begin with so obviously I’ll get fired—”

“Oh my god, you want to fuck Namjoon.”

Yoongi sounds like a strangled cat when he says this, which does not help the way you feel like you’ve been hit square in the face with a frying pan. “No,” you argue, though it sounds more like a question. You do not want to fuck Namjoon. “No, no. No. It’s just because it was weird.”

“Did you forget I dated you for six years? I know what you look like when you want to fuck someone.”

“You’re telling me you wouldn’t be weird if someone wrote fanfiction about you fucking your friend?”

“Not if I didn’t actually want to fuck them, no.”

“You’re a liar. Get your dog and get out of my apartment.”

Yoongi laughs as he stands. Pats you on the back in the most condescending way you’ve ever had someone pat you on the back. “Let me know how it goes. No need to give me credit for your moment of horny clarity.”

Min Yoongi is a bastard.

Unfortunately, as you come to find out, he’s also a correct bastard.

You want to fuck Namjoon.

Which is… not great, you have to admit, considering he can barely stand to be around you, so you take another cold shower and decide you’re going to take this to your grave. You’re going to spend the rest of the weekend getting your shit together, and you’re going to show up on Monday and be a consummate professional. You’re going to look at Namjoon and say, ha ha, isn’t it so funny someone thought we would have sex? I don’t think about it at all because I am so cool and normal about it.

You’ve got it all planned out. You’re going to show up fifteen minutes early with your own box of pastries. You’re going to look nice, if not a little pretentious—maybe a nice sweater. You’re going to be prepared with notes of your own. You might even be nice to the villain of the week so Namjoon doesn’t have to pinch the bridge of his nose and sigh at you.

And then someone knocks on your door.

You find Namjoon on the other side, and all your plans immediately go to shit.

Has he always been this tall? You can’t remember. You can’t remember a lot of things, including how to speak, because Yoongi had launched you into a crisis of epic proportions and now here’s the source of it, standing right in front of you. With all of his… height. And thighs. And that heady, musky cologne he always wears, that you can still smell now even though there’s an unfortunate amount of distance between you.

“Uh, hi.”

You blink. “Hi,” you parrot, and it’s a little insulting how one single word seems to have sucked up all of your brainpower. “Namjoon,” you tack on, not awkward at all.

“Sorry to just show up,” he says, scratching at the back of his neck. Very bad idea; makes his biceps bulge. You barely swallow your whimper. “It’s just—my phone’s still broken, and it felt bad leaving things how we did? So I was hoping we could talk.”

Talk. Namjoon wants to talk to you. Normally: not a problem. Currently: big problem. You manage a nod, open the door wider to let him in, and you don’t think about how jarring it is to have Namjoon in your space. You don’t think about how your legs feel like jelly all of a sudden, or what it’d be like if Namjoon bent you over the couch, or the kitchen counter, or the—

You cough. “Do you want anything to drink?”

“Oh, sure. Maybe just some water if you have it.”

If you have it. What kind of person doesn’t have water? But you tell him to make himself comfortable and get him some anyway, and you mull too long over the size of the glass. Ultimately decide on a smaller one, because if things get unbearably awkward you can excuse yourself to the kitchen to get more.

“I haven’t been here in a while,” Namjoon says from the living room, and when you look up he’s sorting through a stack of books near the window. Some he’d lent you months ago, notes jotted in the corners, sticky notes in the shape of sea animals on important pages. “You ever wind up reading this?”

The Idiot. Namjoon had raved about it when he was in the midst of his 19th century Russian phase, right after he’d read a bunch of Tolstoy and Pushkin. You shake your head—though, judging from the title, you wonder if someone hadn’t written your biography.

“It’s good. If you have the time, you should definitely give it a shot.”

“Yeah, of course,” you say, handing over his water. You take a seat in an armchair, pull your knees to your chest. Namjoon’s still looking through your books, isn’t looking at you, so it feels safe to say, “You wanted to talk?”

“Yeah.” He moves to sit on the floor, massive thighs spreading until he’s comfortable. Thank god he can’t see the look on your face. “I just wanted to make sure we’re alright. Things have felt pretty weird since we filmed the, uh.” He coughs. “Thing.”

“Right, yeah.” You realize he’s waiting for an answer, and you offer up a very rushed, “We’re fine, Joon.”

“Are you sure?”

Yeah, you’re sure: sure you absolutely cannot be having this conversation in the safety and sanctity of your own home. It’s tainted now, contaminated by all your uncontrolled horny thoughts about the man in front of you. You’ll have to fumigate. Might have to pick up and move, actually, or call an exorcist.

“I’m sure,” you assure him. “The… thing… was weird, but it’s fine. Temporary.”

“Do you think we shouldn’t have done it?”

That’s the million-dollar question, isn’t it? Because, in isolation, reading a porn fic about yourselves wasn’t a big deal. No one got hurt. Everyone who needed to be consulted was consulted. The episode made the two of you a lot of money, and Jungkook even promised to send some of it to the author, so your bases are beyond covered.

So, should you have done it? There wasn’t a good enough reason not to, because the story itself was never the problem.

The problem is staring you right in the face. It’s sitting on your floor, a book cracked in half at the spine and forgotten in his lap. The problem is looking at you like you hold all the answers to the universe’s secrets, and it’s no small thing to be looked at like that. The problem is that Namjoon is looking at you like that from across the room but you’re wondering what it’d look like from on top of you.

The problem is that you’ve co-hosted a podcast with Namjoon for three years, have known him even longer, and you’ve just realized today that you want to have sex with him.

And you can’t say that, can you, because Namjoon came here to fix things which really does not lend itself to a hookup. Namjoon cares about your friendship and your working relationship so much he came here to try and salvage it, so you’re going to keep your mouth shut. You’re going to say, “I think it’s okay that we did,” and leave it at that. Because it is okay.

Because you’re the problem.

It feels like a small victory when Namjoon sags in relief. When he exhales and says, “Okay, good, because I think so, too.”

“It made us a lot of money,” you tack on.

Namjoon’s eyes widen as he laughs. “Right? Like, that was almost too much money. Just to watch us read porn?”

“About ourselves. I think that was the selling point.”

He stands. You do, too. “Never thought I’d be doing that,” he says, returning the book to where it belongs. “Definitely the most embarrassing thing I’ve done for money.”

“Being a man with a podcast wasn’t embarrassing enough?”

He snorts. Gets closer to the door. “Hey now.” You’re going to survive this. “Thanks for entertaining me, by the way. For a second there I was really worried we’d fucked it all up.”

Just the ending. Just one more thing to say and you’ll be done with this, and then you can take your third cold shower in recent memory and triple text Yoongi with a full-fledged mental breakdown. Maybe he’ll bring Holly back and you can register him as your emotional support animal.

And Namjoon must sense the awkwardness that’s crept back in, because he tries to cover it with a joke. Says, “Haaa, like you’d actually piss on me, right?”

Except it sounds like he’s got a mouth full of marbles.

It’s no wonder you mishear him.

Because he says like you’d actually piss on me but you hear like you’d actually kiss me, and there isn’t a universe that exists in which the following makes sense: you, stunned into silence in the doorframe, Namjoon saying his goodbyes, you thinking fuck it, last chance and saying, “Yeah, I’d kiss you.”

Namjoon stops dead in his tracks. “What?”

Your entire body is on fire. “Is, uh. Is that not what you said?”

“I don’t think it matters anymore what I said.”

“I’d argue that it does, for the sake of my digni—”

“You’d kiss me?” Namjoon… doesn’t look put off of the idea, which is surely a point in your favor. Interesting to note that his diction is crystal clear, now. Bastard. “You’d kiss me right now?”

There’s also no explanation for the way you say: “It’s only been an option for ten seconds and you’re already begging for it?”

You’d say there’s no explanation for the way Namjoon’s jaw clenches, the way he repeats I don’t beg for anything, but maybe the simple fact is: the two of you want to fuck each other. And, judging from the way Namjoon crowds your space, keeps dropping his gaze to your mouth, it seems very likely to happen.

All that fixating you’d done on Namjoon’s thighs was wasted, you think, as you take in the shape of his mouth. His lips. The way his tongue darts out to run along the bottom at the last second before he reaches out, tilts your head up, and finally presses his mouth to yours.

And you’ve got to laugh, because no piece of written fiction could ever accurately portray what it feels like. How soft his lips are. The way he touches you—gentle, but still dominant enough to have you moving the way he wants, have you backing up into your apartment so he can smile against your mouth as he closes the door behind him.

No piece of fiction would get it right, the way you’re unsteady on your feet, breathless at the way Namjoon’s kissing you. How he only breaks apart long enough to ask where do you want me in that throaty, deep voice of his. How you’re so overwhelmed you can’t decide: unsure if you want to waste the time it’d take to get to your bedroom, but if it’s only going to happen once, wanting to make it count.

So you decide to risk it. Plant your hands in the middle of his exceptionally broad chest and push him in the direction of the hallway, and if the two of you can’t wait, can’t control yourselves, well.

But the story had gotten one thing right: Namjoon does kiss like a branding iron, hot and greedy. Namjoon kisses you like there’s nothing else he wants to do in this lifetime, and it makes you dizzy. Has you off-kilter, stumbling into the wall as you try to remember where the fuck your bedroom is and why it’s so far. Just like the fictional version of you, you also moan when he licks into your mouth.

“Should I do it the way we did in the fic?” Namjoon asks as the two of you cross the threshold into your bedroom, a cheeky grin on his face. “Do it like this?” he questions, pushing you gently until you’re on the back in the middle of your bed, chest heaving as you lift your head to look at him.

Namjoon is so, so big from where you lay, just hovering at the foot of your bed. Cheeks ruddy, bulge prominent. “What’d you say you wanted?”

Takes a second to remember how to breathe, let alone what you’d read. What do you want, Namjoon had asked, right before he’d sank to his knees in front of you. “Whatever you’re willing to give,” you answer.

Namjoon smiles. Puts one knee on the bed, and the way it dips beneath his weight is unsettling. Why does he have to be so fucking large. “That’s right, baby.” Christ, you think, because there’s another thing that fic had gotten right. No one on earth would be immune to Namjoon calling them baby in that tone of voice.

The riposte biting at the back of your teeth gets swallowed whole as Namjoon grabs your ankles and drags you to the edge of the bed. “May I?” he asks, hands poised above the waistline of your leggings. You nod, and Namjoon drags down your underwear with them. “Fuck, look at you,” he groans, awe creeping into the edge of his words.

“You want me to do it the same way? Hm? You’re being awfully quiet; thought you were giving me shit about being the one in charge,” he chides.

Because you’re short-circuiting. Namjoon’s on his knees, just like you’d envisioned, and his mouth is dangerously close to your cunt. How can you be expected to think and speak under these conditions? But if Namjoon can find the brainpower to be a bastard, so can you, because what you’d read and the way he’d reacted can both never be forgotten. So you thread your hands into his hair and pull. The resulting moan is enough to sustain you for years.

“Are you gonna keep running your mouth, or are you gonna make me come on it?”

He blinks. “Jesus Christ.”

There’s precedent. Fictional Namjoon ate you out like a man starved, like he couldn’t get enough. Had fictional you writhing and insatiable, so it’s a lot to live up to, but it doesn’t deter him in the slightest. He hesitates for only a second, giving you one last chance to back out before the two of you set every last boundary on fire, and then he’s settling between your thighs and making you see stars.

Now you know what it’s like. Now you don’t have to rely on fiction, and it doesn’t matter because it’d never compare to the way Namjoon feels as he works to bring you to your ruin. The way he flattens his tongue to lick long, thick stripes; the way his lips suction around your clit. The way it feels when he groans against your core. The way he says, “Fuck, you do taste good,” like that’s a completely normal thing to say. Like he doesn’t know exactly what he’s doing to you.

But you need more and Namjoon knows it. His mouth doesn’t leave your cunt for a second, but his fingers find your mouth, so you put on a show. Wrap your lips around them, suck on them the way he’s doing to you, make sure they’re slick. Namjoon groans again, doubles his efforts. Slides one thick finger inside of you and barely lets you adjust before he’s adding a second.

In an embarrassingly short amount of time, Namjoon has you unraveling. Presses incessantly on a spot that has your vision whiting out. Has you trembling, a little panicked as you say, “Joon, fuck—Namjoon, wait—” as it builds and builds and builds.

You might black out for a second, because you come to and Namjoon looks… stunned. He looks like he can’t believe any of what just happened, and you blink a few times, try to come back into your body, and when you regain enough consciousness, you’re extremely aware of the large wet patch beneath you.

“Um—”

“Holy shit.”

“Namjoon, that’s not—that’s embarrassing—can you grab a—”

He shuts you up with a kiss. Presses the taste of you into your skin, and all those silly protests die in your throat, because if Namjoon was needy before, he’s desperate now. Covers your body with his own, hips dipping down low enough to press his erection into the juncture of your thigh, and the weight of him is delicious. Has you fisting the fabric of his t-shirt to pull him closer, has you pulling it over his head, his pants following. Has your hands skimming down every thick part of his body until you reach his cock, hard and aching and slick with pre-cum.

“I need to suck you off later,” you say, done with overthinking. Time to just be honest, and Kim Namjoon has a dick you need to feel down your throat. “Remind me.”

He whines, thrusts into your hand a little harder. “How could I forget that?”

“Don’t know. Didn’t know if this would be the only time,” you answer. “Did you bring a condom?” Namjoon nods, fetches one from his wallet and rolls it on.

He hovers above you again. Looks nervous, all of a sudden, like he can’t tell his lefts from his rights. All out of sorts. You’re about to tell him it’s fine, you don’t have to do anything he doesn’t want to, don’t have to do anything at all, when he says, “It doesn’t have to be.” You just stare. “The only time.”

There’s a conversation to be had. You know that. Both of you clearly have feelings you need to talk about and sort out, but you reckon they can wait. They’ll still be there in the afterglow, in the morning. So you nod, say okay, Joon, and kiss away the insecurities that still linger.

You think about the fic. Think maybe Namjoon would appreciate it if you cracked a stupid joke, just like he’d tried to do earlier. “Has anyone ever called your cock stupid?”

He laughs, breath fanning against your skin. “No. Wanna try it and see what happens?”

Might as well. You try to remember the exaggerated tone of voice you’d used. Repeat the line—“Do you even know what to do with that big, stupid cock?”—and wait.

There’s a beat of silence, and then—

Namjoon swallows thickly. “I, um. Unfortunately, I think that really works for me.” You laugh. Pull him closer. Wrap your legs around his waist as he starts to move against you. Has jokes of his own. “Please. Please let me fuck you.”

You roll your eyes, laugh tapering into a giggle. “Do you know how?” Namjoon nods, looking all too much like a puppy eager to please its owner. “Do you promise?” He nods again. “Okay. Okay, come here.”

You expect him to move fast; expect the first time to be frenzied and a little awkward. It isn’t. Namjoon lines himself up and pushes the smallest bit inside, and then he’s leaning down to kiss you. Threads your fingers together, squeezes your hand. Pushes further inside and mumbles praise just beneath your ear.

It’s dizzying, the amount of care Namjoon handles you with. How soft he is. Does nothing to ease the discomfort of the stretch, the overwhelming fullness, but he talks you through it. Tells you how good you feel, how beautiful you look. Spills a lot of words you’d probably be embarrassed to hear and he’d be embarrassed to say if this was any other time, but in the heat of the moment it all just works to unravel you faster.

He bottoms out. “Okay?” he asks, and you’re rewarded with a dimpled smile when you say you are. Namjoon is a devastating kind of beautiful.

But, as he gives you time to adjust and you give him the all-clear, he also fucks like a demon. What once was hand-holding is now your wrists pinned to the bed, your body caged beneath him as he rolls his hips at a pace that has your eyes rolling back into your head. You’ve been deceived. Lured into a false sense of security.

It’s almost a shame this isn’t being recorded, because you want to memorize all the sounds Namjoon’s making. Want to hear them for the rest of your life. Don’t want anyone else to be the reason he sounds like this, and as he ups his pace and presses his lips to your neck, you don’t want to sound like this because of anyone else, either.

Maybe one of those times in the future, you can talk him into it.

Namjoon reaches down, rubs circles into your clit. Every time you think you might be close, he pulls his hand away, smiles like the devil. You let him have his fun for a while, let him think you’re keen to lie back and take it, and then you tighten your legs around his waist and flip him onto his back.

He doesn’t think it’s very funny. Looks up at you all bewildered. “What’re you—”

“You were taking too long,” you snark. “Figured I’d take matters into my own hands.”

“Yeah? Shit,” he says as you begin to move. “Fuck, baby, like that. Ride me just like that.”

You do. Don’t change a thing, because Namjoon’s cock is long and thick enough to hit exactly where you need it to. You can feel yourself clenching, feel yourself getting wetter, and the sight of Namjoon beneath you does nothing to stave off the inevitable. He looks even better than you’d imagined: skin flushed, eyes squeezed shut, head thrown back, sweat-slick. You want to make him cry. Want to give him the entire world. You will.

Namjoon thrusts at the same time you roll your hips, and that’s what does it. Has you crying out, has stars flashing behind your eyelids. Has you saying fuck, fuck, fuck as he drives you over the edge for the second time. Has you on the brink of oversensitive as he thrusts a few more times to chase his own end, almost delirious at the way Namjoon moans as he spills into the condom.

Has you swooning, just a bit, at the dopey way Namjoon smiles at you, eyes half-lidded and crinkled at the corners.

“Was that okay?”

You snort. “Yeah, I’d say it was decent.”

“Maybe next time you could pee on me,” he jokes.

You whack him on the chest. “Sure. Or we could record it.”

Has you a little shocked at the way his cock twitches inside of you at the mention of it.

On Monday, you don’t wear a pretentious sweater.

When you stroll in, Jungkook’s already got the best donut shoved halfway into his mouth because he’s a shithead. He eyes you warily, probably hoping with all his hope that you spent the weekend finding God and getting your shit together.

And then he realizes you’ve got on Namjoon’s hoodie and he nearly chokes to death.

“What the fuck are you wearing—”

Namjoon appears at that very moment, and it’s so hard not to take credit for the way he’s glowing, the dazed smile on his face. But Jungkook notices, because Jungkook notices everything, and his gaze darts between the two of you: your hoodie, Namjoon’s face, your face. He opens his mouth, something inappropriate bound to spill out, but Namjoon beats him to the punch. “Ready?” he asks you, and you nod.

It’s seamless.

No hiccups, no awkward stuttering. Namjoon gets through the intro without a hitch, and it feels exactly like it used to. Just two friends having a conversation. It’s obvious Jungkook still wants to say something, but after suffering through last week, he stays quiet lest he makes it worse and sends the two of you back to the bad place.

“How was your weekend, Pipe? Do anything fun?” Namjoon rolls his lips, tries not to laugh.

So you play along. “No, not really, just some dog sitting. How about you?”

“Oh, you know me. Had another first date on Saturday.”

“Did you? How’d it go?”

“Perfect.”

It’s a blessing Jungkook isn’t filming this, because your eyebrows raise so far they nearly disappear from your face altogether. There isn’t even a hint of hesitation in Namjoon’s voice, and although you would’ve described it the same way, hearing him say it with such conviction has you a little stunned. “Wow. You gonna see her again?”

“Yeah,” Namjoon says, sharing a private smile with you. “I think I am.”

who the FUCK is namjoon dating Posted by u/pod-shipper 7 minutes ago This has honestly ruined my entire day. I thought all the stories he told about dating were a bit… Like, what kind of guy has a podcast about relationships but can’t seem to be in one? But you could just HEAR it in his voice how much he likes this woman he went on a date with over the weekend and I’m sick to my stomach. (+2195) ↳ bro you and me both 😭 i genuinely thought him and piper had something going on fr (+1302) ↳ Seriously might stop listening because of this! Any woman with self-respect would never let their partner host a podcast with someone they’re obviously in love with. If he gets serious with this woman, Piper will be gone within 6 months, mark my words. (+927) ↳ I wouldn’t worry about it too much! My cousin works at a really nice restaurant in the same city Namjoon lives in, and she said she saw this “date” on Saturday and that it wasn’t anything serious. (+788) ↳ Piper got a cat and Namjoon finally got a second date. Face it, it’s over. (+325) ↳ cannot believe him and piper aren’t dating.. do you think i should delete all my tiktok edits? (+4) ↳ this is unhinged lmfao i thought y’all hated piper? you’re in here bitching abt her being a “misandrist” every week and now ur gonna stop listening bc namjoon isn’t dating her? pick a lane and stay in it (-64)

Thank you so much for reading! I'd love to hear your thoughts, and reblogs/shares are always welcome! I appreciate you very much~ ♡

[hannieehaee]

EUPHORIA

18+ / mdi

summary: you've been inseparable with jungkook from the moment you landed in korea. from the initial language barrier to your group's immense success, you've remained dubbed as an iconic duo. but what will you do when a single moment changes everything between you?

content: idol!jungkook x idol!reader, f2l!jungkook, 8thfemalemember!reader, afab reader, reader is implied to be a foreign member of bts but you can assume all dialogue is supposed to be in korean, pretend this takes place during 2018/19 while they promoted fake love in the u.s, appearances from the other members, pining, miscommunication, dumb insecurities, smut, dry humping, body worship, oral (f receiving), penetrative sex, etc.

wc: 12.5k

a/n: this is a very unrealistic concept but its fanfiction so we're just going to look past that ok!

masterlist | patreon

"That's not how you're supposed to do it."

You sighed, movements halting and your eyes closing in annoyance.

Turning to face the culprit of the comment, you reopen your eyes, ready to snark at the exact person you were expecting.

"Do you have to be the bane of my existence?"

He chucked at that, nodding at you to turn and face the mirror located behind you once more. It was foggy due to the inhuman amount of heavy breathing exchanged in the practice room, but you could still easily make yourself on it. And Jungkook too, of course.

Standing behind you, — with an offensive lack of distance between your bodies — he grabbed onto your arms from behind, helping you position yourself to perfection, even to the exact inch, of the move you were trying to perform. His eyes found yours on the mirror, giving you a short smile before beginning to guide you through the small transition you'd been struggling with.

"See? Like that," he said once finally letting go of you after walking you through it a few times. By the end, you had gotten it as perfectly as your choreographer had described to you a few hours ago.

"Thanks, Kook."

"Thought I was the bane of your existence?", he chuckled as he bent down to collect a water bottle, taking a sip before handing it to you.

You were usually more worried by boy germs than this, but Jungkook proved to be an exception through the past few years.

You swallowed your sip, "Yeah, but I still have manners."

"C'mon, we should head back to the dorms. You've been at this all day. You beat Jimin at hours logged into the practice room this week," it was meant lightheartedly, but it was true. You'd practically been living here for the past few days.

"Where are the guys?", you wondered out loud as you followed him out.

The dorms, as Kook had called them, were really just a small living space located within the building. There were talks of moving onto a larger building within the next couple of years, but for now you were content with your living arrangements. Despite all of you either owning property or having family outside of the company building, you and a few other members usually opted to stay there due to convenience. You and Jungkook were the main ones to do so.

"Well, we technically have the next few days off, so I'm pretty sure they went visit family while they can. We probably won't be back in Korea for a while after promotions start."

It was true. You were soon due to head to America to promote your newest comeback. This was the first time you'd be taking promotions out of Asia and into the west, which made all of you incredibly anxious. As the most fluent English speaker in the group, the task of being the group's representative should've fallen on you, but luckily Joon had decided he'd be taking the brunt of it for you.

Still, you were terrified to open yourselves up for a way bigger audience.

"You good?" Kook interrupted your thoughts.

"Yeah, Kook. Don't worry about it."

The two of you headed over to the elevators, pressing the button leading you to the floor where your rooms were located. It was likely no one else was in the building at this time — holy shit, was it really 3am? — meaning that you and Kook would likely get some well-deserved rest in the privacy of the dorms.

That was one of the few nice parts of belonging to what once was a very small company. You had no sibling groups as of yet, which kind of made you own the place (or at least that's how Taehyung would put it sometimes). Late at night, it was just you and your group mates with the occasional presence of staff. Though more commonly, it was just you and Kook opting to stay together into the depths of the night.

"Nervous about flying to the U.S?", he voiced when the metal doors closed in front of you, caging you in with your friend.

"Maybe. You're not?"

He shrugged, "It's just like any other performance. You should be the least nervous. You speak English. You already know what America's like."

"Me? I'm the only girl in the group. I'm gonna stand out like a sore thumb," you whined, earning a chuckle from him.

It was a rare situation, being a girl in a group full of men. Other co-ed groups existed within Kpop, but they usually held a better boy-to-girl ratio.

But this wasn't really the reason you were nervous.

Opening yourselves up to an entire new audience within a mere five years since debut was an entire new battle you'd have to face. Worst of all was that no other Kpop group had ever truly promoted in the west before now. You were given accolades as trailblazers, but at what cost?

"Hey," Jungkook called your attention again, gesturing you to follow him into the hallway that would lead you to your room, "C'mon, let's find something to take your mind off of this."

Leading you into his room rather than yours, he sat you on his couch as he went back out to peruse the kitchen of any food he could get for the two of you for an impromptu night indulging yourselves. You relaxed as you waited, appreciative of Jungkook immediately noticing your lack of ease and working towards getting you cooled down again.

He always did have a way of being in tune with your emotions that no one else did.

His room was spacious and tidier than the average for a man in his early 20's. It was common for you to spend time here rather than in your own room. You had always been one to wander in search of your bandmates, and Jungkook just so happened to be the most receptive to it of them all.

The click clank of bottles bumping into each other was your first indicator of his return, making you look up from the couch, unable to withhold a smile when you saw him balancing various bottles of soju in his arms while also attempting to carry a few packets of spicy ramen.

Getting up to help him, you aided him in setting down all his snacks on the coffee table, moving aside any remote and controller that was in the way. Your usual set up was established then, as it had countless times before. It consisted of you and Kook on his old couch (that he refused to replace from the old days in which you could barely afford any luxuries) with a variety of alcohol and snacks accompanying you through the night.

He took a seat on the floor while you remained on the couch. It was common for him. Something about being at optimal proximity to the food on the table.

"We've got two more nights left in Korea. What do you wanna do to spend the time? And no, practicing isn't allowed," he interrupted you before you could respond.

You huffed, shoulders slacking before going back to their usual posture, "Well, then I guess just this."

"Just this? My dorm and some soju?"

"Yep. We're going to be overwhelmed by people and schedules as soon as we leave Korea. Might as well enjoy the quiet alone time," you reasoned.

Jungkook hummed in pensiveness, "Does it really count as alone time if it's together?"

"I like my alone time better when I'm with you," was your response.

And you meant it too. The quiet sometimes became too quiet if Jungkook wasn't around. You'd known him since you were 15 and had been unable to imagine an existence without him since.

It was joked around by members and fans alike, that the two of you were attached to the hip. Some people would even call you a dynamic duo due to how often you were together with no distance between you. Of course, you were shipped and speculated as a couple, but that did nothing to deter your friendship.

Had you been a smarter person, you would've noticed Jungkook's bashful smile at your response. But you'd grown so used to his constant company that the idea of anything further than platonic did not compute in your brain. You weren't even sure if you were opposed to it; it was just nonexistent to you. It was as if he'd spawned as your friend one day and you never once stopped to question it.

"Well, let's enjoy it while we can," he finally responded as he handed you a now-opened bottle of soju.

Clanking bottles, you each took a small swing, settling in for a night that you'd likely not spend sleeping. You settled closer to Jungkook after that, letting yourself slide off the couch snd knocking shoulders with him as you took a seat on the softness of the rug under you.

"What do you wanna do to spend your last few nights of freedom?" you asked after some silence.

"I'll do whatever you want," his head fell to your shoulder, "We can just camp in here til they come get us for our flight on Monday."

You hummed in absentminded agreement, sipping at your drink a little more.

Jungkook turned to look at you then, slight bunny smile showing through.

"So, is tonight a blackout drunk night or do you wanna stay up and watch some movies?"

"Hmm. Maybe a mixture?", you suggested.

With a grin, he raised his bottle for yet another clink before taking a drink from it in tandem with you.

~

You spent the next two hours drinking and occasionally eating some of the chips you'd found hidden in Jungkook's secret stash. You'd both been too lazy to cook up the ramen Kook had brought, so you fell victims to drinking on almost empty stomachs. It didn't take long for the two of you to become tipsy.

Not fully drunk, yet very much loose and relaxed, the two of you became lethargic versions of yourselves. You lounged against one another, with any distance becoming nonexistent as you babbled about whatever came to mind.

The two of you discussed worries about the upcoming comeback, your feelings regarding your arrival to the U.S., gossip about mutual friends, and anything that could possibly come up. It went on until the point of exhaustion, though neither of you seemed to want to call it a night.

The clock sat at 6 with some change, but you'd not once gone to sleep to start the new day. You'd talked and laughed through it, forgetting anything else surrounding your life and simply existing with your best friend.

It was probably the most at ease you'd ever felt with Jungkook, and that was really saying a lot.

"Do you ever think about the future?", he asked after an extended period of comfortable silence.

"What future do you mean?"

"After being idols and all. Where do you see yourself?", your head was laying on his shoulder, but he still turned to look at you as he asked, never one to care for lack of personal space.

"I don't know," you responded truthfully, "Never really thought about it. You?"

"I, uh," he shuffled awkwardly a bit, "I'd like to be married, maybe. I always wanted to give my parents grandchildren."

You couldn't help but smile at the thought. Mini Jungkooks running around while the Main Jungkook chased them around. It was easy to picture. He'd always been good with kids.

"That'd be nice," you hummed, "What's got you thinking about that right now? You're only 21."

"Not sure, just ... I don't know, it's dumb, I guess."

"It's not dumb," you reassured, "What were you going to say?"

He hesitated for a moment before answering, but you didn't push.

"I've just never been in a serious relationship. I'm almost 22 and most guys my age have already been in a relationship. Can we even do that? Look at the rest of the guys, none of them have any thoughts on settling down. And I know a few of them would like to someday," he found himself ranting, "I just ... I've always had that childish idea of romance and .. it's something I really want. But I don't think anyone would be willing to put up with this life just to be with me," he sighed, "So it'll either happen when I'm old and dried up, or not at all."

You sat up a bit, turning your head to face him. Your proximity could've been questionable to others, but it was just a regular Tuesday for the two of you. Space was just an unheard concept between you.

"Kook, you know that's not true. Any girl would kill to be with you, you have to know that."

You knew damn well it was true. It'd gotten to the point where a few staff members had to be let go through the past few years, having somehow been betted by the company when their only goal was proximity to him. Even at some point you'd had to cut off friendships that merely used you to get to him.

But you understood. It was Jungkook, after all. Anyone who didn't want him would be an idiot.

"I can count all my serious relationships with zero hands, Y/N. And it's not like it matters anyways. The girl I like wouldn't even look my way anyway," he had whispered the last part, looking away from you and sighing.

"You like someone? Why didn't you tell me?"

You were admittedly caught off guard. You'd known about every single one of Jungkook's crushes and relationships since you'd met. Hell, if he merely found a person pretty, you'd be the first to know about it. What made this one different? And what made it so important to him to have him mourn a relationship he felt he'd never even get to have?

He shrugged, "Makes me feel like a loser, I guess. Not like I wanna parade around telling everyone about the perfect girl for me not even giving me the time of day. It doesn't matter. It'd never work," he shrugged sadly.

That sounded ridiculous to you. Who could possibly not want him? Maybe it was the alcohol, but the thought made you unreasonably annoyed. If she didn't adore him as he deserved, then she sure as hell wasn't deserving of the tiniest bit of his attention.

"Kook, look at me," he obeyed, though lethargically, clearly hesitant in doing so, "Anyone who's not in love with you is a fucking idiot. You're so amazing and so nice and funny and talented and handsome. Anyone would kill to have a guy like you even look their way. God, I'd kill for someone like you."

It was the classic speech you'd give any lovesick friend, but you truly did mean it. Jungkook had always been perfect in your eyes. Sure, you teased and prodded at him whenever possible, but he was an adonis with a heart of gold. What else could a person want from a boyfriend? God, and the mere thought that he felt like he was lacking, like he'd never be able to have the family and the love he always wanted? It made you so incredibly–

Your internal monologue was never completed. Maybe they were just drunken rambles meant for yourself. Perhaps they were a little telling, showing you thoughts about Jungkook you hadn't realized you were so defensive about. But you didn't have time to really internalize that idea before your mouth was interrupted by something that weren't words.

A sigh was released against your lips the very moment Jungkook's connected to your own. It was a flat pressing of lips at first, but it was followed by a shy molding of his lips around your bottom one, a soft peck released against it before he attempted to keep it going.

You were too in shock to move, simply sitting there with your eyes scrunched shut at the sudden act from Jungkook. Without thinking about it, you let your lips relax after a few seconds, returning the kiss in a similarly shy fashion. This was met by an almost inaudible moan from Jungkook along with a harsher pressing of lips.

Suddenly, the smacking of lips filled the room. Your bodies readjusted on the floor for better access to each other and, before you knew it, you were dragged onto his lap with your hands wrapped around his shoulders and his on your waist.

Everything in you went into the kiss, making you completely lose any reason within you as you shamelessly made out with your best friend.

Jungkook didn't seem to mind the sudden shift between the two of you. On the contrary, his moans and sighs of satisfaction gave you the opposite idea. He was thriving for it, attempting to pull you impossibly closer as his tongue explored your mouth.

Once you were finally out of breath, you pulled away, heavy breath interrupted by a few insistent pecks pressed against your lips in an attempt to prolongue the kiss. This made you let out a breathless chuckle, entertaining him for a bit before actually pulling away.

"Mm, no, not yet," he huffed, lips traveling from your cheek to your jaw and eventually landing on your neck, "Let me just ..."

He trailed off after that, hands pressing harshly into your waist to mold you against him so he could get better access to you. His teeth nipped at your skin, sucking at it warmly and then licking coolness into it, ensuring to enjoy you as much as possible. In exchange, you let him do whatever he wanted to you. Your mind was too fuzzy to understand what was going on. The two of you were too lost in each other to think.

Then came even more fuzziness.

Jungkook's hands traveled to your hips, enveloping as much as he could in order to push you up against him. The first time made you both gasp, completely drunk on the barely-there friction. But the first time was followed by the second and the third, continuously increasing in intensity as you humped against each other like animals.

His mouth eventually came to cover yours again, slightly muffling your shared moans of pleasure as your middles met time and time again.

There was a desperation behind your actions. Every single sound you made was met by either a whine or a cry from Jungkook, clearly incredibly affected by you and in turn making you even a bigger mess for him.

"K-kook ..."

"Shhh, just. Fuck, I just- I need this," he sighed before sticking his tongue in your mouth yet again, swallowing every sound that left you.

"N-no, just ... Want more. Please?"

It wasn't like you to beg, but your body simply couldn't ignore the hardness under you. Everything about him in that moment drove you crazy, making you dizzy with desire as the feeling took over you.

Never had you felt like this. Like you'd die if he stopped touching you. Like if you didn't let him take you however he wanted, you'd seize to function.

You'd never done this before, and Jungkook knew this. He wasn't too far experienced, but you knew he had the upper hand here. Except you didn't care. You loved Jungkook and the thought of him being the one you crossed this threshold with made the most sense to you. Your mind and body were screaming at you to let him take you, and you were ready to follow through.

Your love for Jungkook had never felt like this before. It had never manifested in a romantic nor physical way, but these were thoughts you'd put aside for now. This was what you wanted. You were sure.

Your words made him slowly come to a halt, fingers digging into your hips as his breath became even heavier than before.

"You ... Are you sure? I- fuck, I want to, but-"

A kiss interrupted his words. And then another. And then maybe five more. By the time he managed to pull away again, your tongue had made the tour of his mouth a few times over.

"Okay, fuck. Yeah, I- Okay, just ..."

Removing your pants whilst staying on top of him had been a clumsy and shared effort, but the result let you even more empty-headed than before. His hardness was bare and pressing up against the soaked space between your legs.

You hadn't bothered to remove your tops, far too lost in desire to feel a need for it. Consideration for a condom was also put in the back burner (aside from his quick warning of his lack of one followed by your dismissal of it), minds too focused on the urgency to feel each other to truly care about the risks. You were on mandatory birth control and Jungkook wasn't one to sleep around, so the issue was nonexistent to you.

"Oh, fuck. You're so wet," he breathed out when he let his fingers feel around for your readiness.

"Kook, just- just do it. I'm ready, I promise."

He nodded silently, beginning to adjust you so he could lower you onto him. But even knowing what was to come, nothing prepared you for that stretch.

And clearly, he hadn't been prepared for how you'd feel either. Or at least that's the impression his immediate cry of pleasure gave you.

"Oh ... oh, fuck. You feel s-so good, shit," he sighed out, face burying in your neck in defeat.

"K-kookie ..."

"Move, baby. Just like this ... Yeah, fuck, like that ..."

His hands guided you in a mixture of grinding and bouncing, all leading you to a similar fate to his own.

Your face fell against his own neck, crying at the immense pleasure he was giving you. The feeling was like no other. The pressing of dampened skin and the in-measurable level of closeness you felt to Jungkook would've been enough to make you lose your mind, but the added weight of his cock inside you as your clit ground against his pelvis had you rendered boneless above him.

"Mmm, pretty girl ... Such a perfect girl, shit. So fucking good ... what a dream you are," he bit into your shoulder after that, with a muffled whine vibrating into your skin.

Sadly, you couldn't reciprocate such words to him. Not when your mind was mush and unable to process anything other than Jungkook Jungkook Jungkook and the mind-blowing pleasure he was giving you.

"Need you to cum for me, baby. Need ... Need my pretty girl to cum, okay? Let me just ... Y-yeah, shit, that's it. Feel good, huh? So fucking perfect ..."

His hand expertly rubbed at your clit as he leaned further back onto the floor, feet now laid flat so he could begin fucking into you at an increased velocity your brain just couldn't comprehend.

Your cries of his name were embarrassing, but luckily they were mostly drowned out by his kisses, swallowed by his tongue while he occasionally mumbled words of encouragement into your mouth as he coaxed your orgasm out of you.

The perfect harmony of your highs following one another was orgasmic in itself. You had never bothered yourself too much about the lack of sex in your busy life before this, but now you were extra content Jungkook had been your first. There was no way it could've possibly felt like this with anyone but him.

There was some comfortable silence after it all. His warm embrace remained and soft kisses continued to be pressed against your skin. You weren't sure if he continued to offer you loving words for long. Your body didn't withstand too much time conscious after such drain of your energy.

The last thing you remembered before losing consciousness were your own attempts at kissing at the skin of his neck before letting yourself fall asleep against him. You'd reached a level of peace and comfort you never had before, feeling safer than ever as his arms wrapped even tighter against you and his body fell unconscious in a similar manner.

The following morning was immediately filled with intense grogginess. It seemed like your body had kept last night's dizziness but without much memory of how you'd gotten to this point of exhaustion.

You were practically a shell of yourself as you attempted to stretch your limbs without moving from the comfort of the blanket you were currently cocooned in. That's when you suddenly sat up in alarm.

When had you gone to bed? When had you gone to this bed? Because it sure as hell wasn't your own.

And that's when the memories came flooding back.

The first thing you noticed was the absence of the owner of the room, also known as the other participant of last night's events. He was nowhere in sight while you found yourself laid on his bed, far more clothed and clean than you'd been last night. This wasn't your doing, but it was easy to assume that your best friend would be the type of guy to ensure you were cleaned up and safe in bed before such a rendezvous.

The thought made you melt for about five seconds. Up until you remembered you'd now have to deal with the aftermath of it all.

Not only having to face him again, but also figuring out the feelings currently bubbling inside of you — and worst of all, figuring out if those feelings were reciprocated.

But you had to get up at some point. Get up and make your way to the communal area of the dorms where you were sure you'd find the boy you so badly wanted to avoid right now.

Getting up, you realized you were dressed in Jungkook's pajama pants but still donning the sweatshirt you'd had on before. He had preserved your dignity despite having seen you almost naked last night (and fucking you, of course). That was almost the sweetest thing all things considered.

After a quick trip to the adjoined restroom, you tiptoed your way out, scared of bumping into him while also hoping you did.

Peeking out of the doorway, you looked both ways to check for any human presence, finding none before making your way out of the door and into the following room.

"You really don't need to avoid me, you know. I'm not going to jump you or anything."

The sudden voice made you jump, hand coming straight to your heart and gripping at your sweatshirt in shock. You almost fell back, but were caught by a firm body behind you, vibrating in a chuckle at your sudden reaction.

"Dude, announce your presence next time," you huffed, disconnecting yourself from him and facing him.

"Like you did?", he eyed you cockily.

Okay, fair.

"Did you dress me and take me to bed last night?"

This flustered him, causing him to finally break that confident eye contact he'd been torturing you with and looking above you in favor of avoiding your eyes.

"Uh, yeah. I didn't wanna just leave you on the living room floor. Sorry, I-"

"No. Thank you. That was, uh, nice of you."

"Y-yeah, for sure."

A lack of ability to even look into each other's eyes took over the two of you. For two usually confident people, the two of you were acting like two tweens on their first date, which, for be fair, was pretty close to reality.

"I, uh, maybe we could talk about the-"

"Kook! Y/N! Sejin's waiting outside. We have a last minute meeting before tomorrow. You guys have ten minutes or we leave without you!"

The interruption from Namjoon was partially welcomed by you. You didn't really want to face whatever was going on with Jungkook. The loss of your last free day was slightly annoying, but if you could ignore this conversation for a little while longer, you'd take it. Feelings for your best friend were not a can of worms you wanted to open up right now, but specially at such a crucial time in your promotions. Much less did you want to relive the admittedly amazing sex you'd had, it'd just be a distraction.

You turned to Jungkook with a grimace in your face, "Well, guess I should go get ready," you said as you began turning away to go get dressed, only for your hand to be restrained with a soft touch only Jungkook could manage.

"Hey ... But we'll talk later, right? When we land in America?"

His eyes were hopeful, which only made you feel like even more of a terrible person. It wasn't like you actually wanted to avoid him, but you needed to figure out how to progress after such a sudden development in your ... friendship.

You nodded lightheartedly before finally leaving. Your mind was still going a mile a minute, so you didn't really process the face of disappointment Jungkook offered you in return, simply leaving equally as numb.

Two days had passed.

Somehow, for the first time in the many years you'd known Jungkook, you hadn't spoken to him in two days.

It didn't matter what was going on in your lives, whether it be personal or career wise, you'd never gone further than a few hours without speaking. Sleeping with your best friend could have that effect on a relationship, you guessed.

You took all blame for this. It wasn't as if Jungkook hadn't tried. The poor boy had attempted to get you alone, maybe hash things out a bit, but you kept avoiding him. Even when he tried to interact with you as you did before, you'd create distance between you, suddenly seeking out another one of your members in favor of not having to face Jungkook.

If you were hurt by Jungkook's face of disappointment every time you ran away from him, you couldn't imagine how he felt. It had gotten to a point where Jimin and Taehyung would give you weird looks, wondering why Jungkook's emotional-support-bestie wasn't attached to his hip as per usual.

And it had only been two days. It was a testament to how close you were. How out of character it was for the two of you to not be orbiting one another at all times.

So, your first day in the United States had quickly come and gone with no trace of any resolution between you and Jungkook.

It wasn't your first time in the country, but the thought of promoting overseas for the first time still made your fight or flight response malfunction. You felt your body freeze at knowing that you were about to grow bigger than you ever had before. Your sudden popularity after DNA's release had been unexpected, and it would only amplify after all the talk shows and events your company had booked for this comeback.

Jungkook's presence was usually all you needed to calm yourself down. You knew this. It had been infallible in the past five years since your debut. But it was the last thing you could have at the moment. And you blamed yourself.

The memories of your night together invaded you constantly. Jungkook was all you could think about. The way he looked at you before kissing you, as if you were the entire world and more. The softness of his hands on your skin, running through it in such a way that left traces of his touch. The sounds he made when you shared yourself with him at the basest of levels.

These thoughts stole all your focus time and time again. It happened on the plane, while speaking with unsuspecting staff, during dance practice, whilst you recorded content for armys. And it specially happened when Jungkook was nearby. Simply hearing his voice (even when it wasn't directed at you) was enough to bring you back. Even standing next to him during choreo had your skin burning up.

But it wasn't just your body begging for a repeat of that night. Your mind was a whirlwind of thoughts of him. Jungkook was all you wanted and needed, in all ways imaginable.

It was ridiculous, really. How had you not realized this earlier? Why did it take that night for your feelings to come to surface? Why the hell did you even sleep with him in the first place?

Could you take it back, you would never dare. The repercussions of it had you dealing with various mental breakdowns per day, but the moment you shared was not something you could ever convince yourself to give away.

You were currently lacking your main support system, your best friend, but your stupid mind was still somewhat at ease with it. You held hope that things would work themselves out somehow, even if you were terrified to open that can of worms.

Jungkook wasn't one to sleep around, which made the other night's events even more strange. His idea of love had always been quite clear — and extremely romantic, if you said so yourself. He was the clearest example of a hopeless romantic. When he loved, he put every ounce of himself into it, and then some.

But you knew that this was a side of him you would never get to see, and that thought broke you. That was why you cowardly refused to even meet his gaze.

If you were going to get your heart broken, you needed time to internalize what had happened. You needed to process it and get over it, turning it into one of the many mundane memories between you and Jungkook.

Sure, Jungkook was sad at your dismissals, but he'd be fine in the long run. This had been a heartbroken thirst for him, nothing more. Thoughts of his hopeless crush, mixed by the liquor, were the only reason why he ever looked at you with those eyes you wished to forget, but knew you never would.

It hadn't meant anything to him. All he wanted to do was get you alone so he could apologize and clear the air, but you knew that as gentle as Jungkook could be, nothing he could say would prevent your heart from plummeting.

So, maybe you were being selfish, but you knew your friendship would survive this. Your heart was who wouldn't.

~

"You're not getting it. Look, it's like this," Hobi repeated for the nth time — you'd lost count.

After giving you a slow demonstration of the moves in question, he turned back to you with a worried look on his face.

"What's wrong, baby? You're not usually this unfocused," he pouted at you, taking in the exhaustion in your face.

It was now day four in Los Angeles.

You had about five performances at various late night shows, including a debut of Fake Love at the BBMA's stage later this week. There were only a few days allotted for rehearsals before the endless performances and promotion schedules began. The stakes were incredibly high, and you were fucking everything up.

"It's nothing, Hobi. Don't worry about it."

You continued to look down, not wanting to look into his eyes because you knew it'd just break you down enough to seek advice for him. You were never one to brush up your members when they'd check on you. This, however, was an extremely mentally draining situation that you had to deal with on your own.

"What about him?"

Your face finally turned to his, finding him looking past you. You didn't need to turn around to know who he was talking about, but you still did. Upon turning, you found a very forlorn Jungkook on the opposite side of the room, his usual energy lacking as he attempted to coordinate with Jimin's moves.

If there was ever a rare sight, it was that of Jungkook not giving it his all. Whether it be practice or an award show, Jungkook is as always the epitome of an idol. Performing was his heart and soul, which made your current sight even more worrisome.

Your avoidance of him was getting to him, but you just couldn't make yourself face him. By now, he'd stopped even trying to get you alone. It was a lost cause to him, it seemed. Part of you felt deflated by his current lack of trying, but you understood. This was kind of what you'd asked for.

Your main hope was to go through with promotions, let time rid you both of the memories of that night, and finally reconnect, immaturely ignoring what had happened and never even discussing it. It'd go on unresolved, but the cycle of rejection would never complete. This way you'd be hurt, but by omission rather than by the knowledge that you'd been nothing more than an emotional rebound to Jungkook.

He was in love with someone else, after all. You wished to forget about that part of your memories from that night.

"He's fine. We're sorta fighting. It's nothing big, don't worry about it, Hope," you offered him a smile, though it didn't meet your eyes.

His tight smile matched yours, but his eyes showed compassion, understanding you probably didn't want to talk about it. But in usual Hobi fashion, he still continued instigating.

"He's making me sad," he pouted teasingly, "Put him out of his misery."

You sighed, "Fine, I'll talk to him tonight, okay? Just- Show me the move again. No more Jungkook."

You didn't mean it, but you didn't want your brothers worrying over an issue as mortifying as this. That, and you also didn't want them to know you'd fucked up and fallen in love with your best friend.

"I'll hold you to that," he pat your back before facing the mirror again.

With one last look at Jungkook, you surprised yourself when you found him staring back at you. His eyebrows were furrowed and he looked genuinely sad. It made you wonder if maybe it was you who would end up breaking his heart.

Tomorrow was your first interview overseas. It was supposed to be a big deal, an interview and a short performance on Ellen. You'd be the first Kpop group attending.

Despite the pressure of it all, you remained somewhat unworried about tomorrow's schedules. In an eight-member group, you didn't need to worry about the spotlight falling directly onto you. Plus, you had bigger things to worry about.

But you still decided to push it all aside. It was easier to put yourself in an autopilot mode and ignore everything surrounding you. Ignore the thumping of your heart at the thought of opening up to an entirely nee audience. And, of course, ignore the lack of your best friend by your side.

You'd have to pretend in front of the cameras. You'd dance next to Jungkook, acting as if you weren't actively ignoring his existence. You'd have to provide the usual fan-service, though it had never been fake between you. For the first time ever, you'd find yourself acting whilst interacting with your favorite person. The thought was eerie.

With these thoughts in mind, you went to bed, happy your group could afford separate rooms this time around. Sharing with Jungkook would've been your breaking point.

But it seemed the world had other thoughts in mind. A sudden knock at your hotel room kept you from even making it to your bed.

Still clad in your pajamas, you huffed at the interruption. It was only 10:33 at night, but tomorrow would be a busy day. An interruption from Jin or Taehyung to go over to their rooms for a drink wouldn't really help with your current state of mind.

The belief that it'd be an unsuspecting member on the other side of the door prevented you from checking the peephole. You wish you had, seeing as the other side of the door revealed the last person you expected to see.

Jungkook.

You should've known he'd come looking for you sooner or later. But seeing as he'd given up on trying to get you to talk, you assumed he wouldn't.

"Hey," he said, leaning against the door frame. It was likely in a subtle attempt to prevent you from closing the door on him rather than to feign casualness.

"Kook-"

"I'm coming in, okay? Don't try closing the door on my face."

With that, he walked in, giving you no option but to close the door behind him and following him into the living room area of your hotel room.

It was strange to see him like this. So serious and expressionless. The sight of his bunny smile was nowhere to be seen, which was an anomaly in your relationship. The quietness in his person unnerved you. You felt like the same way you did during trainee evaluations, like you were about to get scolded. It was strange for Jungkook to inspire this anxiety in you.

Then he turned around, facing you but not holding eye contact with you for long. His face did not look hurt in the same way it had when you'd locked eyes earlier in the day. He appeared more agitated this time around.

"Jungkook-"

Once more he interrupted you.

But not by talking, no. This time he invaded your personal space, taking slow steps towards you, taking advantage of having taken you by surprise with his unannounced presence. That, and a wall trapping you as you took steps back.

"I know you don't want to talk about it. I ... I can't really understand why, but I'll respect it," he sounded tired as he said it. He took a breath before continuing, "But I can't stop thinking about it."

Up until this point, you'd avoided his gaze, opting instead to keep your eyes on his neck, anywhere else but his eyes. Even as he'd cornered you against the wall, — with one arm extended on the wall to keep himself leaning over you and another shyly toying at the length of your oversized shirt — you attempted to ignore what was happening, despite your body naturally responding to him.

"And I don't think you can either. That's why you've been avoiding me, right?", his hand went to trace your jaw softly, subtly tilting your head towards his, "That's why, for the first time in five years, you've been giving me the silent treatment."

"It's not that ...", you tried.

"But it is, isn't it? If it'd been a once and over, you wouldn't care. You'd just move on," his face lowered, breath now landing on your neck, "But you can't."

"You can't ignore this," his hot breath against your ear made you shiver, "You want it too, don't you? Can't stop thinking about it?" his hands snuck under your shirt, familiar fingertips running through the skin, "Can't function? Me too ... Can't fucking think about anything but you."

"Jungkook ..."

"Please," he pleaded

His lips began pressing at the curve of your neck, up and down its length, occasionally suctioning lightly enough as to not leave a lasting mark. The wetness of his tongue soothing behind its track gave you goosebumps.

"I know ... I know we haven't talked about it, but ... I just need you. Please say yes. I'll- It doesn't have to mean anything."

If only he knew those were the last words you wanted to hear.

And as much as you wanted to put a stop to this, to scream at him and tell him how you felt, damning any consequences for your friendship, you stood frozen. Or well, you stood limp, willing to let him take you as he'd done less than a week ago.

You nodded, sighing when he kissed that spot on your neck he'd so quickly found last time. That was when your hands began reciprocating, holding him against you to ensure he'd never go away. It was a great contrast to a mere five minutes ago, but your body couldn't help itself.

His hands mirrored yours, wrapping themselves around you and holding onto every curve they could find. There was a certain desperation to his touch, only amplifying by the second. Your bodies molded together as he continued to kiss and suckle at your neck, making his way to your lips.

This kiss didn't need any buildup. It was immediately heated, carrying the frustration that'd been weighing over the two of you for the past few days. Jungkook groaned while you mewled into his lips, hand reaching the back of your knee to lift your leg and hold it against his waist. You wrapped it around the dip of his waist, needing him as close as humanly possible.

A desperate sigh was released into your lips at the first grind of his hips against yours. It was slow and calculated, as if feeding a sick hunger he'd built for you. None of it felt meaningless, even if you knew that deep down it was. At least to him.

"Couldn't stop thinking about you ..."

Those were the first words mumbled against your lips.

"Want you again. Please? Just like this ... It'll be so good, I promise," he continued to plead.

It was laughable how wrong he had the situation. You knew it'd be good. God, you knew it'd leave you reeling for twice as long as the last time. It'd have you pining and suffering through every second that he wasn't as yours as he was during these carnal moments. But still, you whined some pathetic excuse for affirmation and let him prepare you.

His eyebrows were furrowed as he moved pulled your pajama shorts down, once again leaving you in just your shirt as he took himself out.

Sex whilst almost fully clothed. Again. Did you really need more indication that Jungkook did this out of sheer need?

Despite the constant alarms going off in your head in attempts to protect yourself from impending heartbreak, you never once stopped him. Because you wanted this. If this was all you could have while he found his one perfect true love, you'd be willing to be a stand-in for him.

When he entered you, you finally felt at ease. It was embarrassing how easy it'd been, how ready you'd been to receive him despite no prior preparation.

"F-fuck. You feel so good ..."

You sighed at that. Yes, you loved making him feel good.

"'m gonna move now, okay, gorgeous?"

Gorgeous ...

You mewled, fingers digging into his arms and nodding desperately.

He wasn't rough in a way you'd expect a sudden booty call to be. You knew you weren't exactly a booty call, but that's the closest definition you could find for your relationship at the moment. Instead, he fucked you in a similar fashion to last time — desperate, needy, but with a sense of control that told you every movement was calculated.

To any outside perspective, you must've looked like the epitome of passion. Molded against each other, both pairs of hips insisting on constant connection through needy humps. The available slivers of skin showing were shiny with perspiration and affected by the friction of your touches. There was a desperate need behind every touch, every word.

"Hmph, fuck, shit. God, you're so perfect. Needed you so bad ..."

"Didn't think I could ever feel this good, fuck."

"So fucking perfect for me, oh, god."

"T-that's it ... Oh, so tight for me, such a good girl for me."

His words made you lose your mind. Unlike him, no words could leave your mouth. They were all incoherent babbles as he murmured directly into your ear. All your senses were lowered to zero. You were completely malleable to his words, to his touches.

"'m gonna cum, baby, need ... need you to cum with me, yeah?"

A hand went to your clit. It was an awkward angle, standing up, but Jungkook made it work. He made it work far too well, immediately getting your eyes rolling back.

"F-fuck, Kook, I-"

"I know, shit. With me, okay? Just- Y-yeah, fuck .."

You tightened around him as he came, causing him to fall back against you with endless groans of pleasure. That's when your orgasm finally came to you, joining him in the bliss. It was all very messy, being filled up by him and leaking down to the shorts you hadn't fully discarded. Your pajamas were completely crumpled by now, and your neck likely red and purple with splotches from his teeth. But the orgasmic bliss made up for it all.

Jungkook remained inside you, taking in the silence for a few moments. Your heavy breaths synchronized, their harmony ending abruptly when Jungkook pulled himself out of you with a groan.

He winced at the mess he'd made of you, quickly fixing himself up before heading over to the restroom of your hotel room to gather some stuff to clean you up with. During his absence, you stood there feeling like an idiot. Your heart plummeted once again at the remembrance that things would go back to how they were before, except maybe worse.

When he returned, he did so with a shy version of his usual bunny smile. It was hard not to return it. Had you been feeling anything less than like an absolute idiot, maybe you would've. But you just stood there as he cleaned you up, avoiding eye contact as you'd done these past few days.

"Hey, uh, I'm sorry I came so unexpectedly. I- I love you, you know that, right?", he finally said after some hesitation.

That made it worse somehow.

"I know you don't want to talk about it, but ... I'm here, okay? I'll be ready to talk about it whenever you are. I just, uhm, I need to know we're okay. I'll give you as much space as you need, just, please tell me we're still friends."

There was sad desperation in his voice. God, every word he spoke just made everything hurt even more.

You couldn't speak. You'd found your ability to speak leaving you any time it concerned this topic. So, instead you took a step and closed all distance, wrapping your arms around him in a hug you'd been needing for far too long. Immediately, he returned it.

"We're friends, Kook. Always."

True, even if it destroyed you.

You felt him smile against your hair, pressing a soft kiss to it.

The events of your promotions went as planned. Four days later and you were now practically done.

The only silver lining of this whole situation was that it had occupied your mind so much that you'd forgotten any anxieties you felt over your American promotions. You'd performed perfectly, as had all your members. Somehow, you'd managed to become an empty shell of yourself, just doing as expected while on camera and deflating once you were alone, still haunted by memories of Jungkook.

You hadn't spoken since that night (shocker). This time it had been more of a mutual agreement. It hadn't been a formal thing, but you'd both kept your distance. If the guys noticed, they didn't interfere, for which you were grateful.

Tomorrow was your last night in America. You'd just made it back home from the BBMA's, having been the first Kpop group to attend and scoring a record-breaking amount of views for the show. That, and a reward. The carpet had been fun, just like every other moment in which you'd been able to mingle with artists you'd watched since your youth.

It was nice to pretend nothing was wrong between you and Jungkook whilst there. Any other public appearances before tonight's had been too brief for the two of you to even interact, which had made it easy to ignore what was happening. But tonight you'd spent the entire night together while hundreds of cameras recorded your every move. Almost like performing off-stage.

Somehow, you'd both understood what to do. It was as if nothing had happened. You laughed, you talked, you interacted the way you would've before any of this. The cameras caught onto your genuine friendship, displaying it for all those present to see.

So, when you made it back to your hotel room, it wasn't surprising when you found that your names were trending on Twitter.

It might've been idiotic of you to do so, but you decided to scroll through your names. They'd been trending together. Y/N and Jungkook. Not your names by themselves, but together.

Non-fans questioned the chemistry between you, the longing looks, as they called them. Short screen-recordings of your interactions on stage, easily translating onto the red carpet. The trends were filled with the two of you, with far too many new people wondering if there was something going on behind the scenes.

Your fans confirmed and denied it. Some were sure the two of you had more going than meets the eye. While others believed maybe something would happen someday, but they respected your current label of friends.

Friends. That felt miserably laughable at this moment.

The truth was that you didn't know your current label. Were you even friends anymore? Maybe friends with benefits? Or maybe, after all of this, just bandmates.

When you first made it back to the hotel, you'd all celebrated your win on V-Live with your fans as you usually did. The live itself was short-lived, usually expanding for hours after turning off the camera. However, you'd opted to call it an early night this time around. The immediate contrast between performing for the cameras and going back to your reality was not something you wanted to deal with at that moment.

Despite some worried words from the boys, you reassured them you were fine, encouraging them to keep drinking amongst themselves. You ignored Jungkook's immediate reflex to try and follow you. He must've remembered your current situation, sitting himself back down and looking solemnly at his drink, clearly avoiding eye contact.

Kissing a few of the members goodnight, you left, planning to spend a lonely night in your room, which was what you were currently doing. Sleep wouldn't find you, so you just moped at your phone screen, wishing that your fans' words would manifest into reality. That you truly did have some sort of relationship with Jungkook you had to hide from the cameras.

After a few hours of self-pity, the most predictable thing happened. Jungkook came knocking on your door.

He'd taken a surprisingly longer time than you'd anticipated.

Opening the door, you found a mixture of frustration and confusion on his face.

"It's four in the morning, Jungkook."

But he didn't care for your comment, walking in decidedly, just like he'd done last time.

He turned to you, giving you no time to complain about his behavior.

"We need to talk. I know I said I'd respect you if you needed distance, but I just can't do this anymore."

"Wow, it took you a grand total of four days to break," you couldn't help the sarcasm.

"Believe it or not, but going four days without talking to my best friend fucking sucks," he scoffed, "And it wasn't only four days. You haven't spoken to me in over a week. The other night doesn't count, we-"

"We what, Jungkook? We fucked?"

Your tone was biting. It was frustration you'd never expressed towards your best friend. His reaction mirrored that sentiment, backing down slightly at your irritation.

"It's not- It wasn't like that."

"Then what was it? God, you know what? I can't even blame you. I should've just told you to fuck off when you ambushed me with sex. Again."

What you were saying was so unfair. You were deflecting despite knowing the blame was shared. You continued to be a horrible friend to him.

"I thought that was what you wanted. You were the one ignoring me. I tried! You kept pushing me away. You never gave me a chance after that first night," his voice never raised, but there was agitation behind it.

"Because I never intended for any of it to happen! You're the one who kissed me in the first place! You instigated it. Both times."

Hurt reflected on his eyes at that first sentence. He recovered quickly, instead furrowing his eyebrows in frustration, but you'd caught onto it. Your stomach churned at it. This was not what you wanted to happen at all.

"You- did you even miss me at all? Was it that easy for you to just push me away with no plans of ever talking to me about it? About how you felt? — If you even felt anything. I know this was all just some stupid inconvenience to you, but- God, did you even think about my feelings?"

The truth was that you didn't. You put your own emotions above his own, immaturely avoiding the subject in order to preserve your own feelings. Since that first night, you knew that you'd be the one getting hurt the most, so you did everything in your power to avoid any resolution that would leave you as heartbroken as you felt now.

You remained silent, eyes watering and unknowing of what to say. He was in a similar state, face giving you every telltale sign that he was doing his best to hold back tears.

But he also looked angry. Something you'd never seen before.

"What, you're not going to say anything?," he scoffed, "I know I fucked up, I ..." he hesitated, face morphing into a softer version of itself before reverting back to anger, continuing to speak decisively, "I never should've slept with you, but I tried to make things right and, and you just didn't care at all. You were so-"

You stopped listening then.

That was it.

He had finally broken the dam.

Unlike Jungkook, you'd never been much of a crier. It was a nice contrast you had between the two of you. He was the more sentimental one, leaving you to a more stoic role. You could count on one hand the amount of times in which Jungkook had had to dry your tears rather than the reverse.

So you understood why seeing you suddenly break down in tears immediately stopped him halfway through his angry rambling. He swallowed his words, letting a surprised whimper escape his lips.

Within mere seconds, you were engulfed in his arms, one strong arm holding you against him and the other caressing at your hair in a soothing manner.

Your head was spinning and you couldn't stop yourself from gasping out desperate breaths into Jungkook's chest. You'd be embarrassed if it was anyone else, but Jungkook made you feel safe. Even under these circumstances, you were glad he was here.

"Baby, I- I'm sorry, fuck. I didn't mean to make you cry. I'm so sorry, I- I love you, please don't be sad. I love you so much. All I want is to make you happy," he rambled on and on. You weren't able to catch everything due to your crying.

His words just made it worse. Platonic love was all you'd ever needed from him, but your unjust heart wanted more than that right now.

"Jungkook, stop. Don't say that. Not right now."

You separated yourself enough to look up at him, finding his eyes equally bloodshot and immense worry in his features.

Before he could argue with you, you shut him up again, taking a breath to ensure you could speak without suddenly sobbing again.

This was the moment of truth. You'd already ruined everything, might as well go all the way.

You gulped, taking a step back and forcing yourself out of his arms before beginning your lame excuse for a speech. You hadn't planned for a confession tonight, but here you were.

"I'm sorry. You're ... you were right. We shouldn't have slept together."

Repeating the words that had inspired your crying gave you a bitter taste in your mouth.

"But I shouldn't have treated you the way that I did. I was afraid you'd reject me after, uhm, after I-" you held back tears, knowing there was no going back from this, "after I realized I was in love with you. That that night was more than some stupid tipsy mistake. You were sad and ... and heartbroken over your love life, uhm, over that girl you like," your voice cracked at the memory, "and I should've stopped you before things went too far. I always had the power to stop you, but I just ... I didn't want to. From the first time you kissed me, I wanted more. I thought that if I avoided you, we could pretend it never happened and that I'd never have to tell you. I thought that way you'd never reject get the chance to reject me," you sighed sadly, "It was wrong. I'm sorry, Jungkook."

You'd looked down at your feet the whole time, refusing to meet his eyes. Your body was cowered into itself. The usual confidence you carried with you was nowhere to be seen. Your person was as bare as it'd never been before, laying out the most vulnerable feelings you'd ever beheld. And the utter silence emanating from Jungkook did not help matters at all.

Finally braving a look, you lifted your head to face him again, not caring for the tears running down your face nor the snot covering your nose.

You found him with his head in his hands, unmoving. The sight unnerved you.

Despite your own heart breaking at your unrequited love, Jungkook's heart took priority. You'd already made the mistake of putting yourself first once, but not again.

You closed the distance again, doing for him what he'd done for you before and attempting to embrace him in a hug. You'd offer him any comfort possible, knowing you'd been the one causing his suffering.

As you went to hold his large frame in your arms, you were stopped, suddenly finding two large hands softly holding onto your cheeks and bringing you towards his face. Before you could even gasp, your lips were occupied by a desperate kiss.

Frozen in place, you let him kiss you, unknowing of how to get your body to respond. And, god, did he kiss you. You'd never felt such emotion behind a kiss, not even that first night when Jungkook had practically begged for you to let him continue.

Against your better judgment, you finally began to kiss back, hands going to any piece of him they could get a hold of in order to keep him as close as possible. Your mouth opened, letting him lick into it and trap your tongue with his.

"It's you. I love you. Fuck, I love you," he growled between aggressive kisses, "Want you. Want you, please."

That's when he pulled away. He remained close, noses touching as he breathed you in, lips torturously close as they attempted to not fall into the temptation of another kiss.

"It was you. You're the girl I like- I love. You're who I want my future with. Everything I said about a family? Kids? It was you. I need it all with you," there was nothing but sheer desperation behind his words. His eyes were glued to your lips, and his hands had found their way south and settled on your waist, fingers insisting on pushing you as close to him as humanly possible, "When we- when we slept together. That ... God, that was a fucking dream. I didn't know what to do, I- I knew it didn't mean anything to you, I mean, I assumed. So when you didn't want anything to do with me, I just went back to you again. I thought, uhm, that if I couldn't have you the way I wanted, I could at least have you like that one more time. I'm sorry, I- I never imagined that you'd, you know, like me. Do you? Fuck, sorry, I just need to hear it again. To be sure."

Through the remaining tears, you laughed, nodding as you confirmed your feelings for him.

"Yes, Jungkook. I love you. I lo-"

In usual Jungkook fashion, he interrupted you again, this time squatting a bit before pressing his hands to the backs of your thighs and lifting you. Naturally, you wrapped your legs around his waist, letting him whisk you away further into your hotel room. The tears were soon replaced by whimsical laugher. The two of you were on a high as you landed messily on the bed, immediately going back to kissing and touching as if you'd burn if you didn't.

"Fuck, love you so much. Never gonna stop saying it now," he mumbled between kisses.

His hands were on a frenzy, lifting up your shirt enough to get access to your skin, insisting in throwing it off immediately after. His went in tandem, letting your burning skin make contact for the first time.

The rest of your clothes joined, leaving the two of you fully nude within minutes of landing on the bed. It was full of desperate caresses, occasionally interrupted by traces of admiration against the other's skin.

"Gorgeous. Prettiest girl," he sighed after calming down a bit. His eyes told you he still hadn't gotten his fill of you, but he was a total romantic, he needed to take a moment to appreciate you.

"I've had a crush on you since I saw you, did you know that?" needy fingers went up to your breasts, tracing them softly, "Thought you were the coolest, prettiest girl I'd ever seen. Tae didn't let me live it down for years," he chuckled at the memory.

"Should've told me, you idiot," you managed to let out through his fondling of your body.

"Don't call me that right now, baby. Be nice. I've had a terrible week," he mumbled between kisses against your breasts.

"Mm, I wonder why," you barely managed to laugh amidst your sighs of pleasure.

"You laugh now, but you'll see."

You were about to let him have it, but he distracted you with his lips on yours. Time and time again. His toned skin felt like a dream against yours, rendering you unable to keep your hands off him. It seemed like he felt similarly about you, as his hands kept moving from one curve to another, thumbing at the skin with need.

The ruffling of sheets and a mixture of muffled groaning were the only sounds to be heard in your lonely hotel room. At four in the morning, you found yourself writhing in your bedsheets, body contorting to that of your best friends' as his fingers traveled down to your middle, knuckle pressing into that spot that had your back arching impossibly closer to his chest.

After torturing your clit for a bit, Jungkook finally made his way down your body, kissing at every inch of available skin. He took his time, leaving love bites at what you assumed to be his favorite places, even nuzzling against your skin in a softness slightly out of character considering the context.

"You're so fucking soft, baby. You'll never get rid of me now, you know that, right?", he looked up at you with an incredulous smile, nose scrunching at the smile you have him in return.

"Don't worry, Kookie. I plan on keeping you around."

He chuckled, biting his lip and continuing his path downward, soon finding himself at your thighs. Strong arms opened up your legs to open his way to your middle, fingers tracing their way down to the back of your knees to push them up to get them out of his way. When satisfied with your position, he began kissing at your thighs, mumbling unintelligible words between smooches.

You simply enjoyed the love he gave you. Only a few moments with him and you'd already forgotten any misery you'd put yourself through this past week. Every touch, every look, every word, you lived for every single one. You were barely conscious by then, with your hold on his hair being the only thing to keep you grounded.

It was when his nose first nudged at your cunt that you truly lost yourself.

That thing they said about men with big noses? Well it was true.

And unfortunately, Jungkook took note of the effect he had on you immediately, deciding to use his nose to torture your clit while his tongue delved into your wetness. He was eager with it too, moaning and groaning into your pussy while his hips shamelessly humped at the bed.

"Fuck, baby," he huffed, "Just like that, shit. Use my face, I'm all yours anyway ..."

You hadn't realized that you'd been humping at his face, but you took that as not only permission to continue, but encouragement to not stop. At that point, it truly became a mess. Almost a competition to see whether he'd make you cum with his tongue, or if you'd grind on his face until completion.

And as per usual, Jungkook won. For every cry you let out, his fervor doubled. It was as if he was pained by not giving you pleasure. His cries and whines into your cunt only increased in tone, higher as you approached your end.

"Kook, fuck. I'm almost there, don't stop," your fingers tightened their hold on his hair, "Yes, fuck, just like that ..."

Once more, he took this as a challenge, pulling at all stops to make you cum. His tongue took turns between licking into you and circling your swollen pearl, even sneaking in a hand to toy at you with his fingers. It wasn't long until you finally gave in to your orgasm, body buzzing under his while he refused to give you a break.

Even through the sensitivity, Jungkook didn't let go. He continued sucking and licking at you, chuckling when your attempts to pull him away finally clicked. He mumbled out an apology, sitting up on his knees to find his way back up your body.

"That was-"

But he interrupted you by shoving his tongue in your mouth for the nth time tonight. And you, not being an idiot, responded accordingly.

He hadn't bothered to wipe at his mouth before kissing you, meaning that you were currently licking your own essence out of his tongue. It was a depraved and disgusting kiss. At some point it could barely even be called a kiss, consisting of sucking at each other's tongues, teeth clacking, and bodies morphing at every connection of lips.

With no necessary warning, Jungkook's hips began desperately connecting with yours, hardness eventually finding a home in the space between your legs, close to where you wanted him but not close enough. Surely, you'd chafe tomorrow, but Jungkook's needy whines of pleasure made any repercussions worth it. You'd do anything he wanted to ensure he felt good.

"Baby, I need ... I need to be in you. Can I? You're ready for me, right, beautiful? Hmm?" he was frantic as he spoke, wide eyes staring into your hazy ones.

"Anything you want, Kookie. Need you in me so fucking bad."

He thanked you with a kiss, finally inserting himself in you with a groan, sighing out when he finally sunk into your warmth. Uselessly, he took a few moments to let you adjust, but corrected his mistake when you wrapped your legs around his waist and pulled him closer in a silent demand for more.

"I'll give it to you, baby. I'll give you everything."

And he did. No further warning was needed when he began to piston into you. Groaning into your ear, his hips lost control against you, causing that harsh slapping sound of skin you'd gotten so used to with him.

"Shit, just like that, Kookie. So- so big."

"Hmm, yeah? But I fit so well in this pretty cunt. Made for me, huh? My pretty cunt."

He babbled incoherencies, unable to stop praising you as he made intense love to you. Gasps left his lips, needy fingers attempting to pull you closer to no avail. When he became too desperate to have you as close as humanly possible, he opted to lift your legs higher, having them wrap on his shoulders rather than his waist.

This new angle had you writhing in incomprehensible pleasure, hands clawing at his back, completely careless of the marks you'd leave behind. It only became worse when he readjusted just slightly, his tip beginning to hit that spot inside you that had you almost passing out.

"R-right there! Oh, right there, please! Don't stop, don't stop, I'm almost there, fuck, please!"

You hadn't realized your words would have him losing himself along with you. You saw his eyes roll and his jaw tighten before he finally let go. His warmth filled you up quickly after that, nudging your orgasm out of you with a harmony of cries of each other's names.

The end marked itself when he let himself drop onto the bed, falling beside you as he simultaneously pulled you into his chest. A soft kiss was left on your hair when you accepted his embrace, cuddling to his side despite the damp sweat covering him. You were probably just as sweaty anyway.

"Well, that was incredibly dramatic," you broke the silence.

He whined your name in return.

"Let me catch my breath before you get all cynical."

"You love my sense of humor."

He laid on his side, turning to face you, hands wrapping tighter around you.

"I love literally everything about you. Did you need me to give you another demonstration? Because give me five minutes and I'll-"

A kiss shut him up.

"God, you're so obsessed with me," he snickered.

"Yeah, whatever. Don't get used to it."

He buried his face in your chest after that, pressing a few kisses there. He couldn't help himself, it seemed.

"Nope, I think I'll get used to it. I might have to move into your skin, this isn't nearly close enough," he joked.

After a very brief silence, his lips made their way up to your own, sighing against you as he kissed you.

"I really missed you."

God, he made it so hard to not melt for him.

"I missed you too. I love you."

"I'm going to need to hear that every ten minutes for the next month to compensate for the past week," he demanded.

You pretended to be annoyed by the task, but actually brimming inwards, wanting to go on live at this very moment and let everyone know you'd bagged Jeon Jungkook.

But you decided to be cool about it.

"Fine, whatever."

His bunny smile told you he accepted your answer, but his subsequent attack on your face with endless, childish kisses said otherwise.

The very few hours of the night that remained were spent like this. After cleaning you up, Jungkook ensured his hands never left your body at any point, something which you had no issue with. Far too many confessions of love were shared, but they all felt just and necessary.

You were content. The nerve wracking week had ended, leaving you with more than you could've ever asked for.

to read short 1.8k word continuation (+ all other previously written bonus content) you can go join my jk monthly tier on patreon!

content: afab reader, smut, semi-public sex, getting caught (kind of), teasing, penetrative sex, etc.

wc: 427 (teaser); 1834 (full drabble)

sneak peak:

"We really should've added some clause against inter-group dating when we signed out contracts."

Everyone else in the room sighed in agreement.

Well, everyone but the two of you.

While everyone else was miserable at the sight of you cuddled up in some corner of the practice room, you and Jungkook remained in your own world. Nothing could knock you out of it when you were in this state of mind.

After the mess that happened between the two of you, the constant miscommunication and intolerable pining (Tae's words, not yours), being with Jungkook unapologetically was the most stress-relieving feeling in the world.

The guys didn't actually dislike the sight of you together. You both knew this. It was a mixture of teasing and the natural annoyance inspired by yours and Jungkook's honeymoon phase. It was a small price to pay for the ability to be with your boyfriend/best friend at all times.

"You're just jealous," Jungkook threw back at Taehyung, who just huffed in return.

"They cheated the system. No one will ever suspect they're dating when they've always been this ... touchy," Jimin added, eyes narrowing at you as he walked by.

You simply stuck your tongue out at him, causing Jungkook to giggle by your side.

"Are you guys planning on practicing at any point or are you just going to harass us with your pda all day?"

This time it was Joon who spoke. His tone was that of a fed-up elder brother, which was pretty much what he was at that moment.

To be fair, you had been lazing around today. The two of you were usually quite quick at picking up the choreo, so after a few hours of practicing it one-on-one last night, you'd opted to take it easy today. Clearly, this was not appreciated by your group mates.

"Can we leave, then?", Jungkook perked up.

"Please!," you weren't sure which of the six guys had said it, but you did know it had been more than one.

Gaping at them, you were about to rip them a new one. Why were they so allergic to the two of you being together? They'd been the ones rooting for you from the sidelines! They'd-

"Hell yeah."

Jungkook interrupted your thoughts, using the strength he usually didn't realize he had to help you get up, dragging you towards the exit far too eagerly. Even when you attempted to turn back, eyeing the 95 liners who were currently laughing at you, Jungkook stayed disinterested, seemingly wanting nothing other than some privacy with you.

...

find the 18+ continuation on patreon!

if you have trouble finding it on there, just let me know!!<3

[lovieku]

DECEMBER ⋆ 정국

being with jeongguk is a gift in itself. this christmas, you’ll show him your gratitude. do whatever is on his list.

⋆⁺₊❅. 3/6 from christmas & chill

pairing dilf!jk x gf!reader

genre smut, fluff, established relationship

warnings jk 31 | oc 22, exhibitionism, public sex kinda, breeding kink, mirror sex, oral (f receiving), condomless p in v sex, oc is on birth control but she won’t be anymore after this, these tags back to back are making me lose it, yeah they’re pretty horny if you couldn’t tell

word count 5.7k

author's note oki this is literally porn with plot but what do you expect me to do with dilf jk in my hands

banner by the perfect @awrkive ⊹₊⟡⋆

“What’s on your Christmas wishlist, doll?”

“I want… I think I want a baby. And then—”

Jeongguk snorts in that way he does when he wants you to think he’s unimpressed, but really he’s just trying to think of something to shut you up, wheels turning in his head, scrambling before your teasing has an unwanted effect that might undo him.

On his couch, he pulls you closer to him as you giggle in his neck, your figure curled up in his embrace, and he caresses the side of your thigh in an impossibly gentle pattern. He’s heat incarnate, a living furnace outdoing even the fireplace softly cracking and reflecting its warmth on your faces in the dimly lit room.

His hand squeezes once, twice, then he finds you ear with his mouth, “Don’t say that.”

You pull back just enough to look at him with the biggest grin, “What’s on your list then, huh?”

Your boyfriend pretends to think it over with unusual indecision, tilting his head up to the ceiling dramatically and leaving his collar bones exposed, giving you the opportunity to further bury yourself in his warmth. Peppering small pecks onto his neck, you sigh into the comfort.

“Since we’re going in that direction,” his low tone scratches his throat and vibrates against your lips, pooling like heat where it always does when he’s this close. He pulls you impossibly tighter to his chest, mouth back to your ear just to whisper with that teasing lilt of his, “I’ve always wanted to fuck you in a public space. With people outside, you know.”

Even with your heart skipping and rolling down the tallest hill, landing right in your lower belly, you hum, feigning nonchalance, though your sarcastic nod doesn’t fool either of you. He looks down at you with a wicked smirk, one point ahead after rendering you speechless. You still try, “Yeah?”

Jeongguk doesn’t miss the chance and strikes gold, “Mhm. And I also want to give you my babies.”

“Shut the fuck up, Jeon. I’m serious.”

The older man’s laughter rings out, light and boyish in a way that doesn’t match the words he let out, nor the feel of his rough hands roaming your body. Even more when his unrelenting fingers find their way to your sides. They press in gently at first, testing. But then he really starts to tickle.

You flinch, stubbornly clamping your lips into a tight line, muscles tensing as you fight the inevitable. You think you’re determined enough not to give him the satisfaction of hearing you break, but when he moves toward your armpits, it’s over.

Your eyes squeeze shut, shoulders twitching, but it’s your mouth that betrays you first. A sharp snort escapes you and is only joined by more and more breathy giggles, air knocked out of you, “Jeongguk, no!”

His grin widens at your plea, voice mockingly stern but tone playful and sweet, “Why are you being such a brat to your old man, huh? So disrespectful.”

You shriek, squeal, the sound dissolving into waves of laughter that shake your entire body, now sprawled on the sofa and desperately trying to run away from his touch. You almost make it. Almost. But Jeongguk is faster, pinning you on the couch and tightening his hold, knees digging on either side of your hips.

The air wheezes out of you when his lips join the tickling on your neck, nipping and kissing between your gasping laughter, his own still lingering like it’s contagious. Your body twists instinctively, “Stop!”

He moves up, nose brushing against yours as he lets his voice drop even lower in a warning, “You know what to say.”

It wasn’t fair. You know what he wants to hear, but your pride digs its heels in, even as you pant for room to breathe. You struggle under him, half-heartedly trying to push his hands away, but when his hands find the sensitive spot behind your knees you just can’t help the way it spills out of you in a panicked laugh, “Sorry, sorry, sorry!”

Jeongguk finally relents, hands falling away as he collapses beside you, joining your breathless amusement. That little chant is the unspoken rule between you two, the one surefire way to end his tickle wars.

The room is silent for the small moment it takes you to even your pumping heart and slowly level your panting. Jeongguk cuddles to your side, body molding effortlessly against yours, and as his arm tightens around your waist, you speak against the space of his chest he’s pressing you into, “I could make both happen for you.”

There’s no drop of subject on your part, your words resounding in the quiet made of your moderating breaths.

Jeongguk snorts again, shuffling down and muffling his low hum in your neck. It’s his way of playing coy and pretending not to take you seriously, but you can feel his grip getting rougher.

Only when you swat him does he shift to look up at you, chin resting lazily between your breasts and lashes fluttering in exaggerated innocence, just like his words, “And how would you do that?”

“Yoongi’s Christmas party next week.”

Jeongguk’s brow quirks upward, “You want me to fuck you with all my friends outside? Didn’t you say you were scared of meeting them?”

It’s your turn to stifle a laugh, lips twitching as you turn your head away in sudden embarrassment. He leaves featherlight pecks along your jaw to quieten his own chuckles, but it only coaxes a smile out of you. You return to him with a soft expression playing on your flushed face, long dimples carving your cheeks, “I did, yes. But it’s only because I want their approval.”

Jeongguk stills for just a second as he studies you. The moment he spots the faintest flicker of genuine worry in the subtle twitch of your brows, his teasing front is thrown completely out of the window.

“Oh, my baby,” he cups your face with both hands, cradling you like his most precious possession, meeting your widening eyes when he tilts your chin. “They’ll love you, okay? It’s about time they meet the reason I’ve been the happiest I’ve ever felt in years.”

The blush creeping up your neck is inevitable, especially when his hand drifts downward, fingers resting lightly on your stomach and moving in soothing circles. A gesture so small yet telling, of how attuned he is to your every shift and need, even the ones you don’t voice.

It’s been almost a year since you and Jeongguk made things official, and the journey has been marked by slow, steady steps. No rush, no racing. Time has felt pliant, stretching out to meet you both at a pace that felt unforced. It gives you room to grow and deepen the bond that only the two of you share, unburdened by the weight of outside pressure.

Both of you have been careful, almost cautious about walking longer distances. Not out of doubt, but out of respect for what you’re building together. It’s not hesitation, it’s intention.

You fucking love this man, more fully than you even thought possible. And you’re more than sure that he’s the one, making all the waiting and searching worth it.

You’ve grown just enough to understand not everyone will accept your dynamic as easily as you’ve come to. You wanted it to feel true — to be true — between the two of you before inviting the outside world into it.

Jeongguk is 31. Successful, experienced, and carrying the scars of a rough divorce. You’re 22, still a student, scraping together what you can to get through each month, too focused on textbooks and exams to know anything about adulthood yet.

By all accounts, your paths should never have crossed in any meaningful way. Yet, they did. You found each other, and you blossomed to love one another. What seemed complicated came down to a feeling so intricate and achingly simple.

There’s no denying love. There’s no grand, pragmatic solution for it. You can’t push it aside just because it doesn’t fit into neat societal boxes. And you can’t push him away.

Still, you’re not blind to how others might see it. Outsiders, with judgments and assumptions, could scoff and accuse you of chasing wealth, or sneer at him and reduce his intentions to shallow desires for a younger distraction.

Those tired, clichéd narratives miss the way your brain quietens when he’s near, his laughter filling gaps in your life you didn’t know were empty. They couldn’t be further from the truth, from what truly binds you together. Love.

And, well, sex. The sex is fucking great. Makes you wonder how you ever lived without it before him.

“The horniest, too,” you quip, deflecting from the fleeting vulnerability with a playful smirk that has Jeongguk groaning, rolling his eyes the same way he’s shifting beneath you to effortlessly maneuver you until you’re lying on top of him.

Jeongguk tilts his head back, dark eyes narrowing in mock challenge as he jumps between your face and the smirk that refuses to fade. His own grin is barely concealed, and his voice drops to a familiar low timbre, “Don’t try anything funny, doll.”

“I’m just saying… I’ll do whatever is on your list.”

────⋆｡˚❆˚ ｡⋆────

Spending your first Christmas wrapped in the warmth of your boyfriend’s presence leaves no room for anything but a jaw-breaking smile that swells your heart. The kind that doesn’t fade, no matter how much your cheeks ache, and twingles with the soft glow of the lights strung around the room. Especially when you get to discover a new side of Jeongguk, one that blooms brighter the more he’s surrounded by his closest friends.

You can see the love in the crinkle of his eyes when he laughs and lets it resound freely, how he eats comfortably without any of the reserved mannerism he sometimes carries in public, the way he tosses out teasing remarks and takes them just as easily. It all makes you feel less nervous, and it soothes the anxiety you’d been carrying.

Still, you stick to his side, either with your leg brushing against his under the table or your fingers intertwining in a touch that seeks for comfort. Though with the hours stretching, you find there’s no real reason to feel intimidated.

Everyone welcomes you like you’ve always been part of Jeongguk, and they were just waiting for you to step into the missing space beside him. It’s in the easy smiles they offer, the warmth in their laughter as they include you in their conversations without hesitation. You settle in that place with sheepish smiles, a soft voice chiming in here and there, and the quiet admiration that fills you each time your gaze follows Jeongguk’s every movement is enough for his friends to see he’s in good hands.

But you can’t ignore the thought that keeps making your head spin every time Jeongguk casually rests a hand on your exposed thigh, fingers digging into the skin like a slow burn.

You might blame it on the baby fever that’s been clinging to you since earlier, making you warm and sugary with emotions, when you witnessed him distracting Yoongi’s daughter from a tantrum while having her sit on his lap, a gentle hand on her back. Which has to be chalked up to your ovulation phase.

Or maybe you can just blame it entirely on him and the sultry voice he used to confess the dirtiest wish on his list nights ago.

After he did, you’ve hinted at it an unhealthy amount of times, more than you’d care to admit, and it always ended the same way. You, folded in half on his bed, strong arms gripping your hips as he rutted into you with an urgency that bordered on desperation and that had you both unraveling with pleasured wails.

It’s become your own desire more than his at this point. An all-consuming thought that refuses to be brushed aside, especially today, on this occasion. The perfect occasion to make it happen. Fuck, get a grip.

The command feels laughably weak in the face of temptation. How could you resist when Jeongguk looks like he does? He’s draped in a warm, Christmas-red sweater that’s practically begging you to be peeled off, its sleeves rolled just enough to reveal glimpses of the tattoos that snake up his forearm, and enough for your thighs to press together. His hair is freshly cut and styled. And on top of everything, he smells deliciously. His scent is just the perfect, intoxicating, masculine mix of aftershave and cologne.

But you think your breaking point is feeling him sneakily leaning closer when he thinks no one is looking, the brush of his breath near your neck, his nose ghosting over your skin as though probing your resolve. And you’re definitely failing the test.

The scrape of your chair against the floor as you stand abruptly startles not only Jeongguk but everyone at the table. Gulping, you stumble on your speech as you ask for directions to the bathroom and the words coming from Yoongi’s mouth barely register in your mind, body moving on autopilot, turning sharply toward the hallway in hopes that your subconscious will guide you the rest of the way.

You miss Jeongguk’s head tilting in adorable confusion, that signature gesture of concern pairing with knitted brows as he watches you disappear. When he glances back at his friends, they just shrug and resume their conversation.

The moment you lock the door behind you with the sound of the latch clicking into place, your back meets the wood with a forceful push, a little too rough, but entirely necessary. You’re desperately trying to knock some needed sense into yourself, and you follow with deep, measured breaths.

To no avail. The persistent buzz low in your belly hums louder, the embarrassingly quick slick heat pooling between your thighs becoming almost unbearable, especially with the thin lace of your panties doing little to ease your discomfort. You had put them on at the prospect of what would follow the dinner. What you’d hoped to save for the privacy of your home, not here.

Not here.

Stepping toward the sink, you grip its cool porcelain edges as though it could pull your composure together. Lifting your eyes to the mirror, you’re met with your own reflection. Wide-eyed, cheeks flushed, lips parted. A look you know all too well.

You reach up to fix your perfectly styled hair, smoothing it down in a feigned attempt to focus on something else that is not this. But the more you try, the more you stare back at your delirious state, the more you question if feeling such an attraction is even sane, healthy.

You can perfectly picture Jeongguk standing behind you, body pressing against yours, hands gliding over your hips, lips finding that sensitive spot just below your ear. Jeongguk would take care of what he’s unconsciously caused, wouldn’t he? He’d work to tick that one wish off his list.

The thought alone has your nails scraping against the cold surface of the counter, and your eyes squeezing shut. It frustrates you to inhumane levels, how easily he reduces you to this pubescent state, as if you’ve never known control.

What makes you release a breathy scoff in the small space is the knowledge that he hasn’t even touched you tonight.

When you feel your phone ping in your purse, you‘re startled out of the dangerous spiral that had nearly pulled your hand beneath the hem of your dress. Your gaze flickers to the mirror, where the vivid reflection of Jeongguk had started to feel too real.

Your fingers clumsily dig past lipstick tubes and stray receipts until they close around the device. The screen lights up with his name, paired with that little bear emoji he insisted on adding beside it.

JJ🧸🎀: Everything ok?

You only hesitate for a moment, fingers hovering over the keyboard. But your thumbs move before your brain can stop them.

You: can u come help me plz

The knock at the door comes almost instantly, unexpected enough to make you stumble before you reach out to twist the handle, pulling the door only as to reveal your figure in the narrow frame.

He nods your chin at you with curious concern, “Let me in?”

Looking up at him with wide, uncertain eyes through long lashes and under drawn up eyebrows, you swear you catch the faintest flicker of something primal in his own.

You step back to let him enter, the small space feeling even smaller with his gaze never once leaving you, tracking your every movement like you’re the only thing in the world worth looking at.

The soft click of the door locking behind him is all it takes for his warm palms to cradle your face, thumbs brushing your cheeks, “Sweetheart, what happened?”

You only shake your head, and his hands slip from their hold on you as your back meets the cool edge of the sink counter behind you. The plush curve of your ass squishes with the pressure, and he briefly darts downward to take in the soft fabric of your dress clinging to your frame before snapping up to meet you again.

“Talk to me,” he urges, almost pleading.

Looking down, you just now notice how your shoe has loosened around your calf, and alternating between his brows dipping low over widened pupils and your heels, you seem to not even be able to control the way your foot trails up your leg in a feigned sheepish demeanor, your cheek resting on your shoulder.

You try to fight the smile by biting on your lower lip, and in the softest voice you surrender to your stubborn, persistent need with a flimsy excuse, “Clasp on this heel is so thin… I can’t close it.”

Jeongguk’s every sense is alert. His eyes follow your line of sight with urgence, ready to cater to your every request, do all it takes to make sure you’re safe, hands twitching at his sides the more his protective instinct kicks in.

But it doesn’t take much longer to detect the real intentions behind your creased forehead in pretend worry, breath catching in your throat the moment you spot the shift in his eyes. Now hooded, heavy.

He looks back up at you just to seek confirmation of your plan all along, and lets an exasperated chuckle escape him when you can only pout enough to make your impatience clear.

Jeongguk hums, taking one step closer until the counter edge digs behind your thighs, your figure almost sitting up on the surface, “Does my girl need help, hm? Is that so?”

It’s useless wasting more time. It’s useless trying to avoid it and pretend this exact moment isn’t what has been dominating your mind the whole day, both too proud to voice it but too naughty to actually suppress it.

So Jeongguk slowly gets down, never once looking away from your expectant eyes, not missing the way your chest gasps. You nod just as sluggish, mouth left slightly agape, too entranced by the look on your boyfriend’s face and his hand settling on your ankle to gently lift your foot and rest it on his propped-up knee.

When he patiently works on the struggle ahead with the tips of his careful fingers delicately brushing against your skin, it’s nearly torture trying to remain composed.

Now done with the pathetic excuse, your shoe properly set in place, Jeongguk is only getting started with the real reason he’s kneeling before you.

Jeongguk doesn’t rise right away. Instead, taking his pointer finger, he traces a teasing line up your calf that causes immediate goosebumps to prickle your skin, betraying just how deeply his actions affect you. He follows the trail up, and up, until reaching the side of your thigh. That’s when he stutters.

With your leg up, the skirt of your mini dress has ridden dangerously high and as a result it does very little to hide what’s underneath it, especially when the lacy panties you chose to wear are barely even doing their original job at covering you.

Chuckling lowly, his jaw clenches, “Baby.”

His vibrating tone runs as a pleasing buzz along your spine, and it has you straightening your posture the more you feel yourself slip under his control. You tilt your head, suddenly not so confident anymore in the game you started.

He slowly blinks up at you, sliced eyes matching perfectly with the wicked smirk on his lips, and the look he reserves you with is intense with something that doesn’t allow to go back, “What is this, huh? Did you plan it?”

You can only shake your head, afraid that if you speak you’re going to give you two away without even starting anything.

And he’s making it extra hard, especially when his digit travels up to your inner thigh, gaze never leaving yours, “Do you always go around with these kinds of panties on, doll?”

Guilty. Of course you don’t. Whole night has been sticky and uncomfortable. So yeah, this was indeed a plan. But now that it succeeded, you’re suddenly not sure how to act upon your own needs, intimidated by the man at your feet. You move your face side to side, faster this time.

Jeongguk gently lets his head fall to the right, his curls jumping with the movement, and he sounds softer than the way his hand is already pushing your leg to the side, “What do you want me to do, hm?”

It’s impossible to keep the moan you were forcing down your throat with his firm touch on your burning skin. It gets a chuckle out of him, and the subtle tinge of degradation has you pushing yourself further into his face, mere centimetres apart from your embarrassingly wet core.

He seems totally unfazed by your desperation, keeping his eyes trained on your face no matter how great the temptation to just dive into you already is. Jeongguk can smell you, and he could just lean forward a bit more to have the tip of his nose brush against your clit. But he resists.

He nods his chin up to you, his breath fanning over your clothed pussy, and he keeps the challenge up, ignoring the way your eyebrows draw up and paint you in deliriousness, “Use your words. Tell me what you need.”

Even in your haze, you’re mindful to keep your tone down, and the otherwise loud whine escapes you in the form of a whimper, your tummy going up and down with your panting and your thighs unconsciously parting in an attempt to have him pay attention to what clearly doesn’t need to be explained.

Jeongguk doesn’t want to act upon clues, though. You put both of you in this situation, and now he simply wants to know why.

Gulping at his intense gaze not once leaving your shaking and blown out pupils, you whisper a strained plea, “I want you to touch me. Been thinking about this all night.”

His condescending smile is accompanied by a long, belittling hum, his eyes finally dropping low to inspect the wet patch expanding from your clenching hole. From where it had flattened around your knee, Jeongguk lets his palm travel under your dress and across your lower tummy, caressing it while subtly letting his thumb brush past the hem of your panties.

You jut your hips forward, feverish with the minimum stimulation of his breath against your sex, but you’ll learn the hard way to not be so impatient, your boyfriend’s hand pressing against your stomach to push you back down on the counter.

The pressure feels nice, and he knows it. There’s no uncalculated action in the way he touches you; he’s memorised what your every sound of pleasure corresponds to. Nonetheless, he keeps taunting you.

Keeping his hand cupping the skin around your navel, he uses his other calloused one to spread your legs open and allow himself to have you. Or at least you think so, before he uses his lips to further tease you, his tongue skimming the wet spots on the inside of your thighs without never even brushing the pulse and center of all your needs.

Before you can protest and fully push yourself on him, he looks up at you with a warning ready on his lips, “Be fucking quiet, doll, I swear.”

And it’s like he does it on purpose, because he willingly doesn’t give you any time to prepare and just latches at your wetness through the slicked material, making it hard to stifle the first moan threatening to topple out of you.

The pace he picks up is torturous, and his saliva blending with your own wetness causes your panties to stick uncomfortably in between your puffy lips. You huff, protest ready on your tongue, but Jeongguk precedes you and pulls the piece to the side, not once detaching from your weeping cunt, the sudden coldness of the room that hits your exposed folds immediately being replaced with his warm desire.

He doesn’t have time to scold you for your behaviour, but oh, he will. The way you’re clutching tightly on his hair and rutting into his lapping tongue, struggling to keep your noises down; how you impatiently rush him to get you to that high you desperately seek. You were never granted permission.

So, he allows himself to be just a bit mean to you, his licking along your slit slow and fleeting, almost imperceptible, his grip poking harsh cavities in your skin that will leave marks. Not that you mind.

When he growls lowly against you with his nose brushing your most sensitive spot, it’s your clue to push the testing-his-patience to the side and maybe act less like a brat. There’s no time, and you really want — need — whatever he’s willing to give you.

With a hand curling around the edge of the counter, you use the other to stifle your moans, and his approving nod vibrates with a hum and pulses with your clenching hole. He starts to lap at your core now, engulfing your lips and nuzzling himself closer to your entrance.

“You’re so bad,” it comes out slurred and muffled, but the humiliation settles in you with a pleasing buzz that has your hips stuttering when he nudges your center with the tip of his tongue. The sound you let out in response is close to a cry that you quickly swallow, fighting hard to be obedient and keep down, even more when he continues with his belittling comments against your throbbing walls, “First on the naughty list this year, huh.”

As much as the both of you love the chase, Jeongguk knows he has to get you close to a breaking point if he doesn’t want the others to suspect your absence. That’s why he moves his warm muscles up to your clit and lets his two digits join the stimulation, only causing more slickness to smear a mess between your legs.

Your body involuntarily runs after the cruel curling of his fingers, forcing their space inside your mushy walls, warm and clutching around him the more his tongue picks up its pace. You can feel him panting against you, and his laboured breaths only work to bring you to the ecstasy you’ve been daydreaming about for days now.

He does exactly what it takes last to undo you, speaking between trails of your stickiness and efforts to slurp every single drop of it you offer him, “C’mon, pretty. Cum before the others find you like this.”

You choke on a gasped moan, your body convulsing with the incessant provocation and the attempt at keeping louder sounds stifled behind strained whines. Jeongguk gulps down your essence, lapping at every corner of your core to make sure he doesn’t miss none of the reason you’re shaking for.

Only when you unconsciously try to avoid his grip on you does he detach from you, letting his devilish gaze drag up, slowly along with his body. Before he gives the two of you any possibility of speaking, he crashes onto you, mouth chasing yours in a kiss that has you tasting your own self mixed with him.

He pants, moving with a smirk on his glossy, puffy lips, “Satisfied?”

The breathy giggle fanning against him lets him know that you are far from that, “Didn’t you say something about fucking me? You seem hard.”

“God, I can never make that pretty mouth of yours shut up, huh. You want my cock? That what you badly want?”

It was never this easy to get Jeongguk to give in so quickly to your bed requests. Usually, it was a game of hunting, of resistance, of testing the other’s resolve to see who would break first. But now, it’s different, and there’s no hesitation in the way he tugs at his pants, breath ragged and his focus entirely on you.

The moment his length is freed, already hard from eating you out and throbbing with need, he doesn’t wait for permission—he never has to with you. You realize how completely your moans and whimpers have filled the air and how incapable you are at quietness.

How can you be when the sound of him slapping his thick shaft against your lower stomach sends a new jolt of arousal coursing through your body?

“Lay back,” Jeongguk rasps, nudging you with his hips, and you obey without question, your palms supporting your weight on the counter.

He lets his tip drag over your slick folds before pushing his whole cock in, the suddenty of the action meeting your anticipation with a gasp leaving both your mouths.

Jeongguk only forces himself deeper, quickly adjusting to a preferred pace once he checks that you’re okay with a small nod. Because he knows it’ll be hard to slow down once you give him the go ahead.

He’s never been this embarrassingly close from simple teasing and foreplay, but his thrusts become stammered almost too early, and he thinks it has everything to do with you granting his only wish on his Christmas list and being so eager to tick it off for him.

He wants to do it for you, too, “Fuck, baby. I’ll cum inside you, hm? Keep all my mess stuffed in your tight hole. Make your wish come true.”

The implications behind his slurred speech have your eyes rolling to the back of your head, mouth hanging open to release your every breathy whimper. Jeongguk knows you’re on the pill, and for this exact reason it’s not the first time he finishes in you.

Yet, the shift in his tone and the reasons he decided to speak that last sentence cause you to throb uncontrollably in overstimulation around his thick length, making it a struggle for him to slide easily into you.

Making your wish come true, the one you jokingly whispered to him on your couch a week ago, means one thing. The knowledge of Jeongguk wanting to fill you with his babies moves something so deeply instilled within you that you can’t help the wail escaping you, immediately burying your face in the curve of his broad shoulder and biting at the skin.

He has to fight just as hard when he feels your pussy contract, knows you’re getting closer again, feels himself dangerously near to breaking as well, mouth parted and brows knitted, delirium washing over his face.

Lifting his gaze up from your enthralling orbs, he catches sight of your tangled bodies in the mirror behind you and groans, clutching your hips tighter to angle himself just enough to perfectly witness himself sinking in you at a relentless speed in the reflection.

“Oh doll, fuck,” his expression is hard and focused, the way his jaw ticks only adding to the feverish look, and his voice is rough from the whispering, “Look behind. Look at us in the mirror, how well you’re taking me.”

You manage to weakly turn your head enough to witness your naked bodies blending together at your centers, his muscled hands tightly clutching at you and digging marks that will leave their signs for a while.

Weakly, your head falls back and you let a particularly loud whimper flow freely out of you. Jeongguk would be a hypocrite if he were to shut you up, because his own grunts resonate against the empty walls the more he buries his greedy length in you.

He hopes the music he convinced the others to put on before leaving the room to check on you in the bathroom is enough to pad the inglorious sounds of skin meeting and breaths shortening.

The noises seem to suddenly alarm you to the point of cradling the side of his face with your soft palm and moving him to you, just to catch his mouth with yours in a kiss that’s all teeth and spit, that vibrates with the moans you struggle to swallow.

His pounding stutters the more he fucks into you, and he manages a few flicks at your clit before thrusting hard and steady, once, twice, three times, emptying himself in you. The warm feeling of his white semen filling you to the brim comes with a new emotion tonight, and you pulse around him in your second climax.

There’s no time to recover from the high when his whispered plea meets your ear, “Baby. Need to fuck you again.”

You pant, thoughts confused, speech slurred, “What?”

“Let me take you home, c’mon. I wanna pump you full of me again, and again, and again. Until you can feel it, can’t escape it.”

The intensity in his eyes conveys a love that contrasts deliciously with the lust still clouding the stuffy bathroom, his lips closing around pecks down your jaw, then under it, then along your neck.

You’re hoping that what he’s saying is exactly what you want it to be, “Jeongguk…”

Cradling your face, he speaks against your mouth, “I love you so much, doll. We’re making it happen. Let me practice for now, hm?”

A smile parts its way across your face, soft and full, and you can’t suppress it even if you tried, even when you try, “But the others—”

“Need you. Now.”

[taegularities]

colour me in: photograph (teaser) | jjk (m)

Summary: With both your and Jungkook's careers seemingly peaking, the future feels promising and bright. Yet, amidst the glowing hope, one single phone call dims the light in the rooms of your shared home.

➳ pairing: Jungkook x reader ➳ rating: 18+ ➳ genre: fwb/f2l, fake dating; angst, fluff, smut ➳ warnings: [redacted spoiler that shall drop with the chapter], tears, sadness/grief, doubts, tender moments, talk of jk's future and his art, support, jk's dad, surprises, (talk of) a break up oop, mention of children (i guess that's a warning lol), explicit sexual content: let-out-some-steam-sex, dom!jk, big dick!jk, he's actually insane. more details shall be added on drop day; the ending.. <3 ➳ word count: around 760 for the teaser; 25-30k for the chapter ➳ a/n: get ready, it's gonna hurt for a whiiile now :') as always, come n talk to me about this 🤍 ➳ listen to: holo by leehi | full collaborative playlist 🤍

SERIES MASTERPOST | TAGLIST MASTERLIST | WIPs

“You do know that we’re supposed to meet up with them in like,” you drop your eyes to your wrist, pulling back the sweater to unveil your watch, “forty minutes, right?”

“And you think they’ll complain about some extra time alone?”

You deliver a blank stare, not a single blink as you watch him shrug a shoulder. He sports a smirk that you would’ve clenched your jaw to months ago, but today, even if you won’t admit it right this second, it amuses you.

He laughs when you stand there unmoving, like a stick figure silently reprimanding a lethargic boyfriend. You hate to break, but when the contagious chuckle infects you, too, you feel a light wave of relief and serotonin ripple through you violently.

Jungkook hasn’t left vacation mode just yet; while the work for the gallery is still ongoing and he diligent, you catch him slouching ever so often, doodling away at times. You’ll confess, the grey outside is tiring; different from the sunnier countryside you left behind.

There’s a sort of post-bliss blues that even you can hardly shake off.

“You can’t deny that, can you?” he utters amidst his melodious laugh, and you roll your eyes, taking two big steps towards him — much like two days ago.

“I don’t have to deny it to still teach you the importance of punctuality, right? Get up,” you say, smacking his hip — and he uses the opportunity to lift his arm from under his head, reaching for you, but… failing. “Uh-uh. Enough with your tricks. Get up.”

Last night still wasn’t enough — is it ever? You’re not surprised; neither by his thirst nor by your own inner, involuntary reactions. But no time. It’s rude to let people wait.

And you know exactly what Jimin would say — tease — if the two of you arrived at the double lunch date with him and Yoongi too late again.

Jungkook’s voice turns half into a yawn, half into a sigh, tired when he responds, “Yes, ma’am.”

This should do.

But since everything good comes in three, and just for good measure, you add another laser-glance, shooting at him in warning to lift his ass and meet you ready once you are, too. A playfully sigh breathed, you amble to the bathroom, make up awaiting on the sink from when you put it there this morning.

This shouldn’t take long; you’re opting for the minimalistic approach today.

As the hues colour your lips and fill your lashes, you hum a random melody you can’t quite identify. It’s quiet in the apartment until it isn’t — and when Jungkook’s voice chimes, your hand halts mid-mascara-stroke, assuming he’s calling for you.

He’s not; you understand this much when he greets the person on the other end in his liveliest tone at first, volume decreasing as the conversation continues. He’s soon hushed enough for you to not really make out proper words anymore. Hums here and there — Jungkook doesn’t seem to say much at all.

Perhaps it’s Yoongi, or Tae, telling a story. Narrating recent occurrences, the joys and pains that emerged and shrivelled on the vacation that you weren’t part of anymore.

You don’t ask just yet, decide not to disturb.

You finish up whatever is left of your routine, setting the make up and ruffling through your hair, adding volume. When the talk he’s indulging in still remains when you deem yourself ready, you let out a breather and step back into the bedroom.

Still in the same clothes and with the untamed hair as his crown, Jungkook’s gaze is lowered, fingers barely curled into the sheets. He’s sat up now; you see his Adam’s apple bob when you walk in. Instinctively and immediately, you blurt, “Now what did I tell you just a moment ago—”

But the jest dries in your throat and then fades, as dead as Jungkook’s eyes when he looks up at you. Or maybe… maybe they’re not dead.

More so — in disbelief. As if he hasn’t really fathomed what he’s just heard, mind sprinting in circles, attempting to understand.

His chest isn’t moving as it should, and just in general, his body emits inner trouble. Distress. When he lifts his pupils and shifts them towards you, it looks as if he’s hoping that your presence could reverse reality, as if you’re pulling him out of the inevitable quicksand.

But you can’t. You get it; see it right away.

Because the watery gaze and the gap between his lips, this expression, are new to you, no matter how many of his aches you’ve mended. And you guess it has something to do with what his conversation partner just said.

Something that certainly wasn’t part of today’s agenda at all.

the way i even had to change the banner bc it'd be such a spoiler lmaoooo but yeah anyways, what do we think? y'all's thought always help immensely, and life has been so busy that writing took a backseat – getting back into it is hard. but you guys offer so many theories as well as love and always motivate me, so come and let's talk <3

[41nyl]

the writing. holy hell.

— EVERY BREATH YOU TAKE; 1 (m.)

— notes; this fic is not condoning abusive/unhealthy relationships in any way. please do not read if you are triggered by anything relating to stalkers/stalking. this is a repost from my old account.

pairing; jungkook/reader genre; stalker au, thriller, smut words; 11,076 rating; explicit

— synopsis; everything was going great when you first met jeon jungkook. he was a new light in your life with soft smiles and tinkling laughs; but then you noticed a lurking presence that seemed to follow you wherever you went.

contents; obsessive, toxic behavior. creampie, rough sex, unprotected sex, orgasm denial, overstimulation, multiple orgasms, possessiveness, dirty talk, light humiliation, dom!jungkook.

— chapters; one. two. three.

Class was uneventful, as it always was. You had scribbled down notes and tried to pay attention, but you really couldn’t focus on anything with the little amount of sleep that you had gotten the night before. Your second class was just as tiring as the first and you were relieved when it ended. You shoved your laptop into your backpack and pulled your phone out to text Hoseok while you walked out through the doorway.

[to hobi 11:57am] — you out of class?

You grunted as you collided with something firm and your phone almost slipped out of your hand. You heard a thud and looked down to see a textbook lying by your feet.

“Oh, I’m so sorry!” you apologized quickly, bending down to grab the textbook and looking up to see the boy in front of you beginning to crouch as well. He had his hood pulled up over his dark hair, but you had to take a second to collect yourself when you saw how cute he was. The two of you maintained eye contact for a few more long seconds before you realized you were creepily staring at this guy, so you hurriedly grabbed the book and straightened up, as did he.

“It’s okay,” he responded quietly, sending you a small smile while he held his hand out for the book. You returned his smile and handed him the Psychology textbook.

Keep reading

[ressjeon]

pretty doll | kim line (m.)

genre/au: smut, slight bdsm? (i have no idea what AU this is but you’ll see)

summary: when Namjoon left, he said to stay put and you obeyed as usual but why did he leave you with his roommates when they were this hot?

wc & rating: 5.6k | 18+

warnings/content: explicit sexual content, dom/sub dynamics, oral (both receiving), fingering, deep throating, face fucking, unprotected sex, double penetration (spitroasting, we're back lmao), exhibitionism (public sex 🗿), praise kink, reverse cowgirl, edging, cum play, degradation, size kink, groping, pet names, etc.

a/n: happy taejincember y'all it's been a long ass time! anyways, this was my dream years ago so it's initially written in 2021 and i'm finally posting it lmao. thank you to the amazing Danica ( @dee-ehn ) for this very very gorgeous banner & divider 💞

It’s hard to explain the relationship between you and Namjoon.

But you never bother explaining when people around you ask because you’re not the type to put labels anyway, and so is he. This simply is an arrangement and you’re not together by any means so you’re both free to do whatever you want, with whoever you want.

There are only two rules that you both have been following for a while now though. One is simple; no kissing on the lips with other people but the other one’s a bit complicated. Enough that it took a while before you got used to this dynamic between you and Namjoon, causing small arguments here and there around the beginning. However, he has always been patient and handled you with care, showing it to you in his own ways that you learned to tune in with it in time.

Like right now.

.

“ahh..Namjoon” you whine for the nth time to no avail. He's been eating you out since the moment you arrived here in the park earlier like a starved man as he always does. Well, according to him, your cunt’s the only one he devours, part of the other rule that you both agreed on. 

When his mouth is not on you, his two fingers are, sometimes three, before he stops. He does this when he senses that you're about to cum, chuckling deeply before releasing the swing that you’re sitting on to tease you further. You’ve been squirming nonstop on it due to the cold breeze that’s been hitting your wet core since the first time he fingered you here. 

You do love it but Namjoon’s mercilessly doing this to you...

In some random playground, in broad daylight, in this chilly weather.

Good thing there’s no one in sight but even then, that would’ve been the last thing on your mind with how Namjoon’s torturing your pussy like he’s punishing you. It also doesn’t help that you’re not wearing any panties as that is what he prefers when you're with him. He reasons that it’ll be easier to finger you or eat you out anywhere he likes. 

He does the same. Going commando each time you go out since you’re always needy when he’s near, always wanting to suck him off, always wanting to sit on his cock no matter where the both of you are.

One of his strong arms catches the curve of the swing seat you’re sitting on, stopping it from hitting him when it sways forward. Then he brings back his fingers inside your swollen pussy again, making you shut your eyes, breath hitching with each intrusion. All you can focus on is his long fingers massaging your abused walls at this point, your knuckles turning white while gripping the swing chain so hard because you’re nearing your peak once again.

Your eyes suddenly open when he reaches that soft spot inside you, moaning louder than you’ve already been as soon as you lock your eyes with him. He’s looking at you intently, as usual, never straying his eyes from observing your face while his fingers continue pumping in and out of your pussy. 

Namjoon’s always been handsome but he’s looking more gorgeous to you from where he’s kneeling, not seeming to mind the small wood chips digging into his denim jeans. The strands of his short honey-blond hair above his undercut being blown by the wind, causing your walls to flutter more around his wet fingers whose pace is now turning slow. You squeak when Namjoon continues to retreat his fingers, spreading your pussy lips apart before pushing in, scissoring your pussy again.

And then he removes them abruptly and doesn’t swing you back this time.

“sorry doll, we have to get going. i have some last-minute holiday shopping to do”

You pout at Namjoon’s words, eyes nearly watering at what he said. His tone’s apologetic as he stands up from the ground, holding his hand out for you to take but you’re still reluctant to leave. He retracts and waits for you instead at the wooden edge of the box, face teasing as he wipes his cum-coated fingers against his denim jeans which further added to your distress.

“i didn’t cum yet” you whine in displeasure, looking up at him with big eyes from your seat, hoping that’ll change his mind about staying a bit and letting you finish but he doesn’t falter. 

So you’re back to pouting, the dazed sensation from his edging beginning to leave your body. 

Realizing that he’d never really budge, you stand up and turn around to check if you didn’t leave any mess on the swing seat. Thankfully there’s none, though the embarrassment stays in you despite frequently fooling around with Namjoon in public places like this. You’re trying to pull down your skirt as you’re nearing him, to make sure the wind doesn’t blow it up and expose your bare pussy to any possible passerby. 

He seems to be enjoying seeing you sulk as the grin on his face widens, "later okay? you can stay at my place for a while". 

Namjoon cages you with his big arms and you lean on his chest, nodding in relief at what he said. He never breaks his promises so you have a hunch that he must be planning something for later then. Excitement courses through you at the thought but his edging made you a bit hungry though, your stomach growling a bit which doesn’t go unnoticed by him.

"let's go Joonie, hope you have my favourites there" you smile sheepishly as you look up at him and he chuckles in return, one hand sliding down to your waist to hold you as you both start walking to his place.

The fancy apartment building looms over you both as you arrive at Namjoon's place. He shares it with his two other close friends, Seokjin and Taehyung. They’re gorgeous like him and each time Namjoon brings you here, you couldn’t help but steal glances and ponder their whereabouts when they’re not around. You’re rarely here that’s why and when you are, they're either both absent or the other one's missing.

You’re wondering if they’re here this time though, you haven't seen those two in a while.

.

Namjoon opens the door with his own key, pulling you inside after setting them on the key rack. It’s something his roommates have implemented given the number of times he lost his keys. Their place is not that big for three people but the interior shows each of their tastes that somehow complemented one another. It's because they’ve known each other for years, gradually learning more about each other that you’re sometimes amazed at how synced they are in what they do. 

You instantly shiver at the change of temperature as soon as you enter their unit, the heater’s finally switched on much to Namjoon’s delight. The heat is warming you up but you’re feeling warmer seeing both his roommates sitting by the round kitchen table.

Namjoon nods to them as a greeting while he walks hurriedly towards his room. This leaves you awkwardly standing by the door, contemplating if you should follow him or join his roommates in the kitchen. You’re still not close with Taehyung and Seokjin despite Namjoon bringing you here for a little while now. You talk to them of course but Namjoon subtly demands your attention all the time. Quite a contrast because he never displays affection towards you when other people are around. It’s just him by nature, seeing as you’re not together anyways so you respected that.

Unable to decide, you drop to your knees to unbuckle your platform heels, facing sideways so they won't get to see your bare pussy. Namjoon’s just by his bedroom and you’re thinking of following him there for a quick fun. You’re still on edge but disappointment arises in you when he comes out with some bags in hand just as you’re out of your wedges. 

Namjoon takes a piece of paper from his pocket with one hand, unfolding it to double-check the list of things that he has to purchase. He’s already set on this, turning to you to give a quick hug before putting back his olive green jacket on.

"behave doll, hmm?" he pats your hair and you smile in return, dismissing the joke that you were about to make about his high-time plan as you bid him goodbye.

Seokjin and Taehyung know of you from the times Namjoon brought you to their place. They’re also aware of your "relationship'' so they aren’t fazed at how you and their roommate treat each other. Namjoon leaving you here alone with them is surprising though, they never thought that he’d let you out of his sight especially when other guys are around.

Before your arrival, they’re at the roundtable, munching the Christmas cookies that Seokjin baked earlier. Both men are facing the door when you and Namjoon enter, allowing Taehyung to steal glances at your bare legs. Seokjin elbows him after noticing and he coughs loudly before adjusting the way he sits and greeting Namjoon back. He shouldn’t look again but your skirt’s riding up and he’s tempted so he took another cookie to stop himself.

You haven’t looked at them but they can tell that you’re conflicted about whether to talk to them or not. However, your expression changes as soon as you spot the fridge, approaching it with eager eyes. Each man was about to talk to you but the greeting on their tongues halted when you suddenly bent your body after opening the fridge, exposing your bare pussy in front of them.

Taehyung grips his glass full of milk as he stares at your glistening cunt, almost choking as he tries to chew the cookies he's eating. He knows that he should look away because you’re technically Namjoon’s girl but he can’t help it. There's no way you’re not aware of what you’re doing to them, meaning, you might know how they see you already. He gulps a large amount of milk to clench his drying throat while he can hear Seokjin coughing excessively beside him.

“Give me some Tae” Seokjin discreetly asks beside him, still coughing a bit from choking on the cookies. Taehyung doesn’t even realize that he’s been holding the box of milk with his other hand this whole time, turning around to pass it to Seokjin and noticing the guilt in his hyung’s eyes when their eyes meet.

Like his younger roommate, Seokjin also can’t stray his eyes from your cunt. He tried looking away from your smooth legs when you came in with Namjoon earlier but he can't possibly do that now that you're purposely doing this in front of them. Not only that it shocked them but it also confused him a bit. Sure, he noticed your subtle glances on them before but that’s the only thing you’ve done so far. Still, he’s not sure what you’re planning but the mere absence of your undies shouldn’t have been a surprise; you’re Namjoon's “doll” after all. 

Taehyung thinks it's an invitation while he knows Seokjin will think it's a test. He’s not sure but you’re pushing their limits right now and the self-control that he’s been holding all this time is so close to snapping. You might be oblivious but Namjoon usually teases both him and Seokjin, flaunting you by putting you on his lap whenever you come over. He may act indifferent but his eyes hold that devilish look in them, knowing exactly how his roommates get riled up when you visit. You on the other hand are unaware, never giving Namjoon’s gestures any thought as something else. 

Seokjin didn’t think Namjoon would use you this time though, his most prized possession.

He leaves the table as soon as he recovers from coughing, going straight to the living room’s sofa which is just right across the roundtable to get a moment of clarity. That's failing cause he can see you and Taehyung from here. His younger roommate still sitting on his staring at you, more like at your swollen, wet cunt, fuck.

Seokjin shakes his head, thinking how absurd this whole thing is. Here they are, his younger friend still ogling at your pussy and him struggling from the pull to look back at your bent position.

The living room’s pretty tense at the moment. None of them can guess what your next step is or if you even have one. 

But you surely do, at least that’s what Taehyung’s been thinking, or you won’t be doing this without Namjoon around. His ogling gets disrupted when you stand up from the fridge, turning around to close it with a pack of soft breadsticks in your hands. He hadn't seen those when he scoured the fridge earlier so Namjoon must've hidden your favourite snack where only you can find that's why it took you a while.

Or maybe, you're simply teasing them.

He watches you sit beside him, excitedly opening the box of snacks Namjoon prepared for you. Your sole focus seems to be only on your food, not looking at him or anywhere else. He wonders if you’re purposely ignoring him though, prompting him to make the first move but he won't. 

Until you give in first.

Initially, Taehyung wanted to break the air and start a conversation with you as soon as you sat beside him but you seemed to be very hungry. Namjoon surely did something to you before coming here, that explains why you've been agitated this whole time. Your pussy lips were twitching earlier and your display of hunger just proves Taehyung's assumption.

For now, he’ll let you eat in peace to gain back that energy that he’ll drain as soon as you give him a sign. His eyes, however, can't stop staring at how you bite a breadstick. Your luscious lips closing on it looks so inviting that it’s making his mind imagine how they would look really beautiful around his dick.

"do you want some Tae?" you surprise him with that soft voice of yours, eyes looking straight at him as you bite the breadstick and slowly chew it in your mouth, without blinking.

There it is.

Taehyung secretly smiles, almost cursing and closes his eyes for a bit before standing up. He doesn't miss the surprised look on your face when you just realize that he's only wearing a towel underneath. He was showering earlier and finished just in time when you and Namjon arrived. Of course, he didn’t wanna miss seeing you just in case you were only here for a bit, changing can wait. 

He can’t pass the opportunity up even though Namjoon’s aware of his attraction to you already. Taehyung never hid it unlike Seokjin, he was very obvious since the first time they met you. He knows that he shouldn’t feel this way, the thought of hitting on you never even crossed his mind before. 

But you’re extremely making it hard for him right now.

His grin widens as he walks around the table to stand before you, prompting you to turn and look up at him.

“yeah, i want some”

He retracts his smile as his eyes meet yours. Big eyes looking at him questioningly though he’s starting to believe that you know what you’re doing to him when you swallow the breadstick entirely, your lips moving back up and slowly sucking the tip while the naive look in your eyes is slowly changing into a cheeky one.

Fuck it, he’ll just apologize to Namjoon later.

Taehyung sees your eyes scanning his half-naked body until they descend toward his crotch, a bulge already visible. Hesitation suddenly emerges in your eyes because Namjoon could come home any minute and catch you both in a compromising position. But then you put down the breadstick you’re holding, reaching out to the wet tissue on the table to clean your hands before putting them on top of the towel that’s covering him.

He notices right away that you understand how he’s expecting you to do something to solve his huge problem. He looks at Seokjin who’s giving him the “don’t you dare” look but he sets his jaw at him, his eyes determined on his decision to play with you. He shifts back at your eager eyes looking up at him while one of your hands starts rubbing his bulge, realizing that you’re waiting for something from him.

“go ahead, baby”

Your core clenches at the pet name, smiling excitedly at Taehyung as you pull down the towel that’s wrapped around his hips. What welcomed you is a very angry-looking huge cock that almost slaps you in the face, its tip already coated with precum. You bite your lower lip at how delicious it looks, your mouth watering to taste him.

Namjoon may punish you for it later on but you can't help but be petty that he didn't let you cum earlier. Placing your hand around Taehyung's throbbing cock, you stick out your tongue to give his tip kittenish licks. He lets out a deep groan at that and you really like it so you begin stroking the rest of his cock, hearing more of his deep moans for the first time.

Seokjin calls your name when you're about to swallow Taehyung's cock in your mouth. Why he did, he doesn’t fucking know. He just felt left out somehow even which is hilarious seeing as he’s the one who’s purposely avoiding you. He’s not doing any better when he can clearly see you and his youngest roommate.

Staying away was no use as he couldn’t get the image of your wet cunt out of his mind. He should've just gone back to his room to end this madness, at least one of them has to be sensible. But Taehyung already gave in and Seokjin might not get another chance to have you.

He’s been doing his best to calm himself down from wanting to pounce on you since you are Namjoon’s doll.

But then you turn to him in surprise and he sees your eyes move down towards his crotch, to the bulge that he’s been sporting. He didn't think you'd bother entertaining him when you're already occupied with helping Taehyung.

Seokjin watches how you mindlessly bite your lip while looking at it. He’s fucked. He’d been too obvious and maybe calling your name earlier was also because he wanted to see this exact reaction from you.

Looking back at Taehyung, he sees the smirk on the younger roommate's face, already knowing that his hyung is definitely getting more riled up at his stunt. He hates how the younger’s plan is working even more so when your hands start pumping Taehyung absentmindedly, causing the younger one to hiss. It's a sight that Seokjin finds so hot that he couldn’t help but take out his dick from his pants and calls your name again. 

Your eyes bulge out at how big his cock is, and like entranced, you stand up and leave Taehyung standing there. While approaching Seokjin, your eyes never strayed away from his cock. You want a taste since it’s so big like Taehyung’s, yearning to feel its weight in your mouth.

However, he stops you right when you are about to kneel between his legs, turning your body instead which confuses you. Your eyes search for Taehyung, who's still watching you both from where he's standing, fully naked with the towel now perched on the chair that you were sitting on earlier. 

A frustrated whine was going to erupt from you until you felt Seokjin’s fingers lifting your skirt, making you bend forward as a reflex. Thinking he’s going to eat you out, Taehyung immediately goes in front of you to help you balance but Seokjin’s just staring at your bare pussy. You want to lower your body to sit down on him so you can also pay attention to Taehyung, whose cock is in front of your face. Seokjin stops you though, hands moving to spread your ass cheeks further so he can see your twitching cunt more.

"why nothing under baby?" he finally asks, his raspy voice filled with curiosity as to why you went commando today. This is the first time that he's talking to you directly other than calling your name earlier, adding the "baby" in it now that causes a stir in your stomach. 

"mhhmm, so that he can fuck me anywhere" you whine, hoping that he'll hurry up so they can fuck you already. 

Seokjin should’ve expected it, and the mention of Namjoon momentarily brings back his guilt about what he and Taehyung are about to do with you. As if you can sense his dilemma, he watches your head turn around as your hand covers his, smiling at him to assure that everything is okay with you.

Relief washes through Seokjin's face as he closes his eyes and takes a deep breath. He’s not just daydreaming this whole thing because you do want them both. He doesn’t know what to do later when Namjoon arrives but for now, he’ll just enjoy what you’re offering. While he’s still contemplating, you decide to sit down on him, your damped pussy lips sliding on top of his swollen dick which causes him to groan inwardly. 

You don’t waste time as soon as you settle on Seokjin’s lap and take Taehyung’s awaiting cock in your mouth, sucking half of him off slowly and giving kitten licks around his tip until he gets impatient, one hand withdrawing from holding up your arms to grip your head. 

Taehyung eyes you with a warning look, clearly not amused at your teasing so you immediately take him whole until his tip reaches the back of your throat. Enjoying the sound of your gagging, he thrusts again, causing your head to bump against Seokjin who’s dipping his head a little to focus on finding any ounce of resistance within himself. Taehyung finds this entertaining, noticing his older roommate refusing to hold you even though you started grinding on Seokjin’s dick unconsciously while sucking him off.

“let go hyung, we all knew how much you want to fuck her” 

Seokjin seethes at Taehyung’s remarks, glaring at him because the younger one’s right no matter how much he denies it. Despite the innocence you’ve been showing each time Namjoon brings you over, the look you always give to him and Taehyung is quite the opposite. You do this without Namjoon noticing but they do, further confusing them about how you see them. 

They shouldn’t care in the first place but the mutual interest between you is what pushes Seokjin to release a deep sigh before gripping your bare waist, hard.

“fuck”

You hear Seokjin curse before moaning at his hard grip, making your breathing quicken. Finally.

Out of all of them, he’s the hardest for you to decipher, not knowing what he’s capable of doing so you’re beyond thrilled now that he’s finally giving in to you. Your excitement increases while hearing him rummage through the side table’s drawer, possibly looking for a stash of condoms so you release Taehyung’s cock from your mouth to turn around to stop Seokjin.

Revealing to them both your intention all along. You never let anyone fuck you raw aside from Namjoon as it is the same for him if he’s fucking others but-

"i want to treat you..", you try wiggling your hips under his grip before looking up in front to meet Taehyung’s blown-out pupils as you continue, "the both of you". Taehyung’s hold on your arms tightens, causing you to wince a bit but a grin graces your lips which didn’t go unnoticed by him. Seokjin stops his movements too, still processing what you just said before bringing his attention back to you.

"you're gonna treat us baby?" a yelp comes out from you when Seokjin suddenly slaps your bare pussy. He spreads your legs further, both hands creeping in your inner thighs under your skirt until you feel his fingers prod on your already wet folds but one of your hands left the other man’s grip to stop him.

"N-Namjoon fingered me already" you inform them both breathlessly, acting a bit shy with your tone but both men know what your real intentions are through the mischief that they see in your eyes.

Your skirt’s still on and Seokjin starts tugging it, clearly demanding for it to be removed so you let go of Taehyung's hold so you can take it off, with Seokjin assisting you until the skirt's discarded somewhere on the floor.

Now you’re only on your pastel purple buttoned-up crop top as Seokjin guides your hips back to him. He fists his cock with one hand, guiding it along your folds as he brings your body down to his cock. When your cunt finally opens up to him, Seokjin releases a guttural moan, closing his eyes as your warm walls envelop his cock.

"big, oh fuck, so big" you whimper, mouth falling open at the slow intrusion because fuck, you feel like his cock could literally split you in half. You continue lowering yourself more, with Taehyung assisting you with your arms until the back of your thighs touches Seokjin's firm thighs.

“can see your pussy now being stuffed clearly with my cock" 

Seokjin breathes out against your shoulders, his mind reeling at how fast everything happened. You were just teasing them both earlier and now his cock’s inside you. You’re even letting him fuck you raw, which he never expected. He’d think this treat from you is too much but who is he to complain? he's been wanting to fuck you since the first time Namjoon introduced you to them.

You grab Taehyung's hips as leverage, pulling yourself up so you can position your legs by Seokjin's thighs. Planting one of your palms at the edge of the couch, you drop your body back to Seokjin's lap and start rolling your hips on his dick. The man behind you groans in surprise, hands latching on your hips to guide you at once.

Suddenly though, Taehyung grips your hair to pull you back towards his neglected cock which you immediately put back in your mouth. Humming around him, you bob your head faster and Taehyung couldn’t help but buck his hips further in your mouth at that.

"fuck, Joon-hyung must've trained your throat a lot hmm? you take me very well baby" he caresses your head and you preen at his praise, opening the back of your throat more to take him deeper than you already are.

“still.. so tight” Seokjin continues to moan deeply behind you, hands alternating between groping what he can touch and guiding your hips as he bounces you on his cock. 

Taehyung lolls his head back at how warm your mouth is around him. He only opens them when you begin moaning more around his cock again, his eyes focusing this time on your bouncing breasts. Your crop top is doing nothing to hold them.

“hyung, take it off” he signals a dazed Seokjin who starts unbuttoning your crop top right away.

Taehyung takes a sharp breath, seeing your breast bounce freely now that you’re fully naked that he couldn’t resist fucking your mouth more. His rough thrusts cause your eyes to water which Taehyung finds so sexy, his cock twitching at the sight. Seokjin’s the same with how his hands are greedily groping your bare tits, trying to thrust up into you at the same time.

"pretty..pretty doll..shit"

Your legs are on fire at this point but you asked for this and it’s worth seeing both men crumble because of you. Taehyung’s about to cum, his lower abs flexing and his hand's tightening their hold on your head. He spews more curses so you eagerly match his thrust, winking at him as soon as he locks eyes with you which takes Taehyung by surprise.

He might not be aware of your dynamics with Namjoon as much as Seokjin’s but he knows his hyung.

He’s fucked but it stupidly triggered his release. He cums a lot, so much that even if you try swallowing all of them you couldn’t and you’re not allowed to. Instead, you open your mouth to show him how you play his cum around inside your mouth before letting it dribble on your chin, dripping through the column of your throat down to your perky breasts that Seokjin has been massaging nonstop.

His labouring breaths are a sign that he’s about to cum as well but you’re just the same, feeling the lower band of your stomach about to snap. Now that your mouth’s not stuffed with Taehyung’s cock anymore, your moans are loud and clear. Seokjin’s hitting your soft spot continuously, pushing you closer and closer to your orgasm.

“shit, omy-” a loud cry came out from you, your back arching and jerking while you gushed on Seokjin’s cock. Your head landed on his shoulder, whining at his unchanging pace as he too was chasing his own release. Seokjin’s hold on you got firmer and he eyes Taehyung quickly before pulling you up, the latter catching you while he shoots his cum on your ass.

You surprise Taehyung when you nuzzle your face against his groin, licking his cock clean after and an amusing smile appears on his handsome face.

“cockslut” he mutters, brushing your messy hair away from your sweaty face. The raunchy pet name elicits a giggle from you as you let go of his hardening cock. Unbelievable. The grin on your lips stays on until you feel your legs straining from exhaustion.

Seokjin’s cumming so much that when you tried sitting back on his lap, his cock’s still releasing more cum. You take his twitching cock and place it between your ass cheeks as you sit, rubbing on it which causes him to release even more.

All three of you are exhausted, feeling the very wet and sticky cum on your bodies and his softening cock between your soaked pussy. Your eyes are barely open but a satisfied grin graces your lips. Taehyung decides to kneel in front of you, playing with the drying cum around your breasts while you're resting. They’re still sensitive to Seokjin’s nonstop assault the entire time they’re fucking you.

He grabs your face, stroking your cheek with his thumb as he smiles at you fondly.

"baby's a whore"

"yeah, filthy baby" Taehyung muses in response, looking at you with amusement. Seokjin does the same, murmuring praises beside your head and leaving a peck on your shoulder while caressing your arms.

"filthy doll"

The deep voice that answers from the corner of the room halts the three of you, immediately changing the once dazed atmosphere.

Taehyung’s eyes turn to you who mirror the same nervous eyes as he does. You start to squirm on Seokjin’s lap as you see Namjoon standing by the door, holding some bags full of Christmas decorations and gifts. His expression is void of anything which makes Taehyung and Seokjin at a loss on what to do next. The apology is ready to come out from him as he eyes Seokjin who turns quiet and shares the panicking eyes, unsure of how to hold you now that Namjoon caught the three of you.

“hyung-” he starts nervously, his plan on fucking you after was replaced by the need to explain the whole situation to his newly-arrived roommate but Namjoon cuts him off, only staring at your dishevelled form with one raised brow.

"did you enjoy your treat doll?"

Both men are too stunned to speak at Namjoon’s question, their eyes widening in confusion at their roommate and how this conversation’s progressing. Namjoon normally doesn’t share what’s his and as much as they’re not sure if you are, you’re still considered as his so the man’s amused face further confused the other two.

"i did", you meekly answer him, wiping Taehyung’s cum from your mouth with the back of your hands before standing up with wobbling legs as you walk towards him.

Seokjin hisses when your body’s warmth leaves him, instantly grabbing the tissues on the table to start cleaning himself up and putting back his clothes on. Taehyung’s still fully naked with his perplexed expression, eyes never leaving you as you walk towards their roommate so Seokjin hands him something to cover himself up with.

Namjoon catches your waist, eyes scanning through the mess of his roommates’ cum on your body. He takes a coat from the standing rack’s hook and puts them on you, ignoring the stains of cum that will transfer (presumably if it’s his). He stares at you for a bit and you’re beaming at the pride in his eyes for fooling his roommates and getting what you want at the same time.

A smile slowly appears on his lips and to your surprise, Namjoon kisses your forehead gently, in front of his roommates who mirrored your surprised reaction. This is the first time Taehyung and Seokjin witnessed Namjoon be affectionate to you with them around. But his strong grip around your waist says the opposite, one hand coming down to grope your ass, earning a whimper from you after. Just a reminder to everyone who you really belong to.

"do you have my request?" you break the silence in the living room, acting all normal like you didn’t just fuck Namjoon’s roommates in their living room and him catching you three. Your focus is only on him, looking at his eyes with obvious intent.

"of course" he gives a dimpled smile and takes your hand. He stops by the table to put down some of the shopping bags except for a specific bag that you’ve been eyeing since he arrived. 

As you both retreat to Namjoon’s room, he turns to his roommates who are still glued to where they’re standing.

"consider this as a birthday gift, for you both"

e/n: ngl i miss being this nasty lol 21 year old me was definitely something else. the writing's a bit different since i haven't opened this doc in about 2 years 😅

[withjaejae]

Hole-in-One | JJK pt. 3

Pairings: Jungkook x Reader

High society, richie rich setting

Warnings: Oral (m/f), fingering, car sex, superstitions, tiny bit of jealous Jk, mostly Simp JK, unprotected sex, just sex.

A/N: felt inspired by JK’s recent live so here we are. Enjoy

+++++++

“If I make this hole-in-one, let’s go to the charity ball together as a couple.” Jungkook smirks and hits the ball. He was confident that he doesn’t even look when the ball goes in so smoothly.

You on the other hand are smiling like an idiot.

Its been a month since you and Jungkook started dating but you’ve been doing it lowkey. With the finals over and graduation is just around the corner, he wants to publicly announce your relationship by going to your parents’ charity ball together. For the entire society to see.

Jungkook approaches you and bends over to peck your lips. You were about to speak when a cough interrupts your moment.

“So this is why you don’t ask me to play golf anymore.” Namjoon stood behind you two and frowns. “Auntie told me you and Jungkook would be here.”

“Okay, and?” You raise your eyebrows. His eye flicker between you and Jungkook standing very close to each other.

“What are you doing with my friend?” He finally asks and Jungkook drapes an arm around your shoulders.

“We’re dating.” You answer simply and Jungkook’s chest swells with pride. “What do you want, Joonie?”

“Jungkook, need a favor.” You groan and turn away, taking Jungkook with you.

“Aha. My days as your wingman are over, Joonie.” He teases him with the nickname. “I’m like your cousin now.” His words make you blush.

“Come on. You’re like the best wingman ever.” Namjoon groans. “There’s this girl who DJs at this club. You know people there, just give me an opening.”

“And I told you, I can’t. Plus, me and YN are going shopping tonight.” He shrugs. Namjoon groans in frustration.

You take pity in your cousin who is single as a pringle.

“You can go.” You look up at Jungkook. “It would be fun.”

“Nah. I hate clubs, the only clubs I want are these.” He hugs his brand new golf clubs that he bought yesterday. “Plus, I got a hole-in-one. Don’t I get my reward?”

“I thought your reward was the charity ball?” He groans. “Okay.” You tease.

“Ugh. I hate you two. Come onnnnnn.” You forgot Namjoon was still there. “You can tag along YN.” You contemplate.

“Damn. She must be really hot for you to let me join.” You turn back around to face him. “I guess we can go after shopping.” You look up at Jungkook.

“Fine.” He pouts.

“Would you be angry if I just drove around the block then back to the club house because I’m sure Henry or whatever can spare me a room?” Jungkook as his eyes glued to your legs. “Baby, you’re a sin.” His eyes finally met yours.

After shopping you both took an hour to prepare to get Namjoon a girlfriend. Or you hope its going to be a girlfriend.

You picked out a cute silver dress that’s too short for Jungkook’s sanity.

“If yoy’re the best wingman the way Namjoon says you are. We can be back at the club in an hour.” You trail your finger along his jaw before giving him a soft kiss.

He groans as you step away, he opens the door for you and you both drive towards the heart of the concrete jungle.

Namjoon had already chosen a VIP table near the DJ booth. His eyes light up as soon as he spots Jungkook approach with you right next to him.

“Ugh. You guys look good. Its annoying.” He rolls his eyes but hands you two an amorito sour.

“Okay, you ready?” Jungkook drinks half his cocktail and stands up.

“What? No! Its too soon!” Jungkook sits back down and pouts. “Do you have a next appointment or something?”

“No.” He continues to pout and you giggle at his cuteness.

“Relax.” You place a hand on his shoulder and squeeze. “Let’s have some fun.”

A tray of shots gets served at your table and you’re just as shocked as Jungkook. But hey, you haven’t been out for a while.

The three of you took shots like actual college students. Jungkook’s hand sitting tightly in between your knees.

“Jungkook. Go time.” Namjoon nods, you both look up at the DJ booth where they switch and the female Dj exits towards you.

“Whatever you’re gonna see. Its all for show.” Jungkook whispers before grabbing a shot glass and walks down crossing her and accidentally spilling the shot over her arm.

He doesn’t apologize, instead he just walks away and you can see the dj mumble ‘asshole’ just then Namjoon approaches with a handful of tissues and strikes up a conversation with her. In a couple of minutes you feel someone sit next to you.

“Is it like a good cop bad cop sort of thing?” You ask before turning to see who sat next to you.

“I dunno.” The voice sounded different.

You turn to see Kim Taehyung, a highschool friend, you shriek and hug him.

“Tae tae! When did you get back?” You start speaking french.

You both attended a private school in Paris but he pursued art there while you came home for college. Though you knew each other since you were kids, you only became close in highschool.

“A couple of days ago, I’m in town for a relative’s wedding. Fancy seeing you here, you hate clubs.” His arm was draped over the couch behind you.

Jungkook could see it from across the room, his stare is as sharp as a spear. The moment Tae tucks a hair behind your ear, he snaps. Angrily wading through the crowd on the dance floor before he finally reaches you both.

Tae looks up at him. “Jungkook.”

“Taehyung.” The air suddenly felt cold. Your eyes going back and forth between them.

Taehyung was the reason Jungkook didn’t make swim captain in 6th grade. He’s pissed to this day. He was also the reason he didn’t join the Paris program, he didn’t want to be anywhere around the man.

Clearly you two became close while in Paris.

“Taehyung, you remember Jungkook, he’s my boyfriend.” The B word that came from your mouth made any anger from Jungkook dissipate.

“Ah. Seems that I was too late.” He teases but you reach up for Jungkook’s hand. Taehyung took it as his cue to leave. “It was nice seeing you both. If he ever breaks up with you…” he locks eyes with Jungkook. “Call me.” Then looks at you.

You give him a small wave as he left, Jungkook takes his seat back. A grin on his face.

“You called me boyfriend.” He wraps an arm around your waist.

“Are you not?” You bit your lip. But the expression on Jungkook’s face tells you he loves it.

“I most definitely am, girlfriend.” You both cringe and laugh.

You wait a couple more minutes until Namjoon gives a thumbs up while passing you both before you stood up and left.

“Well, that was fun.” You smile as Jungkook gets in the car with you.

“But not as fun as—“ Before Jungkook could finish his sentence you’re crossing the center console and sitting on his lap, landing your lips on his.

It was a good makeout session until Jungkook starts undressing you.

“Wait. We can’t.” You pull away from the kiss, his hooded eyes luring you in. He asks why, “It’s bad luck to fuck in a car.”

“Says who?” He chuckles. “Its not like anyone can see us.”

“I know and I really want to. But it’s bad luck. For the car, not us.” He full on laughs.

“I wanna test that now.” He continues to put both hands on your ass. “Shit.” He curses when he feels you wearing a thong.

“Fine. Its your car.” You crawl towards the back seat. “Do you want your reward?” You wink and he hastly follows you.

His jeep has a wide leg space for the back seat so there was no hurdle as you situate yourself between his legs. You tie your hair up in a pony tail and place his hand on it.

“Shit. I don’t think I’ll last long with you looking like a fucking goddess.” You smirk at his words as you finally take him in your mouth. “Holy fuck. You are most definitely a goddess.” You take him deep in your throat and swallow around him.

He groans deeply making your slick drip from your folds. You moan around him, you can feel his dick twitch on your tongue. You drag your tongue across every ridge and nerve, the slurping sounds echoing in Jungkook’s brain. Despite your ruined mascara, he worships how you take him so well. Whispering filthy things as he cums down your throat.

He pulls you by your pony tail, you’re facing the passenger’s side window, you feel his tongue lick your thigh all the way up to your folds.

“Baby, you’re dripping.” You chuckles. “Who did this to you?” He, again, rips your underwear off.

That’s the fifth time in the time you’ve been together.

“You.” You mewl and rest your head on the seat. “Kookie, please.” Your breathing becomes ragged as you feel him tease your hole with his fingers. Pushing back towards him.

“Eager, baby?” He bites your ass cheek as he plunges two fingers in you.

He’s making you scream and moan, not giving a shit if someone passed by and heard you. Begging for more, his fingers have no mercy after adding another finger. He makes you fuck yourself on his hand and he revels in your reactions.

Your thighs start shaking, a sign that you’re close but just before you dive into your climax he pulls away.

“Nooooo—FUCK.” Your complaint turns into a moan, your eyes rolling to the back of your head as he rams his huge cock in you in one go. Your wetness making it easy for him to slide in.

He pistons in you, for sure someone can see the car shake but who the fuck cares anymore.

He takes a seat and you ride his huge cock facing away from him. You rest your hands on the front seats and give him something you’ve always wanted to do. And honestly, it drives him mad.

You raise your hips and start fucking yourself on his cock. As if you were twerking on him.

The view of your ass bouncing makes him lose it. He gathers up some slick and spits on your ass, you look back at him as he teases your ass hole with his thumb. You push back and nod, giving him a go.

He lets out a rough exhale as he pushes this thumb into your ass. You moan at the intrusion but surprisingly, it feels good. Maybe its the alcohol , or maybe its just Jungkook but fuck you feel ecstacy.

Your entire body becomes sensitive as you reach your peak.

“Baby. So fucking close.” You moan and Jungkook meets your ass by thrusting up. His thumb still in there. The sensation pushes you over and you’re cumming all over his cock the same time as he paints your insides white.

Your arms give out and Jungkook catches you again. You both catch your breat before you crawl to reach for the wet tissues from the glove compartment. You clean each other up.

“So… butt stuff.” You start and he chuckles.

“Its my first time too baby. Let’s put it on a shelf.” He kisses you deeply. Three words almost slipped out of his lips but he holds it back. Its too soon.

The next morning.

You both stand on the side walk, staring at Jungkook’s car as it gets towed. Apparently, it won’t start and its not because of the battery.

You open your mouth to say something but he shuts you up by kissing you. Out on the street. For your parents and the neighborhood to see. Both his hands on either side of your face, your arms wrapped around his waist.

“Yes, you warned me. But it was so worth it.” He pecks your lips. “We still have your car.”

“Nope. Its bad luck. My baby cannot have bad luck.” He keeps an arm around your shoulders as you take a stroll down the road.

“So, do you already have an outfit for the charity ball?” He asks and you nod.

You do hope he likes the deep royal purple gown you had custom made. It was also your graduation party after all.

[yooniivrse]

hating you, craving you | ksj

summary. you don't exactly remember how the man you hate most ended up between your legs, but you're not complaining.

pairing: seokjin x afab reader

genre: co-workers to ??, implied enemies with benefits, smut

word count: 1.1k

warnings: cursing, explicit sexual content, pussy eating, petnames (princess), oc gives seokjin blue balls lol

notes: this has been in my drafts since the day jin's office concept pics dropped :3 comments, reblogs, asks and feedback are so appreciated!! i hope you guys enjoy <333

────

main masterlist

────

Seokjin is a very unlikeable man.

He's arrogant, lazy, overconfident, selfish, and oh — did you mention arrogant? He wears that stupid smirk on his face constantly, using it as a leverage to get everything he wants. It was a pathetic sight, watching your co-workers stutter and stumble over their words in front of him while their skin grew deeper in the familiar shade of embarrassment.

You've always been the one person exempt from his charms — you're pride refusing to let you kneel to him like everyone else.

Which is why he’s the one with his knees digging against the hard, wooden floorboards, and his head between your thighs.

How you ended up in this position, you honestly have no idea. But none of that matters right now because fuck, did Seokjin’s mouth feel heavenly against your pussy.

His lips suck and lick at your cunt softly, his tongue delving in and out, exploring all of you. The fabric of your tight, pencil skirt is hastily bundled up at your waist — both of you had been too impatient and too worried about the lack of time you had to properly strip.

Seokjin’s fingers dig into the flesh of your thighs, keeping your shaking legs steady on the ground.

Your hands tug at his hair every time a shiver of ecstatic pleasure courses through you, followed by a lazy attempt at muffling a moan by pressing the back of your hand against your mouth. You can practically feel his lips curl into a smirk against your pussy when your actions go in vain.

“That good, huh princess?”

You look down to meet his eyes — pupils completely glazed over either lust.

“Sh-shut up.”

A muffled chuckle vibrates through your cunt and the feeling has you pressing his head closer into you. Your throbbing in his mouth, your back arching up as you feel your orgasm build up.

A plethora of curses fall from your lips; sinful pleads and lewd slurps filling the air of the almost-abandoned storage room. Any moment, the door could open to expose your little rendezvous. More arousal than worry fills you at the thought, and your cheeks flush in embarrassment.

Seokjin seems to be drawing out the alphabet with his tongue all over, taking his time to bring you over the edge — time that you were pretty sure neither of you could afford. But you were so fucking addicted to his mouth on you that you couldn’t bring yourself to protest.

“Shitshitshit. ‘m so close.”

Your eyes squeeze shut and one of your hands move from Seokjin’s hair to grip on to the side of the table, the pads of your fingers turning white from the force. His lips latch and lock against your folds, coaxing the knot in your stomach to come undone.

“C’mon, princess. Wanna taste you.”

Your orgasm washes over you like a strong tide, making your walls clench around nothing in steady waves. Seokjin eases on his pace, letting you ride out your orgasm in his tongue.

Your chest rises falls rapidly, small pants dropping from your lips. He licks a long strip along your cunt, collecting your juices on his tongue. Your hand snakes its way to the nape of his neck and you pull him up for a messy, sloppy kiss.

You clean the wet arousal that coats his chin and mouth, tasting a mixture of you and his saliva. His hands wrap around your waist securely, and you ease your weight off your buckling knees.

“When do you have to get back?” you ask, your voice breathless and your mind still fuzzy from the pleasure.

A kiss. “Don’t know.” Then another. “Don’t care.”

You giggle. “Wow, so professional of you.”

“Mhm. Don’t act like the idea of being caught doesn’t turn you.”

You’re rolling your eyes when three sharp knocks rap against the door. The two of you are blocked from view by the rusty shelves, but you still try to make yourself as small as possible.

The door doesn't open, but Jungkook's voice is unmistakable from the other side. “Hyung, you better hurry up. Namjoon’s gonna throw a fit if you don’t find him the file in the next five minutes.”

You keep your eyes on Seokjin, watching the way his Adam’s apple bobs as he lets out a sigh of annoyance. “Tell him that I’ll be there in a bit, Kook.”

“You better.”

Jungkook's footsteps trail off, and you finally let out the breath you were holding.

“Yeah, no. We’re never doing this in here, ever again.”

Seokjin lets out a sigh. “My bad. That kid’s always ruining something,” he groans, pressing his lips to yours again.

“Keep it in your pants, Seokjin.”

He scoffs. “You cannot be saying that right now.”

“You heard him,” you say with a shrug. “You can’t stay in here any longer.” You step away from him, pulling down the fabric of your skirt roughly. Despite the shivers of ecstasy that still faintly ran between your legs, the events that had just transpired had began weighing down on you; you let Seokjin eat you out during work hours in the file room, and he was never going to let you live it down.

Fuck.

Seokjin runs a hand through his hair and lets out a sigh — one clearly laced with annoyance. "Fine."

You smoothen down your shirt and quickly fix your hair as he steps off to the side. He pushes his hands into the pockets of his dark pants and leans his head against the wall.

"You coming?" you ask.

"Give me a minute. You go on."

You can't stop the teasing smirk that tugs at your lips and Seokjin avoids your gaze. At least you know that your not the only one affected by his charms.

Your walk off but come to a stop after a few steps. You turn around and his eyes meet yours. The words lie on the tip of your tongue, but you're pride tries to stop you from letting them tumble from your lips.

Fuck it.

"Want me to make it up to you tomorrow?"

A beat of silence passes, and regret instantly starts bubbling in your chest. But before you take back your offer, Seokjin lets out a small laughing breath and nods.

"Sure. Text me whenever you want, princess."

[41nyl]

this fic series is my first love.

polarity | 01 yandere!jungkook au

pairing: yandere!jungkook x reader {f}

genre: yandere

warnings: 18 + , unhealthy behavior, toxic relationships, cheating, manipulation, mentions of mental health (mc has pretty bad social anxiety) (TW: non-con touching)

word count: 4.6k

summary: Your best friend’s new boyfriend becomes infatuated with you..

Playlist

Parts: 01 | 02 | 03 | ❅ CS | 03 JK | 04 | 05 | 06

—

 Her glossy tinted lips stared back at her, raising her hand to touch up her last bit of makeup. Eunji was gorgeous , not like she needed much to make her stand out. But it wasn’t the good looks you admired about your friend, it was the oozing charisma she carried everywhere. Truly, you thought even if she wasn’t blessed with good looks, she’d still have every guy at her feet. Or anyone for that matter. It was just the aura she possessed. She pulled away from the small mirror she had in her hand, raising an eyebrow towards you.

“You’re gonna love him.” She promised, and you shook your head. Eunji had said that about each one of her past boyfriends, but still each one didn’t manage to impress you much. For such a pretty girl, your friend seemed to love complete bums. A shame really.

“As long as you like him..” You trailed off, uncertainty clear in your tone. You two both sat at the corner of a small cafe that was located near your apartment complex, La Belle. The place was slow today, oddly enough but the silence was comforting enough for the both of you. You figured that was soon about to change since you weren’t the type to look forward to meeting strangers.

“Y/n I’m serious, I really like him. He’s perfect in every way.” Eunji insisted, leaning forward against the small table in between you two. “ Plus, he’s really hot.”

You rolled your eyes, smiling at your friend’s descriptions. As far as you knew, the guy came from a pretty wealthy background which already meant he wasn’t like the usual guys she went for. He was a bit older too. Eunji never specified his job , just that he worked in the same company as his father. You figured it must have been a family business. 

Keep reading

[lostbookmark]

MDNI 🔞

Main Masterlist here

Finding Masterlist here

Summary: After a failed engagement, you move back home and reconnect with your friends. Maybe, just maybe you can find love with someone you never expected.

Pairing: Yoongi x F. Reader

Warnings: Explicit Sex, Swearing, Cheating (Not Yoongi), Fighting, Unprotected Sex, Protected Sex,  Toxic Past Relationship,

Genre: Enemies(?) to Lovers, Neighbors to Lovers, Small Town romance. Hurt-Comfort, Slight Angst, Romance

A/N: The first few chapters will be just plot. Smut lovers need to wait until chapter 5. Also, a couple of readers that wanted to be tagged I couldn't tag you. Your name wouldn't pop up for me to click on.

“Last box,” Hobi said, bringing in the last of your belongings and placing it on your kitchen table that you pulled out of your parent’s dusty storage unit earlier in the day. 

As much as you love Hobi, you couldn't live with him forever in his small two bedroom apartment anymore. Jungkook had texted you about a house that he had recently renovated on a plot of land that they owned near the neighboring Tannie Farms. He had offered to rent it to you before putting it out there for the public. He said he would rather have family in it and not some stranger that he can't trust.  You quickly accepted his offer and started packing your clothes the same day. Hobi begged you to stay a little longer, but you know that you were holding him back. Your social butterfly of a best friend started to cancel plans and dates to stay with you because you wanted to become a hermit and not leave your bed. It wasn't fair. You wanted him to happily live his life, and you knew he wouldn't if you were still there.

Your mother and father, thankfully, offered to let you raid their garage and storage unit for anything that you wanted to take for your new home. It was mostly junk that they were glad to get rid of. This way, they didn't have to worry about how they were going to throw it away. You came away with an old dark oak table and a couple of matching chairs that both wobbled a little bit. You are going to need to shove something under the legs to stabilize them. You also took a lumpy couch that used to be white in color but has since turned a dingy gray color after being stored away for so many years. Your old mattress from high school that you're almost positive will kill your back but is better than sleeping on the floor and a dresser whose drawers won't open without a fight. You did, however, pass on a large area rug due to the fact that it smelled like something had died in it.  They weren't the best, but it was better than having nothing at all. You'll be able to save up for better furniture later for your new house at a later date.

The two story white farmhouse with black rustic looking shutters was absolutely beautiful, and you fell in love as soon as you saw it. It was tucked away on a back road that was pure dirt several miles out of the main town square where it sat on perfectly manicured green grass. The wrap-around porch was decorated with various potted flowers, both big and small, in a range of beautiful colors. Large black solar powered lanterns lay scattered along around the perimeter of the dark wooden porch that emits a warm glow after sunset, setting a cozy and welcoming atmosphere.  A large porch swing sat on the back of the porch has a perfect view of Tannie Farms in the far horizon where their crops seem to go on forever. Where the stalks of corn sway in the breeze around the various tractors and other farm equipment that sat in their cornfield. It was a picture-perfect view.

The house itself had large floor to ceiling windows with french doors that have matching black trim all encased in brand new white siding. Inside, the new hardwood floors and freshly painted beige walls were perfectly clean and crisp looking. He was able to give it the perfect blend of modern and cozy at the same time. However, the best part was the quiet. It was so serene and peaceful that you were afraid that the silence might scare you after being away from it for so many years. You never got to have serene or peaceful when you lived in the city in a busy apartment complex along the main street of a popular area. Sirens, honking cars and yelling were a part of your everyday life. After a few months, they just became background noise that blurred into your daily life. Changkyun also always preferred to have friends over at all hours for drinks and music. He didn't care if you needed to sleep or if you had to get up early. He only cared about impressing his friends. You couldn't even complain, or it would start a fight. He told you all the time that you were not on the lease, so it wasn't your decision. It was miserable, and looking back, you don't know why you stayed as long as you did. 

There was, however, just one thing that Jungkook seemed to have forgotten to tell you about until after you had signed the contract and handed it back to him. That your one…singular neighbor, who you also have to share a large driveway with happened to be Min Yoongi. You thought it was a well thought out move on his end. Kook said that you wouldn't even see him since he is pretty much at the farm most of the day. It didn't really help put you at ease, but it didn't scare you away either.  It was time to grow up and move forward. Like Hobi has said. You were adults, and it's time to put all the bullshit away.

“Coming through,” Jungkook called out as he and Tae came through your door carrying your super old double mattress from high school.  

They head up stairs carrying it above their heads as you follow behind them and enter your bedroom. They toss it on the floor, and you can see a cloud of dust fly out of it. The particles linger suspended in the air. You'll have to figure out how to clean it later.  The guys look at each other and then around the bare room in confusion. You ignore them and push the mattress into the corner of your room with your foot and give them a smile. 

“What?” You ask them as you watch them as they continue to look around the barren room. “What's the matter?” 

“Don't you have a bed frame?” Tae asks, scratching his head.

“Or a box spring?” Kook added a second later.

“No, I didn't see them earlier. I think my mom might have gotten rid of them. It's not a big deal. I’m just happy I don't have to sleep on the hard floor or the lumpy couch,” you say with a shrug. Down stairs, you hear a crash and something break.

“I'll buy you a new one,” Joon called up the stairs.

You sigh and head back downstairs to see what your loveable but clumsy friend broke. Thankfully, it was just a vase used for decoration that you had bought on sale and held no sentimental value. Shooing him away from the mess, you take over the clean-up carefully, avoiding cutting yourself of the sharp shards of colorful glass. 

You couldn't be more thankful for them than you already were. You were thankful for Jin when he dropped off dinner for you since you haven't gotten geroceries yet. You were thankful for Jungkook for offering you the house.  Also, for everyone else who helped you move things from your parent's storage unit and garage to the house doing all the heavy lifting for you. You really did love them. They were here. They never gave up on you. 

“Are you going to be okay here alone? What if it's haunted?” Hobi asked, giving you wide, scared eyes. “You can always stay one more night with me if you're scared. You know I don't mind.”

“It's not haunted,” Jungkook said, rolling his eyes.

“Besides, she’s not completely alone,” Jimin said, looking at you with a knowing smirk and a wink. “Yoongi is just right over there.”

You curse yourself for letting it slip to Jimin one drunken night bar hopping in college that you may have found Yoongi attractive. You distinctly remember him and Kook playing darts in one of the darkened bars that your group frequented. You remember the way he bit his lip in concentration as his fingers held the dart, his dark hair falling over a red headband around his forehead.  You just blurted it out loud without thinking as you sat with Jimin at a little table against the wall. The little shit never let you live it down when the two of you were alone. You are actually surprised, though, that it still seems to be a secret between only the two of you. You guess you can be thankful for that.

“I'll be fine,” you tell him, dismissing his concerns. “You guys can go. I have the first day of school tomorrow, and I need to get things around.”

Namjoon had agreed and helped round everyone up by the kitchen door. After a round of goodbyes and thank yous, you waved from your kitchen door as they dispersed. Kook, Tae, and Jimin went next door to Yoongi’s and the others left in their cars.  You collapsed on your lumpy couch with a sigh. Closing your eyes,  you tell yourself you'll unpack tomorrow. Laying there, you take in the quietness of the house.  It was something that you would have to get used to. There was no extra body puttering around and making background noise. No, Hobi, singing early in the morning as he got ready for work. Just the hum of the refrigerator and the ticking of the clock were the only things that could be heard. For the first time, it was just you. You had never lived alone, but you felt excited to see how you were going to do. It was going to be a welcomed new adventure, and you couldn't wait to see how you'll do.

You stand on the sidewalk in front of the school with your students smashed together in a yellow square that was taped off just for them as you waited for their parents to pick them up. Your first day of school went surprisingly well for the most part. When Joon found out you were back in town for good, he offered you a teaching position at your old elementary school where you had once attended. The exact same one where Jin and Hobi became your best friends. Where Jin shared his sandwich with you when you forgot your lunch in the third grade. Where you had to beat up some little boy for making fun of Hobi's shoes when you were six. You don't even remember his name now, but you gave him a bloody nose, and your dad had to pick you up early. It was a lot smaller than what you remembered. It always seemed so big when you were younger and playing on the playground, running around laughing, playing tag. When you all were so innocent and free back then. 

You were initially excited that you didn't have to job hunt in the surrounding school districts, but you went into panic mode when Namjoon dropped the bomb on you. It was for Pre-K. You never taught such young kids before. You always had fourth graders in the past. Ten year olds. Ten year olds who could, for the most part, listen when they wanted to and take care of themselve. They didn't need to be taught to walk in a straight line or to raise their hand if they needed something. They knew how to zip their coats, put on gloves, and tie their shoes. These were some things that you never thought about having to teach, but yet here you were.

You didn't know anything about four year olds. All that you knew was that they were loud and sticky, and their bathroom habits were iffy at best. Thankfully, Joon, pretty much did your entire months worth of lesson plans for you, mostly to bribe you into saying yes to his job offer. All you had to do was follow his directions until you got the hang of it for yourself. Coloring, writing their name, singing, and dancing it all seemed pretty simple. Seven hours of playtime, easy, peasy. 

Not quite. A few things you learned today were that they like to run and you need better antiperspirant. Do not..... repeat..... do not wear heels again. No matter how short you think the heel is….it's still too tall. You will need to buy several pairs of comfy flats and tennis shoes.   Always do head count because you might have thought you lost one child between the art room and your classroom. Turns out he was just hiding under a table in the corner of the room. However, when it was all said and done, there were no tears from either you or the kids. You will take it as a win. 

“Bye, Jae,” you say, waving at your last student that was picked up by her parents. You let out a sigh of relief as you watched them walk away as she held their hands, skipping between them. Good riddance, and now you get to do it all again tomorrow.

“Y/n,” a voice said your name, making you turn toward it. You smile slightly when you see the school’s music teacher standing behind you. 

“Yes, can I help you…” You trail off, clearly not remembering his name.

“Shinwon,” he said, holding his hand out for you to shake. You politely shake his hand and look at him expectly. “I just wanted to check in and see how your first day was. I know a new school and new city can be intimidating.”

“Oh, no,” you say, shaking your head. “I grew up around here so…not new. I know this place very well.”

“Oh,” he said with a surprised smile, and he tilted his head to the side like he was amused. “I was going to offer to show you around our little sleepy town, but I guess you know it better than I do, huh?” 

“Yeah, I guess,” you say with a shrug and look around, trying to find a way to get out of this conversation when you spot Namjoon, who was walking to his car. When you finally catch his attention, he just waves at you happily before getting into his car. You think you see him laughing. Jerk. 

“Well, then maybe you can show me some hidden gems around here,” he says and hands you his phone. “Here, put your number in, and I'll text you mine.”

You take his phone and input your information very reluctantly. You consider giving him a fake number, but that would probably make things super awkward later. You hand it back to him, and he smiles brilliantly at you, his perfect teeth on display. You watch as his fingers fly across the screen before he looks back up to you.

“I sent you a text,” he tells you. “Maybe we can hang out someday. We could possibly go into the city and do something?”

“Listen, I just got out of a relationship,” you started to tell him, but he cut you off.

“No, problem,” he said, still smiling. “It doesn't have to be a date. We can do something just as friends. Friends have dinner all the time. Maybe we can even see a movie one night.”

“Maybe, if I can find the time,” you say with a tight smile. “I should go, but it was nice meeting you.”

You turn on your heel and quickly walk away as fast as your aching feet can carry you, leaving him standing there alone. Yup, definitely tennis shoes from now on. You will be able to keep up with the kiddos better and, more importantly, run away from men faster. Perfect.

Getting out of your car, you grimace as your aching feet hit the hard cement of the garage floor. You didn't mean to slam your car door so hard as you begin to limp and waddle your way up to your house in a desperate need to soak your feet in your tub. You can almost sigh in satisfaction at the thought of the hot water surrounding you as you lie there in the clawfoot tub until your fingers turn pruny. As the hot, steaming water relaxes your muscles, taking away the ache from your feet as you drop a bath bomb that fizzes while listening to music and maybe…probably drink some wine. 

“Bad first day of school?” You recognize Yoongi's voice behind you, causing you to freeze. You're embarrassed that he caught you walking like an idiot. 

“No,” you answer truthfully as you give him a surprised look when you turn to look at him.

“It is the first day, right?” He asked, raising an eyebrow at you before popping the hood of a side-by-side that sat on his side of the driveway. “Joon mentioned something about it yesterday.”

“Yeah, umm… it was pretty good. I might have a blister and an unwanted admirer, but hey, no one stuck anything where it didn't belong. So, good day.” You explain not expecting the conversation to go much further.

You were surprised when he actually started laughing. You don't think you have ever made Min Yoongi laugh. It was a good look on him. You wouldn't mind if he did more around you.

“Please tell me it's not some single dad?” he asks once he stops laughing. He uses the wrench in his hand to tinker around with mechanical things that are beyond your knowledge. You can drive a car but that's about it. You just pray that you never get a flat tire in the middle of nowhere. Triple A is a thing, right? 

“Worse, the music teacher. He offered to show me around town,” you say with a nod of your head. “Like what was he going to show me? Jin’s cafe?” 

“I mean. We do have a new hardware store in town,” he informs you while he concentrates on his task. “Maybe he can show you where the screws are.”

A small silence falls between the two of you as you look around in contemplation.

“Is that..” You start but pause for a second, and you feel your face heat up. “Is that supposed to be sexual?”

“I don't know what you are talking about,” he said innocently and smirked at you as his eyes met yours through the fallen blonde hair in his eyes. He shakes it out of his vision and continues with his task.  You shake your head at him, limping and waddling your way up the stairs to your house. “Wait, I have some of your mail. Let me go get it.”

You lean your hands against the railing of the porch as he disappears in his house. You take turns lifting each foot off the ground behind you and giving it a little wiggle, hoping to find some sort of relief. He better hurry because all you want to do is sit down. You continue your little foot routine when you hear the squeak of his screen door open and Yoongi walks across the driveway to you. Reaching up, he hands you a singular piece of mail over your railing that you take from him, and he retreats back to the side-by-side. You sigh in annoyance when you see what he gave you.

“To the current resident….” You say loudly. “Do you need to lower your cable costs? You really felt the need to give me this junk mail?”

“It would have been a federal offense if I hadn't,” he answered while not even looking at you. 

“Well, thanks,” you say sarcastically and turn back toward the house. You pull out your mess of keys that jingle and jangle with too many keychains as you unlock your door. 

“Y/N,” Yoongi calls out again, making you look over your shoulder at him once again. “I would have helped…you know….yesterday when you moved in. I just figured that you wouldn't want me there.”

That made you feel horrible. You felt like a horrible human being who is still acting childish over some weird grudge from college. If what Hobi said was true, it was only one-sided on your part. Your shoulders slump just a little bit before you turn back to him once again. His hands are fiddling with that wrench looking a little nervous as he tries not to stare at you for too long. The wrench makes quite the clicking sound as he turns it over and over again as he twirls it with his finger. He glances up at you quickly before turning his eyes back to the silver tool in his hand. 

“I appreciate it,” you tell him as you tap that piece of junk mail on the palm of your opposite hand just as nervous. “Maybe, if you want to, that is. Maybe we can start over again and actually try to be friends for once.”

“Yeah, sure, sounds good,” he rambles, agreeing with you, trying to nod his head nonchalantly. “Hey, are you going to help out at the Farmers Market again? The guys think you will bring more business in.”

“I highly doubt that, but yeah, I can come and help again,” you answer with a nod of your head. “Have a good evening, Yoongi,” you say with a small smile on your lips.

“You too,” he says, eyes watching you until you unlock the door.

Finally, getting into your house, you close the door and lock it behind you. You reach down undo the straps of your shoes and proceed to kick them off with a careless fling of your foot, not caring where they land as you hear them hit the floor with a thump. You waddle your way to that old dirty couch and flop down unceremoniously with a groan. You think your aching feet hurt more now than they did in the heels. Your nice hot bath with your wine and the bath bomb is going to have to wait until you get enough motivation to stand up, and that might not be anytime soon. You might have to put off unpacking one more day. 

You turn your head and look out your living room window. You can see Yoongi with the top half of his body bent over and working away on the vehicle on his side of the driveway. You never thought in a million years that you would be friends with the cute, popular basketball player turned handsome neighbor. You smile a little as you continue to stare at him, and you think you might feel a little fluttering in your stomach. You're going to have to squish those butterflies. That flapping, flitting feeling that you haven't felt in years makes your body tingle in excitement.  Your heart was not ready for that feeling. It wasn't ready at all. 

Tagged Readers

@mar-lo-pap, @bontensbabygirl, @daisies-and-dandelionpuffs, @redragdoll, @svnbangtansworld,

[melancholy-of-nadia]

heart on the window #2 (m) | ksj

title: heart on the window (m) pairing: ksj x reader(f) rating/genre: m (18+) ; smut ; roommates au / streamer/cam boy au / office worker au, childhood rivals to awkward roommates to lovers? au summary: Your life takes a wild turn after discovering what you believe is Seokjin's risqué secret, only for the following nights to leave you doubting your own reality. Was it loneliness and a shattered heart that conjured this delusion? As you try to move on, leaving your assumptions behind, you and Seokjin grow closer—until a late-night slip-up unravels everything... literally. note: it took me almost a month to update i have been busy at work.; i've edited this but there still may be some grammatical errors so apologies in advanced. warnings: roommate!Seokjin being such a green flag, adult content live streaming (camwork), explicit solo masturbation (from jin and also reader POV), voyeurism, descriptive use of toys, dirty talk, reader's emotional turmoil, Seokjin being perceptive and teasing, confrontation, sexual frustration, sexual tension. mild language, some implied sexual fantasizing, jin POV in the last quarter of the chapter drop date: December 20th, 2024, 12:00pm pst word count: 9.6k chapter 1 | chapter 3 crossposted on ao3 here

–

That good sleep that you were anticipating?

Gone.

Were you able to get some sleep last night?

Absolutely not.

Every time you’d close your eyes, all you would see is THAT: Seokjin Kim, sitting in his chair, stroking his cock with slow, deliberate motions, his face caught somewhere between bliss and control while a virtual audience eagerly watched.

Oh god, what the fuck did you get yourself into? 

You can’t just continue living here like you didn’t see that.

Absolutely no way–

“Did you get a good sleep last night?”

The sound of Seokjin’s voice slices through the chaotic mind-fuck cluster of your thoughts, dragging you back to the present. You blink, startled, your mind scrambling for something—anything—to say.

“Huh? Oh, yeah, it was…nice,” you reply, though your tone is as flat as week-old opened grapefruit Spin Drift you’ve left out on the counter countless times in the past.

Seokjin chuckles, leaning against the counter with his arms crossed, giving you a knowing look. “That doesn’t sound very convincing,” he remarks before turning back toward the kitchen. You watch him as he grabs a carton of eggs, a frying pan, and other utensils with easy confidence, as though nothing is out of the ordinary.

Meanwhile, your head is spinning.

Does he have any idea what you saw? No, of course not. How could he? You clutch your mug of coffee tighter, willing yourself to keep calm and act normal, even though “normal” feels like a foreign concept right now.

Seokjin cracks an egg against the side of the pan with one hand, a skill that feels unnecessarily showy, and tosses the shell in the trash without missing a beat. “So, what’s your plan for today?”

“My plan?” 

“Yeah, you know. Moving in, settling down. Unpacking those boxes.” He gestures with the spatula toward the pile of boxes you had left in the living room yesterday. “Or are you just going to live out of them for the next few months?”

You force out a weak laugh, trying to mask your unease. “I’ll get to them soon. Or well, eventually.”

Seokjin glances at you over his shoulder, his expression unreadable. “Yeah, you sure you’re okay? You seem… distracted.”

Distracted? That’s putting it lightly. You practically choked on your own thoughts all night, trying to process what you’d stumbled upon. Now here he is, looking every bit as composed and charming as ever, completely unaware of how he’s upended your mental state.

“Just a lot on my mind from the shit I’ve been going through,” you say vaguely, hoping he’ll just think about what you’ve previously told him and won’t press further.

“Fair enough,” he replies, flipping the eggs in the pan with a practiced flick of his wrist. “By the way, if you need anything for your room, feel free to let me know. I’ve got some spare furniture in storage if you need extra shelves or whatever.”

“Thanks,” you mumble, staring at your coffee as if it holds the answers to your predicament.

You spend the rest of breakfast in tense silence, with Seokjin humming softly to himself as he cooks. Every so often, you catch yourself stealing a glance at him—his broad shoulders, the black t-shirt that loosely fits his body, his easy movements, the way his hair falls messily over his forehead. And every time, your mind cruelly throws you back to that image from last night.

You barely touch your toast, and when Seokjin finally sets his plate in the sink and announces he’s heading out to work in the office since he has some meetings later this afternoon, you feel a wave of relief so strong it’s almost embarrassing.

As the front door clicks shut behind him, you slump against the counter, exhaling a breath you hadn’t realized you were holding.

What are you going to do? How are you supposed to face him every day without your mind going there?

If there’s anything that helps clear your mind, it’s organizing. The chaos of your thoughts seems to calm when you’re sorting, categorizing, and arranging. And thank god you have a lot of that to do right now with all the boxes cluttering your room and spilling into the living room.

Determined to regain some sense of control, you dive into it. First, the essentials—clothing, toiletries, and the work necessities you hope to use again someday. You find a rhythm: open, sort, fold, stack, repeat. The act becomes a form of meditation, letting you focus on the task rather than… other things.

After about two hours, just as you’re folding a stack of sweaters, your phone buzzes with an incoming FaceTime call. Your dear best friend Yunjin’s photo flashes across the screen.

You swipe to answer, her bright, cheerful face filling the screen instantly.

“Hey girl!!” she chirps, holding her phone up at an angle that shows a bustling street lined with shops and people.

“Hey, Yunjin!” you say, unable to hide your grin. “Haven’t seen your beautiful face in awhile. What are you up to?”

“I’m out shopping in Japantown,” she says, spinning her phone around to give you a quick view of colorful storefronts and an adorable bakery. “And I saw this cute Moomin plush keychain. It reminded me of you, so I’m gonna gift it you!”

A Gift?! 

Your eyes widen. “N-No! It’s fine!”

Yunjin’s smile doesn’t falter. “Oh, stop it. I want to. Plus, it’ll give me an excuse to go visit you.” Yunjin lives a couple of hours away from you, so you don’t get to see her as often as you used to during college.

Despite her kindness, you feel a pang of guilt. Being unemployed has left you hyperaware of money, and the idea of your friend spending her hard-earned cash on you—without expecting anything in return—feels unbearable. But that’s just how she is. That’s just…Yunny.

“Really, you don’t have to,” you say, even as a part of you knows arguing with her is pointless.

“Too late!” she sing-songs, flipping the camera around to show the tiny Moomin plush with its sweet little face and scarf. “Tell me this isn’t so you.”

It is. It absolutely is.

You sigh, shaking your head but unable to keep from smiling. “Okay, fine. But at least let me treat you to a coffee.”

“Deal,” Yunjin says with a wink before turning the camera back to her. “So, how’s it going with your new place? Settling in okay?”

Your mind flashes to Seokjin, to the events of last night, and you swallow hard. “Uh, yeah. It’s… nice. Just getting things sorted.”

Yunjin squints at the screen, her expression turning suspicious. “You sound weird. What’s going on?”

Should you tell her? Absolutely not. She’d think the whole situation was bizarre—and worse, she’d probably call you weird for sticking around to watch him do that. You quickly decide to change the topic.

“Yunny, is there really no way I can stay with you for a bit of time?” you groan, leaning against the pile of clothes you’d been folding.

Yunjin’s brow furrows. “Oh, why? You don’t like your new place?”

“It’s… fine,” you hedge, glancing toward your door as if Jin might somehow overhear. “I just… I don’t know. It’d be nice to have you around again like old times.”

The truth is, you don’t want to leave this city. It’s the only place where the kind of opportunities you’re looking for exist. And besides, you love it here—the energy, the atmosphere, the food scene. Nothing else in or out of state even comes close.

But if moving meant getting away from the strange situation you’ve landed yourself in, maybe you’d consider it.

“Uh, well, sadly, no,” Yunjin says with a slight pout. “I thought one of my housemates was moving out to live with her boyfriend, but it looks like that was all talk. She’s staying put for now. They probably wouldn’t be okay with temporary couch surfing either.”

That makes sense.

“Oh,” you reply, deflated. “Okay.”

“Hmm.” Yunjin narrows her eyes, clearly unconvinced, but thankfully, she doesn’t press further. “Well, I can’t wait to see your new place. We’ll do a housewarming soon, okay?”

“Yeah, definitely,” you say, nodding along, though the thought of hosting a gathering here makes your stomach twist. How exactly would you explain Seokjin’s... side hustle to anyone if they happened to find out?

“Alright, I’ve gotta go,” Yunjin says, the bustling noise behind her growing louder. “I’m supposed to get lunch with Hanni and Stephen. Love you!”

“Love you too,” you reply, waving at the screen before the call ends.

You set your phone down, a mix of warmth and guilt settling over you. It’s comforting to know Yunjin has your back, but it also serves as a painful reminder of how far you’ve fallen. No job, no stability, and now living with a guy who… well.

You shake your head, refusing to let yourself spiral. There’s too much to do, too many boxes to unpack. For now, you focus on the small wins—folding clothes, sorting books, reclaiming a sense of order.

One step at a time.

You throw yourself into unpacking and organizing, letting the steady rhythm of your tasks distract you from your swirling thoughts. The hours slip by as you arrange books on shelves, hang up clothes, and shuffle boxes around to make the room feel less like a storage unit and more like a home.

By the time the sun begins to dip lower in the sky, you’ve made solid progress. Your room is starting to look presentable—cozy, even. The hum of activity keeps your mind occupied, though every now and then, stray thoughts about last night sneak in.

The sound of the front door unlocking jolts you out of your reverie. A moment later, Seokjin walks in, dressed in business attire, his tie slightly loosened and his hair tousled in that effortlessly charming way that makes it clear why his stream fans are obsessed with him.

“Hey,” he says, offering a small smile as he sets his bag on the counter. “How was your day?”

“It was good,” you reply, wiping your dust-covered hands on your jeans. “Got most of my stuff sorted out.”

He glances toward your room and nods approvingly. “Nice. Looks like you’ve been busy.”

“Yeah, I figured I’d get it all done before it starts to feel like a chore.”

Seokjin chuckles as he loosens his tie completely and drapes it over a chair. “Smart move. I should probably take a page out of your book. My closet’s a disaster zone right now.”

“Really?” you ask, raising an eyebrow. “You don’t strike me as the messy type.”

He shrugs, pulling open the fridge to grab a bottle of water. “It’s organized chaos. I know where everything is… mostly.”

You laugh softly, some of the tension you’d been holding onto easing as the conversation flows naturally. For the first time since last night, you don’t feel quite so on edge around him.

“Anyway,” he says, taking a sip of water and leaning against the counter, “I’m gonna change out of this and make something for dinner. You hungry?”

“Starving,” you admit, realizing you hadn’t eaten much while caught up in organizing.

“Cool. Give me like ten minutes,” he says with a grin, already heading toward his room.

As he disappears down the hallway, you let out another breath you didn’t realize you were holding. It’s going to take some time to feel normal here, but for now, small moments like this help.

Back to one step at a time.

Yes… one step at a time.

Jin reappears in casual clothes—sweatpants and a loose tee that somehow still manages to look good on him—and heads straight to the kitchen. You sit on the couch, doomscrolling on social media to consume random content to keep you busy in the meantime.

The comforting sound of clattering pots and pans fills the apartment, accompanied by the savory aroma of something delicious in the making.

When he calls out, “Hope you like pasta carbonara,” you can’t help but feel grateful he’s even making you food. 

He doesn’t have to do this, but it’s nice that he is.

He sets the steaming pan on top of a hot pad on the table, followed by two plates, forks, and a sprinkle of grated cheese in a small dish. “Voilà. Gourmet dining at its finest.”

This actually looks like high quality italian restaurant quality presentation.

You take a seat, eyeing the dish appreciatively. “Woah? Fancy. Do you cook like this all the time?”

He grins as he spoons a generous serving onto your plate. “Not always. I have a rotation: this, ramen, steak, kimchi jjigae, and… takeout. Lots of takeout.”

You laugh, grabbing your fork. “Sounds somewhat balanced.”

“I try to keep it balanced but,” he agrees, twirling pasta onto his fork. “I also work out a bit too.”

“Nice,” 

In your mind, you’re thinking “yeah, you’ve seen him workout alright”

This is really going to eat at you at this rate.

The two of you eat in comfortable silence for a while, the rich, creamy flavors of the pasta doing wonders for your mood. It feels surreal to be sitting here, sharing a meal with someone who, just days ago, you were convinced would be a terrible roommate.

The meal is delicious, better than you’d expected. For a while, you let yourself get lost in the comforting simplicity of eating—pasta twirling on your fork, the sauce aroma wafting up, the occasional clink of silverware against plates.

It feels… normal. Nice, even. But still, at the back of your mind, there’s a quiet storm brewing.

The night before keeps replaying in your head, uninvited and intrusive, like a broken record you can’t turn off. You glance at Seokjin as he eats, his features relaxed, his posture casual. How can he seem so normal when you know what he was doing less than 24 hours ago?

The mental tug-of-war begins: Should you just ignore it? Pretend it never happened? Or—

“So,” you blurt, interrupting your own thoughts, “what exactly do you do for work?”

Jin looks up, chewing thoughtfully before swallowing. “I work in marketing,” he says, reaching for his water.

You nod, encouraging him to continue. “Marketing for…?”

He grins, sensing your peaked interest. “Riot Games. You know, the League of Legends company?”

Your eyes widen. “No way! What! That’s so cool.”

That’s actually a pretty awesome career.

And so Seokjin of him.

“Yeah, it’s pretty fun. A lot of campaigns and community engagement stuff. It keeps me busy, but I like it. Games have always been my thing.”

That part doesn’t surprise you. Growing up, Jin was always glued to his Game Boy, computer or chattering about his latest high scores. This career seems like a natural fit for him.

“Of course, I remember that well,” you say, smiling. “Also explains the gaming setup.”

“The gaming setup?” Jin freezes for a fraction of a second, his fork hovering mid-air. His expression shifts from casual to guarded so quickly you almost miss it.

Shit.

You scramble to backtrack. “Uh, I just mean… you seem like the type to have a cool gaming setup, you know? Dual monitors, fancy keyboard, maybe some LED lights?”

His shoulders relax slightly, though his eyes remain sharp, watching you closely. “Haven’t shown you my room yet. How’d you know?”

“I didn’t,” you reply quickly, forcing a laugh. “It’s just a guess. I mean, come on, you work at Riot Games. Wouldn’t you have the gear to match?”

Jin tilts his head, a playful smirk tugging at his lips before he leans back in his chair. “Actually,” he says, his tone shifting slightly, “I’ve been a bit shy to mention this, but… I’m also a Twitch streamer.”

You already knew this from prior snooping, so you gotta act surprised.

Your fork pauses mid-air. “Woah? You are?”

He nods, a little sheepish now, which is a rare look for him. “Yeah. My old roommate actually got me into it awhile back. It started as a way to unwind after work, but then it kinda… took off. Nothing crazy, but it’s been fun.”

You don’t think that 200,000 followers is something to not be impressed about. That is a decently big audience for someone who hasn’t been doing it for too long.

That sparks your curiosity. “Really? What do you stream?”

“Well, gaming mainly as you saw,” he says, shrugging. “Some League, Valorant… a bit of variety stuff when I feel like it. My audience isn’t huge, but it’s a solid little community to talk with.”

Audience, right.

Your mind flashes back to last night—the setup, the webcam, the comments streaming on the screen—and your stomach tightens. He wanted to hide this from you but still has more to uncover, but he’s so good at hiding it. Well, at least until you caught him yesterday.

You try to keep your expression neutral as you ask, “Isn’t it hard to balance with your job?”

Seokjin shakes his head. “Not really. Most of my streams are at night, after work. I mean, I’m already up, so I might as well do something productive, right?”

Productive, you think, the word ricocheting in your head. If only he knew…

“That’s… really cool,” you manage, keeping your tone even. “Do you think you’ll ever go full-time with it?”

He laughs, running a hand through his hair. “Nah. I like streaming, but I don’t think I’d give up my day job for it. It’s more of a side hustle, you know? Keeps me busy and entertained.”

“Right,” you say, nodding. “That makes sense.”

“I’ll have to show it to you some time. Maybe even let you try the setup if you’re into games.”

Oh?

“Sure,” you say, nodding too eagerly. “That sounds fun. Though I’ve always been a Nintendo girl,”

“I do recall, and that’s fine by me. We could play Mario Kart!”

“That sounds like a lot of fun, Jin—”

The word slips out naturally, before you even realize it. You freeze mid-sentence, your lips parting as the familiar nickname hangs awkwardly in the air. You haven’t called him “Jin” since elementary school. It used to roll off your tongue back when you were kids, when he was just a goofy classmate you exchanged Pokémon cards with and competed against in dodgeball. But ever since reconnecting as adults, you’ve made a conscious effort to just refer to him by his full name, Seokjin. It felt more appropriate. More… grown-up.

And it created a boundary, which now feels undone by you calling him more casually. Curse you getting more comfortable with this man! His eyes widen slightly at the sound of it, his smile faltering for only a split second before softening into something warmer. “Jin, huh?” he muses, raising an eyebrow. “Haven’t heard you call me that in years.”

You swallow, cheeks warming as you try to play it off casually. “Oh. Uh, sorry— I just—”

“You just what?” he teases gently, clearly enjoying your flustered state.

You groan, covering your face for a brief moment. “It just slipped out, okay? Old habits die hard, I guess.”

“Hmm.” His voice hums with amusement, and when you peek at him through your fingers, he’s looking at you with a fond expression that makes your stomach flip. “I don’t mind it, you know. Kinda like it, actually.”

“You like it?”

“Yeah,” he says simply, shrugging. “It’s nostalgic.”

There’s a pause as the two of you exchange a quiet glance, something unspoken settling in the air between you. For a moment, you swear his gaze lingers on you just a little too long.

“Well,” you mutter, trying to brush off the sudden tension. “If you don’t mind it, I guess I’ll start calling you Jin again.”

His smile widens into something bright and genuine, then chuckles. “Good! Doesn’t feel too weird anyways since my Twitch chat calls me Jin as well.”

And you were flustered over this for nothing.

The conversation moves on, but every time you say “Jin”, there’s a flicker of something in his eyes—something you can’t quite place. You ignore it though, as his dirty secret continues to gnaw at your mind more than whatever he must be thinking.

Glancing at him as he finishes his pasta, a soft hum escaping him as he collects the plates.

You retreat to your room, bidding Jin a casual goodnight as he mentions his plans for the evening. “Gonna play some Elden Ring with my friends, and then stream a Pokémon randomized Nuzlocke at nine,” he says, grinning. “If you hear me yelling at any ungodly hour, just know it’s the RNG gods being cruel.”

“Good to know,” you reply with a small laugh before closing your door behind you.

Settling onto your bed, you decide to distract yourself with something immersive—Bakemonogatari. It’s been on your list for a long time, and felt like now would be a good time to watch it. The anime’s intricate dialogue and surreal visuals immediately pull you in, though it’s hard to focus completely with lingering thoughts of Jin playing games only a few walls away.

You shake your head, forcing yourself to focus on the screen. As the narrative deepens and the subtitles demand your full attention, your eyelids grow heavier. Soon, the soft glow of the laptop screen and the soothing cadence of the voice acting lull you into a deep sleep.

A good sleep.

The kind of sleep you’ve been craving after a long day of cleaning, unpacking, and organizing—a chance to reset and settle fully into this new chapter of your life.

Until a familiar sensation stirs you awake.

You blink blearily at the clock on your nightstand.

2:35 a.m.

Déjà vu hits you like a freight train. The thirst pulls you out of bed, an undeniable urge. With a groggy sigh, you shuffle out of your room and make your way to the kitchen.

The dim light from the hallway guides you as you grab a water bottle from under the sink. The cool plastic feels grounding in your hand as you twist the cap open and take a long, satisfying sip.

Refreshed, you glance around. It’s quiet, save for the faint hum of the fridge and the soft whir of your thoughts.

And then your gaze instinctively drifts toward Jin’s room again.

Not for the wrong reasons! you tell yourself defensively. It’s just… you’re checking on him. Making sure he’s okay!

Right?

Your bare feet make the softest pats against the floor as you tiptoe a little closer to the hallway leading to Jin’s room. Sure enough, a familiar sliver of light leaks from the partially ajar door.

But something’s different this time.

You squint, leaning just enough to peek in.

There he is.

Seokjin sits cross-legged at his desk, headphones on, illuminated by the glow of his monitors. But instead of his usual casual attire or the polished look he had earlier, he’s wearing a pajama set. A blue pajama set covered in cartoon characters. The sight of him in something so unexpectedly cute throws you for a loop.

On the screen, the familiar pixelated world of Pokémon sprawls before him.

“Okay guys, I should end the live here,” he says cheerfully, his voice carrying through the quiet apartment. “But I’m almost at the Elite Four! This team I have right now is pretty solid, even if we lost Moon the Lunatone. I’ll get through the rival battle and stop there.”

Your jaw slackens.

Wait, what?

Where’s the camwork? The NSFW content? The explicit… everything you’d stumbled upon last night?

Confusion swirls in your chest as you scurry back to your room, shutting the door as quietly as possible. You lean against it, clutching the water bottle in both hands as your mind races.

What is going on here?

Had you… imagined it? No, that couldn’t be right. The vivid image of last night flashes through your mind unbidden, heat creeping up your neck as you recall every mortifying detail.

But now? He’s just streaming a Pokémon Nuzlocke like a completely normal, wholesome gamer.

Maybe you dreamed it…?

You sit on the edge of your bed, clutching the water bottle as if it’s the only thing tethering you to reality.

Maybe you were just seeing things last night.

The thought plants itself firmly in your mind, and as much as you try to swat it away, it lingers. You were exhausted yesterday. Between moving, unpacking, and the emotional whirlwind of losing your job and your relationship, maybe your mind just… played tricks on you.

Yeah, that must be it.

There’s no way you actually saw Jin doing that.

You groan, burying your face in your hands. “Oh god, I’m losing it,” you mutter under your breath.

Still, the memory feels so vivid. The faint glow of his screen, his movements, the soft noises—ugh, stop it! You shake your head, desperate to push the images out of your mind.

But the scene you just witnessed tonight couldn’t be more different. Jin was just… Jin. Cute pajama set, gaming setup, and an audience of what you assume were adoring fans cheering him on as he streamed his Pokémon playthrough.

Totally innocent.

Totally normal.

You flop back onto your bed, staring up at the ceiling. Your chest tightens as you try to rationalize it all. Maybe the stress and lack of sleep made your brain concoct some wild scenario. After all, you’re in a new place with a guy you haven’t seen since childhood. Maybe it’s just your subconscious working overtime as you’re lacking physical touch.

That has to be it, you convince yourself, pulling the blanket over your face.

And that’s exactly what you’ve convinced yourself to think.

Over two weeks have passed, and from the few times you’ve stumbled out of bed late at night, you haven’t encountered anything remotely similar to what you thought you saw on your first night here.

It became easier and easier to believe you hallucinated the whole thing.

Stress does crazy things to people, you told yourself. You just need to focus on your life.

Still, the faint embarrassment lingers every now and then, but it’s manageable. After all, you’ve been busy with moving-in activities, refining your resume, and applying to jobs. Productivity has been your savior, keeping your mind occupied and away from thoughts of intimacy—something that feels uncomfortable ever since your last relationship ended in betrayal.

Order seems to have been restored.

Conversations with Seokjin (who you now refer to as Jin) have become more natural, the initial awkwardness dissipating as you become more comfortable with one another and you’ve settled into a rhythm. You respect each other’s spaces, and despite the occasional childish banter, the dynamic is easy, like good old friends reconnecting.

You’ve gone shopping together for groceries, evening outings to eat at a sit-in restaurant or even just go for a drive or walk to destress, which usually ends in getting ice cream or bubble tea.

It’s oddly casual, but you don’t mind that. This is how things should be now that you’re both adults.

It’s a Thursday at noon when you hear the doorbell and find a large package waiting for Jin. 

[You: Hey, there's a big package addressed to you at the door? Where should I put it?]

After texting him to ask where to leave it, he eventually responds:

[Jin: Ah, thanks for letting me know. I was waiting on that to come in. Jin:Just put it in my room if you don’t mind!]

[You: Okay!]

And with that, you pick up the box and head toward his room.

It occurs to you as you step inside that this is your first time actually entering his space.

Jin’s room is, unsurprisingly, immaculate—spacious, well-organized, and undeniably him. The decor is a cute mix of his personality: shelves filled with gaming figures, an impressive collection of games, and stuffed animals of his favorite creatures scattered across the bed. There’s even a small shrine to Mario and Kirby in the corner that makes you grin.

You place the package on his bed as instructed and turn to leave, but something catches your eye.

His monitor.

The screen is still on, displaying a cluttered web browser with more tabs open than anyone should realistically have. You almost laugh at the chaos of it—thirty, maybe forty tabs?

But then your gaze lands on one in particular.

A small icon. A name.

Chaturbate.

Your heart skips a beat.

Oh. My. God.

It’s like the carefully constructed world of denial you’ve built over the past week shatters in an instant.

No way. No, no, no, this can’t be?!

Your feet feel glued to the floor as your mind races. This can’t be real. Why would Jin have that open? Wasn’t it just a mistake that night? A fluke? A hallucination?!

And yet, here it is. Right in front of you.

Your stomach flips as hell’s gates open again, memories from that night rushing back in vivid detail.

Curiosity claws at you, relentless and insistent. You know you shouldn’t, but the urge to know is overwhelming. If it really is what you think it is… then maybe, just maybe, you can confirm it and put this strange, lingering mystery to rest.

Your heart pounds in your chest as you step closer to the desk. The glow of the screen feels accusatory, like a spotlight shining on your guilt. This is so wrong, you think, but your hand still moves.

You nudge the mouse, waking the monitor from its idle dimness.

The browser window expands to full brightness, revealing the countless tabs more clearly now. You spot the one labeled Chaturbate. Your fingers hover over the mouse, trembling slightly, and before you can talk yourself out of it, you click.

The page loads immediately.

And there it is.

The profile is still open, though it’s not broadcasting live. A banner at the top reads: "Offline – Streams Scheduled 3x a month. Next stream: Tonight at 1:30AM."

The alias catches your eye immediately, bold and unmistakable at the top of the page: "BigTunaManXOXO"

Big Tuna Man?

You have to chuckle, though the sound feels unnatural in the stillness of the room. Well, he did mention he likes tuna when you two had sushi two days ago. You shake your head in disbelief at how absurd the situation is.

Scrolling a little more, your heart races as the tags and content descriptions appear on the screen. Tags like casual play, NSFW, punishment, and even interactive fill the list, confirming everything you feared—and hoped—was true.

What did you expect? you think, eyes scanning the content. His previous streams, unlocked for paid viewers, show glimpses of what you had seen—shirtless moments, fan interactions, and those subtle teases. Some comments from regular viewers flash on the screen: "You’re so cute, Big Tuna. Gonna get your next stream tonight?"

A pit forms in your stomach as you scroll further, seeing the balance of gaming content mixed with something... different. There are a few VODs, some marked with glowing red icons and some tagged with things like solo play, toys, edging and private sessions. Your breath catches in your throat as you click on one of the unlocked streams. It starts to load, and before you can stop yourself, you’re staring at a past broadcast.

Seokjin.

In a black Alo Yoga hoodie and 5” inseam black shorts. The camera angle is different now, the lighting softer, more intimate. His voice comes through clearly, playful, teasing. You watch as he interacts with the chat, joking around with his viewers, and then... he moves the camera just enough that you can see the lower half of his face for a moment—barely anything though, but enough to confirm it’s him to you, who has been seeing him every day since you moved in with him.

His usual smile is replaced by something softer, more relaxed, more... flirty.

And then, there it is.

The content, the movement—just like you saw that first night. The subtle, slow gestures that make everything come rushing back, and for a moment, you forget to breathe.

You harshly click the tab shut, returning to the previous tab it once was. Quickly, you leave Jin’s room, making sure not to disturb anything else. The echo of the laptop snapping shut still rings in your ears, and your hands are trembling slightly as you step back into the hallway.

You hope it doesn’t look like you lingered too long. The last thing you need is for him to know you were snooping around, even accidentally. You slip back into your own room, shutting the door behind you, and lean against it, exhaling shakily.

This is too much.

You now have undeniable proof. Solid, irrefutable evidence that the man you’re living with, sharing meals with, and chatting about Pokémon and pasta with... is a cam boy. A cam boy doing porn and who’s managed to keep this side hustle hidden under layers of casual charm and everyday normalcy.

It’s not the fact that he does that kind of work that bothers you, not at all. If anything, it’s more… personal than that… The memory of what you saw—his expressions, his movements—lingers in your mind like an unshakable phantom, making your body feel uncomfortably warm and restless. You sink onto your bed, burying your face in your hands as if that will somehow erase the imagery burned into your brain.

Get it together, you tell yourself.

But curiosity—it’s a relentless beast. The harder you try to shove it down, the more insistent it becomes. Questions start to pile up, each one more intrusive than the last.

Does anyone recognize him? Do his fans know?

You grab your phone, desperate for answers, and open Reddit. If there’s one place on the internet where secrets can’t stay buried, it’s here. Your fingers fly across the keyboard as you type: Gamer Jin and BigTunaManXOXO Reddit.

The search yields only two results. Two. A drop in the ocean of online gossip and speculation, yet still enough to send your heart into overdrive.

You tap the first thread: “Jin and BigTunaManXOXO: Double Life?”

The original poster’s comment pulls you in instantly:

“Okay, is it just me, or doesn’t he sound like this cam boy BigTunaManXOXO? Literally has the same voice, same mannerisms... someone tell me I’m not crazy.”

The replies are a mix of disbelief, humor, and outright denial. Some users dismiss the theory as absurd, calling it disrespectful to Jin. Others joke about the sheer randomness of the comparison, adding memes and GIFs for good measure.

But a small minority entertains the possibility.

“I mean… I’ve seen his streams. The way he laughs does sound kinda similar…”

“I don’t think it’s him, but if it were, that would be WILD.”

One reply makes your stomach churn:

“Not saying it’s him, but I subscribed to BigTunaManXOXO just to fantasize about him being Jin. No regrets.”

You stare at the screen, your mind spinning. The majority of commenters don’t believe the theory, dismissing it as pure coincidence. But they have no idea how close they are to the truth.

And now, neither can you unsee it.

Seokjin arrived home that evening with a bright smile and the unmistakable aroma of takeout wafting through the apartment. The bags he carried crinkled as he shifted them in his arms, his voice ringing out cheerfully, “Guess what I got? Bao buns! And a few other things, but mostly the bao buns—because I remembered you mentioned them earlier this week.”

You hear a knock at your door a moment later, and you pause, nerves prickling under your skin. You take a deep breath, steadying yourself before opening it. Seokjin stands there, still dressed in his work clothes but with his usual easygoing grin.

“Dinner’s here. Come eat,” he says, gesturing toward the living room with the bags.

You nod, smiling back, though it feels a little forced. “Thanks, Jin. That’s really thoughtful of you.”

His sharp eyes linger on you for a beat too long, and you know he’s caught the slight edge in your tone, the nervous way you’re holding the door. He doesn’t say anything, but his expression shifts—subtle, curious. He doesn’t push, though; that’s not his style.

Instead, he leans back casually and adds, “I figured we could eat and watch something. Maybe an old favorite of yours?” He raises a brow, the corners of his lips tugging upward knowingly. “Bleach? I noticed you have some merch on your bookshelf.”

Your heart skips a beat, both from the thoughtful gesture and the fact that Seokjin’s perceptiveness always seems to catch you off guard. Does he see right through me? Does he know what I found?

“Bleach sounds good,” you say quickly, hoping to steady yourself. “Let me just grab something, and I’ll meet you in the living room.”

“Cool,” he says, his voice calm but tinged with something else—maybe a touch of inquisition. He walks off toward the kitchen, leaving you alone for a moment.

You close the door softly, leaning your head against it. Why does he have to be so…—you search for the right word—attentive? It’s like he has a radar for when something’s wrong. And now, dinner and your childhood favorite anime feel like a test of your ability to act normal.

A few minutes later, you join him in the living room. The coffee table is already set with the takeout containers: bao buns, lo mein, orange chicken, and fried rice. Jin is on the couch, flipping through streaming options until he lands on Bleach. He looks up and pats the cushion next to him.

“Sit. I already started the episode where Ichigo reunites with Rukia and the other Gotei 13 soul reapers. Start of my favorite arcs.”

You sit, the warm scent of the food making your stomach growl despite the anxious knot twisting inside you. Seokjin slides a plate toward you, and the two of you settle into a rhythm—eating, watching, occasionally commenting on the nostalgia of the show.

But the tension lingers.

Out of the corner of your eye, you catch him glancing at you between bites, as if trying to figure out what’s on your mind. And you wonder just how long it will take before his curiosity outweighs his patience.

As you both finish up the episode of Bleach, Seokjin turns to you, his gaze warm yet inquisitive. “So, how was your day?”

You pause for a second, collecting your thoughts. 

What to say? What did you do today before your world got flipped upside down… Oh right… the job interview. “Busy,” you say with a small laugh. “I had a second interview earlier for a job.”

His eyebrows lift, impressed. “Oh? What’s the role?”

“It’s for a coordinator position at a small fashion house,” you explain. “It went… great, actually. But I don’t think I’ll get it though.”

Jin frowns, leaning slightly closer. “Why not? You just said it went great.”

You shrug, letting out a sigh. “I don’t know. It’s just a gut feeling, I guess. Fashion’s cutthroat, you know? The people in that industry are quick to judge if you don’t fit the vibe they’re looking for. You can have all the skills, a good background, everything—but it’s still not enough sometimes. I don’t think I got what they want.”

He watches you for a moment, then sets down his plate and reaches across the table. His hand finds yours, warm and grounding. “Hey,” he says softly, his voice steady. “You are good enough. I know it’s hard not to overthink, but you have to believe that you bring something special to the table.”

Your chest tightens at his words, the sincerity in his tone. His thumb brushes your knuckles gently, and that nervous feeling blooms again, tugging at the edges of your thoughts. There’s something so familiar about this—like nostalgia wrapped in uncertainty. It’s comforting, but it scares you all the same.

You blink, pulling your hand back as casually as you can without it seeming abrupt. “Thanks, Jin,” you say, your voice tight. “I… I should probably get ready for this international networking seminar I have. It’s later tonight so I’ll be up for awhile.”

He tilts his head slightly, concern flickering in his expression, but he doesn’t press. “Right. Well, good luck with it. Let me know if you need anything.”

“Right back ‘atcha,” you reply quickly, standing up. You gather the disposable utensils and plates in a hurry, tossing them into the trash before he can say anything else.

Seokjin stays seated on the couch, his gaze lingering on you as you retreat to your room. The moment you close the door behind you, you exhale sharply, pressing your back against it.

Why does he have to be like this? So supportive, so perceptive, so… kind?

This is not the Seokjin you imagined when you decided to move in here!

You shake your head, trying to refocus your thoughts. You have work to do. The seminar is important, and you need to be prepared. But even as you sit down at your desk and open your laptop, you can’t shake the image of Jin’s hand on yours or the soft encouragement in his voice.

It’s almost enough to make you forget what you saw earlier today. Almost.

Would it do you any good to force yourself to forget? Pretend that the tab you saw was just a fleeting mistake, an inconsequential moment in time?

Or would it be better to confront this unsettling curiosity head-on? Maybe, if you understood more about his “side hobby,” you could find a way to desensitize yourself. Make it less of a big deal. Normalize it in your head.

The thought gnaws at you until you’re lying in bed at 1:28 a.m., the glow of your laptop casting a dim light across your room. You’re wearing your old blue track shorts and a faded YMCA T-shirt, the kind of comfort wear you don’t expect anyone to see you in. You thought the seminar would last longer, but with some guest speaker changes, it ended right at 1am.

So now you’re doing this.

The chat on the pending livestream is already alive—rows of messages racing up the screen, eager fans buzzing in anticipation of “BigTunaMan’s” arrival.

You can’t believe you’re actually doing this.

You glance at the clock again. One minute to go.

Then, he appears.

The camera flicks on, revealing Seokjin—or BigTunaMan, as his audience knows him—seated in his chair, the warm glow of soft lighting the only facially visible part of him: his lower half of his face and the subtle curve of his smirk. He’s wearing a loose tank top, the kind that clings just enough to hint at the lines of his shoulders and chest, paired with pajama bottoms that ride low on his hips. His demeanor is relaxed, confident, and undeniably captivating.

“Hey there, my army of lovers,” he greets, his voice lower, smoother, each word deliberately stretched out as if he’s tasting them. The chat floods instantly with messages, adoration pouring in from every corner of his audience.

“BigTunaMan, looking gorgeous as always!”

“Omg, talk slower, I can’t handle it.”

“Take all my money, please.”

Jin leans forward, resting his chin in his hand, his lips curling into an indulgent smile as he reads through the comments. “You’ve all been so patient tonight,” he purrs. “So how about I spoil you a little?”

He picks up a small bowl of strawberries from beside him, holding it up for the camera. The way his fingers brush over the fruit feels intentional, sensual, as though he’s fully aware of the effect he has on the people watching.

“Let’s start simple,” he murmurs, his gaze flickering to the chat, teasing. “A little ASMR snack to set the mood. And of course, I’ll be saying your names—if you’ve earned it.”

The screen lights up with donations almost instantly, usernames accompanied by desperate messages and heart emojis.

He picks a strawberry from the bowl, holding it delicately between his fingers, and bites into it slowly. The sound is soft but amplified, deliberate, and his eyes never leave the camera. He chews thoughtfully, his tongue darting out briefly to catch a stray bit of juice.

“Thank you, PurpleHeart94,” he whispers, his voice silky and intimate. “You’re so generous tonight, baby.” He takes another bite, his gaze steady and smoldering. “And you, HentaiPrincess420—what a sweet name. Thank you for spoiling me when I should be doing that to you.”

Shit… He’s so smooth.

The chat goes wild, messages pouring in faster than you can keep track of them.

He takes his time, naming off more donors, each one met with a sultry thank-you, his tone dripping with playful affection. By the time the strawberries are gone, the tension in the air feels palpable, even through the screen.

Jin leans back in his chair, running a hand through his hair as he speaks. “Now that we’re warmed up,” he says, his voice dropping lower, “how about we move on to something… a little more sexy?”

Your breath catches.

“The touching session,” he says simply, his hand trailing down his chest slowly, almost lazily. The camera angle shifts slightly, framing him in a way that feels more intimate, inviting, as if he’s closing the distance between himself and his audience.

You’re not sure whether you should close the laptop or keep watching, but your fingers remain frozen, hovering over the keyboard.

The chat explodes:

“YES, PLEASE!”

“Touch me instead!”

“PICK ME CHOOSE ME BigTunaMan!”

Jin chuckles, the sound low and resonant. “Patience,” he chides softly. “We’ve got all night, haven’t we?”

The camera zooms in slightly, drawing your focus to the deliberate, almost hypnotic movements of Jin’s hands as they trail over his skin. His voice, smooth and sultry, seeps into your ears like honey, wrapping around your thoughts and making it impossible to concentrate on anything else.

“Do you like this?” he murmurs, his tone so intimate it feels like he’s speaking directly to you. “Tell me how much you want it.”

The chat erupts in eager replies, but they’re a distant hum compared to the pounding of your heart. You can’t look away.

Though he keeps his face just out of view, it’s his voice that captures you, that low, velvety timbre punctuated by soft, breathy moans. They’re unintentional, almost reluctant, but they strike something deep within you.

You swallow hard, your throat dry, as your eyes remain glued to the screen. The way his hands move—slow, teasing, purposeful—sends heat coursing through your body. Every movement is a study in precision, a dance of tension and release that makes your breath hitch.

You feel your body responding in ways you didn’t expect. Warmth pools low in your belly, and your thighs press together instinctively. Your fingers hover near the trackpad, ready to click away but unable to follow through.

“This feels good, doesn’t it?” he continues, his voice breaking into a soft groan that sends a shiver down your spine. Why is this actually feeling…good. You can’t stop yourself from imagining those hands on you, guiding you, making you forget everything—your ex, the breakup, the shitty job market, the confusion of the past weeks.

For a moment, you close your eyes and let the sound of his voice wash over you. Your fingers inch lower, hesitating, as you let yourself get lost in the moment. You’re not thinking about the consequences, about what this means. You’re thinking about him—his hands, his voice, the heat building inside you.

The guilt simmers beneath the surface, but it’s drowned out by the relentless pull of desire. The screen lights up your room, but it’s his voice and movements that light you up inside. You barely notice the chat anymore; it’s just you and him in this moment, an unspoken connection through the glow of the laptop.

Your breath comes in shallow gasps as your hand moves on its own accord, slipping under the waistband of your shorts. You close your eyes again, imagining his hands instead of your own, his voice murmuring your name instead of the ones flooding the chat. For the first time in weeks, maybe months, you let yourself feel without holding back.

In this moment, nothing else matters. Fuck the breakup you had with Mingi. Fuck the stress of job searching. Fuck the awkwardness of living with him. And most importantly, fuck the consequences of watching this. It’s just him, the way he makes you feel, and the heat that consumes you completely.

Your breath hitches as your hands wander further, slipping under your shirt to tease at your nipples, fingers rolling and pinching lightly. Each touch sends sparks of pleasure shooting through you, but it’s not enough—not compared to what you’re watching on the screen.

Not like Jin’s movements at all.

Jin’s hands move with expert precision against his dick, his body shifting slightly as he leans into the motions. His moans, soft yet intentional, echo in your ears, spurring your own need higher. You slide your shorts down your hips, the cool air kissing your skin as they drop to the floor.

Your fingers dip lower, grazing over the slick heat pooling between your thighs. It’s good, but not nearly enough. You want more. You need more.

With a frustrated sigh, you pull yourself away from the bed, heart pounding as you open the drawer of your nightstand. Your fingers quickly locate the toy nestled among your folded underwear. It’s a guilty secret you’ve kept for moments like this, though none of those moments have ever felt as charged as this one.

You crawl back onto the bed, the glow of the screen casting shadows over your skin. Jin’s voice fills the room, low and enticing, as he murmurs, “You want me to keep going? Don’t worry, I’ll take care of you.”

Your thighs clench involuntarily at his words, your hand trembling slightly as you press the toy against yourself. The first vibration jolts through you, a gasp escaping your lips as your body arches into the sensation.

On the screen, Jin leans back slightly, his voice dipping even lower. “Just relax,” he says, as though he knows exactly what you’re doing. “Let me make you feel good.”

You follow his lead, letting the toy work against you as your free hand resumes teasing your chest. The pleasure builds steadily, your movements syncing with his as if he’s guiding you through the screen.

Every sound he makes, every deliberate motion, heightens the sensation coursing through you. You bite your lip, trying to stay quiet, but a soft moan slips out despite your efforts. The rhythm of the toy against you matches the cadence of his voice, and it feels as though he’s right there, coaxing you to the edge. You feel yourself almost reaching your orgasm.

But then…

The darkness in the room is lit by the various colored lights and monitor screens as Jin’s chest rises and falls. He begins to slows his movements on his cock, his fingers curling reflexively against his skin. For a brief, unguarded moment, his mind conjures your image—your laughter from earlier at dinner, the way you nervously tugged at the hem of your shirt when he reached out to reassure you.

Woah, what.

Why am I thinking about her right now?

The thought crashes into him like a freight train, shattering his carefully constructed cam-boy persona. His rhythm falters, and as he shifts back abruptly, his elbow knocks into the small Mario figure perched on the edge of his desk.

The figure wobbles, teeters, and then tumbles, the plastic base snapping cleanly off as it hits the hardwood floor.

“Shit!” Jin hisses, his hands flying up to stop the disaster that’s already occurred.

He quickly reaches for the webcam, clicking off the feed and muttering a quick excuse to his audience. “Hey guys, I’ll be right back. Technical issue. Don’t go anywhere.”

The chat floods with reactions—some disappointed, others supportive—but Jin pays them no mind. He gets himself covered up, with his focus no on the broken Mario figure in his hands.

He turns it over, the damage glaringly obvious. It’s just a silly little figurine to anyone else, but to Jin, it’s so much more. You’d given it to him during a Secret Santa exchange in elementary school. It was back when you were both just kids, long before life got complicated and your paths diverged.

He’d kept it all these years, quietly treasuring the memory of that moment, even if you probably didn’t remember.

“Damn it…” he mutters under his breath. He needs super glue—immediately.

The thought strikes him like lightning: you bought super glue just the other day to fix a keychain. You even mentioned it offhand while you were unloading groceries together.

You must have it in your room.

Without hesitation, Jin stands, his mind racing with urgency. You’d said you’d be up late for some seminar, so you’re probably awake. There’s no time to text or knock; he can just explain in person. You’re a few steps away anyway.

He pushes your door open, stepping inside in a rush, only for the world to come screeching to a halt.

His eyes widen as they land on you—sprawled on your bed, your shirt rucked up to expose bare breasts and heat, your shorts kicked off and forgotten. The unmistakable hum of a vibrator fills the air, the glow of your laptop illuminating your flushed face.

Holy shit, he just caught his new roommate and childhood rival… friend? masterbating.

Your hand freezes mid-motion as you look at him, your expression a mixture of shock and mortification.

For a moment, neither of you moves.

“I—” Jin stammers, his voice catching in his throat. His gaze darts away, his face heating up so fast it feels like it might combust. “I—oh my god—I’m sorry! I didn’t mean—”

Your own voice fails you, a strangled moaning sound escaping your lips as you scramble to pull the blanket over yourself, fumbling in a panic.

“W-What the hell, Jin!” you manage to croak, your voice high-pitched and shaky.

“I needed super glue!” he blurts out, clutching the broken Mario figure in his hands like it’s the most important thing in the world. “For this! It’s broken, and I—”

“This couldn’t wait?!” you snap, the mortification only growing as his words fully sink in.

Jin takes a step back, clearly flustered. “I didn’t think—! I mean, I thought you were—”

He freezes mid-sentence, his eyes darting to your laptop screen. His breath catches as the realization washes over him.

That’s my stream.

For a moment, the room is suffocatingly silent, his wide-eyed gaze flicking between you and the unmistakable paused screen of his cam boy persona on your laptop. You're watching me? The thought echoes in his mind, equal parts flattered and horrified.

Jin had sensed something was off earlier in the evening, even before all of this unfolded. After dinner, when he’d returned to his room, he’d noticed the Chaturbate tab—closed.

That was odd.

He distinctly remembered leaving it open before leaving for work this morning. He’d scheduled some exclusive content for his next stream and had moved the tab to a less conspicuous window. He figured maybe he’d closed it in a rush and forgotten.

But now, as he stood here, watching your flushed face buried in your hands, it started clicking into place.

Your awkward behavior during dinner—the way you fumbled through your answers, the slight tension in your laugh. He’d assumed you were just jittery from nerves after your job interview, but this? This was something else entirely.

How long have you known?

The realization settled in his chest like a slow-building weight, pushing him further toward clarity. His gaze softened, not with pity, but with a blend of intrigue and confusion.

“Y/N, you’re watching my camming stream?” he finally says, his voice low, incredulous.

You groan, your hands flying up to cover your burning face. “Oh my god. I can explain—no, wait, I can’t explain. Just—” You trail off, wishing for the earth to swallow you whole. Your voice is muffled through your palms as you mutter, “This isn’t what it looks like at all!”

You're kind of cute, all flustered like this, he thinks to himself.

Jin crosses his arms, leaning against your doorframe, and his lips quirk up into a lopsided smile. There’s amusement in his eyes, but also something more—interest, maybe? He tilts his head slightly, watching you squirm.

Maybe he should tease her a little, like old times.

“Wow,” he finally says, his voice low and teasing. “Have you been that lonely?”

Your head snaps up, your face somehow growing hotter. “What? No! I mean…” You falter, the truth sitting heavy on your tongue, and you look away, unable to meet his gaze. “Okay, maybe a little. The breakup was actually that bad and um…but this—this isn’t about that.”

He takes a step closer, his smirk softening into something gentler. “You could’ve told me.”

“Told you what?” you ask weakly, your heart pounding as he stands just a few feet away now.

“That you’ve been feeling like this. That you needed…” His voice dips, and his dark eyes flicker over you, lingering just a little too long. “Some help...”

Your breath catches, and you swallow hard, trying to keep your voice steady. “Seokjin, I don’t—”

“I could help,” he interrupts, his tone soft but unmistakably suggestive.

The weight of his words settles over you like a warm blanket, and for a moment, all you can do is stare at him, your mind racing. Is he serious? Does he mean what you think he means?

No, like why would he? What does he gain from this? Even he himself wonders.

“You could help?” you repeat, your voice barely above a whisper, as if saying it out loud would shatter whatever fragile tension exists between you.

His eyes lock onto yours, and the look he gives you is steady, confident, and almost daring. “Yeah,” he says. “If you’d let me.”

He doesn’t think you’ll actually accept it, if anything, this is probably time for you to officially kick him out–

“Then help me, already.”

–

–

–

a/n: this is really long chapter because i really wanted to add some psychological warfare going on in reader's head + some character development as these two "childhood rivals" start to befriend each other now in their adult lives. i hope you enjoy this chapter. happy holidays!! thank you all for the support and for reading!

➸ let me know what you think OR join the taglist for future works! ➸ check out my masterlist for other fics I have made

[kingofbodyrolls]

Songs of the Heart (m) | pjm | chap 2: who

You’re only human, and day by day, you find yourself falling for your neighbor—the world-renowned singer-songwriter, Jimin. But behind his dazzling smile lies a hidden fragility, a heart weighed down by unspoken sorrow. When his young daughter shows up at your door, her teary eyes and trembling voice telling you her father is crying, your heart skips a beat. Rushing to his side, you find him on the floor of his studio, surrounded by scattered papers and raw, unfiltered pain. Now, as his quiet strength falters, you’re left wondering—can you be the melody to soothe his fractured soul? Can you help him piece together the remnants of his broken heart?

→ Pairing: jimin x reader (female) → AUs: musician!au (not completely idol!au), single dad!au, slice of life!au → Trope: strangers to lovers / neighbors to lovers → Genres: slow burn romance / fluff / angst / smut / comedy → Rating: mature/explicit/R18  (this is mature/explicit content, so minors, please do not interact.) → Word count: 8.8k → Warnings + triggers: mention of past bad relationships (only briefly mentioned), crying, pain, hurt (emotional), stereotypical assumptions, slight misunderstandings, protective and oblivious big brother Yoongi, Hwa-Young is so cute 😭 → Read on AO3? [link] → Author’s note: waaaah 🤧 This chapter holds such a special place in my heart—it’s one of those moments that feels like capturing a fragile piece of the soul in words. There’s something tender, something magical about it... but I’ll let you discover that for yourself. I truly hope it speaks to you as deeply as it does to me 🫶💖 This whole story (which will be posted every Sunday for the next eight weeks) is for my dear friend @remmykinsff! I hope you’ll love it 💜

← prev | s.masterlist | m.masterlist |  next →

Jimin is the kind of neighbor who seems almost too good to be true. Warm, thoughtful, and effortlessly kind, he’s the type of person who lights up a space simply by existing. But there’s a shadow beneath his radiance—a quiet sadness that lingers in his faraway glances, in the melancholy chords of his songs. Despite his inviting smile, you can’t help but wonder what burdens his heart carries. Is it loss? Longing? The memory of someone who used to be here—perhaps the mother of his sweet, joyful daughter? The questions tug at your mind, but you hold them back. Curiosity simmers, yet you don’t dare pry into his private pain.

Since the day you introduced yourself, he’s gone out of his way to make you feel at home. In the past week, you’ve unpacked every last box, even posting an ad for someone to take them off your hands for reuse. And in that same time, Jimin has invited you into his cozy, art-filled home more times than you can count, eager to hear your thoughts on his lyrics. His daughter is just as charming as the house she brightens, her laughter filling every corner. Their kindness is so genuine, so disarmingly human, that you wonder how someone so well-known, so revered, could remain this grounded. You’d expected someone of his fame and talent to carry an air of distance, but Park Jimin is anything but.

“So, do you have the hots for him yet?” Namjoon teases, jabbing his fork into a helpless carrot on his plate.

The question hits like a snowball, and you feel the heat rise to your cheeks, turning them as pink as the cranberry sauce on your plate. “What? No!” you stammer, immediately looking away, out the frosted window of the restaurant. Outside, snowflakes swirl in the brisk wind, blanketing the streets in soft white. It’s warm inside, but the chill of Namjoon’s question lingers. Christmas is just around the corner, and yet, all you can think about is a certain neighbor with sad eyes and a voice that seems to carry the weight of the world.

When you don’t respond—don’t even lift your gaze from the table—Namjoon chuckles, the sound low and teasing. “So you do like him.”

A heavy sigh escapes you as you practically collapse against the table, your arms folding under you like a crumpled paper. “How can you blame me?” you groan, voice tinged with exasperation, though the tightness blooming in your chest says otherwise. Jimin’s face flashes in your mind—his warm smile, his soothing voice, the gentle way he looks at his daughter—and your heart betrays you, skipping a beat. “He’s just… he’s so good-looking, so sweet, so—kind. And don’t even get me started on his daughter. She’s the most precious kid I’ve ever met.”

“Wait,” you say suddenly, lowering your voice to a conspiratorial whisper, as though afraid the other restaurant patrons might overhear. “Did you know he had a daughter?”

Namjoon pauses, his glass of water halfway to his lips. He raises a brow. “I didn’t,” he admits, taking a sip. “But, honestly, it makes sense. The guy keeps his private life locked up tighter than a vault. I didn’t even know he lived out here in the sticks.”

You laugh softly, though there’s an edge of disbelief to it. “Right? I mean, the Park Jimin, living in some rundown neighborhood? When I found out he was my neighbor, I thought I was dreaming. But, seriously, why would someone like him live there? He’s famous. He has money. He could live anywhere—penthouse, sprawling mansion, you name it. So why here?”

The thought makes your cheeks burn, and you look down at your hands, fiddling with the edge of your napkin. You’re not sure if you’re embarrassed at the audacity of your questions or the fact that you’ve been thinking about this way too much.

Leaning forward, you rest your elbows on the table and let your words tumble out before you can stop them. “Joonie…” Your voice is quieter now, almost tender, as though you’re confessing something sacred. “Jimin seems so sad. He lives all alone with his daughter, and all of his songs—they’re so full of pain, of longing. Do you think…” You hesitate, swallowing hard, then press on. “Do you think all his songs are about his wife? Do you think she left him? Or…” You don’t finish the sentence.

Namjoon lets out a dramatic sigh, rolling his eyes as he sets his fork down with a clatter. “Slow down there, Miss Investigative Journalist.” He leans back in his chair, his expression somewhere between amused and exasperated. “First of all, did you even check if he had a ring on his finger? That might save you a lot of speculation. Second…” He points his fork at you for emphasis. “Why are you asking me? What do I know? I don’t have some magical hotline to his personal life. All I know is the guy is a phenomenal singer. If you’re that curious, why don’t you ask him yourself?”

His bluntness sends a blush creeping up your neck, but you manage a small laugh, shaking your head. “Ask him? Yeah, sure, Joonie. Hey, Jimin, so who broke your heart and why do you look so sad all the time? That’ll go over well.”

Namjoon smirks, raising a knowing brow. “Hey, you’re the one who’s dying to know. Maybe it’s time to stop speculating and start finding out.”

You let out a heavy sigh, leaning back against the stool, the wooden legs creaking softly under your weight. “I didn’t see a ring,” you murmur, almost to yourself. “But… his daughter, Hwa-Young—she looked so sad when I asked about her parents. I don’t know. I don’t want to pry, but at the same time…” You trail off, glancing at Namjoon, your voice quieter now, hesitant. “I also don’t want to get involved in something complicated, you know?”

Namjoon doesn’t miss a beat. He throws his head back with a laugh, loud and carefree, drawing a few curious glances from the nearby tables. “You’re already thinking about dating the guy, and you barely know him?” he teases, shaking his head as he spears the last piece of chicken on his plate.

“I am not!” you shoot back, your cheeks flushing. You cross your arms, pouting slightly. “I’m just… trying to protect myself, okay? You know what happened last time. I’m not exactly great when it comes to men.”

Namjoon sets his fork down with a scoff, his eyes narrowing playfully. “Oh, trust me, I know. Thank god you never told your brother about Mark.”

At the mention of him, you groan, covering your face with your hands as a whirlwind of memories comes rushing back. Mark, with his sharp words and subtle lies that chipped away at you piece by piece. Controlling. Manipulative. Always holding you at arm’s length, but never letting you go. Everything Jimin doesn’t seem to be.

You peek at Namjoon through your fingers, your lips twitching into an incredulous smile. “Yoongi would’ve kicked his ass.” The thought is enough to make you burst into laughter, the sound coming unbidden and pure, like the first light after a storm. “Honestly, it’s probably for the best that he never found out what really happened with Mark.”

Namjoon’s grin widens as he nods, clearly enjoying the idea of your overprotective brother delivering swift justice. “Oh, no question. He’d have tracked the guy down, dragged him out of whatever hole he’s hiding in, and sent him running for the hills.”

You shake your head, laughing, the tension easing from your shoulders. The restaurant’s warm glow feels softer now, like a comforting blanket against the frost-laden world outside. You glance out the window, watching the snowflakes tumble lazily from the darkening sky, and push aside the lingering thoughts of the past.

By the time you’ve both polished off your plates, the conversation has shifted to lighter things—memories of college pranks, ridiculous holiday traditions—and the laughter between you and Namjoon feels like medicine.

After settling the bill, the two of you make your way to the cinema, the cold biting at your cheeks but doing nothing to dim the warmth between you. You tuck your scarf tighter around your neck as Namjoon buys tickets to the cheesiest Christmas movie playing, grinning like a kid as he hands you your popcorn.

The night stretches out before you like a quiet snowfall, soft and full of potential. And for a while, you let yourself get lost in it—lost in the glow of the screen, the sound of your best friend’s laughter, and the feeling that, maybe, just maybe, better days are finally ahead.

Days later, you find yourself nestled in Jimin’s living room, the soft hum of warmth from the fireplace wrapping around you like a blanket. Hwa-Young is curled up beside you, her bright, innocent energy a stark contrast to the quiet gravity of her father’s voice as he strums his guitar. The song he plays is one you heard last week, but hearing it live—here, in the heart of his home—feels different. Intimate. Raw.

“I’ll put it all on the line.I’ll be that someone she can count on.One, two, three, four, five…So many people to see.Places to go,”

His voice floats through the room, hauntingly beautiful, the kind of sound that lingers in the corners of your mind long after it’s gone. It’s even more mesmerizing live than it was over the radio. How many singers can claim that? His voice is unfiltered, rich, filled with a vulnerability that pulls you in like a tide you can’t resist.

You bop your head gently, letting the words soak into your skin, but your mind drifts, lingering on the mystery that surrounds him. Who is this song about? His lyrics feel personal, like fragments of his soul laid bare, and you can’t help but wonder about the story behind them. He’s not wearing a ring—but not all married or widowed men do. And then there’s Hwa-Young, undeniable proof that a woman once held a place in his life. Where is she now?

Hwa-Young slides closer to you, her small hands tugging at your sleeve as she giggles, her laughter light and free. “Ain’t daddy amazing?” she says, her voice brimming with pride. She flashes you a smile so bright it could rival the glow of the lights strung along the window. “He writes all his lyrics himself.”

You glance at her, then back at Jimin, who’s still lost in his music, his blonde hair falling slightly into his eyes as he leans into the melody. You nod, lowering your voice to a whisper as you reply, “That’s incredible. He’s amazing.”

And he really is. Every note, every word, every small kindness he’s shown you since the day you knocked on his door confirms it. But as much as you’re drawn to his talent and the warmth he and his daughter exude, there’s something else—a shadow in his gaze, a sadness woven into his songs. You know sadness isn’t a fault, but you can’t help but wonder if it’s a key to the puzzle of who he is and the life he’s lived.

You find yourself staring at him a moment longer than you probably should, the sound of his music echoing in your chest, making your heart ache for reasons you can’t quite name.

Jimin’s fingers glide over the strings, each delicate stroke coaxing the guitar to sing. His voice follows, soft and earnest, like a confession carried on a fragile breeze. The melody wraps itself around you, filling the room with a warmth that seems to melt even the winter frost outside.

“We never met, but she’s all I see at night.Never met, but she’s always on my mind.Wanna give her the world. And so much more.Who is my heart waiting for?Is she someone that I see every day?Is she somewhere a thousand miles away?”

The words weave their way into your chest, stirring something unfamiliar yet comforting. You can’t help but feel the faint flutter in your heart, your cheeks heating as his voice dips lower, like a secret meant for only you to hear. And in that moment, you understand. You understand why millions of people adore him—not just because he’s an artist, but because he’s an open wound made beautiful, a man unafraid to bare his soul in his music.

It isn’t just his voice or his lyrics, though both are stunning. It’s him. His presence, his kindness, his quiet humility. The way he feels so human and yet otherworldly at the same time. It’s impossible not to feel flustered under the gravity of who he is, as if he has a way of making you forget the rest of the world exists.

The song begins to fade, his voice softening, the strumming of his guitar slowing like the end of a heartbeat. A stillness settles over the room, fragile and delicate, as if even breathing too loudly might shatter it.

Hwa-Young, oblivious to the sudden weight in the air, turns to you, her eyes sparkling with curiosity. “Y/N, do you have a boyfriend?”

Her question feels like a pebble tossed into a quiet lake, sending ripples through the silence. Jimin’s fingers falter, the music stopping abruptly, leaving the air heavy with unspoken tension. His gaze flickers to you, unreadable, and you feel the heat of his attention settling on your already burning cheeks.

You laugh nervously, a sound that feels too sharp in the gentle atmosphere of the room. “I don’t,” you manage, your voice betraying the sudden tightness in your chest.

But why does your heart race? Why does the admission of your single status feel like something monumental here, in this room, in the presence of Park Jimin? You haven’t thought about relationships in so long—not since Mark left you in pieces, his manipulation and control carving wounds you thought would never heal. You’d sworn off men like him, sworn off feeling this kind of vulnerability ever again.

So why, now, do you feel as though a single glance from Jimin could undo all those walls? Why does the quiet between you feel louder than the song he’d just played?

Hwa-Young giggles, her innocence breaking the moment, but your thoughts linger, circling around questions you can’t yet answer.

Jimin offers you a soft smile, the kind that feels warm but weighted with unspoken thoughts. You sense his gaze lingering, yet you can’t bring yourself to meet his eyes. Something about the moment feels too tender, too fragile to face head-on.

“My dad is single too,” Hwa-Young chimes in, her cheerful tone catching you off guard. Your cheeks burn again, and you feel as though your entire face might combust. Is she… is she trying to play matchmaker with her father? The idea stirs an unexpected mix of flustered amusement and… something you can’t quite name. But if he’s single, then does that mean…?

Jimin shifts in his chair, resting his arms casually against the curve of the guitar, though his expression turns gentle, serious. “Hwa-Young’s mother passed away shortly after she was born,” he says softly, his voice carrying a heaviness that lingers in the air, wrapping around the room like a cloud.

The words hit you like a sharp wind. Your heart clenches as you glance at Hwa-Young, who sits beside you, still smiling, though it’s tinged with something wistful and bittersweet. She probably doesn’t remember her mother at all. And Jimin… Jimin is a widower. A young widower. You can’t help but wonder how he’s carried that weight for so long, raising his daughter with such love and kindness despite the ache that must linger in the quiet moments.

“She was daddy’s best friend,” Hwa-Young adds, looking up at you with a small, melancholy smile. Her words make your heart ache in ways you hadn’t expected, the sweetness of her tone laced with an understanding far beyond her years.

“Oh, I’m so sorry,” you murmur, the lump in your throat growing harder to swallow as you address them both. Your thoughts are tangled, a mix of sorrow for their loss and admiration for the strength it must take to carry on.

A question bubbles to your lips before you can stop it, driven by the weight of curiosity and compassion. “Is Hwa-Young’s mother who you’re singing about?” The words escape before you can think better of them, and your face instantly flushes with regret. You bite your lip and lower your gaze, berating yourself for prying into something so intimate.

But Jimin doesn’t seem offended. If anything, his smile remains, soft and calm, like the steady rhythm of a tide. He leans forward slightly over his guitar, the warm tones of his voice easing your nerves. “Not really,” he replies with an almost bittersweet chuckle. “I just like singing about love… because I’ve never really experienced it.”

His confession catches you off guard. You blink, taken aback, his words echoing in your mind. Never experienced love? How could someone like him—a man who seems to pour so much longing and devotion into his music—have never truly felt the very thing he sings about?

“But what about…?” you begin hesitantly, the words fumbling on your tongue as you glance at Hwa-Young. You don’t know how to frame the question, don’t know how much Jimin has shared with his daughter about her mother. You don’t want to tread on sacred ground, but the curiosity burns too brightly within you.

Jimin tilts his head slightly, watching you with a knowing look, as if he can read every thought racing through your mind. The room feels smaller now, quieter, as you wait for his response.

“Oh. Jiwoo and I were never in love,” Jimin says softly, his words gentle but sure, carrying the weight of a truth long settled. “She was just my best friend.” His tone holds no bitterness, only the quiet grace of someone who has long made peace with the past.

Before you can respond, Hwa-Young slides down from the couch, her laughter light and airy as she runs to her father. Jimin sets the guitar carefully on the floor, opening his arms just in time for her to leap onto his lap. She settles there with the ease of someone who knows she’s always welcome, her joy radiating as he threads his fingers tenderly through her chestnut hair. She giggles at his touch, her laugh as pure as a bell.

The sight pulls at your heart, a bittersweet ache blooming in your chest. There’s something about the way Jimin looks at her, his entire being devoted to this moment, that makes it hard to look away. You feel a small smile tugging at your lips, your eyes prickling with tears you can’t explain.

“So…” you venture, your voice barely above a whisper, as if afraid to disturb the delicate warmth in the room. “You’re looking for love?”

Jimin glances up at you, a flicker of amusement in his gaze. “Kind of, yeah,” he admits with a soft chuckle, and then grins, teasingly adding, “But love songs also make me a lot of money.”

Before you can react, Hwa-Young chimes in, flashing a proud smile. “We’re rich!” she declares, her enthusiasm unfiltered and unapologetic.

Jimin bursts into laughter, his shoulders shaking as he looks at his daughter. “Hwa-Young,” he says with gentle patience, “we’ve talked about this. We don’t go around saying we’re rich.” He leans down slightly, catching her gaze. “Yes, we have money. But we’re just like everyone else.”

Hwa-Young’s cheeks flush pink as she looks down, sheepishly nodding. “Oh, sorry, I forgot.”

“It’s okay,” Jimin says, brushing off her embarrassment with a warm smile. He tousles her hair affectionately, pressing a soft kiss to her cheek, which draws another giggle from her.

The scene before you is almost too much—too warm, too full of love, too foreign to your own experience—and yet you can’t bring yourself to look away. Instead, you sit there, taking it all in, the ache in your chest mingling with a kind of longing you don’t quite know how to name.

This bond Jimin has with his daughter—this easy, overflowing love—reminds you of something you once had, something you still miss deeply. It’s the kind of connection you shared with your dad, back when his hugs felt like a shield from the world and his laughter made everything seem lighter. Warm and unconditional.

You swallow hard, suddenly aware of how rare this feeling is in your life now. Men have always seemed distant, their affections guarded or transactional. Whatever Jimin has in his heart, it’s something entirely different—something you haven’t found in romance and can’t help but yearn for.

And as you sit there, watching him whisper something to Hwa-Young that sends her into another fit of giggles, you wonder—not for the first time—if you’ve spent too long searching in the wrong places.

Days have blurred into weeks, a gentle rhythm forming in your life. Most evenings, you find yourself at Jimin’s house, Hwa-Young nestled comfortably in your lap, her laughter ringing out like wind chimes as Jimin’s fingers dance over guitar strings. His voice fills the room, tender and haunting, and you let it wrap around you like a warm blanket after a long day. On the weekends, when you’re not exhausted from work, you sit there longer, hours slipping away in a haze of quiet conversations, soft melodies, and the kind of peace you haven’t felt in years.

You wouldn’t call it romantic—at least not yet. But there’s something about being near him, hearing his voice, watching the way he interacts with his daughter, that makes your chest feel a little lighter, your smile a little wider. It’s enough for now, and that alone feels like a gift.

Today is a rare day off, a pause in the steady hum of life. Bundled up against the cold, you step outside to toss your trash, the crisp winter air nipping at your cheeks. As you near the bins, you notice Jimin on the same errand. His silhouette is soft against the gray sky, breath rising in small, fleeting clouds. When he spots you, his expression brightens, and he lifts a hand to wave before crossing the short distance to you.

“Not working today?” he asks, his voice warm against the chill as he offers you one of those soft, heart-stopping smiles that always seem to linger on his pink lips.

You shake your head, a grin tugging at your own mouth. “Nope. I’m on vacation until after New Year’s.”

“Lucky you,” he says, tucking his hands into his jeans pockets. “Did you have a good Christmas?”

“I did,” you say with a nod, the memory bringing a flicker of warmth to your face. “What about you guys?”

“We had a great time,” he replies, his smile widening. “Hwa-Young’s grandparents came over, along with my parents and grandparents. It was nice.”

He pauses, tilting his head slightly as his eyes sweep over you. “Are you freezing?”

You laugh softly, though your chattering teeth betray you. “A little,” you admit, bouncing slightly on your feet in an attempt to ward off the biting cold.

Jimin chuckles, the sound low and warm, and then his expression shifts, thoughtful. “You know,” he begins, “you’ve never shown me your place. Mind if I come over and see it?”

His question catches you off guard, and your cheeks flush a shade of red that has nothing to do with the temperature. You fumble for a response, nodding quickly, your breath misting in the air as you manage to mumble, “Sure.”

“Great,” he says, and you swear his smile softens even further as he falls into step beside you, his presence as easy and natural as the falling snow.

As you lead him toward your door, you can’t help but feel a flutter of nerves mix with excitement. For weeks now, you’ve been a guest in his home, soaking in the warmth and love that radiates there. And now, for the first time, he’s stepping into your space, a piece of your world.

You let Jimin step inside, his presence filling the quiet space like a comforting hum. You’ve never known someone who could so effortlessly invite themselves over without it feeling awkward, but somehow, with him, it’s different—endearing, even. Maybe it’s the way he carries himself, or the subtle confidence in his smile. Still, you can’t help but wonder what could possibly interest him about your small, modest home.

“I love what you’ve done with the place,” he says as his gaze drifts over your living room, and something about his tone makes you pause. You realize he must have known the people who lived here before.

“Oh, um, thanks,” you murmur, shifting your weight slightly before offering, “Would you like some tea?”

He nods, his smile softening as he walks to your sofa and settles onto it, as if he belongs there. “Yes, thank you,” he says warmly, his voice carrying the quiet ease of familiarity.

You move to the kitchen, the gentle clinking of mugs and the quiet hiss of boiling water filling the air as you prepare the tea. When it’s ready, you return, the cups warm in your hands, and you sit down beside him. It’s only then, as you hand him his mug and feel the heat from his arm so close to yours, that it hits you—this is the first time you’ve been alone with Jimin. Without Hwa-Young’s cheerful chatter filling the air, the room feels heavier, more intimate.

“Where’s Hwa-Young?” you ask, the question escaping your lips before you can stop yourself.

Jimin’s smile deepens, his expression softening in that way it always does when he talks about his daughter. “She’s at school. They’re offering extra classes today.”

You nod, sipping your tea, the delicate warmth spreading through your chest. The silence between you isn’t uncomfortable, but it’s charged in a way you can’t quite explain. It lingers, stretching like the glow of sunset before nightfall, until Jimin shifts slightly, turning toward you.

“I actually wanted to thank you,” he says, his voice low, sincere, and when you glance at him, your brows furrow in confusion. He chuckles at the look, shaking his head slightly before continuing, “For being so kind to Hwa-Young.”

His words catch you off guard, and your heart twists as you see the gratitude in his eyes. You can’t help but smile back, warmth blooming in your chest. “Of course! She’s so sweet and cute—it’s impossible not to love her,” you say, the image of her bright smile flashing in your mind.

Jimin chuckles softly, but there’s something else in his expression—something wistful. He takes another sip of tea, his gaze drifting for a moment before he murmurs, “Not everyone finds her sweet.”

His words are quiet, almost as if spoken to himself, but they linger in the air, heavy with meaning. You blink, surprised, your curiosity bubbling to the surface before you can stop it. “Why?”

The single word slips out, unguarded, and as soon as you say it, you feel your cheeks flush. But Jimin doesn’t seem to mind. He sets his mug down gently on the table, his fingers brushing against the handle, and his gaze meets yours.

Jimin’s lips part, and you know he’s about to say something—something that feels heavy and important—but before the words can form, the faint scrape of metal against metal cuts through the moment. A key slides into the lock, followed by the soft click of the door swinging open. The chill of winter slips in, brushing against your skin and swirling into the warmth of the room. You instinctively turn your head toward the entrance, your breath hitching as your brother, Yoongi, steps inside.

You recognize him immediately—not just by sight, but by the familiar rhythm of his grumbling and the huff of annoyance that escapes his lips as he wrestles with an armful of grocery bags. Only Yoongi, you think, would crash into your life unannounced and utterly unapologetic. After all, it’s only him and Namjoon who have a spare key to your place. But still—why now? Why does it have to be now of all times?

Yoongi’s presence is as it always is: sharp-edged, protective, and oddly comforting. For a man who once told you to “be a grown-ass adult,” he sure as hell has a habit of showing up with groceries and cooking dinner for you like it’s a duty he’s assigned himself. You’ve long since stopped questioning it. This is how Yoongi loves—through the quiet, practical acts of care that speak volumes even when his words don’t.

He steps into the living room, his boots leaving faint marks of melted snow on your floor. But then he stops, his eyes narrowing slightly as he takes in the sight of you and Jimin sitting side by side on the sofa. His gaze flits between the two of you, sharp and assessing, and his lips press into a line.

“Hi,” he says at last, his voice low and raspier than usual, the single word carrying more weight than it should.

“Hi,” you reply flatly, trying to mask the unease creeping into your chest. From the corner of your eye, you notice Jimin glance at you, his brow furrowing in quiet curiosity. He doesn’t say anything, but the unspoken question hangs in the air.

You wave a dismissive hand toward your brother. “Just put it in the kitchen,” you say, gesturing at the bags he’s still holding. Anything to break the tension, to redirect the moment back to something mundane. But as Yoongi moves toward the kitchen, the clatter of grocery bags and the hum of the fridge door opening do little to quiet the storm of thoughts brewing in your head.

What had Jimin been about to say? Would he pick up the thread again, or was the moment already gone?

When Yoongi finishes unpacking, he saunters back into the living room with the slow, deliberate gait of someone who knows how to make their presence known. His gaze flicks between you and Jimin once more, a faint smirk tugging at the corner of his lips.

“Aren’t you going to say thank you?” he asks, his voice light but tinged with mock annoyance.

It’s such a Yoongi thing to say—half-serious, half-teasing, his version of poking at you just to see how you’ll react. You sigh, rolling your eyes, but the corners of your mouth twitch upward despite yourself.

You huff, crossing your arms as you fix your brother with an exasperated glare. “Yeah, yeah, thank you so much,” you mutter, waving him off with a flick of your hand. But Yoongi doesn’t head back to the kitchen. Instead, his eyes widen, darting between you and the man sitting beside you.

“Oh my god,” he breathes, his voice low but loaded with incredulity. His gaze locks onto Jimin like he’s just uncovered a secret scandal. “Is that… is that Park Jimin?”

You groan, rolling your eyes so hard you’re surprised they don’t stay stuck. “Yeah,” you reply, deadpan. “He’s my neighbor.”

Yoongi’s mouth opens slightly, as if he’s struggling to process this groundbreaking revelation. “You never told me that,” he accuses, his tone dripping with disbelief, as though withholding this information is some heinous crime.

Jimin, to his credit, sits there gracefully, his eyes flitting between you and Yoongi, an amused smile tugging at his lips. He shifts slightly in his seat, clearly unsure whether to be flattered or just let the moment pass.

You sigh, feeling heat creep into your cheeks. “This is my big brother, Yoongi,” you say, gesturing toward him with the weariness of someone who knows this interaction is going to get worse before it gets better.

Jimin tilts his head in greeting, his posture as warm and composed as ever, and then extends his hand, palm steady and inviting. “It’s a pleasure to meet you,” he says, his voice velvet-smooth.

Yoongi, of course, isn’t one to miss a beat. He grins, flashing his signature gummy smile as he takes Jimin’s hand in his own. “The pleasure’s all mine. My wife is obsessed with you.”

And there it is—that word. Obsessed. You cringe, the flush in your cheeks deepening until it feels like your face could rival the color of the setting sun. You sink slightly into the sofa cushions, wishing they’d just swallow you whole. Who isn’t in love with Jimin? you think, casting a side glance at the man in question.

Jimin chuckles softly, a sound that feels like the crackle of a cozy fireplace, and you catch a faint blush rising up his neck, settling on his cheeks. It’s subtle, but it’s there—proof that even someone as seemingly untouchable as him can get flustered. He doesn’t say anything to Yoongi’s comment, just offers a polite smile and a quiet laugh.

Yoongi, oblivious—or maybe purposefully oblivious—plops himself into the armchair directly across from the two of you. The chair creaks slightly under his weight, and he leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees as if settling in for a long interrogation.

“So…” Yoongi begins, his tone annoyingly casual. “What were you two talking about?”

You clench your teeth, trying to stave off the irritation rising in your chest. Yoongi might as well have brought a flashing neon sign reading “Third Wheel” and planted it in your living room. Couldn’t he see that he was interrupting? Couldn’t he feel the delicate atmosphere he’d just shattered?

You shoot him a pointed look, silently willing him to disappear back into the kitchen—or, better yet, back to wherever he came from with those damn groceries. But Yoongi doesn’t budge. He sits there, grinning, blissfully ignorant—or perhaps intentionally obtuse—as if his mere presence isn’t practically cockblocking you.

You glance at Jimin, wondering if he feels the shift, the way the air between you had been light and full of possibility just moments ago, only to be deflated by your brother’s untimely arrival. But Jimin doesn’t seem annoyed. Instead, he looks… entertained. Like this is some private little comedy show unfolding before him.

You can’t decide if that makes it better or worse.

You don’t say anything. The words sit heavy on your tongue, tangled in hesitation, because continuing this conversation feels too personal—too vulnerable—especially with your brother sitting there like an uninvited witness. Jimin, perceptive as ever, is quick to steer the moment in another direction. His voice is a balm, smooth and unhurried.

“I was just asking your sister if she’d like to come see me perform at my concert in May,” he says, his eyes shifting toward you, warm and expectant.

Your head snaps up, and you gape at him, blinking as if you’ve misheard. Does he mean his sold-out stadium tour? Your heart stumbles over itself, and beside you, Yoongi looks just as stunned, his jaw slack. You can practically see the wheels turning in his head—probably imagining being in your shoes just so he could make his wife’s wildest dreams come true.

“Ehm… yeah, if you want me there?” you manage to stammer, the words slipping out in a breathless, uncertain tumble. You can’t tell if it’s a question or an answer. You’re too taken aback to know.

“Of course,” Jimin replies, a small smile playing at the corners of his lips, his gaze lingering on you in a way that feels both casual and intimate. “You’ve helped me so much these past weeks. It’s the least I can do.” His hand brushes against your thigh—light, fleeting, but electric.

For a moment, your entire world narrows to the warmth of his touch, the gentle cadence of his voice. The blood rushes to your face, heat pooling in your cheeks, and you feel like you might combust right there on the sofa. If only Yoongi weren’t sitting directly across from you, his hawk-like gaze taking in every detail, his brow furrowed as if mentally cataloging the scene to interrogate you later.

“Backstage pass, too,” Jimin adds casually, as though he hasn’t just turned your world upside down.

You barely nod, unable to form a coherent thought. Yoongi, however, stares at you, his expression flitting between disbelief and muted jealousy. You avoid his gaze, knowing full well what’s going through his mind: Why didn’t you tell me Park Jimin was your neighbor? His wife would combust on the spot if she ever found out.

Moments later, Jimin rises, his presence still lingering even as he moves toward the door. “I should head back,” he says, his voice warm, though you can sense his reluctance to leave.

You trail behind him to the door, your heart pounding. “Thank you,” you manage softly as he slips on his shoes.

He turns back, his smile lighting the space between you. “I’ll see you soon, then?”

You nod, unable to do much else as the door clicks shut behind him, and the room plunges into a momentary stillness.

But the peace doesn’t last.

The second the door closes, Yoongi’s voice cuts through the quiet like a crack of thunder. “Why didn’t you tell me Park Jimin is your neighbor?” His tone is sharp, his eyes narrowing at you with all the intensity of an older brother who feels personally wronged.

You sigh, crossing your arms in a gesture of defiance. “Because I don’t want you telling your wife,” you shoot back, leveling him with a pointed look. “The man deserves some privacy, and I know exactly what would happen if you let her find out. She’d be at my place every day trying to ‘bump into him.’ No, thank you.”

Yoongi scoffs, clearly unimpressed with your reasoning. “You act like I’d tell her on purpose,” he grumbles, though his tone betrays his guilt.

“You would tell her,” you counter, your voice firm. “Maybe not on purpose, but you wouldn’t be able to keep it to yourself. One glass of wine at dinner and it’d slip out.”

Yoongi opens his mouth to argue, then seems to think better of it. Instead, he leans back in the chair with a resigned huff. “Fine,” he mutters. “But if you end up dating the guy, you have to let me and my wife meet him.”

You roll your eyes, exhaling in frustration as you grab one of the throw pillows and hurl it at him. “Get out of my business, Yoongi.”

But even as you say it, you can’t stop the small smile tugging at your lips. Because for all his meddling, Yoongi is still your brother—and no matter how annoyed you feel in the moment, there’s comfort in knowing he’ll always be there, grocery bags in hand, ready to pry into your life whether you like it or not.

Still, as you glance at the empty spot where Jimin had been sitting just minutes ago, you can’t help but feel the shift in the air—the quiet sense of something new blooming, fragile and undefined, but full of possibility.

It’s New Year’s Eve, and the world outside hums with the anticipation of fireworks and fleeting resolutions, but you’ve chosen solitude. For once, you’ve turned down your friends’ lively invitations and decided against more time with family—Christmas was enough. Tonight, it’s just you, the quiet of your home, and the comforting glow of your playlist.

Jimin’s voice drifts through the room, one of his songs filling the air like a soft embrace. You sway to the rhythm, your body moving without thought, the melody wrapping around you until it feels like a conversation—a secret shared between the two of you.

Then comes the knock, sharp and unexpected. It cuts through the moment like a thread snapping, and you pause the music, your feet hesitating as you move toward the door.

When you open it, your heart clenches at the sight before you. Hwa-Young stands there, her small frame trembling, her tiny face scrunched with worry. Her lower lip quivers, and her breath fogs in the cold air.

“Daddy’s crying,” she says, her voice cracking, a heartbreaking sniffle escaping her. “I don’t know what’s wrong.”

The ache in your chest tightens, but there’s no time to think. Grabbing your keys and slipping on your shoes, you pull her into a quick hug before locking the door behind you. The icy air bites at your skin as you walk her back to her house, your heart thundering in your chest.

Jimin’s crying? The thought pounds in your mind, relentless. The man who seems to hold everything together, even when the edges fray—what could make him cry? The worry claws at you as you follow Hwa-Young inside, her tiny hand gripping yours like a lifeline.

As soon as the door closes behind you, you hear it—soft, raw, unguarded. The sound of Jimin crying seeps into the air, low and melodic in a way that only he could make heartbreak sound beautiful. But it’s a beauty that twists your stomach into knots.

Hwa-Young leads you toward his studio, her steps hesitant but trusting. And there he is, seated on the floor amidst a sea of scattered paper, his shoulders hunched, his head bowed. A pen trembles in his hand, a few smudged lines of ink staining the page beneath it. Tears drip from his cheeks, dotting the paper like the punctuation of sorrow.

You step forward, slowly, carefully, as if approaching a wounded animal. Sitting down beside him on the floor, you glance back at Hwa-Young, who hovers in the doorway, her wide eyes fixed on her father.

“What’s wrong?” you ask softly, your voice a whisper meant to break through the fragile moment without shattering it. You want to reach out, to touch him, to offer some piece of comfort, but you hold back. This is his pain, his space—you can’t rush into it uninvited.

Jimin lifts his head slightly, sniffling as he swipes at his tear-streaked face with the back of his hand. “Oh,” he breathes, his voice hoarse but still laced with that quiet magic that lingers even in his brokenness. “I’m just trying to write a song.”

His words catch you off guard, simple yet heavy, as if they carry more weight than he’s letting on. You glance down at the scattered papers and see fragments of lyrics—lines crossed out, others rewritten, the ink blurred where his tears have fallen.

Your chest tightens as you realize the depth of his struggle. Writing isn’t just an act for him—it’s a pouring out of his soul, and tonight, it seems that soul is heavier than it can bear.

“Jimin…” you murmur, his name falling from your lips like a prayer, a wish to ease the ache you see in him. He doesn’t meet your gaze, his eyes fixed on the paper as if searching for answers in the empty spaces between the lines.

He lifts his gaze to meet yours, his eyes still rimmed with a faint redness, and then looks past you to his daughter. “Ah, did you get worried, Hwa-Young?” His voice is gentle, like a melody subdued by sadness, a softness meant only for her.

She nods, her small fists rubbing at her tear-streaked cheeks. “Yeah,” she sniffs, her voice trembling. “I don’t want to see daddy cry.”

Before you can react, she runs to him, her tiny arms flinging themselves around his neck with such force that he nearly topples backward. He catches her in his embrace, holding her tightly, like she’s the anchor keeping him grounded. He presses a kiss to her temple, his lips lingering there as though drawing strength from her. “I’m okay,” he murmurs against her hair, his voice low but steady. “Sometimes writing hurts a little. But it’s a good kind of pain.”

“But I’m good, I promise,” he says, pulling back just enough to cup her cheek. His thumb brushes away the lingering tears as his expression softens, the corners of his lips curling into a faint smile. She studies him for a moment, her worried eyes searching his face for any cracks in the truth, but she seems to believe him—or at least want to.

“Okay,” she whispers, her shoulders relaxing.

You take her calming presence as your cue. Shifting slightly on the floor, you ask gently, “Do you want to talk about the lyrics?”

His lips press together, and you notice the way he chews on the inside of his bottom lip, hesitant. But after a moment, he nods, the vulnerability in his expression clear. “Yeah, okay.”

Hwa-Young slides off his lap, still watching him protectively, and retreats to the couch with a little bounce, her legs swinging off the edge. She doesn’t go far—close enough to keep him in her line of sight but distant enough to give you space. You and Jimin remain seated on the floor, papers sprawled around you like autumn leaves scattered by a restless wind.

“Alright,” he says softly, picking up a page and smoothing out the creases with his fingertips. He pauses for a moment, gathering himself, and then reads aloud, his voice quieter now, almost reverent. 

“Even if you try to make believable excuses again, even if you try to close your eyes and turn away, you know that it’s already broken, that it can’t be reversed.”

His words hang in the air, heavy and unyielding, like the ache of something lost. You sit with them for a moment, letting their weight settle over you, your chest tightening at the raw beauty of his sorrow.

“Do you really think some things can’t be reversed?” you ask finally, your voice barely above a whisper, afraid of breaking the spell.

He shrugs one shoulder, a small, almost self-deprecating smile ghosting across his lips. “I think... maybe some things can. But not everything. There are cracks too deep, things shattered too completely. Sometimes, you just... can’t put it back together.”

His gaze shifts downward, his fingers toying with the edge of the paper, as though the lyrics themselves hold the answers he’s searching for. There’s a quiet sadness in his words, an acceptance of something unspoken, and you can’t help but wonder what he’s alluding to.

You nod slowly, the truth of his words sinking in, even if you don’t fully understand what’s behind them. “Your lyrics...” you pause, searching for the right way to describe them, “they’re painfully beautiful. They feel like they come from somewhere deep.”

His eyes flicker back to you, and for a moment, you see a flash of gratitude—or perhaps relief—in his expression. “Thanks,” he murmurs, the word simple but heartfelt. “It’s... complicated, you know?”

You glance at the chaotic scrawl on the page, the ink etched like unspoken confessions. “Do you have more?” you ask softly, your voice barely breaking the stillness.

Jimin’s gaze lowers, his lips parting as though the words might resist leaving him. But then, they pour out, raw and unguarded. 

“When falling asleep, drunk,And being unable to remember anything,I thought about it, “what am I doing now?”Why am I the only one like this—no, everyone is like this.The me who pretends to be okay every time,I find him pathetic.” 

His voice wavers, each word heavy with the ghosts of emotions too painful to name.

The weight of his words hits you like a wave, swelling in your chest, rising to your throat. You feel your eyes sting, and you blink hard against the tears threatening to spill. Is that really how he feels? Or how he has felt? The thought aches, cutting deep into you.

“It’s not really how I feel right now,” he murmurs, but his voice cracks under the strain, a betrayal of the truth that lingers beneath. “But these are feelings I’ve had before, and...” His voice falters, choked by the weight of what he’s carrying.

“It’s okay,” you whisper, your own voice thick with emotion. Without hesitation, you slide closer to him, wrapping him in a hug that feels both fragile and firm. Your hand finds his, trembling slightly, and you trace soft circles on his skin, hoping to ground him, to offer something—anything—that might soothe him.

At first, he doesn’t move, his breath shuddering as if holding back. But then, he crumbles, his head falling against your shoulder as his tears come freely. The sound of his crying is quiet but heart-wrenching, and all you can do is hold him, cradling his pain as though it were your own.

After a moment, he pulls back slightly, his face still streaked with tears but his voice steadier now. “I’ve written more,” he says, sliding another paper across the floor toward you. His fingers tremble as they release it.

You pick up the page, your eyes scanning the ink smudges that seem almost like tear stains. You take a breath and begin to read aloud, your voice catching as the words unravel before you. 

“The same day all over,goes by, yet again. How long should I endure through this? To be able to return...”

The words linger in the air, heavy and sharp as glass, and your voice falters, the ache in his handwriting so palpable it feels as if it’s cut into you too. You set the paper down carefully, as though it’s something precious and breakable, and look at him, your heart twisting.

“Oh, Jimin,” you breathe, your voice barely audible. It’s all you can say. Words feel too small for the depth of what you’re witnessing. You pull him into another hug, tighter this time, as if trying to physically piece him back together, though you know that’s impossible.

His head rests against yours, and you hear his breath hitch, feel the faint tremor that still runs through him. In this moment, you realize that being here, holding him, is the only thing you can do. You can’t rewrite his past, can’t undo the pain that shaped these lyrics, but maybe—just maybe—your presence is enough to remind him that he doesn’t have to carry it alone.

“Thank you,” he says softly, his voice catching on the edges of his words as he looks up at you, his eyes glistening with lingering emotion. “Sometimes writing can be... exhausting. Emotionally, mostly. It’s like digging up the past, uncovering feelings I thought I’d buried, things I’ve been trying to ignore. But turning them into music—it helps. It’s like breathing life into the pain, giving it purpose.”

You nod, feeling the weight of his confession settle into the quiet space between you. “I get that,” you murmur. “I’m just glad I can help, even if it’s only a little.”

His gaze softens, gratitude radiating from his tired but sincere expression. “Thank you for listening,” he says, his voice almost a whisper before he leans forward to hug you. The embrace feels tender, fleeting, but carries a warmth that lingers even as he pulls away. He wipes a stray tear from his cheek with the back of his hand and pauses, his eyes scanning the scattered pages on the floor. “Do you think it’s any good?” he asks, gathering the papers with a careful, almost reverent touch.

You glance at the crumpled sheets in his hands, the raw emotion woven into each line. “I think it’s painfully good,” you say, the words heavy with sincerity. “It moves you in a way that sticks—it’s the kind of raw honesty that people can’t help but relate to.”

A faint smile tugs at his lips, bittersweet and beautiful. “Sharing the pain... it makes it feel lighter somehow,” he admits, setting the papers down on the desk as though releasing a burden. The vulnerability in his voice tugs at something deep inside you, and when he turns back, sitting beside you, his presence feels closer than ever—like the warmth of sunlight just brushing your skin.

You’re acutely aware of the space between you, or rather, the lack of it. The heat of his thigh grazing yours is magnetic, grounding and electrifying all at once. You turn your head, your gaze finding his profile—delicate, yet so undeniably strong. There’s a quiet grace about him, a dainty elegance in the way he carries himself, even when baring his soul. His honesty, his unfiltered emotions, they pull at you like a tide, drawing you closer without permission.

You don’t know what this is—this invisible thread between you, taut and shimmering in the quiet. Is it just you? Are you the only one feeling this pull? Or does he feel it too, this gentle but unrelenting gravity between you? Is he always this open, this raw, with everyone? Or is this... something else?

The questions swirl in your mind, but you don’t dare voice them. Instead, you sit there, your thoughts tangled, the warmth of him beside you keeping the world at bay, if only for this fleeting moment.

→ Permanent taglist: @nora12379 @jeonsbabygirlsworld @fancypeacepersona @ktownshizzle @pjmxxjm @ajoonniice @kookiewithluv @mikrokookiex

→ Series taglist: @13-manggaetteok @mima795 @hnnnjm @flaneuseonthestreets @miniesjams32 @graydolan12

→ Author’s endnote: okay, confession time: I might have totally ugly cried while writing this chapter, and… wow, it hit hard. I’ve poured a lot of myself into Jimin’s character—like, not exactly me, but in the way his lyrics carry that raw, emotional depth (which honestly feels like the whole of Bangtan, let’s be real 😭). Anyway! I need to know—what did you think of this chapter? And more importantly, what pain do you think Jimin is hiding? 👀 Spill your theories, because my brain is doing the little ‘evil laugh writer’ thing right now 🤔✨

© @/kingofbodyrolls 2024 // Please don’t copy or repost! You are more than welcome to reblog it, leave a comment or ask me anything about the story 🥰