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jaysbaefie · 18 hours ago

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bullshit | sjy

synopsis: in which months of mocking jake online comes back to bite you, and he makes sure you regret every single word—on your knees.

genre: idol au

pairing: idol!jake x blogger!reader

warnings: dubcon? bratty!reader, petty!jake, mean!jake, big dick!jake, kidnapping (sort of kind of??), oral (m.rec), cum swallowing, reader grinds down on jake’s shoe, mention of daddy kink (but it’s not used), forced submission, manhandling, titty sucking, marking, begging, degrading. self degradation, rough and unprotected p in v, orgasm denial, overstimulation, light spanking slapping and chocking, creampie, spitting, recording for blackmail purposes. i think that’s it….

wc: 15.1k

a/n: this took a lot more time that i initially thought it would … but it’s here now! this draft has been sitting in my archives for years like literal years. back when i used to write on wattpad for bts i had this plot written for tae but scrapped it because i lacked creativity to make it happen. but here we r ! also side note this is not edited to the best of its abilities so if u c a mistake… im sorry :D hope you enjoy, notes, reblogs and comments are always appreciated. enjoy :)

✎﹏﹏

the dorm door slammed open, the sound of sneakers dragging across the floor echoing behind it. the 7 exhausted boys spilled into the living room, all drained and sweaty from the insane dance practice that had run two hours longer than scheduled. jake collapsed face-first onto the couch, groaning into a throw pillow as he stretches his limbs before he feels a cramp in his leg.

"i think my spine is permanently bent," he mumbled, not moving an inch.

sunghoon flopped onto the floor, using his hoodie as a pillow. "i think i disassociated during 'bite me.'"

"you always disassociate during 'bite me,'" heeseung shot back, tossing a towel at him making sunghoon scowl.

jay, meanwhile, had his phone out, thumb lazily scrolling through twitter as he half-listened to the chaos around him. he was about to put his phone down when a thread caught his eye.

"kpop idols who probably have the smallest dick (a very unserious thread)"

"...oh?" jay blinked, intrigued for all the wrong reasons. a grin formed on his lips as he clicked, the list started off wild.

1. jaehyun nct - idc what y'all say. he screams below average. 2. jeno nct - this is a hater post. cry about it. 3. jake from enhypen - golden retriever energy but gives micro vibes. sorry not sorry.

jay let out a loud, sudden laugh at the description given for jake—catching everyone's attention.

"yo, jake," he wheezed, turning the screen toward him. "look what someone said about you."

jake rolled over lazily, half hazy, "what?"

jay shoved the phone in front of his face. jake read the tweet once, then again. then a third time. his brows furrowed deeper with each pass, almost as if he couldn't believe what he was reading.

"...are you serious right now?"

he sat up, yanking the phone from jay's hand to read it himself. his eyes scanned the username, the post and then the likes. 10k likes for a bullshit post, jake scoffed in disbelief. he scrolled down to read the replies which were full of people either agreeing or arguing like their lives depended on it.

"no because she's right and she should say it louder" one of the comments read, jake furrowed his eyebrows before scowling.

"i love him but... yeah."

"nah he gives big dick energy actually"

"this is so mean LMFAOOO"

jake's mouth opened in shock. "why am i even on this list? what did i do to deserve this? how does someone look at me and go, 'yeah, micro dick.' what the hell?"

jay couldn't stop laughing. "it's so random, too. like. where did they get the data? did they run a poll?"

"this isn't funny!" jake snapped, slapping jay's shoulder with the back of his hand. "i'm being slandered in front of thousands of people. tens of thousands!"

sunoo peeked over jay's shoulder. "ooh. and someone made a follow-up post. wait—found their tumblr. they said he looks like he apologizes after missionary.'" sunoo cackles, "i can totally see that."

jake nearly choked on air, "what?!"

he snatched sunoo's phone this time, heart pounding as he scrolls violently across your twitter page. he followed the breadcrumb trail from twitter to a tumblr blog: @s0ftbrat666.

the header was a blurry photo of a cunty hello kitty, and the bio just said: "unserious about everything but dick size."

"who the hell is this? why do they hate me so bad?"

niki, who had been quietly sipping water from the kitchen, muttered, "maybe they're a fan of yours. like, weirdly obsessed. reverse psychology or something."

"no. this is personal. this feels targeted," jake muttered, already downloading and opening the tumblr app on his phone. "i'm not letting this slide."

he made a new account. he picked the most ironic, absurd username he could think of: @goldenjake420.

because that screams, 'i'm the real jake sim!!'

he messaged you immediately, his hands shaking in rage as he smashes his fingers into the screen.

@goldenjake420: hey just saw your post about me having a micro dick on twitter. not sure why you said that but i can assure you that it's not true kinda rude ngl maybe take it down?

"this is so stupid," he muttered, tossing his phone beside him.

jay raised a brow. "you really just dm'd a twitter troll on tumblr?"

"yes. because the truth matters, jay. i do not have a micro dick!" he exclaims, clearly frustrated from his group mates lack of empathy. he looks around the room in hopes of his members reassurance, only to receive looks of disturbance.

"cmon guys, you know i don't have a micro dick.." he trails off when he sees sunoo grimace at his words.

heeseung smirked from the other side of the couch suddenly sitting up right, ignoring his aching body. "you should send a pic to prove it."

jay cackles before agreeing, "yeah, downwards angles always make that shit look like a tower."

"SHUT UP!" jake shouted, face red in a mixture of embarrassment and anger.

the room erupted in laughter as jake sat there fuming, arms crossed, waiting for a response. he had no idea the person he messaged was already rolling their eyes and preparing to block him.

and this was only the beginning.

you were no stranger to the occasional deranged and delusional fan losing their mind over a post. it was social media, not a diplomatic summit. if you said someone's fave had bad fashion sense or gave off weak dick energy, it was bound to stir drama—but you thrived in it.

what you didn't expect, though, was to get a dm from an account called @goldenjake420 claiming to be jake himself. not just a fan defending him. not someone crying in your inbox about how you were "too mean."

no. this person had committed to the bit.

@goldenjake420: hey just saw your post about me having a micro dick on twitter. not sure why you said that but i can assure you that it's not true kinda rude ngl maybe take it down?

you blinked at the message, snorted, and sat back in your chair.

"okay..." you muttered under your breath. "we've reached new levels of delusion."

you clicked the profile. no posts. followed no one. default layout. pfp of a blurry golden retriever. and the username?

goldenjake420.

"oh my god," you wheezed. this was peak fandom brainrot.

you stared at the message for a minute, thumbs hovering over your keyboard before you decided, you know what? fine. you wanna play jake sim? let's play.

you typed:

@s0ftbrat666: omg jake??? THE jake sim??? i am so sorry... i didn't know you had a tumblr account i feel so bad now omg i'll take it down right away thank you for being so mature and respectful about it... ugh i feel terrible lol

you hit send. then burst out laughing, eyes watering as you cackle alone in your room.

and five minutes later, you posted a new post on your blog.

—— post by @s0ftbrat666

just got a dm from someone PRETENDING to be jake sim because they were mad i said he has a micro dick LMAOOO. like babes be serious... jake sim is not on tumblr dot com messaging me with a blurry pic of a golden retriever and the username @/goldenjake420. but since he's here reading my posts, hey jake! if u're mad now wait til u see what i post next

anyway updated my list: "kpop idols who give off submissive missionary micro dick energy: extended version" jake is now first on the list. i've added footnotes and gifs as evidence. enjoy :] ——

you tagged it: #jake sim #enhypen #pls don't take this seriously #except jake if ur reading this then yeah take it seriously

you sat back and refreshed the notes every few seconds. it was already blowing up. likes, reblogs, someone screaming in the tags: "NOT THE FOOTNOTES."

you were thriving, satisfaction filling you as the comments seemed to hype you up.

unbeknownst to you, somewhere in a dorm across the city, jake was screaming into a pillow.

jake was laying on his stomach, face shoved into a couch cushion, aggressively refreshing your tumblr page like a man on a mission. the first message he sent you hadn't gone exactly how he expected. he thought maybe—maybe—you'd feel a little guilty, take the post down, maybe even apologize. instead, he was met with:

"omg jake??? THE jake sim??? i am so sorry..."

at first, he blinked. then smiled. you were going to apologize and take it down..great!

okay, he thought, that was easier than expected.

but then he saw the post you had published just a few minute later.

—— "kpop idols who give off submissive missionary micro dick energy: extended version." jake is now first on the list. i've added footnotes. and gifs. enjoy :] ——

"NO I AM NOT," he yelled into the pillow, voice muffled but full of sheer disbelief.

he rolled over and shot upright, shoving his phone in jay's face. "do you SEE this? i was already called micro dick jake, but now i'm a submissive pillow princess? where is she even getting this from?"

jay looked over the post with a calm expression and said, "well... you did say 'ngl' in a tumblr dm. that's kinda submissive."

"jay."

"i'm just saying."

jake's blood pressure was actively rising. he was pacing the living room now, phone clenched in his fist. "this isn't a joke anymore. she's making footnotes. gifs, bro. there's like a whole academic paper on my dick energy. and worst of all, PEOPLE ARE AGREEING."

sunoo peeked around the corner. "maybe just let it go? like... it's tumblr. no one's gonna remember next week."

"it's twitter too! no. no, she wanted to make it personal. it's personal now."

he went back to tumblr, typing furiously in your dm's.

@goldenjake420: okay first of all?? i was acc being really nice u said some really rude stuff and i still tried to talk to u calmly but now ur doubling down with footnotes?? idk y ur so convinced i'm a submissive pillow princess but ur wrong like so wrong scientifically inaccurate levels of wrong

he hit send. then stared at the screen.

nothing. no response. refresh. refresh.

"error: message could not be delivered."

"...what?" jake frowned, his eyebrows furrowing in confusion as he desperately tried sending his messages again.

he clicked your profile.

"you've been blocked by this user."

the silence that followed was deafening.

"she blocked me," he whispered, staring at his phone like it had personally betrayed him. "she actually blocked me."

jay cackled from across the room. "maybe now you'll stop fighting the tumblr girl who thinks you're a bottom."

"i'm not a bottom!" jake snapped, defensive. "and i'm definitely not a pillow princess!"

jay peers over jake's shoulder, his face pulls into a grimace as he reads jake's messages. "maybe it's a good thing that those didn't deliver... you're proving her point." jake rolls his eyes in response, not wanting to deal with his friend.

he opened twitter, then paused. was he really about to tweet about this?

he closed the app.

instead, he opened his notes app and started typing:

"debunking tumblr slander: why i, jake sim, am not submissive nor do i have a micro dick."

this wasn't over.

if he had to write a dissertation, he would. he was reclaiming his name. one footnote at a time.

you were in bed, face smushed into your pillow, scrolling aimlessly when the tag notification came in. you were about to ignore it—probably another reblog of your cursed "submissive missionary micro dick energy" thread—but the caption caught your eye:

@s0ftbrat666 you need to see this LMAOOO he made a THREAD. a whole thread.

confused but curious, you tapped the post.

and there it was.

a full thread. by a tumblr user named @truthaboutjake, which already gave deranged energy, but it got better.

"debunking tumblr slander: why i, jake sim, am not submissive nor do i have a micro dick (a thread)."

you nearly dropped your phone, a giggle leaving you as you excitedly click on the thread.

the first slide was formatted like a presentation. bolded title, bullet points, and an unnecessary amount of spacing like someone had spent way too long formatting it.

—— slide 1: addressing the accusations • the tumblr user @s0ftbrat666 has made multiple posts claiming i am submissive • she has also accused me of having a micro dick • both of these are false, offensive, and based on no real evidence ——

no real evidence, he said. like you were in court.

"what in the deranged.." you muttered to yourself, re-reading the text a second time to make sure you were hallucinating.

you snorted, swiping to the next.

—— slide 2: rebuttal • i've been told i give off dominant energy • no one who owns a denim jacket collection that big can be submissive • as for the size... let's just say i've never received complaints ——

you had to pause there, hand over your mouth, wheezing. "denim jackets radiate peg me," you cackle to yourself.

this wasn't a thread written by a deranged fan. no, this was someone personally offended on a soul level. and the way it was written? the tone? the wording?

it was giving him. it was jake.

no one else would be this pressed.

you laughed so hard you had to sit up.

this man had been so insulted by your dumb, unserious thirst post that he created a whole alternate account, wrote a google-doc-tier thread, and was now trying to clear his name in the notes app format. you were obsessed.

you hit reblog.

—— @s0ftbrat666: i have never in my life witnessed a man fight for his dom rights this hard the denim jacket argument almost had me convinced ngl

jake sim if this is actually you: 1. calm down 2. you're literally proving my point 3. post the evidence since you're so confident ——

the comments came flooding in:

"NOT HIM MAKING A PRESENTATION" "'never received complaints' is CRAZY" "he could've just logged off but now he's in too deep" "@truthaboutjake is shaking"

you weren't done though. oh no.

you clicked the original post again and dm'd @truthaboutjake directly.

@s0ftbrat666: wow a thread? you really sat down and made a powerpoint about your dick this is the best thing that's happened to me all week but you still haven't proven anything so until i see hard (and i mean HARD) evidence you're staying in your submissive micro dick era i'll wait <33

you hit send with a shit-eating grin.

this was your roman empire now. you were going to be thinking about this thread forever.

jake stared at your message like it physically slapped him.

"so until i see hard (and i mean HARD) evidence you're staying in your submissive micro dick era"

his jaw dropped.

"e-evidence?!" he sputtered aloud, standing up in the middle of the dorm living room like he'd just been accused of murder.

jay, sitting across the room with earbuds in, pulled one out and glanced up. "what now?"

"she wants evidence."

jay blinked. "like...?"

jake gestured wildly at his phone. "like evidence evidence!"

jay raised both brows before grinning "...so what i said about the downward angle, i'm telling you jake that shit makes it look h—"

"NO!" jake practically yelled. "i'm not sending a picture of my dick to some random troll on tumblr!"

he fumed. typed. deleted. typed again. then, finally, sent:

@truthaboutjake: okay. listen. i'm not sending you a dick pic. i don't care how much you want "evidence" that's weird. this whole thing is weird. i'm literally just trying to correct a false narrative about myself

you saw the message and immediately rolled your eyes so hard you almost saw your brain. you were curled up on your couch, hoodie sleeves pulled over your hands, typing with vicious speed.

@s0ftbrat666: omg. are you serious right now?? NO ONE asked for actual dick pics. what the hell is wrong with you. you're literally so deep in this delusion you really think you're jake sim like?? be serious for once you are a grown man on tumblr dot com pretending to be an idol and defending your imaginary dick size this is next level behavior. you need to touch grass and maybe talk to a therapist jake sim would never you are EMBARRASSING yourself rn.

you hit send and sighed, rubbing your temples. it was funny at first but the more you interacted with this person the more brain cells you lost, it shocked you that people would go to such lengths to defend their favs.

this was beyond fandom drama now. this was a case study. and the worst part? you were kind of impressed with how committed he was to the bit. concerned of course, but impressed too.

like... he was spiraling. but passionately.

still. you weren't going to let up. because whoever this man was, he needed to be humbled.

you opened a new post draft and typed:

—— @s0ftbrat666: update: he dm'd me again and accused me of demanding dick pics because i said "evidence"

i rest my case. this is not jake sim. this is some 32-year-old man who unironically uses reddit and thinks being called "submissive" is a slur

log off, drink some water, and go outside before you get a nosebleed from rage

#jake sim #not the real one obviously #this is tumblr not onlyfans relax ——

✎﹏﹏

jake tried to move on.

he really did.

after the dick thread. after being labeled a submissive missionary pillow princess. after the fake fan accusations and being accused of roleplaying as himself—he made the conscious choice to stop checking your blog. he muted your username. closed tumblr for a solid 24 hours. he even turned off his notifs.

he was healing. growing. rebuilding his sanity.

until a member sent him a screenshot.

it was sunghoon.

of course it was sunghoon.

sunghoon: yo y tf she got sm time on her hands icl tho she funny asf

attached was a photo of your newest tumblr post.

jake opened it, eyes squinting. then he saw it.

—— @s0ftbrat666: watched enhypen's most recent stage and i just wanna know WHO chose those pants for jake like bffr. i can see his entire situation

the dick print? front and center. and it's not giving what he thinks it's giving

it's giving: he begged the stylist to let him wear those pants so he could prove me wrong and i'm here to tell you... babe... don't ever do that again.

i'm LAUGHING.

#enhypen #jake sim #pls don't wear tight pants if ur not ready for the scrutiny king #it's not looking good ——

jake froze.

his phone was literally vibrating with how hard he was gripping it.

"she's watching performances now?" he whispered to himself, horrified.

jay looked up from across the room, warily. "...oh god. again?"

"she's analyzing my crotch, jay. she made a post about my dick print."

jay blinked. "that's... new."

"and she said it's 'not giving'!" jake practically screamed, spinning his phone around to show him. "not giving what?! not giving big dick energy?!?!"

jay read it silently, lips twitching. "...it does kind of sound like she thinks you're trying to prove her wrong. which, to be fair, you kinda are." he pauses for a second, "but i thought she deemed you as a deranged fan, does she think that you're actually texting her?"

jake shrugs, "who knows what she's thinking, clearly way to much of this is the shit she posts. also i wasn't even thinking about her when i wore those pants!"

"you literally made a thread defending your dick size last week."

"NOT THE POINT."

jake felt like he was going to combust. it was like every time he clawed his way back to peace, you dropped another post from hell and dragged him back into the pit.

and this time?

this time you targeted his outfit. his styling choices. his crotch visibility. he couldn't even enjoy the stage anymore without wondering if you were out there in a hoodie, behind a screen, zooming in on freeze frames of his pants.

"this is psychological warfare," jake muttered.

sunghoon looked up from his phone, his face annoyed. he was tired of hearing about this, "just block her again."

jake clenched his jaw. "she'll post about it. she'll brag."

he scrolled back up, reading the caption again. and again. his fingers hovered over your username.

he didn't message you. not this time.

instead, he posted on his burner account:

—— @truthaboutjake: some people spend their lives spreading negativity online because they have nothing else going for them. if you spend your free time zooming in on people's bodies just to make fun of them, seek help.

also, the pants looked fire. ——

he hit post. and then, two minutes later he opened the group chat.

jayke: whoever styled me last week. never again. we're going back to loose pants. i'm not doing this with tumblr anymore

✎﹏﹏

jake tried to stay composed. he tried.

but every time he opened tumblr, there you were—lurking in his psyche like a demon with wi-fi.

at first it had been a few jabs, sprinkled here and there between your usual posts about other idols. someone's hair, another's dance move, one guy you kept thirsting over for his "evil smirk" and "long fingers." whatever. jake didn't care.

until suddenly—your entire blog became about him.

not in a cute, stan-like way.

no.

it was relentless.

"jake sim update: still looks like a man who apologizes during sex."

"new era, same micro dick energy."

"his pants looked like they were holding in a lie."

"i know he fumbles the aux every time. just look at him."

your followers ate it up. reblog after reblog. tags like "#he's just so bashable" and "#jake sim slander is self-care" filled the notes.

there were polls. there were graphics.

you made a tier list of idols based on who looked like they cried after sex, and jake was placed right at the top with the caption: "he looks like he'd say 'was that okay?' while tucking his soft dick back in his briefs."

jake was spiraling.

the worst part? you didn't even seem like a hater. you didn't hate him.

you just... targeted him like it was your job. your content was crafted with care. effort. borderline affection.

jay leaned over one afternoon while jake doomscrolled through another one of your polls—this one titled "which idol do you think would last the shortest in bed (no offense)", where jake was winning by 68%.

"you know," jay mused, "i think she actually likes you."

jake looked up, eyes wide with horror as he looks at jay disgusted. "what?"

jay shrugged. "she's obsessed. it's giving weirdly specific attention. enemies-to-lovers coded."

"jay. she made a gifset of my crotch."

"exactly."

jake nearly threw his phone across the room.

it wasn't just slander anymore—it was becoming personal. and the most infuriating part?

you were so sure. so smugly sure.

every post was laced with casual cruelty and the sharp confidence of someone who truly believed they knew him. his vibes. his music taste. his dick size. like you'd studied him and filed a damn report.

and the urge to prove you wrong? it was eating at him.

he'd see one of your posts and get this itch. this slow, simmering burn in his gut. like he had something to prove now. like he wanted to walk up to you and say—

"say that shit again. to my face."

he'd fantasized about it more than once.

cornering you at a fansign, maybe. or catching you backstage if he ever figured out who you were. you with that smug little expression, your arms crossed like you knew everything. and him, leaning in, low and sharp, and making damn sure you knew you were wrong about everything—especially that.

he wasn't even mad anymore. not just mad. he was determined.

this wasn't just tumblr slander. this was a challenge.

and jake sim? he didn't lose.

✎﹏﹏

jake laid in bed, phone hovering above his face, lit only by the blue glow of tumblr's godforsaken app. it was well past 2 a.m., and he'd already scrolled through your entire blog—again.

he told himself it was just to see if you'd posted anything new. which, of course, you had,

but really, he was spiraling.

another post. this one read:

—— @softbrat666: something about jake sim just screams whines when it doesn't slide in all the way like he'd pause mid-thrust to ask if you're okay because he came too fast

he'd definitely say 'but you just feel so good...' as an excuse ——

and the worst part?

jake read every single reply. studied them, even. like they held some kind of twisted insight into how you saw him. how you imagined him. you were building this whole persona of him in your mind and then broadcasting it to thousands of followers like it was gospel. and the most messed up part?

you had just enough accuracy to make it sting.

and yet—you remained anonymous.

faceless. untouchable.

he'd tried to find out who you were. he dug through old posts, clicked your tags, searched your url on twitter and insta.

all he found was: • you lived in seoul • you were 21 • you drank too much iced americano • and you had audacity in excess

that was it. no selfies. no personal posts. no full name. you were just a sassy username and a collection of jake sim hate posts.

meanwhile, he was a public figure with his whole government face on blast while you dragged him through the mud constantly.

he hated how much he thought about what you looked like.

were you soft and bratty, like your tone suggested? did you smirk when you wrote those captions? were you the type to twirl your hair and say, "what? it's not that deep," while ruining a man's reputation?

he imagined you walking around seoul, laughing with your friends, ordering overpriced coffee with that smug, evil-little-gremlin energy.

he imagined running into you.

he'd play it cool at first—polite, casual, maybe even a little flirty.

watch you ramble. watch you squirm. and when he caught you slipping—maybe when you made some offhand comment about k-pop or tumblr—he'd hit you with it:

"so how's that blog going? still think i'm a submissive pillow princess with a micro dick?"

he rolled onto his side, fuming into his pillow. you lived in his head rent-free and you didn't even know what he looked like at night when he was losing sleep over your bullshit posts.

it was unfair.

you got to stay invisible while he was out here analyzing his own stage outfits to figure out what clip you were gonna slander next.

he scrolled back to that gif set you made of his recent performance. paused on the close-up. the zoom-in.

the goddamn caption: "not jake sim trying to start a dickprint redemption arc. spoiler: it's not working."

his eye twitched.

"this girl is the devil," he muttered.

and yet... he couldn't stop checking. he needed to know what you'd say next.

✎﹏﹏

you wake up to absolute chaos.

your phone is buzzing. not one or two notifications—hundreds. group chats. twitter and tumblr dms. unknown numbers. missed calls. it's like your phone caught fire overnight.

you blink against the morning light, groggy and confused, heart picking up speed. something's wrong. you can feel it. you squint at the screen, drag down your notifications, and the first notification you see makes your stomach drop.

"girl you're trending rn... what did you DO???"

then another.

"is that actually your name???"

your pulse is pounding before you even open twitter. your fingers shake as you type your own @ into the search bar, and the second you hit enter, your breath catches.

it's you.

your name. your photo. your phone number. everything.

someone—no, a group of people—had clearly gone full fbi. they'd taken all your casual, dumb little posts over the years and pieced them together like a fucked-up puzzle.

and now your full name was in a viral thread titled: "this the girl behind the jake sim micro dick blog?"

with a photo of you at a party two months ago, smile beaming.

people were quote-tweeting it with comments like: "she built like someone who'd have beef with jake sim for no reason." "oh she definitely owns a stan twitter burner too." "her blog is my roman empire i need her in therapy immediately."

your blood turned to ice. you were exposed.

fully.

not just as a shitposter but as the jake sim hater. your inbox was flooded—death threats, confessions, apologies, people asking if it was really you. tumblr dms screaming:

"TAKE THE POSTS DOWN BEFORE HE SEES THEM."

too late.

you scrambled to log into tumblr. your hands fumbled across the keys. it took three tries to get your password right.

the second you were in, you did the only thing you could do.

you hit deactivate.

the blog was gone. years of posts. thousands of notes. all of your followers, your drafts, your hate-poll templates.

deleted.

and then the panic really set in.

your hands were trembling. your ears were ringing. and all you could think about was @truthaboutjake, your mind racing. it was him, you realized that it was him.

"he knows. jake sim fucking knows who i am."

and the worst part?

you had no idea what he'd do with it.

✎﹏﹏

jake found out the same way everyone else did—waking up to a string of texts from jay and sunghoon absolutely losing their shit.

jay: bro. check twitter. sunghoon: she got exposed. jay: HER NAME IS OUT LMAOOO jay: bet she's sweating rn sunghoon: she's kinda cute tho

he blinked hard, still groggy, and tapped open the thread that seemed to be trending.

your face stared back at him.

his heart flipped.

you looked... nothing like what he expected. he'd imagined someone smug. cold. maybe with villain bangs and a cigarette habit.

but no—there you were, face flushed in a group photo, laughing mid-sip of iced americano. you looked normal. it almost hurt to admit, but you were pretty.

you looked real.

and now, you were reachable.

he did what anyone would do: searched your name on instagram. he found your linked facebook.

scrolled. scrolled.

paused.

you had your workplace tagged in an old comment.

"juniper bean café - seoul branch."

he stared at it for a long moment. then, very calmly, he stood up, threw on a hoodie, cap, and mask, and left the dorm.

✎﹏﹏

the café was a little tucked away spot with plants hanging from the ceiling and a chalkboard sign outside that said "kiss me, i'm caffeinated."

jake walked in, glancing around. he spotted you immediately, behind the counter, head down as you punched in an order.

he could tell that you had a rough morning, good. your posture was tense. your hair was pulled back messily. your voice was strained. you looked tired, your eyes that seemed so full of life in your leaked photos had disappeared.

he stepped up to the counter. waited. his eyes trailed down your figure, your frame was draped with a loose fitted sweater and some baggy light wash jeans. you wore a black apron, cinching at your waist—allowing his hungry eyes to capture your curves.

you were trying to look invisible. trying not to stand out. but to him—you were glowing with guilt.

he watched you fumble with a stack of napkins, pretending you didn't feel his eyes burning into you. finally you cleared your throat, still not looking up.

"hi, what can i get you?"

he smiled behind his mask, slow and wicked. he pulled it down just enough to speak—voice dripping low, sharp with mocking sweetness.

"you gonna spit in my drink too?" he asked. "or just keep running your mouth somewhere i can't see?"

you froze.

head snapping up. eyes locking with his. and there it was—that flash of horror, recognition, disbelief. it was him.

you had to admit, he was just as if not more handsome in person. your mouth dried up when you watched his lips curl into a smirk and his eye twitch.

your mouth opened. closed. no sound.

"hi," he said, almost sweetly. "miss me?"

you fumbled a reply—something, anything—but he leaned in, resting his elbows on the counter like he had all the time in the world.

"you disappeared fast. what happened? got leaked and lost all your guts or did you burn through all your micro dick material?"

your coworker looked between you both, utterly confused and in awe that jake was standing in front her. you took a breath. straightened your spine. tried to salvage your dignity.

"this is harassment," you muttered.

"this is karma," jake shot back, his smile dark. he twitched in anger, how dare you call this harassment—what about what you had been doing for the last couple of weeks? "i wanted a latte, by the way. no sugar. unless you're finally ready to be sweet to me."

you nearly dropped the milk jug.

he didn't care. he was so amused. you were the girl who wrote entire essays dragging his dickprint and his imagined bedroom habits? you, flushed and stammering behind a café register?

he wanted to laugh. he wanted to lean in closer. he wanted to ruin you back.

and this? this was just the beginning.

your hands were shaking. milk frother sputtering. heart pounding in your chest like it wanted to escape. and he—jake fucking sim—just stood there.

smiling.

smug.

head tilted slightly like he was thrilled by your discomfort. "you gonna make that latte, or you gonna keep fumbling around and glaring at me?" he drawled, voice low and casual.

you gritted your teeth, turned back to the machine, and fumbled through the motions of making the drink. you could feel his eyes on you the entire time—watching, drinking you in like you were the fucking joke.

you finally slid the drink across the counter, trying not to slam it.

"here. now leave."

he didn't move. just sipped slowly, then licked a bit of foam from his lip like it was the most dramatic thing anyone had ever done in a coffee shop.

and then—he leaned forward. elbow on the counter. voice quiet, words slow and deliberate:

"what time do you get off?"

you blinked, "excuse me?"

"your shift. when does it end?"

"why the fuck would i tell you that?"

his smile widened, all teeth now, sharp and smug. "because there's going to be a black car waiting for you outside." he continues, "when you clock out, you're going to get in. and then you're going to follow instructions."

you stared at him, genuinely floored. "are you insane? what the hell are you talking about?"

he tilted his head, mockingly sympathetic. "i get it. you're scared. probably embarrassed." he grins, "but see, that's the thing about defamation—once it's public, i can take legal action. and you've been very public."

your stomach dropped, "you're bluffing."

he shrugged. "wanna bet your savings account on that?"

you opened your mouth. closed it again. because—fuck. he wasn't bluffing. he didn't have to. you'd posted too much. said too much. and now he had your face, your name, your location.

"you can't just—kidnap me," you said, weaker than intended.

he laughed.

"it's not kidnapping if you get in willingly, sweetheart."

then he slid the latte off the counter, turned, and started to walk toward the door. before he left, he glanced back, over his shoulder.

"9 p.m., right?" he called out. "don't be late. i hate being stood up." he grinned, fuck him.

the bell jingled as he left. the door shut behind him.

and you stood there, in your apron and sneakers and sweaty palms, absolutely rattled. what the fuck did you just get yourself into?

✎﹏﹏

9:03 p.m.

you were pacing behind the café. your shift ended three minutes ago, but you hadn't stepped outside yet. you couldn't. your feet felt like bricks. your stomach twisted with anxiety, hands clenched in the pockets of your jeans.

what the fuck am i doing?

you shouldn't go. you know you shouldn't go. this was literally stranger danger 101, except instead of a stranger it was a kpop idol whose dick size you flamed online for weeks.

your brain was screaming at you. your nerves were a warzone. your inner monologue sounded like one long anxiety spiral:

"you're insane." "this is how people get murdered." "he's rich. he could make you disappear and blame it on anxiety meds." "but also... maybe he just wants to talk?" "or maybe he's gonna sue you in person with his scary legal team and laugh while you cry." "or—worse—what if he takes a picture with you and posts it with some shady ass caption like 'finally found her :)' and now you're really cooked?"

your fists clenched tighter.

this was your own fault. you were the one who made that blog. you were the one who said he looked like a pillow princess. you were the one who photoshopped a pacifier into that one fansite photo and captioned it "baby boy can't handle coochie."

and now?

now he knew your name. your face. your shift schedule.

and there it was, waiting on the curb like a horror movie prop—a sleek black car, windows tinted, headlights glowing like eyes.

you stared at it.

and then, finally, took a deep breath and walked towards it.

the back door opened before you could even touch it. you slid inside, hesitating, clutching your bag to your chest like a shield. you looked around the dimly lit interior. leather seats. no jake.

just a stone-faced driver in a black cap.

"um," you said cautiously. "where are we going?"

no response.

you leaned forward slightly. "hello? i just—can you at least tell me if jake is—"

silence.

he kept driving.

great.

you sat back, heart still racing. the lights of the city blurred past the windows. you couldn't even track the direction—you were too jittery to focus. every turn felt like it took you farther from safety.

and god, the silence was suffocating.

you hated it. you hated him.

jake sim and his smug face and his legal threats and the fact that this whole thing was so humiliating.

how the hell did he turn it around on you? curse those people who leaked you.

you were supposed to have the power. the upper hand. you were the one who had thousands of people laughing at his expense. you were the one whose posts got quoted like bible verses on stan twitter.

and now?

now you were alone, in his car, being driven to god knows where because he told you to.

you should've never fucking posted about his dick. you should've stayed anonymous. kept your mouth shut. deleted the pacifier post when it hit 10k notes.

the car slowed. you peeked out the window. it wasn't some mansion, like you feared. wasn't a dungeon either—at least you think so.

it was a private-looking building—modern, sleek, tucked down a quiet alley with a gated entrance. definitely expensive. definitely secluded.

you were dropped off at the curb. the driver didn't say anything—just nodded toward the front door.

you stepped out slowly, phone gripped tight in your hand, ready to fake an emergency call or scream if necessary.

a man, different from the driver, opened the front door. another silent guy in all black gestured for you to follow.

you hesitated, then followed him down a short hallway, up a narrow flight of stairs, until you reached a door with a single number carved into it: 17.

he knocked once, then opened it.

you stepped in—and stopped.

jake was inside.

he was leaning casually against a wall, dressed in all black—hoodie, chain, jeans, hair tousled, like he hadn't even tried and still looked like a good.

he was scrolling on his phone when you entered, then looked up.

and grinned, "hey." he stops, letting his gaze travel down your trembling form, "glad you could make it, hate blogger."

you wanted to punch him. you wanted to turn around and leave. but most of all—you wanted to know what the hell came next.

and by the look on his face?

he was very ready to show you.

room 17 is quiet. too quiet.

you stand near the door, gripping the strap of your bag like it's your last line of defense. jake hasn't moved from his place against the wall, but his eyes haven't left you for a second. he looks too calm. like this is just some casual meetup and not the most batshit confrontation of your entire life.

"you still haven't told me why i'm here," you say finally, voice tight, trying to sound unbothered even though your throat is dry.

he doesn't answer right away. he just studies you, eyes flicking from your clenched fists to your shifting posture to the tiny, almost-invisible tremble in your knees.

then he lets out a soft little chuckle, the kind that feels mean. smug and quiet and condescending.

"you really don't know?" he asks, stepping away from the wall at last. his strides are slow, deliberate, like he knows you won't run—but that you should.

you take a step back automatically, bumping into the door behind you.

"if this is about suing me," you mutter, chin lifting defensively, "you could've just emailed your legal team. this whole drama king act—" "i'm not suing you." he cuts you off, voice calm but sharp. he walks past you and locks the door with a soft click. your stomach flips.

"then what the hell is this?" he turns back to you, expression unreadable, "this is about correction."

you blink, "what?"

"you posted things that were... inaccurate." he steps closer. you press yourself further into the door. "about me. my body. my performance. my preferences." another step. you swear you stop breathing, "so now i'm giving you a chance to see the truth."

you stare up at him, wide-eyed, "you're joking."

"does it look like i'm joking?" he murmurs.

you're momentarily speechless. your brain is whirring, trying to process what's happening. jake sim—international idol, global heartthrob, the man you've memed within an inch of his digital life—has dragged you to a private room to debunk his dick size?

you should laugh, but you can't.

because he's standing too close. because he's looking at you like prey. because his voice is dipped in amusement but his eyes are furious.

"you're out of your mind," you whisper, eyes wide and your jaw slacked.

he shrugs, "maybe."

his hand lifts, knuckles brushing your chin—just enough to make your breath catch.

"but you made this personal. you dragged it out. you turned it into a running gag." he leans down slightly, until your noses are nearly brushing. "and now you're gonna watch what happens when you say shit you can't back up."

your throat works around a swallow. your persona starts to crack.

still—you can't not be a brat.

"so what, you're gonna just pull your dick out like some frat boy in a scandal?" you snort. "you're so mad over a joke, you're—"

"baby," his voice cuts you off again, soft but dangerous.

"a joke is calling me clingy or annoying. a joke is editing me into a pink onesie." he steps even closer, "but accusing me of being a submissive pillow princess with a dick that couldn't break a hymen?" he tilts his head, mocking, "that's slander."

you flush. deeply, "you saw that post?"

"i've seen every post," he says coolly. "and the reblogs. and the tags. and the memes."

you suddenly feel so small. not because he's taller—though he is—but because you'd spent months building this image of jake sim as a joke. a punchline. a target.

and now he's right here. and he's pissed.

"you're really that bothered?" you ask, but your voice is quieter now, unsure. "bothered?" he repeats, almost scoffing. "sweetheart, i was obsessed." his hand lifts again, brushes your hair away from your face, fingers dragging a little too slow behind your ear.

"you don't understand what it's like to be degraded by someone who's too cowardly to even show their face." he pauses, his eyes dropping to your lips, "but i'll show you."

you swallow hard. "so what?" you ask, trying not to waver. "you want me to apologize? to... take it all back? post a formal retraction about your dick?"

he grins. slow and sharp, "nah."

"i want you to see it," he pauses, lets the words sink in. "and then i want to see the look on your face when you realize you were dead fucking wrong."

your mouth opens. no sound comes out. your heart is pounding so fast you think you might throw up. because there's teasing and there's joking and there's flirting with danger—but this? this is crossing the line, and you don't know if you want him to stop.

you laugh, it comes out breathy and nervous and completely unconvincing. "okay," you say, holding your hands up a little, trying to cut the tension with sarcasm, "haha, very funny. you got me. you've officially scared the shit out of me, and if that was your goal, congratulations."

jake just stands there. watching you. expression unreadable, unreadable and dark. you shift on your feet, trying to find a way out of this, trying to reclaim some sense of control.

"look," you continue, "i'll take everything down, okay? every post. every meme. every stupid out-of-pocket caption." you swallow. "i'll issue an apology. hell, i'll write a thread. a whole google doc. whatever you want."

you inch away from the door, toward the side of the room, trying to put some space between you.

"i crossed a line. i get that now." you laugh again, weaker this time. "like—clearly."

jake still doesn't speak, he starts walking.

slow. silent. like a cat with its prey cornered.

your back hits the wall.

"i'll stop posting about you," you rush out, your heart beating frantically when you feel jake's breath fan against your cheek. "seriously. no more degrading content. no more jokes. you win, okay?" his palm hits the wall beside your head with a sharp thud.

you freeze.

he leans in.

"i don't want a fucking apology," he murmurs, voice thick and low, the sound of it making your legs weaken. you try to hold his gaze, but it's hard when he's this close. when you can smell his cologne—clean and warm, like cedar and skin. when you can see the heat in his eyes, the tension in his jaw.

"i want you to look at me," he says, "and admit you were wrong."

"i just did—" "no." his other hand comes up, fingers ghosting your chin, tilting it up. "not because you're scared. not because you think i'm gonna sue your ass. i want you to say it because you know."

you suck in a breath as his fingers graze your throat. not squeezing. not threatening. but claiming, staking a presence.

"you think i'm some submissive little pushover," he whispers, "who just lays there and takes it. soft. boring. harmless."

your heart pounds in your chest so loud you swear it echoes. "you think you own the narrative. that you get to decide who i am, what i'm like in bed, how big my fucking dick is."

you flinch at the way he says it, so vulgar and harsh it shoots straight to your core.

"but the second i show up—" his thumb brushes your bottom lip. "you're quiet. nervous. twitchy. like you already know you were talking out of your ass."

you suck in a shaky breath and try to bite back the heat that's crawling up your neck. "you're insane," you whisper, but there's no bite behind it.

his body is so close now, you can feel the heat radiating off him. he hasn't even touched you properly and you already feel like your knees are going to give.

"what do you want from me?" you ask, voice barely holding together. he leans down, lips brushing the shell of your ear.

"i want to fuck the lies out of your mouth." his voice is so low, it vibrates down your spine. "i want you to choke on everything you said about me and realize i was never the one being dominated."

you let out a small, shaky sound—and that's when he finally kisses you.

not soft.

not slow.

possessive. like he's claiming what he's owed.

like he's trying to shove every insult back down your throat, one filthy kiss at a time.

your mind blanks the second his mouth claims yours. his tongue pushes past your lips without hesitation, his hand gripping your jaw to keep you right where he wants you, and you feel it deep—too deep. like he's trying to crawl inside your ribcage and brand himself there.

his kiss isn't gentle. it's punishment. all teeth and tongue, your back shoved harder into the wall as he presses against you. his body completely, deliberately dominating yours.

"still think i'm soft?" he growls against your lips when he pulls back, breath ragged, thumb digging into the underside of your chin to keep you looking at him.

you don't answer. you can't.

your mouth is open, panting, lips wet and swollen from how violently he just kissed you. your knees barely hold.

his gaze drops to your mouth. then lower, and lower.

he smirks.

"you look scared," he says, tilting his head slightly. "thought you liked writing filthy shit about me. what happened to all that confidence?"

you swallow hard, still in absolute disbelief, "you're—you're actually insane."

"and you're actually still turned on." his hand drops to your hip, gripping hard, pulling you flush against him—and fuck. he's hard. painfully hard. pressing right against your lower stomach. and he knows you feel it.

your eyes widen. you try to squirm away but there's nowhere to go, your back hits the wall again and his thigh wedges between your legs.

"not so micro now, is it?" he breathes against your neck. you let out a broken sound—half gasp, half groan—and that's when jake loses it.

he grabs your wrists and pins them above your head with one hand, other hand sliding beneath your shirt, grazing skin and pulling a shocked noise out of you. he doesn't give you room to breathe.

"say it," he growls. "say you were wrong."

you shake your head. still stubborn. still you.

"no?" he scoffs. "fine." his thigh presses harder between your legs, rocking up once. your clit throbbed pathetically at the feeling, it was just enough friction to make your eyes roll back. you try to keep your composure, but he watches your face change—watches your pride falter.

"don't lie to me, baby." his voice drops lower—hungrier. "you're dripping. over the same guy you dragged for months."

you gasp, trying to turn your face away from him, but he leans in again, his nose brushing your cheek.

"you gonna blog about this too?" he whispers. "tell your little followers how jake sim manhandled you and made you eat your words with his cock halfway down your throat?"

you whimper and it disgusts you how fast your body betrays you. how wet you already are. how much you want him to ruin you just to prove you were wrong.

and he can tell.

he sees the shift in your expression. how your resistance is slowly, deliciously, falling apart.

your wrists are still pinned, your breathing uneven, chest rising and falling fast as jake leans in like he owns the air around you.

"i'm done hearing you talk," he mutters, dragging his mouth along your jaw. "i think it's time you showed me just how sorry you really are."

he releases your hands and steps back. you don't move. your legs are trembling, your pride hanging on by a thread.

"on your knees," he says simply.

you scoff, arms folding defensively across your chest, "you can't be serious—"

he tilts his head, "i'm not asking again."

there's no loud threat. no yelling. just the terrifying calm of someone who already knows he's won. you hold your ground—barely. but something about the way he looks down at you, already palming the bulge in his jeans, makes your body respond before your mind does.

you sink, slowly. knees hitting the floor like it's a confession. he watches you with quiet satisfaction, like he's waited for this exact moment.

he had been dreaming about the moment he would get you to himself, on your knees—right where he wanted you.

"look at me," he says, and you do—eyes meeting his as he unzips, the sound ridiculously loud in the silence.

he's already thick in his hand when he pulls it out, and your mouth goes dry. you don't want to admit it, but fuck. it's big. way bigger than you ever gave him credit for. your throat tightens at the sheer weight of it, thick and flushed and veined.

his smirk deepens when he sees the way your eyes drop.

"what was that again?" he mocks, giving himself a slow stroke. "micro?"

you glare up at him, heat crawling up your neck. "i was clearly misinformed."

"say it properly."

you hesitate, his free hand tangles in your hair—firm, but not painful. just enough to tilt your face up toward him.

"say. it."

you grit your teeth, "i was wrong."

"about what?"

you groan. "about your dick. okay? you don't have a micro dick."

he raises an eyebrow, "that all?"

"it's big," you mutter, cheeks burning. "you made your point." he laughs—low and satisfied—and guides your face closer, "not yet."

you gasp when you feel his tip touch your cheek, he grins at your expression—feeling satisfied with your shock. he does a few experimental taps, dragging his length over your lips. you hold in a whine when he smears his pre cum over your bottom lip, almost as if he was applying lipgloss on you.

and then he pushes in.

there's no easing into it—he gives you the thick weight of his cock all at once, making you choke. your hands scrambling to grip his thighs as he holds you there, watching with dark, satisfied eyes.

"look at that," he murmurs. "mouth so full of me you can't even talk shit now." you gag again, but his grip stays steady, fingers flexing against the back of your head as he rocks his hips in slow, controlled thrusts. just enough to make you feel how deep he is and prove how wrong you were.

he could feel how warm your mouth was around him, basking in the feeling of not only pleasure but the satisfaction of shutting you up.

"this what you wanted?" he groans. "to see what i've been hiding in those pants you loved to degrade?"

you can't respond. not when he's using your mouth like a cock sleeve, fucking every insult out of you with a punishing rhythm. spit drips from out of your mouth and onto your chin. tears prick at your eyes and yet—somewhere deep in your gut—you like it.

jake's grip on your hair gets stronger, the pain causing your jaw to slack as you continue to take his brutal pace. you could feel the head of his cock rub against the back of your throat, the force not strong enough to make you gag but enough to cause a stream of tears to run down your face.

your nose touched his pelvis with every thrust, indicating how deep he was going. "fuck. look at you, __. who knew cock being in your mouth is the only way to shut you up."

you whine at his words, looking up at him with pleading eyes—yet you didn't know what exacting you were begging for. you rub your thighs together in hopes for some temporary relief, the scene so lewd that you could feel yourself gush in your panties—holding in the urge to let your hands wander down to touch yourself.

jake looked down at you with hungry eyes, his lip twitching as his grip in your hair grew tighter with each thrust. he let low moans slip from his mouth every time his dick grazed the back of your throat.

"aren't you a dirty little whore.." jake drawls out, his chest heaving with pleasure when he notices how tightly you have your thighs clenched. "getting all worked up for someone you've publicly shat on for having the least sex appeal."

you moaned around him when suddenly he pushed your thighs apart with his foot, wedging his sneaker between your legs—giving you something to ease up the tension in your core.

you mewl when he pushed against your clit, almost urging you to grind down against him while he used your mouth to his hearts content. slowly, but surely—you allowed yourself to ground yourself against him. it sickened you how desperate you had become in just a span of a few minutes.

jake almost cums when he sees you move your hips, desperate for any kind of friction to relieve you from your throbbing clit.

the familiar feeling in his stomach begins to tighten, his grip on you becoming unforgiving as he loses self control and allows himself to push himself into your mouth as much as he could. his tip hits the back of your throat repeatedly now, a mixture of his cum and your spit dribbling out of your mouth.

"f-fuck," he groans. "m'gonna cum.. you're gonna take it? yeah? take it in that bratty mouth, hm?" jake murmurs to what seems himself just before he combusts in your mouth. you swallowed a chocked moan when you feel his warm cum coat your mouth, gagging around him as he twitches.

jake felt as if he was on cloud 9, his head lulling to the side as he keeps your head planted where it is—ensuring that you swallow what he gave you fully.

when he finally pulls back, cock glistening with your spit and his cum, your jaw aches as you swallow the salty yet sweet taste of his release. your chest heaving like you've just survived something.

"mouth open and tongue out," he demands. you hesitantly open your mouth, your tongue out as you show him that you swallowed everything.

you whine out desperately when he slides his foot away, leaving you aching again. jake tsk's, "desperate slut."

he crouches down to your level, thumb wiping the corner of your mouth.

"still think i'm a pillow princess?" his voice is a little breathless now. dark and smug. "or you finally ready to admit you don't know shit about me?"

your throat still burns. your lips are swollen, coated in spit and shame, and jake's leaning over you like he's just getting started.

"on your feet."

you hesitate, still panting, still dazed from the way he fucked your mouth like it was owed to him. but something in his voice—firm, expectant—makes you move. your knees tremble as you rise.

jake doesn't give you time to adjust. the second you're upright, he steps in close, hands on your waist, guiding you backward until your thighs hit the edge of the bed.

you're pressed back against the mattress, thighs parted under his hands, still catching your breath from how rough he'd just been with your mouth. but instead of backing down, you do what you do best—deflect.

"look—how about this," you say, voice shaking but holding onto some scrap of cocky defiance. "i'll just say the blog was satire. irony. you know, performance art or something. no one has to know i meant any of it."

jake's expression doesn't change.

"or better yet—i'll make a new post trashing someone else. redirect the attention. easy." you flash a grin that's all teeth. "maybe i'll even throw in a little praise for you. balance it out."

he just blinks at you. slowly.

"you think you're negotiating right now?" his voice is calm, but the grip on your thighs tightens.

you blink. "i mean, i'm trying to be reasonable—"

"reasonable?" he laughs, but there's no humor in it. "you publicly dragged me for weeks. humiliated me. and now that you're caught, you want to rewrite the narrative?"

"i'm offering solutions—" "you're offering bullshit," he snaps, and in a second he's climbing over you, his body slotting between your legs like it was made to be there. "and you think you still have leverage? cute."

your breath hitches. your hands push at his chest, but he grabs your wrists and pins them down again, harder this time—your body arching into him involuntarily.

"here's what's really gonna happen," he says, leaning in, nose brushing yours. "you're gonna try to flip this. act like you're still in control. try to turn the tables on me."

your throat tightens.

"but you won't. because the second you try, i'll remind you who made you beg. who had you gagging on the dick you said didn't exist." his voice drops lower, dangerous. "and then i'll ruin you all over again."

you glare up at him, cheeks flushed with embarrassment and defiance."you know what? fine." your voice is sharp, shaky. "you wanna play games? i'll play. let's see how fast you fold when i turn this around."

he raises an eyebrow. "is that right?" you reach down between your bodies—slow, deliberate—wrapping your hand around him. he's still hard. unfairly so. hot and heavy in your palm.

"maybe i was wrong about the size," you murmur, stroking him slow, his breath hitching. "but maybe you really are just a pillow princess. maybe you like being praised more than you like fucking."

his jaw ticks.

you press a kiss to his neck, voice a taunt against his skin. "what happens if i ride you instead? if i make you cum all over yourself."

he freezes.

"what if i write about that next?" you sit up dragging your tongue along the edge of his jaw. "'jake sim—big dick, zero stamina.' think the internet'll love that?"

you think you've got him.

until suddenly—he flips you.

you yelp, back hitting the mattress again as he rips your hand away from his cock and shoves your thighs up around his waist. the shift is fast, dominant, practiced.

"you really thought that'd work?" he's laughing now—mean, breathless, hungry. "thought you'd rile me up and get the upper hand? you forget who tracked you down and got you here in this room." his voice is pure venom now, thick with want. "who had you gagging and drooling on your knees while you fucked yourself on my shoes not even 5 minutes ago?"

his hands expertly yank off your jeans, his thumb hooked around the waistband of your baby pink cotton panties—teasing you. you writhe beneath him, but he doesn't budge—he presses into you, cock sliding between your clothed folds just to tease, just to show you what you don't get to control.

"you wanna test stamina?" he growls. "i'll fuck you 'til that smug little attitude disappears. 'til you're begging me to stop. 'til you're crying and calling me daddy."

you gasp—rage, arousal, panic blending in your gut—but you can't deny the throb between your legs. the way your body betrays your pride.

he feels it too.

his free hand runs up your sweater, your breath shaking as you feel him run his fingers up your stomach and make themselves comfortable on your tits. letting your hands go momentarily, he's yanking your sweater off and throwing it across the room.

"didn't know bratty girls like you wore baby pink. ruffles, lace trim—bows?" he grins, his hands playing with the frills of your bra as you twitch beneath him.

"fuck you," you spat out, voice coming out weaker than you wanted it to. jake only smirks, his hand reaching up to pull the straps of your bra down—letting your tits fall out. "oh i will," and with that he's taking one of your nipples hostage in his mouth. his grip on your wrists stays planted, not allowing you to move or struggle against him when he nips at the sensitive skin of your breasts.

he switches from left to right for a few minutes, basking in your whimpers and mewls before he kisses down your stomach. pulling away he's back to being face to face with you, a smug look on his face before he plants a kiss to your jaw. the kiss turns into bites, nipping at your neck and chest as he leaves behind purple splotches.

"maybe you can post the marks i left and then bash me," jake grins against your skin. you roll your eyes in response only for jake to shoot you a look that says: behave.

he moves your underwear to the side, exposing your cunt to his hungry eyes. he runs his thumb through your slit, gathering your slick.

"so wet," he mutters, dragging the head of his cock against your slit. "guess your body knows who's in charge, even if your mouth doesn't." he slams into you—deep, all at once—and you scream.

no teasing now. no easing in. no prepping.

just punishment. just proof. just him, ruining you from the inside out like it's the only way to shut you up.

"gonna make you forget every insult," he grits, hips snapping into yours over and over. "gonna fuck the hate right outta you."

he could feel your velvet walls convulse, sucking him in like a vacuum as he thrusts into you. you cry out, fingers digging into his shoulders, back arching, mind blurring. you hate how good it feels. how right.

"gonna ruin you," he whispers, lips at your neck. "and you're gonna thank me for it." his mouth traveling down to your tit to engulf one of your nipples once again.

your body jolts with every thrust, the sound of skin slapping and moans filling the room as you struggle to adjust to his girth.

you're still trembling when jake lifts your chin. his touch is deceptively gentle, but there's nothing soft in his expression. smug. commanding. dangerously patient.

"you still think you were right?" he asks lowly, voice scraping down your spine like velvet over steel. you blink up at him, lips parted, but your throat is dry. no sass now. not with the way your body's still recovering, knees weak, throat raw from every choked sound he pulled from you.

when you don't respond jake stops his movement, his hips go still as he simply stares down at you with a dark look in his eyes.

you were falling apart.

his cock was deep inside you, filling you so completely you couldn't even think straight— but jake wasn't moving. he just held you there, pinned beneath him, wrists trapped against the mattress, his hips grinding slow and mean against yours.

you whimpered, hips twitching up against him helplessly, desperate for more. he smirked down at you, cruel and smug, loving the way your body shook, the way your face twisted in frustration.

"what's wrong?" he murmured mockingly, leaning in so close his lips brushed your ear. "thought you'd be tougher than this."

you rationed with yourself for a moment, were you really going to beg? yes.

you tried to twist your wrists free but his grip only tightened. "please," you gasped out, tears welling in your eyes from how badly you needed to cum. "please, jake, i need it—"

he laughed, low and sharp, and snapped his hips forward once—deep and brutal—making you cry out. but then he stilled again, ignoring your desperate whines.

"you need it?" he repeated, pretending to think. "need my cock? need me to make you cum like the stupid little whore you are?"

your cheeks burned, shame rolling through you, but you nodded frantically.

"say it," he ordered, voice dropping, rough. you squeezed your eyes shut, humiliated, but the words still poured out.

"i need your cock," you sobbed. "please jake, please—i'll do anything, i'll be good, just let me cum—"

he laughed again, so fucking satisfied with himself.

"should've thought about being good before you started running your mouth online," he muttered, dragging his cock slow and deep inside you, making you arch and cry out.

you were shaking now—your whole body burning, every nerve stretched tight and ready to snap.

"you want it that bad?" he asked casually, grinding his hips just enough to make you sob.

"yes," you choked out. "please, jake—please, i need to cum, i can't—"

he grinned wickedly and finally, finally started fucking into you hard—deep, punishing thrusts that made you see stars. your walls clung onto how dick like a suction in attempt to milk him dry.

your moans spilled out loud and wrecked, your whole body bowing off the bed.

"good girl," he murmured darkly, "you're gonna cum when i say. not a second before." you nodded frantically, not trusting yourself to speak without crying. and when he finally, finally leaned down and growled, "cum for me, slut,"

you shattered.

you came so hard you were sobbing, spasming around him, your body giving out completely under his.

jake fucked you through it, laughing under his breath, dragging every last bit of pleasure and humiliation out of you until you were left shaking and gasping for air.

and even then, he wasn't done with you yet. he hadn't cum yet, and at the end of the day that's what you were here for—to be his little cum slut. you barely had time to breathe—your body still spasming from the orgasm he tore out of you before jake grabbed your hips and pulled you back down onto him, grinding even deeper.

you yelped, broken noises spilling out of your mouth, trying to squirm away from the overwhelming sensation.

"no," he snapped, voice sharp and final, one hand locking tight around your waist to keep you from moving. "you don't get to run."

your head lolled back, tears slipping down your cheeks, your body a twitching mess.

"too much," you sobbed, trembling violently.

he laughed—laughed—at your misery.

"too bad," he muttered against your ear. "you're not done." he set a brutal rhythm, fucking into you hard, fast, merciless. your thighs shook, your nails dug into the sheets, your mouth fell open in helpless, gasping cries. you could feel yourself spiraling again—pain and pleasure tangled together until you couldn't tell where one ended and the other began.

"you think you're in control?" he grunted, slamming into you harder, making you scream. "you think you can say whatever you want about me and not pay for it?"

your whole body jolted with every thrust, the humiliation making your head spin.

"say it," he growled. "say you were wrong."

you whimpered, stubborn even now, biting down hard on your lip. he slowed down, grinding his cock against your sensitive walls in deep, deliberate circles that made you keen helplessly.

"say it," he repeated, cruel and low, "or i'll edge you until you're fucking crying."

your pride crumbled fast.

"i was wrong," you gasped out, voice cracking. he smirked, hips snapping forward again. "about what?"

you squeezed your eyes shut, shame flooding you. "about—about your dick," you choked out. "i lied, you're big—you're fucking huge—"

he chuckled darkly, like he already knew. "good girl," he breathed, voice dripping with mockery. "what else?"

you shook your head frantically, body jerking with overstimulation. he pulled almost all the way out—your cunt squeezing around nothing— before slamming back in so brutally you cried out.

"what else?" he hissed against your throat.

"i—i'm just a stupid bitch who doesn't know what she's talking about," you sobbed, face burning hot.

he laughed again, so fucking satisfied, so cruel.

"that's right," he murmured. "a stupid little whore who can't stop begging for the cock she said was too small."

you whimpered, broken, humiliated beyond repair. and still—your body clung to him, desperate for more. you realized with a sick twist in your gut that you would do anything—say anything—just to have him fuck you harder.

and jake knew it too.

he leaned down close, mouth brushing yours cruelly.

"beg," he whispered. "beg me to ruin you."

you could barely think. your body was burning, trembling, stretched tight around him— your mind a broken mess of shame and need. and still jake kept fucking you deep, rough, relentless.

his hands were everywhere—gripping your hips, your throat, your jaw—manhandling you like you were nothing more than a toy for him to use.

you whimpered when he grabbed your face, forcing you to look at him.

"beg," he ordered again, voice dark, breathless with lust. "beg me to ruin you, slut."

you shook your head at first, a broken little sob tearing from your throat. he growled low, slammed into you even harder—your back arching, a scream ripping from your lips.

"you don't get to say no," he hissed. "you wanted this." tears streamed down your cheeks, your body trembling violently.

"please," you gasped out, the word slipping before you could even think. "please jake..ruin me, use me. fuck me however you want—"

he laughed, so fucking smug, dragging his cock out slow just to make you whine. "good fucking girl," he murmured. "finally learning your place."

you babbled desperate nonsense, sobbing into the sheets, your pride shattered into dust.and jake fucked you through it all—using you like a fleshlight, pounding into you until your legs gave out, until your voice was wrecked and broken.

"this what you wanted, huh?" he sneered, slapping your ass hard enough to leave a sting. "to get fucked dumb? to get put in your place like the stupid little whore you are?"

you nodded frantically, gasping, sobbing, brain completely mush. "can't even speak anymore," he muttered, mocking. "just a cockdrunk mess." your nails clawed helplessly at the sheets, your cunt squeezing him so tight he groaned.

you felt another orgasm building—sharp, unbearable—but you were too gone to even ask permission. you just sobbed and gasped and let him take everything from you.

"yeah, that's right," he growled, voice thick with pleasure. "cum all over my cock, slut. make a fucking mess."

you shattered, your whole body convulsing around him, screaming his name like a prayer, a curse, a broken confession. and jake fucked you through it, dragging every last bit of your pride and resistance out of you, until there was nothing left but a crying, ruined mess on his cock.

you were shaking. your body was limp, wrecked, trembling under the weight of everything he made you feel.

and jake still wasn't satisfied.

he kept moving, grinding his cock deep inside your overstimulated cunt—mocking every broken sob that fell from your lips.

"what's wrong?" he said, voice dripping with fake sweetness. "too much?"

you could only whimper, drool slipping from the corner of your mouth. he grabbed your face again, rough, forcing your glassy eyes to meet his.

"you wanted to run your mouth so bad," he sneered. "now you can fucking thank me." your brain barely processed the words, too fogged with shame and pleasure. he slapped your cheek lightly—not enough to hurt, but enough to snap your attention back.

"say it," he barked. "say thank you."

you whimpered, tears spilling down your cheeks.

"th-thank you," you stammered, voice barely a whisper.

he smirked, cruel and satisfied.

"louder," he ordered, snapping his hips forward viciously, making you cry out. "thank you!" you sobbed, your voice hoarse and broken.

he chuckled darkly, his hand sliding down your throat, pressing lightly just enough to make your head spin.

"thank me for ruining you," he muttered, rolling his hips slow and deep, dragging another helpless moan from your lips.

your pride was turned into ash, your mind gone.

"thank you for ruining me," you gasped out, shaking uncontrollably, completely destroyed. he groaned, clearly getting off on how ruined you were—your body slack, twitching, drooling, your cunt spasming weakly around him.

"pathetic," he muttered against your ear. "look at you." you could feel how wet and messy everything was—your thighs sticky, the sheets underneath you soaked.

and still—still—he wasn't finished.

"gonna fill you up," he rasped, voice rough with the effort of holding back. "gonna fuck you so full you'll be leaking for days."

you sobbed, the humiliation sinking deeper into your bones.

"please," you whispered, because you didn't know what else to say anymore. he grunted low in his chest, thrusting faster, chasing his release. he could feel that familiar tinge in his stomach, he was close.

"such a good little cumdump," he growled. "just a hole for me to use." you broke again, another weak orgasm rolling through your abused body.

and jake finally spilled inside you—deep, hot, filling you up exactly like he promised.

he didn't pull out immediately. he stayed pressed deep, making sure you felt every drop. when he finally did pull out, you collapsed completely, a ruined, twitching, crying mess.

and jake just chuckled, so fucking smug. running his fingers down your slit before plugging your fluttering hole, making sure that his cum stays in you for as long as it could.

"maybe next time you'll think twice before running your mouth about me," he said, releasing your wrists before he gets off the bed. he left you there, spread open, dripping, humiliated beyond repair.

and you realized with a sick twist of your gut— you liked it.

you fucking loved every humiliating second of it.

✎﹏﹏

your body aches.

not in the romantic, soft-lit, post-orgasm kind of way.

no. it's raw. it's degrading. it's embarrassing.

your legs are trembling so badly you have to lean on the sink just to stay upright. your thighs sticky, sore. your throat dry and stretched thin from the pathetic, wrecked sounds he pulled out of you.

you yank your clothes back on as fast as your shaking hands allow, muttering curses under your breath. you can't even look at yourself in the mirror. because you know what you'll see: the ruined, wrecked version of yourself jake created.

and you hate him.

you hate how smug he looks when you finally stumble back into the room—hair mussed, shirt untucked, standing like he didn't just break you open with nothing but his cock and his fucking mouth. you hate how he leans against the wall, arms crossed, watching you with a look that says he's already won.

you hate that he was right.

and you really, really hate that you liked it.

you roll your shoulders back, force yourself to stand straight even if your body is begging you to drop.

"that what you wanted?" you rasp out, voice wrecked and scratchy. "you win. congrats. want a trophy or something?"

jake doesn't say a word. he just watches. calm. amused. smug.

and it pisses you off. burns you alive from the inside.

"you got what you wanted. you ruined my pride," you snarl, stepping closer even though your knees are ready to give. "so what now? supposed to kneel and thank you? beg you to keep ruining me?"

he cocks his head slightly, lips twitching.

you hate how unbothered he looks. you hate it so much it makes you reckless.

"you don't actually believe i meant all that, right?" you spit. "you really think i meant it when i said you're big? when i cried about how good you fucked me?"

you scoff, shaking your head with a cold, sharp laugh.

"you're pathetic. you got played because i moaned a little."

and that's when everything shifts.

because jake steps forward—smooth, controlled—grabbing your jaw so hard you gasp, slamming your back against the wall without even looking like he's trying. his face is inches from yours, breath warm, eyes dark and furious.

"still lying?" he murmurs.

your heart pounds wildly. you try to twist away but his grip on your jaw tightens, bruising.

"you begged for my cock," he hisses, thumb dragging across your trembling bottom lip. "you fucking cried for it. and you're gonna stand there and lie to my face?"

you choke on your words, humiliation pouring down your spine in cold waves.

he laughs bitterly, the sound vibrating low in his chest. "guess you really are as dumb as you look."

you flinch.

and jake leans in closer, voice dropping lower, meaner. "you wanna pretend you're still in control?" he taunts, dragging his fingers down your throat slow, almost tender. "you wanna act like you didn't cum so fucking hard you couldn't even say my name?"

you tremble.

but you don't back down—not yet. pride and fear tangled up, keeping you frozen.

he chuckles darkly.

"fine," he says, voice a low threat. "i'll remind you."

his hand snakes between your thighs, shoving your jeans down again, your underwear dragging with it, baring you completely in seconds. you gasp, struggling—but he's too strong, too fast. he grabs you by the hips, throws you onto the bed like you're weightless.

and then he's on you.

he presses your wrists to the mattress with one hand again, his weight pinning you down, his other hand roughly forcing your legs apart.

you barely have time to gasp before he's inside you again—deep, brutal, fucking the defiance out of you one savage thrust at a time.

you cry out, throat raw. he fucks you like he's furious, every slam of his hips meant to punish. "not so fucking smug now, huh?" he pants against your ear.

you whimper, broken sounds spilling out without permission.

"what happened to all that fake confidence, princess?" he mocks, rolling his hips harder, forcing your body to take every inch. "thought you said you could handle it."

you sob, writhing under him, but he doesn't let up. he leans down, dragging his teeth across your jaw, making you shudder helplessly.

"gonna make you beg again," he growls. "gonna make you say it like you fucking mean it."

you try to shake your head—but you're drowning. he's everywhere. he's everything. and no matter how much you try to cling to your pride, it crumbles between your shaking hands.

you're crying now—humiliated tears streaking down your flushed face—as he pounds into you mercilessly.

"please," you choke out, voice cracking.

he chuckles, cruel and satisfied.

"please what, baby?" he taunts, slowing his thrusts to a deep, punishing grind that makes your whole body twitch and seize.

"please," you sob again, shame burning you alive. "please let me cum."

he leans back slightly to look at you—hair a mess, eyes gleaming with dark satisfaction.

"you don't deserve to cum," he says, voice mocking. "whores who lie don't get rewards."

you whimper, hips stuttering against his, desperate, broken.

"but," he adds slowly, almost lazily, "if you beg real nice... maybe i'll consider it."

you sob harder, pride shattered into dust. and then—you beg.

you beg like a good little whore.

"please, jake," you cry, voice wrecked and hoarse. "i need it—i need to cum—please, please—"

he grins, dark and cruel, and finally—finally—lets you fall apart again, your body convulsing, cunt clenching around him helplessly as he fucks you through the brutal, soul-crushing orgasm. and you barely have a second to breathe before he's moving again—pulling out, grabbing your face in both hands, forcing your mouth open.

"open wide," he orders.

you're so wrecked you don't even think to disobey. you just open—lips trembling, eyes wide and glassy.

and jake leans over—spits straight into your mouth, thick and wet and humiliating.

you gag slightly, tears burning your eyes.

"swallow," he commands sharply.

you do.

you obey without even thinking.

and he smirks—grabbing his phone, flipping open the recording he just made of your pathetic begging, letting you hear it on loop while you lie there ruined, body trembling, throat raw.

he tucks his phone into his pocket, grabs your chin again, forcing you to look up at him. "remember this next time you wanna talk shit," he says, voice low and smug.

he kisses you—mocking and possessive—and leaves you there: used, wrecked, humiliated, and so thoroughly owned that you can't even pretend anymore.

jake sim ruined you and there's no taking it back.

— enjoy this fic? check out my other ones right here!

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dreamescapeswriting · 8 months ago

Text

Worth The Wait ~ MYG

WORD COUNT: 3.3K

GENRE: established relationships, old friends to lovers, soft, sweet, cute, yoongi having a crush, dancer reader, reunited, kiss, soft, sweet

PAIRING: Yoongi x Fem!Reader

⤜Copyright: © DreamEscapesWriting - September 2024

⤜MASTERLIST

a/n: i hope i did this right for you? I lost the original screenshot and im so scared this is all wrong <3 I did try my hardest with it so I hope it comes across that way. This was for the "american" yoongi song request.

You were a talented dancer on BTS's American tour, every time they came to the US you were on the team first of who they wanted on stage. It was something that made you tingle every time you got the call that you were asked to come back for them. After working with them for the first year you'd gotten pretty close with Jimin and Hoseok. You figured it was because the three of you were naturally born dancers but there was nothing more there than friendship between you.

However, what you didn't realize was that over the years of working closely with each of the boys, Yoongi was harbouring a crush on you and it was getting closer and closer to the end of the tour and he could feel his chance with you slipping away before his very eyes.

Yoongi had sat quietly in the back of the rehearsal studio, watching as you and Jimin executed your routine with synchronized grace. The two of you had been working on the routine for filter which only made Yoongi feel a little more jealous at the thought of Jimin having his hands all over you.

You were dazzling under the dim lights, every move captivating him in ways he couldn’t explain, his heart raced with every move of your body, his palms sweaty as he imagined himself being the one to dance with you instead of Jimin. He sighed deeply, realizing he had it bad and that there was no way out of this for him, not without confessing at least. But how could he even do that?

There was the chance you'd shoot him down or even laugh in his face and then you'd never want to work with them again. He wasn't going to risk you losing the gig you loved because he found himself falling for you.

"You should say something," Hoseok whispered as he dropped down beside Yoongi, Yoongi quickly tore his gaze away from you and acted as though he had no idea what Hoseok was talking about.

"We all see it, Hyung," Hoseok smirked, Yoongi narrowed his eyes at the younger man and shook his head trying to play dumb.

"See what?" He mumbled a little as you finished your routine with Jimin and he cursed himself for not watching you smile at the end. Your smile at the end of every dance was the largest and he'd give anything to see it every single second of the day if he could. There was something about it that just made his heart race and his skin clammy.

"The way You watch her," Hoseok was at least trying to keep his voice down since there was a chance you'd be able to hear him if you were close enough.

"You make me sound like a freak," Yoongi grumbles, running his hands through his hair. Did he really watch you that much? Did you even notice him the way that he noticed you?

God, he couldn't remember the last time he'd ever gotten like this over a girl but it must have been when he was in school.

"No, but we all notice the way you watch her. How you're always there in case she's coming to practice. You didn't even have to be here today," Hoseok chuckled softly and Yoongi felt his skin heating up. It was true, he didn't need to be here for today's practice but he'd thrown in the excuse that he wanted to come for one practice before tomorrow.

"I'll see you guys tomorrow for stage practice," You called out, throwing the boys a giant smile, you glanced in Yoongi's direction and waved. Your smile shifted from the bright one you'd given the rest of the boys to a small shy one for Yoongi and he felt his skin heating up more as he waved goodbye.

Jimin, ever perceptive, noticed and rushed straight over to Yoongi and smirked at him.

"Don't-"

"You’ve been staring at Y/N a lot lately, hyung," Jimin said as he looked at him, Yoongi's cheeks were now a bright red colour as he shook his head,

"I was just telling him this," Hoseok laughs softly, earning a glare from Yoongi,

"What? No, I was just… watching the choreography." Jimin laughed, taking a seat beside him as he wrapped his arm around his shoulder and shook his head.

"You’ve been watching her more than the choreography." Yoongi paused, knowing Jimin wasn’t wrong and that he'd been caught by not just Hoseok but by Jimin as well. He had developed feelings for you over the past few months, and it had become harder to keep them to himself. Harder to stop himself from watching you or being near you when his body cried out to be close to you every single second of the day,

"Okay, maybe I have a bit of a crush," Yoongi muttered to them both before they exchanged grins,

"A bit? Hyung, you barely even watch our rehearsals anymore unless she's involved." Jimin laughed softly at him, earning an eye roll from Yoongi but a small smile tugged on his lips.

"I don’t know what to do about it though. She’s close to you and Hoseok, and I don’t want to mess anything up. What if I ask her out and she never works with us again? I don't want to take her dream away from her..." He trailed off as the boys looked at him.

Jimin looks at him. It was something that he worried about as well knowing his friend had a crush on someone they worked so closely with but if he didn't try he wouldn't know.

"You like her a lot, right?" He asked as Yoongi nodded his head. He might even love you but he wasn't going to say that to anybody else just yet.

"Y/N’s great, and honestly, I think you should just go for it. Why don’t you invite her to be part of the team permanently? Keep her on tour...See where things could go from there." Jimin shrugged. It wasn't completely unheard of, people had been asked to follow them on tour before.

"As a dancer, you mean?" Yoongi looked at him and Jimin smirked,

"Well, maybe more than just that." Jimin nudged him a little.

"But invite her...See what she says and see what happens along the way?" Hoseok told him this time making Yoongi bite his lip as he considered it.

He knew that being with you would require more than just asking you to stay and go on another tour with them. The two of you came from different worlds—different cultures, and he wasn’t sure if you would even be interested in being with someone like him in the long run but it was always worth a shot. Right?

After the show the next night Yoongi ran over to you, he was already high from his adrenaline rush from the stage and he didn't want to lose the courage he found himself swimming in right now.

"Y/N, can we talk for a minute?" You looked up, surprised but curious, it wasn't like Yoongi to seek you out on his own after a show. Usually, he would drag one of the others along with him, or so you'd noticed. You nodded at him as you drank from your water bottle trying to catch your breath from the dance you'd just finished.

"Sure, what’s up?" Yoongi hesitated for a moment, feeling uncharacteristically nervous. The adrenaline he'd just had was now gone as he stared at you, he swallowed the lump in his throat. He wasn't used to being so vulnerable, but something about you made him want to take the leap.

"I was wondering… once this leg of the tour is over, would you consider staying on with us? I mean, joining us for the rest of the tour? I-In Korea and everywhere...else" You blinked, clearly surprised by the offer. You'd always loved the idea of travelling the world and getting to do what you loved while you did it,

"You mean as a dancer? Wow, I’d love that. But… why are you asking me personally? I thought Jimin or the managers would handle that kind of thing." Yoongi cleared his throat as he shifted his weight from one foot to the other, suddenly feeling more anxious than he was before.

"It’s not just about dance. I want you to stay… because I like you. More than just as part of the team." The silence that followed made his heart race, did he freak you out? What if you just started to laugh in his face? You were quiet, processing his words as you stared at him.

The truth was, you'd had a crush on Yoongi for the longest time as well but you'd seen first-hand what this life did to people and how people in your position handled relationships. It wasn't something that could easily happen.

"Yoongi… I didn’t see this coming, honestly. You’ve always been so quiet around me. But there’s something you should know." You didn't want him to feel alone in the way he felt but you also didn't want him to think you were just going to rush into something with him. Things like these take time. He looked at you, his brow furrowed with concern.

"I like you too, but I’ve been thinking about this a lot. We’re from such different cultures, and that could be tricky. I’ve seen what being in the spotlight does to relationships, and with you going to the military soon…" You trailed off a little. You knew as soon as this tour was finished he was going to be gone for two years. Yoongi’s heart sank at the mention of his upcoming enlistment, but he nodded, understanding your hesitation.

"I get it. You’re right. But I still want to try...If you're willing to..." You felt your heart melt at how unsure he seemed and you smiled softly, your expression full of warmth. You stepped closer to him, your hand brushing his.

"How about this—we give it time? I join you guys on tour...We hang out more, get to know each other and Once you finish your military service, we can see where we’re both at. I don’t want to rush anything and risk hurting you or myself." Yoongi felt a weight lift off his shoulders. It wasn’t a rejection, but rather a promise of something more when the time was right.

"That sounds… fair. But I’ll hold you to that, Y/N." You smirk at him as you nod your head.

"Have management talk with my manager and I'll join you on tour...But I mean it, it's just hanging out...just friends for now. Okay?" You gave Yoongi a pointed look as he blushed a little more, nodding his head before practically racing to tell the boys the good news.

The rest of the tour continued smoothly, and your connection to one another only grew stronger. The two of you found each other spending almost every single night together, even on the nights Yoongi was working you'd found yourself in his hotel room while he worked on his laptop and you relaxed on the sofa. Talking all night long. Going out to dinner every now and again.

The two of you claimed it was hanging out as friends but anyone could see it was much more than that. The closeness you shared was hard to deny. he laughed at all your jokes, you laughed at all of his. He made you feel as though you were the only woman in the whole world and you were pretty sure if he kept it up you were going to fall more in love with him than you already were.

Because you knew that's what you were. In love. But you weren't ready to admit it to him just yet, not when you knew he was going to be leaving for two years with hardly any contact with you. Though, he had promised you he was going to be writing you letters once a month so he could keep you up to date on everything he was going to be doing.

"I’m going to miss this—the adrenaline, the excitement of the stage. But I think I’ll miss you more." You admitted on the last night. The two of you were sitting in his hotel room having the biggest burger you could order off of the room service menu. In Yoongi's words, he told you to "go big or go home" deciding he wanted to spend his last night having trashy food, trashy movies and being close to you,

"I’ll miss you too. But knowing you’ll be here when I get back… it makes it easier." His hand reached out to touch yours and you felt your heart racing at the same time as it breaking.

You hadn't expected to fall so hard and so quickly for him and yet now you found yourself wanting to keep him close to you.

"You promise you'll write?" You hated that you sounded so vulnerable as you asked him this. He didn't owe you anything, hell, he could just forget all about you while he was away if he wanted to but you craved his connection with you.

"I promise, Yn." He whispered, hearing how unsure you sounded. His fingers ran along your knuckles softly as the soft tapping on the door let you know your ride was there.

"I have to go," You look at him as you bite your lip a little. All day you'd been debating with yourself about if you should kiss him or not but you were through waiting.

You leaned in and kissed him softly on the lips, your heart practically leaping into his hands and waiting for him to accept it. It was sweet, tender, and full of promise.

"I’ll be waiting for you, Min Yoongi. And when you come back, I expect another one of these." You whispered against his lips, your foreheads resting against one another as the tapping on the door grew louder, signalling the other person's impatience for you. Yoongi chuckled softly, his heart full despite the bittersweet goodbye looming over them.

"Deal." He whispers as you slowly get up, dragging your bags to the door and giving him a sad wave goodbye.

It had been 21 months. Almost 639 days since Yoongi had been in service and as promised he had written you a letter once a month and had sent you a package on your birthday. Though you had done the same for him, sending him his favourite snacks from your village so he could get a taste of you while he was away. But today was the day.

You were finally going to see each other after being away and you couldn't decide if you were anxious about seeing him again or if you were so excited your body took it as a sign of anxiety.

The air was chilly despite the warmth of the early spring afternoon. The crowd outside the base was thick with families, friends, and loved ones, all eagerly awaiting the return of their soldiers. You stood among them, your heart pounding in your chest, your breath coming in shallow bursts as your eyes scanned the sea of faces.

The anticipation was almost unbearable—two long years had passed since you had seen Yoongi in person, and now, in this very moment, he was somewhere among the crowd.

But you couldn’t find him.

You moved through the crowd, your chest constricting with every second that passed. What if you missed him? What if he had left before you could even catch a glimpse? Anxiety crept in, and you felt the weight of the past two years settle heavily on your shoulders. You'd promised yourself that you were going to be patient, that this moment would be worth the wait, but the fear of not seeing him right away gnawed at you.

You pushed your way through more people, your hands trembling slightly as you clutched the edges of your jacket, well, his jacket. He'd sent you one so you could wear it and smell him, be close to him kind of. You could feel tears threatening to spill over as you continued to look through the crowd unable to find the man you loved.

Just when you were about to give up hope, you heard a familiar voice—low, smooth, and full of warmth.

"Looking for someone?" You whipped around, your breath catching in your throat. There he was. Standing just a few feet away, dressed in his military uniform, looking a little older, a little sharper, but still unmistakably him. You drank in his appearance, unable to get enough of him as you whimpered a little.

Yoongi’s eyes softened when they met yours, and in that moment, the world around them seemed to blur into nothing. This was everything he'd been dreaming about for the last few months of his service, and nothing could have prepared him for it. You felt the tears welling up again, but this time they weren’t from anxiety—they were from sheer relief and joy.

"You… I couldn’t find you. I thought—" You choked out a laugh but before you could finish your sentence, Yoongi closed the distance between them in just a few steps. Without hesitation, he wrapped his arms around your waist and lifted you off the ground, pulling you into a tight embrace. You let out a small gasp as he spun you around, your arms instinctively wrapping around his neck. All you could focus on was the feeling of Yoongi’s arms around your body, solid and real. When he set you down gently, he didn’t let you go. Instead, he tilted his head down, his eyes gleaming with the warmth you had missed so much.

"I told you I’d return that kiss." But before you could respond, he kissed you deeply, his lips soft but firm against yours. The kiss was nothing like the sweet, tentative one you had shared before he left. This one was filled with the weight of two years’ worth of longing, of promises kept and the joy of being together again.

You melted into him, your hands tangling in his hair as he held you close, the kiss lasting long enough to make you dizzy but in the best possible way. When you finally pulled apart, both of you were breathless, your foreheads resting against each other as you tried to catch your breath.

"You did. And it was worth the wait." You giggled a little as he linked his hand with yours, refusing to let you go for even a second, the two of you had been apart for two years, there was no way he was letting you go anytime soon.

"Would it make you feel better if I told you I got a visa for six months," You smirked at him and Yoongi's eyes practically bulged out of his head at you.

"Six months?" He was already trying to think of everything he could fit into those six months with you. He had some time off now he was out of his service but he wasn't exactly sure how long that was going to be. Almost as if you could see the clogs turning in his mind you smirk at him,

"It gives me time with you, I do have a job to do while I'm here though, I'm hoping my contract will be renewed at the end of the six months though." You smirk at him as he looked at you,

"Oh?" A giant grin began to form on his face at the thought of keeping you longer than he had planned.

"I'm dancing with le Sserafim," By now his heart was racing as he realised just how close the two of you were going to be working together and he kissed you deeply, groaning against you as you giggled against his lips.

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#bts #bts x reader #bts imagine #bts imagines #yoongi #yoongi x reader #yoongi imagine #yoongi imagines #min yoongi #min yoongi x reader #min yoongi imagines #min yoongi imagine

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violetsiren90 · 1 year ago

Text

Make Me

Pairing: dom!Hoseok/sub/brat!f!Reader

Genre: Oneshot; hard smut; platonic(?) fluff; BDSM lifestyle; friends to fwb to?; canon-compliant (idolAU)

Summary: You've been friends with Hobi for years, and he's your comfort zone - but when he gets wind of a dark secret you drunkenly let slip, things between you take a sudden extreme change.

Warnings: 18+ (minors, dni); hardcore BDSM themes/relationships; full consent and safe-words ❤; Hobi is a hard dom (and such a good one); MC is a brat (mostly); dominance and submission; elements of primal play if you squint; mentions of wet dreams and sexual fantasies; sexual degradation (deg-play use of the word "b*tch"); mentions of MC's hair and hair pulling in a domination context; rough physical contact in a sexual context (manhandling); mentions of drinking; kink-outing; Jimin is a menace but also the absolute best; Hobi in the studio 👀; wrestling (sexual context); spanking (sexual context); p*ssy-stepping; p*ssy slapping; sexual frustration; some initial shame and embarrassment (reader needs to work some things out); reader tries to run away from herself a bit; temporary ghosting; working through new desires and feelings; dirty dancing; ALL the communication; establishment of sexual roles/partnership; talk about birth control and protection; Hobi curses a LOT during domination scenes; leash/collar play; oral sex (male receiving); throat fucking; Hobi slaps Reader's tongue with his c*ck; cum swallowing; aftercare; restraint play (sex swing, heehee 😈); manual clitoral stimulation; teasing; unprotected vaginal sex (reader is on birth control & previously consents); female orgasm from vaginal penetration; very brief implication of a possible brush with subspace.

Word Count: ~16,000 (Double its originally intended length, oops 🙈)

Author's note: HOLY HECK IT'S FINALLY HERE. When I say I had the time of my life writing this...like, wow. I was already under Hobi's spell, but now I am OFFICIALLY down in the worst way. This fic and its premise were completely out of my comfort zone, but I couldn't be happier that I ventured into this world, because the research alone has given me so much respect for the BDSM community, and specifically the dom/sub relationship. I hope I did as much justice to that very special dynamic as possible between these two characters (with whom I have deeply fallen in love). If you read this, I hope so very much that you enjoy it!

If no one has told you yet today, you are loved and worthy of love! 🧜‍♀️💜

Acknowledgements: The biggest of thanks to @orchidyoonkook who not only beta-read this fic multiple times, and is practically the voice of this Jimin, but also gave me so much wonderful insight into the BDSM community from that big sexy brain of hers (which contains an incredible amount of knowledge about so many things, let me tell you!). But most of all, she gave me the encouragement I needed to get this out of my imagination and onto the page, even when I was doubting myself the most. Yoons, I love you! Couldn't have done it without you. 💕

"What?" Hoseok's wide grin stretches further as he regards your flustered face with giddy anticipation.

You groan into your hands, willing the cushions of your friend's leather couch to swallow you like quicksand.

"Fucking Jimin - I'll kill him!" you whine, pressing your fingers to your temples, and keeping your eyes glued to the hardwood of the studio floor.

The rapper laughs as he swivels his baseball cap to sit backwards on his fluffy brown mop of hair.

"Come on! Tell me!" he insists, sprawling back in his rolling chair, the tips of his fingers touching deviously together as he regards you with twinkling eyes.

You sneak a glance at him before sighing defeatedly, which only earns another chortle of laughter from across the room.

Park fucking Jimin. You really were going to kill him. Too many bottles of soju the week prior saw you blacking out at the BTS member's pad, the one he shared with your mutual friend, Jung Hoseok. You woke up the next day, memories of the night before obscure concepts of debauchery merely alluded to by the taste of bile and the dull cranial throb of dehydration. When Jimin rather gleefully handed you, along with an iced americano, one of the booze-fueled revelations you had let slip, you begged and pleaded with him to erase the memory from his brain...or at the very least to take it to his grave. He made no such promises. And now, you are facing the man of the hour - the subject of your divulgement - who had apparently been informed that you harbored certain strong opinions in his regard. Humiliating.

You flick mildly irritated eyes back up to your friend who waggles his brows in a way that makes you want to crack a smile and sock him at the same time.

"Before I say anything, I want to know exactly what he told you," you demand, crossing your arms defensively, no cracked smile to be found.

He rolls his eyes up to the corner of the ceiling in recollection.

"He just said that you had gotten wasted and admitted something kinky...about me."

At the last two words he drops his voice dramatically low and pins you with a grin that is sickeningly predatory. Your pulse begins to hammer and you have to remind yourself that you are, in fact, capable of speech.

Fuck, you think to yourself, it's happening.

You can feel sweat starting to bead at your hairline. Maybe if you get it out there, just say it aloud, it will lose its power. Maybe the spell will be broken. Maybe he will laugh and you will laugh and you'll order lunch and keep irritating him while he's supposed to be working on a track. You're both adults, right? You whoosh out a breath.

Hobi is still looking at you, his bottom lip pushing up and the corners of his mouth tugging down in one of his little inverted smirks while his right leg bounces a little up and down.

It is just Hobi, after all, you tell yourself. Just Hobi. You are roundly aware that it may be a lie, but it seems to allow you just enough courage to jump.

"Okay, okay!" you practically shout, and he giggles and stomps his feet, which admittedly makes revealing this particular chestnut a bit easier.

"I told him…

“What?”

“I said..."

"What?"

"Oh, Christ! Fine!" And the rest comes out like water from a fire hose. "One time I came to drop off Jimin's charger and you were in dance practice and you were watching the guys and you had this look on your face - like you were pissed or something - and it was so unlike you and I got turned on and ended up having a fucking wet dream that you were stepping on my mother-fucking pussy, okay?! Are you satisfied now?!"

You heave a sigh and throw yourself back against the cushions, hands over your face. How you just mustered the courage to form those actual words you haven't even the faintest notion - but it was going to be you or Jimin, and it might as well be you. After your heart has begun to return to its resting rate and you've heaved a few deep breaths you steel yourself against the certain impending onslaught of Hobi's laughter and general mockery...which doesn't come.

You peek through your fingers to see that your friend has shifted in his chair, facing a bit away from you toward the inside of the room, leaning forward, his hands gripping the ends of the chair's armrests. His face looks a little troubled, or pensive, you can't tell which. You sit up and really look at him, suddenly worried.

Did you just fuck things irrevocably up?

That was an incredibly bizarre and intimate thing to admit.

Shit.

"Hobi?" you squeak, barely over a whisper, as you regard him.

He tilts his head suddenly to look at you, quick like a bird, and when those dark eagle-eyes regard you in return, you feel like a small, helpless creature scurrying across the tundra. Nowhere to hide. A bead of sweat escapes its perch and slips down from your temple. As he utters his question of response, the air suddenly becomes as thick as the tropics.

"Is that something that you'd want, Y/n? To be treated like that? To be...put in your place? Put down?"

You don't answer him. You can't.

Your words, your breath, your coherent thoughts are stuck, inert, useless as your chest begins to rapidly rise and fall in heavy swells. Your eyes are locked on his face as if by magnetic force. He stands, his baggy Louis Vuitton tee falling over his gray sweats. He shoves his hands in the pockets and takes a step toward where you sit. His posture is relaxed. His gaze is anything but.

"Is it?"

You want to say you don't know. That you'd never considered it again. Never once recalled the image of it - of him - standing over you as the sole of his shoe punished your throbbing sex.

"Fuck..." you breathe, and when he doesn't take his eyes from your squirming form, you relent. "...y-yeah."

He takes another step toward you, slowly. He's crowding you now, as he looks down, and the proximity is almost more than you can bear.

"You see," he remarks musingly, "I thought you were gonna say something funny - something ridiculous," he tilts his head to one side, the faintest hint of a smirk on his lips, "But that's not funny, Y/n. No, that's not funny at all. Because, as it turns out..."

He leans down, his breath fanning over your face as he speaks. Mint and espresso. You shiver and close your eyes.

"...that's something I can do."

...what? He can...h-he can....

"Hoseok..." you whisper shakily, because it's all you can manage.

You hear him laugh darkly and you don't look at him.

"Hoseok?" he mimics, "Not, Hobi, huh? Hoseok when you're like this, is it?"

"When I'm like...what?" You practically whimper in complaint, eyes still pressed shut as your last line of defense.

But any manner of defense is in vain as he answers your query, the words dripping from his lips slowly like honey, sickly like venom -

"When you're a filthy, pathetic little slut."

A whine escapes you at the complete and utter shock of his words. Suddenly you clamp your thighs together – whether to provide friction or obscurity to your quickly dampening cunt you are unsure. When he takes your jaw between his fingers and roughly jerks your chin upwards, your eyes flutter frantically open.

"Is this what you want?" he hisses, "For me to have my way with you like a needy whore?"

Fuck, is this happening? This is really happening. Your mind reels, but that's alright - it stopped doing the thinking when he got up out of that chair. Something primal in you had taken over, something that's been starving for so long – something that yearns to feed.

You do your best to nod with your chin in his grip. He swallows thickly, his eyes darting to your lips, and then back up to yours. His pupils are blown, his eyes almost wholly black as they trace over your face. Suddenly his hand slips from your chin to the nape of your neck where his hand tangles in your hair and his head drops to the side, his gaze softening.

"I need you to say it, Y/n, are you sure you want to do this?" he asks, his voice so, so low but without the edge that sends ice through your veins.

His voice. He's asking you as someone who cares about you, cares what you want – your friend.

Do you want this? No...you don't want it. You need it.

"Y-yes! Yes, Hobi - I want this," you find yourself stumbling over the words to get them out.

So quickly and so assured. Have you ever been this certain of anything in your life? His fingers dance against the nape of your neck and you sigh as his eyes travel all over your body.

You want to hide. You want to strip down. You want to run and you want him to chase you. You want him to punish you when he catches you. You are sick with want.

"A safe word, baby, we need a safe word," he nudges your racing mind back into the current moment with his saccharine words.

You blink, your mind running up against the sudden pet name – one that he has never uttered in a tone like this before – as it scrambles for something obvious and yet not ridiculous. Something simple maybe...a flower...?

"Foxglove," you say, and he raises his brows with a grin.

"Foxglove it is," he acquiesces. "So if you ever want me to stop, ever – okay? You say that. Foxglove."

You nod.

"Say it for me," he whispers, and you shiver again. Fuck.

"Foxglove." It's slow and thick leaving your mouth.

"Good girl," he purrs. Butterflies erupt in your rib-cage and your eyelids flutter. "How hard do you want it?" He asks, "How rough?"

You scramble to find your voice.

"Pretty rough, I think," you posit, a bit unsure of what that means.

He hums in response, his brows knitting in thought. You were going to have to give him something to go on, you could see that.

"I..." you stammer, "I want you to...to punish me. I want you to...to hurt me a little."

He raises a brow - looks at you, just stares as if considering. Then suddenly you know what to say.

"See...I'm not a good girl," you insist tilting your head back a bit haughtily, a bit defiantly. Being a good girl had gotten you butterflies, but that's not what you wanted right now. That's not what every cell of your body was screaming for.

He's grinning wickedly again - his other hand is slipping out of his pocket and the one in your hair is gripping at the roots.

"Hm. You're not are you?" he asks, his voice as dark and cold as the Pacific once again.

"No, Hobi," you whisper.

And suddenly your world is tilted on its axis as he tightens his fingers against your scalp and yanks your head back, sending a searing pain shooting through your skin as he stoops to hiss in your ear.

"That's Hoseok, you pretty little bitch."

You let out a whimper so needy it's nearly a sob. Your heartbeat is pounding between your legs. He lets go of your hair as roughly as he grabbed it and goes to lock the door and your stomach flips - you are totally and completely at his mercy. It's a little bit terrifying and absolutely exhilarating.

When he comes to loom over you again, you decide just exactly where you stand in all this. You know exactly what you want.

You glare up at him. He narrows his eyes.

"You gonna listen, hm?"

It's not a question, you know it's not - it's a command. But you have one, just one, of your own...

"Make me."

His eyes go wide and wild.

"So that's how it's gonna be?"

The words are heavy and dark, but you think his mouth twitches up at the corner when you arch a recalcitrant brow in response.

He hums and licks his lips, and you're on the verge of saying something about getting on with it when his hand darts out and fists a chunk of your hair, yanking it back with a force that makes your head spin. He's glaring down at you with eyes so hard and menacing that your rebuttal dies on your tongue. The hand at your nape squeezes and the pressure that seers your scalp is exquisite, spilling a moan from your lips as your arousal becomes more than you are capable of repressing.

"Don't you challenge me, brat," he rumbles from low in his chest as his hand twists against your head and lowers your back to press against the black leather.

You whine in protest, and your palms fly up to shove at him, but his reflexes are like lightning as he snatches your wrists away to pin them above you. Your head spins, eyes losing focus as your whole body flushes with warmth in the wake of his domineering aggression.

You wriggle in his hold, relishing in how his grip tightens and the cold steel in his eyes glints as you resist him.

A knee slides between your legs as he leans over you menacingly, close enough for the padlock charm around his neck to lightly tap your raised chin. Good girl, it seems to whisper in Hoseok's voice, stay put.

Yeah, fuck that.

You snatch the necklace up between your teeth and yank it to the side where it bites sharply into the corner of your mouth.

The sudden motion catches him off guard and he falters, crashing down on top of you with a noise of surprise and losing control of your hands.

You scramble against him, rolling both of you to the floor with a thud.

Your heart is hammering in your chest.

You hear him grunt, his strong hands grappling with your thrashing form, and you catch just a glimpse of his shining eyes and white clenched teeth as he flips you over onto your stomach, hands in a vice grip at the small of your back and your cheek pressing into the cold, hard laminate.

You start to move again but he pushes his weight into the slender fingers splayed over your spine with a low rumble in the back of his throat and you still with a groan.

You're pressed so deliciously firmly to the floor. You can feel arousal soaking your panties as your nerves alight everywhere he has wrested control of you. You can hear him pant, proof of his efforts, and the image of his provoked expression from seconds previous flashes through your mind.

He seemed so cool and collected before. So unbothered. To think that his blood is up and because of you? You let out a trembling breath.

"Fuck," he hisses lowly, then bends to bring his lips to the shell of your ear.

They're soft as they drag over your skin there, feather light. Your whole body shakes, and you feel his mouth pause.

"I don't know who the hell you think you are," he whispers cruelly, "But you were right about one thing...you're not a good girl. You're a disobedient little harlot who needs to be taught the rules of this house."

You whimper pathetically as he presses into you even more intensely, restricting the expansion of your lungs.

"Now," he says nosing at your exposed neck as he begins to pull away, "how about we teach you a lesson or two, hm?"

You feel his weight leave your back, and see his figure rock back on his heels out of the corner of your eye. You are just on the verge of retaliating again when you let out a yelp at the sudden shock of your hips being yanked upward by the back belt loop of your denim shorts. Hoseok lets go of your hands and they fly forward to brace yourself as your ass raises into the air and your knees move toward your chest.

And all at once you know what's coming and you feel your pussy clench in the mere anticipation of -

Smack!

You let out a wanton wail as the sharp crack of his hand against your right glute jolts through your body like a lightning strike and ends with a slam at your swollen clit.

Again - harder! Your mind screams. So you press out a whinging moan of complaint.

SMACK!

It has the desired effect.

CRACK!

Your jaw is slack, but no sound escapes as he punishes you. It hurts. Fuck, it hurts. As if he's attempting to brand your ass with the shape of his hand. But holy hell is it making you drip. Every slap jolts your body and brings the tiniest friction to where you're neediest. Where you've never been needier in your life.

Please punish my pussy....

You try to mumble the words but all you can do is drool onto the floor as he deals out pleasure and pain from above.

And then he stops. You feel hands deftly and swiftly rolling you to lie on your back.

You blink up through bleary eyes, drawing a hand across your mouth to wipe the spit away. Your shoulders are sore.

He's leaning over you, a hand still on your hip, eyes scanning your face.

"What? Did you say something? You need to speak up."

His tone is still biting but his eyes seem to hold a genuine question. Concern.

Warmth floods your chest as it registers that he wants to be able to hear you if you need him to. If you want to stop. But the light has never been so goddamned green.

"Want..." you murmur, "...more, Hoseok."

He curses, his Adam's apple bobbing in his throat as he leans forward to take your jaw in his hand again. He rakes his gaze over your soft, swollen features, unfocused eyes, and heaving chest.

"Look at you so fucked out and all I did was smack that gorgeous ass."

He licks his lips, shaking his head in seeming disbelief as he releases your chin with a little shove. He leans back, dragging his hands over your bare thighs.

"More, hm?" he hums.

You nod eagerly.

He purses his lips and considers you through narrowed eyes, and you sense that if you want him to give you what you so desperately desire, you're going to have to show him you can take it - and take orders. You lay still, hands twitching at your sides as you look up at him through wide eyes.

He continues to run his fingertips up and down your legs as he breathes out a long relenting sigh.

"Alright," he relents, "You took your punishment well, so you should be rewarded, I suppose."

You clamp your bottom lip between your teeth, your heart rate rising again at the prospect.

He tilts forward, looming over you again as he asks the question you've been dying to answer since you woke up breathless all those weeks ago.

"What does my little brat want me to do to her? Let's see if she can use her words."

You blink up at him, unsure if you have permission to speak...or how to put your request into words that won't make you want to immediately melt through the floorboards.

"Cat got your tongue?" Hoseok sneers, pretty, heart-shaped lips curling up at one side.

His hat discarded in your tussle, wavy brown tresses hang down over his brow and his eyes sparkle darkly through them. His features are so beautiful - their loveliness thrown into sharp relief by the flinty pitilessness of their expression.

You're tempted to continue simply soaking him in, if not for the pounding ache in your core demanding that you find your voice.

"I...I want..." your lips tremble as you will yourself to tell him what you need.

Perhaps he senses that you require a little encouragement, because his eyes harden and he digs the edges of his nails into the flesh of your knees, causing you to yelp and moan and then...

"I want you to step on my pussy! Please..." You press out your request with the last of the breath in your lungs.

Hoseok's eyes flutter shut at the last word of your plea.

"Say that again," he commands in a husky whisper, and even without further specification, somehow, you know.

"Please..." You groan, letting your legs drop open demurely.

His eyes are still closed, but he can feel the action with his hands, which have now slipped just inside your knees to your inner thighs. He inhales deeply through his nose, before exhaling with a shuddering breath. When his lids languidly raise again the piercing onyx of what they have unveiled is pinning you to the floor with more deadly force than even his hands ever could. Your pulse pounds in your cunt, your head still swimming from your previous position as he pushes himself up to stand.

As you blink up at Hoseok towering over you, standing between your splayed thighs with his midnight gaze boring into the damp denim covering your heat, something inside you long ajar quietly but firmly clicks into place.

"Tell me, brat" he seethes, eyes roving your trembling form stretched out beneath him, "Who makes the rules in this house?"

"Hoseok-ssi," you whimper, so needy the ache is beginning to hurt.

Every cell of your body is awake with a desperate anticipation that only he can satisfy...or deny.

You have never felt more alive.

And then something happens and your brain shuts off entirely.

Everything vanishes: the studio, the traffic outside the western window, the city of Seoul and South Korea and the whole goddamned planet rolling around in the Milky Way. Nothing exists except the tip of Hoseok's Air Jordan ghosting over the swell of your crotch.

Your mouth waters as his foot slowly slides forward, then goes completely dry as you feel it settle with the sole aligned directly with your slit. His eyes flick up to your face, but you can't hold his gaze for more than a millisecond as he begins to apply pressure to your mound.

Your eyes roll back in your skull, head lolling as your neck goes slack, lips parted in a silent scream as the man above you presses down with a low hum over your sex. The seam of your shorts is biting deliciously into the tender flesh of your clit, sending shockwaves through your core like a live wire, and when he rolls his foot in a circular motion you think you see god.

You do scream then, but it's nothing more than a strangled sound in your throat as your fantasies materialize and he leans his weight into his stance, punishing the soft fat of your cunt with the sole of his shoe.

You're going to cum. He's barely touched you and you're going to cum. He seems to see it in the twisted ecstasy of your features as his lids hood his eyes and filth begins to spill from his lips.

"Do you like that, brat?" he taunts, "That's what you get when you're a good little girl for Hoseok - you get your pretty wet cun-"

Click jangle clack - boom boom boom!

Hobi springs away from you, hopping back on one foot with wide eyes as a succession of rapid knocks follow the stilted motions of the locked door handle. You scramble up from the floor, heart pounding and breath coming fast as you toss yourself into the corner of the couch.

Boom, boom, boom!

"Hyung, are you naked or something?" comes a familiar if muffled voice from the other side of the wall.

You fumble for your phone and Hoseok runs a hand through his hair and takes a deep breath before pulling open the door.

The man belonging to the impatient knocks and muffled accusations stumbles headlong into the studio, the locked entrance against which he had pressed his ear and most of his weight having been pulled out from under him.

"Jimi...nie...?" Hobi greets his bandmate and his eyes track the other's toppling form with surprise and a hint of agitation.

Yoongi ambles in casually behind him, sipping a dewy americano through a straw, a beanie sitting atop his ashy locks gnomishly.

Jimin nimbly pushes himself to a stand from where he had crashed against Hobi's desk, not a strand of his coiffed platinum blond hair askew as he spins around face to the dance captain. But before he can get out a greeting or an excuse for his manner of entrance he freezes as he spots you in the corner.

His eyes flick to Hobi's hat on the floor, then to the pink flush on the apples of his friend's cheeks. When Jimin's eyes slide back over to where you are curled into your nook, eyeing him warily over the tiny shield of your phone, his plush lips slowly spread into a sickeningly devious smile.

Hobi scoops his hat up off the floor and tugs in back on before taking a seat, carefully, you notice - thighs pressed together and leaning forward - in his rolling chair. The implication of his posture has you sweating into your shirt.

You need to get it the fuck together.

"If I would have known you were here I'd have brought you a kimbap," Jimin says, wicked grin still plastered on his face as he holds up a plastic convenience store bag.

You blink.

"Oh, uh, that's okay..." you bluster, waving your hand. "I'm not hungry anyway."

It's true. You just lost your appetite for the foreseeable future, stomach a raging sea of nerves as Jimin places the bag on the desk.

Yoongi shuffles over to sit at the other end of the couch, raising his free hand and drawing his mouth into a straight line in greeting. You manage your own tight-lipped grin and flash him a peace sign, hoping you did it quickly enough that the tremor in your hand went unnoticed.

"To what do I owe this visit from my bros?" Hobi asks from where he's turned toward his computer screen to save the neglected file.

His voice is cheerful, but you can hear the strain - how it's pitched just half a tone too high - and Jimin's eyes are still on you.

"I dragged Yoongi hyung out for some fresh air. I took him to lunch and grabbed you a snack on the way back."

"Yah, you took me to lunch? Then why did I pay?" Yoongi grumbles from beside you, his bare features pinched into a grumpy pout that makes him look particularly feline.

"Because you love me," Jimin coos at him and the older musician's mouth quirks up into a smile he can't seem to repress.

"What are you working on, Hoba? Which track?" Yoongi murmurs around the straw between his lips, blinking patiently as Hobi seems to shake himself, pulling his hat off to run a hand through his hair before readjusting it on his head and swiveling back toward his computer screen.

He hits play on the track and Yoongi leaves the couch to join the other two.

This is all so normal, so typical of the guys - the affectionate repartee and chat about ongoing projects. And on an average day, you'd have joined right in.

But today is not an average day.

No.

Five minutes ago, you were spread-eagle on the floor six inches from where Jimin stands, with Hoseok's shoe on your bits.

You have to get out of here.

"I'm, uh, I'm gonna head out, boys," you muster, making a beeline for the door as soon as the inertia of your decision gives you the courage to peel yourself from the corner of the couch.

"You're leaving?" Jimin's voice quips in a saccharine whine, with the slightest edge that makes you avoid his eyes as you slip out with a parting wave.

You do catch Hoseok's expression, whose head snaps up at your parting movements. His brows furrow and his lips part, looking as if he wants to say something, but he doesn't.

And then you're gone.

Your smart watch trills as your heart rate enters cardio territory. Your chest is heaving, breath coming heavy as the pliant cushion of your couch gives way to the crown of your head pressing back into it, eyes pinched shut and hand shoved down your pants.

The bullet vibrator you have pressed to your clit is doing everything it should, and you feel it coming - your orgasm. 6:12pm on a Tuesday and it's already your third self-love session of the day.

You tense your thighs, urging the building pressure in your core to boil over, and quickly. You groan and grit your teeth as your administering hand starts to shake. You writhe and whimper for a moment. And then it's over.

You stare up at the ceiling of your apartment, breathlessly huffing out a despondent sigh as the empty ache in your chest returns. It has become your loathsomely devoted companion in every waking moment over the last ten days, filling you with an unshakable restlessness and sickly discontent.

Nothing can slake it. Not reality TV. Not Cabernet Sauvignon. Not overtime hours. Not ASMR wood-soup videos. Not yoga. Not Ben and Jerry's. Not midnight runs on your NordicTrack. Not fucking yourself to climax on every single goddamned toy you own.

The little monster you roused the weekend before last in Hope World hasn't returned to sleep. No. She is wide awake. And she seems to grow more ravenous with each passing day.

At first you tried to ignore her, but she kept you up into the long, bleak hours of the night. And so, in a fuzzy, staticky haze some time after midnight a number of days ago you typed some words into a search engine that would probably have your assigned FBI agent doing a spit-take.

The thing is, you'd never seen "50 Shades of Grey", you'd never been interested. It wasn't as if you were a prude - hardly! You have always enjoyed sex, both intimate and recreational. In fact, it has always been one of your favored methods of blowing off steam, and you knew quite well how to please yourself and how to guide partners in doing the same.

You have never had problems in taking what you wanted in life, in taking charge and ensuring that things play out your way – it's what makes you so good at your job, and valued by your peers who know that they can rely on you to take the reins and rise to the occasion.

So when you suddenly stumbled unprepared into the world of BDSM, your visceral reaction to the concept of submission left you wondering...why?

Why, why, why?

Why does this do it for you? Why did your very linear, stable existence have to be completely disrupted by this discovery? And most urgently of all, why, for the love of everything sacred, did all the porn in the whole wide world fail to accomplish even a fraction of the effect of Jung Hoseok's size 9 sneaker? It's all too overwhelming to process.

You let out a frustrated whine as you pull your sticky, cramped hand, still clutching the little purple bullet, from the confines of your pants. Your phone buzzes on the coffee table and you can see the notification is from Jimin. You've been ignoring his calls and pleading texts to meet up, or just pick up. You can't face him. Not after ghosting Hobi.

You feel a pang twist in your stomach as you haul yourself toward the shower, hoping the hot water will wash away the guilt you feel for ignoring Hoseok outright. He texted you almost immediately after you left the studio, asking if you were alright. You let him know that you were, with just one word: yeah.

You had typed and retyped that response. "Yeah, thanks" seemed too weird. Like, thanks for what? Almost making you cum with the tip of his shoe? No. "Yeah, sorry" felt pathetic. What were you apologizing for? It seemed to imply...regret? Or fault. Neither of which would have come from a genuine place. And beyond a simple affirmation, you certainly didn't have words. So, "yeah" it was. He tried to call you later that evening, but you didn't pick up. You were already way up in your head by then. It had been radio silence since.

You toss a coconut steamer onto the wet shower tiles and sigh, catching a glimpse of your face in the bathroom mirror as you slide the glass door shut.

"Coward," you mutter as you close your eyes and slip under the cleansing stream.

You're wrapped up in a blanket cocoon and sipping a cup of sleepy-time tea, trying to distract yourself from the messy tangle of emotions waging war across your various chakras with season two of Single's Inferno, when a knock on the door startles you out of your simmering reverie. You heave yourself off the carpeted floor of your living room and scoot toward the door like a fleecy Jabba the Hutt to peek through the peephole.

Your vision is obscured as another eye looks back at you from the other side of the concave glass. You jump back, dropping your blanket shroud in a pile around your feet and let out a yelp of alarm. You slam a hand over the peep hole as giggles erupt on the other side.

"Yah! I know you're in there - so let me in!"

Your entire body sags against the door in relief as you recognize the voice of the would-be intruder. You swing the door open to grant him exasperated entrance.

"Park Jimin, you just took ten years off my life! Creep," you bluster, gathering the blanket up around your body as you retreat back into your apartment.

You plop down again in front of the TV, knowing that Jimin came to either talk you into going out or to just talk, and either way, you are truly not in the mood. Your friend snickers behind you, sauntering into your kitchen. He returns with a beer, bringing the frosty green bottle to his lips before sinking into an armchair and regarding you with an expression that waivers between amusement, pity, and disgust.

"You look awful," he remarks, taking another swig as his gaze roves your unkempt appearance.

Your features twist into a frown, eyes never leaving the television.

"You don't get to barge into my apartment, steal my booze, then insult me, Park," you snip, burrowing further down into the fluffy mass encasing your body.

Jimin raises a brow, a small smile still playing on his lips as he follows your eyes to the television where YouTuber Dex and professional model Lim Minsu flirtatiously splash about in a ridiculously opulent indoor swimming pool.

"Fuck, Dex is hot," Jimin mutters.

"For some reason he reminds me of Jungkook," you smirk, glancing over at him for the first time since he arrived.

He grimaces theatrically.

"I don't see it."

The contestant on the screen flashes his Paradise companion a blinding smile and raises a tattooed arm to cut through the water, content to show off his stroke precision as his date watches on. The resolve on Jimin's face falters .

"Yeah, well...Dex is hotter."

You scoff.

"Yeah, no. Kook-ah is definitely hotter."

"For the love of god, just don't tell him that, okay?" Jimin pleads, "That kid is insufferable enough these days."

"You love him."

He hides a smile behind another sip of Hite.

"Why did you ghost Hobi hyung?"

Jimin blinks innocent eyes at you, as if he hasn't just dumped the last week and a half of silent agony over your head like a bucket of ice water. But the chill is momentary, because the next second your body feels like an oven. You stammer.

"I-I...ghost him? I didn't ghost anyone...I'm busy...I..." you trail off weakly as your friend's unimpressed and knowing gaze bores into your soul.

You sigh and scrub your hands over your face.

"Because I'm a big chicken, okay?" You murmur into your palms.

You don't know why, but you feel like crying. When you pull your hands away from your face, Jimin must see it because suddenly he's on the couch wrapping you in the kind of hug that reminds you why he's your ride-or-die, and in the safety of his embrace the tears begin to fall. Days of being alone with yourself and your conflicted feelings pour from your ducts and onto the front of Jimin's bright yellow flannel. He coos words of reassurance, admonishing your tears, as he strokes your hair.

"Talk to me, you silly goose," he hums with an endeared chuckle.

You sniff and hiccup as you pull away, wiping your puffy eyes.

"I don't even know what to say, Minnie...I don't know what's wrong with me..."

Jimin smiles and grabs a few tissues from the box on the coffee table, dabbing them against your nose.

"Well, first of all, nothing is wrong with you. But second of all, tell me what is bothering you."

You heave a dramatic sigh.

"If I tell you, you have to swear - and I mean swear - that you will not make fun of me or tell anyone else. And I mean not Taehyung, not Yoongi, not anyone, you hear me?"

He smirks, but nods in assent. You narrow your eyes at him.

"Say it. Out loud." You demand warily.

Jimin rolls his eyes and throws up his hands.

"Yah! Okay! I won't tell anyone," he quips mockingly.

You sigh again and draw your knees up to your chest, wrapping your arms around them. If this gets too hard to talk about with eye-contact at least you'll have a place to hide your bashful face.

"I..." you start softly, not sure where to begin except the beginning, "Re-remember that thing I told you when we got plastered a little while back...about...Hobi?"

Jimin's lips quirk at the corners as he nods.

"Well...the thing is...wait!" You cut yourself off, suddenly gripped by a notion that has you prematurely flustered and indignant. "What did he tell you?"

Jimin shakes his head, a small smile still playing on his full lips.

"Nothing," he responds, looking you dead in the eye in a way that has you almost believing he's telling the truth.

"No, really," you press.

Jimin leans back against the arm of the couch from where he faces you, running a hand through his hair and drawing his legs up to criss-cross in front of him.

"Jagi, this is Hobi hyung we're talking about. You think he would do that? He has too much respect for you. He would never. Not to anyone. Not even me."

Your chest floods with relief, affection, and regret. Fuck. Of course he wouldn't. He was too mature of a person for that. Too considerate. Too lovely. And you hadn't even had the gumption to speak to him for the last ten days beyond a mono-syllabic SMS. Jimin watches your expression do emotional acrobatics.

"So..." he offers encouragingly, "something...happened....between you guys, right? That day Yoongi hyung and I showed up? We...uh...interrupted something, didn't we?" He can't help a devilish smile, eyes twinkling as he carefully phrases his query.

You bury your face into your knees and squeak out an affirmation. Jimin lets out a bright laugh and you immediately raise your burning face in a scowl.

"Hey! You said you wouldn't-"

He waves his hands in apology as he attempts to gain his composure.

"Mianhae, mianhae! I'm not laughing at you!" He insists, leaning forward to grab your swatting hands by the wrists.

"Sounds kind of like you are!" You huff, yanking your arms from his grasp.

"So..." Jimin hums, tilting his head to track your gaze as you try again to hide your face, "If he's down, and you're down...what's the problem? Why did you run and hide? Did your feelings change?"

You slowly raise your eyes to his, searching them as you decide just how much you're willing to tell him right now. You chew on your bottom lip as you realize you need to get it out. All of it. You drop your legs to mirror Jimin's posture, lowering your defenses with your millionth-and-first sigh of the evening.

"Okay...well..." you muse, fiddling with the blanket still draped over your lap. "You know how I told you that stuff that I...dreamt...about Hobi?"

Jimin nods.

"Well...something did kind of happen...and well..." you trail off as Jimin raises his brows expectantly.

"Oh, fuck it!" you bluster, exhausted by your own attempts at delicacy. "He dominated me and I liked it. I really really liked it, okay? And it freaked. me. the fuck. out. Like...I've neeeeever felt that way before about fooling around. It wasn't just fun, or, like, pleasurable...it was...almost..." you search for the words as Jimin stares at you raptly. "...Freeing? Like, a relief. Like, a 'where has this shit been all my life' moment."

Jimin hums and nods, interlacing his fingers and leaning his chin against his knuckles.

"Like...I don't know...I'm a very independent person. And capable. And, yeah, things have been crazy stressful at work, and I have a lot on my plate...but I handle it, you know? In fact, I don't just handle it, I kind of...enjoy the pressure of leadership and responsibility? It drives me. I've always been like that, in every area of my life..."

Jimin smiles and lets out a sound of recognition.

"So the one who wears the crown is wondering why it feels so good to be...subjected?" He waggles his brows. You roll your eyes.

"Grow up, dude."

"Am I right, though? I'm right."

You find yourself chewing your bottom lip again.

"Essentially. I like power. I like control. What is this sudden obsession with losing it? It's...scary. And confusing."

Jimin smiles.

"You know, it's actually not that uncommon, from what I understand," he states, reaching for his abandoned beer on the coffee table.

You quirk an eyebrow.

"I mean, everyone is different, and this is a journey you're going to have to take for yourself to get the answers, but from what I know about the BDSM community, it's not unusual for people who are in positions of power to crave a bit of a...reprieve."

"Really?"

"Yeah," he nods, reclining back again against the arm of the couch, "The bedroom is a good place to let your walls down. Maybe the only place, for some people. And with a trusted partner it can even be healing to play a different role than you do in other parts of your life."

It's your turn to smirk.

"You talk as if you know," you prod playfully, shoving your toes into his shin. He smiles that wicked smile of his and you laugh.

"What I'm trying to say is, maybe it's not just about the...dynamics. Maybe it's also that it's Hobi hyung. He knows you. You know him, too. You trust each other. Maybe you could get to know each other in a new way. Be something for each other that you both need." He takes the last sip of his beer and twirls the bottle in his hands, gazing at you with a gentle thoughtfulness.

You nod slowly, digesting his newly offered perspective.

"So," you muse, raising your eyes to him again, "You think he needs it too?"

Jimin shrugs.

"Only he could tell you that for sure. But I do know this, he's awfully good at being bossy, and doesn't get a lot of opportunity to run the show - outside of dance practice, that is."

Chuckling nervously at the thought, you try your best to conceal the spark that has crackled to life from the burning coals inside you at the mention of his natural command of authority.

"Hey," Jimin posits with a grin, "Maybe if he's spanking you he'll go a little easier on us when we screw up the choreo..."

"EXCUSE ME THE FU-WHAT?!" You shriek, snatching up a throw pillow to beat him mercilessly as he falls in raucous laughter to the floor.

Turning to glance over your shoulder at your reflection in the mirror, you smooth your hands over the back of the svelte black bodycon number you've donned for the evening. You're a vision in monochrome, having paired your LBD with sleek stilettos and dark smokey eyes with heavy lashes.

Your phone buzzes, indicating that your ride share is close by. Butterflies flutter in your belly as you reach for the finishing touch to your outfit: a velvety black choker with a sliver o-ring studded in colorless topaz. It's just fashionable enough to still look like a necklace, but it gives you a bit of a thrill to know that it's not. To know what's tucked inside your purse to accompany it. To wonder if, going unnoticed by most, it will catch a certain pair of dark eyes.

The drive across town to reach the Jihope residence never felt so long. You try your best to calm your nerves over the last few blocks of distance - it’s just a party, after all, and kind of a silly one at that.

During Jimin's last visit, he mentioned that he and Hobi would be throwing a Black Day party for all of their single friends the following weekend, and after dodging his attempts at socialization so religiously of late, you felt you owed it to him to attend.

Black Day had never been something your group of friends had ever observed before, but it was incredibly chic to do so this year, for whatever reason. And of course, all the organizing duo of the soiree needed was the slightest excuse for Jimin to party and Hobi to host.

Upon arriving at the building, you can already hear the music pumping from the top floor, and the chatter of guests spilling out onto the terrace. You present your ID to the security guard at the front gate, and are escorted to a private elevator that whisks you up to the penthouse. Being quite successful and comfortable yourself, you still find yourself surprised when reminded of the sheer net worth of your humble, down-to-earth Bangtan pals. Hobi is worth the most, and while he is an excellent investor and a generous philanthropist, he also likes to show out, and in style.

You take a deep breath as you buzz the bell.

The door swings open to reveal a handsome young man in a black t-shirt tucked into baggy dark-wash jeans, his fluffy brown hair parted in the middle and his ears glinting with rows of silver hoops. His round eyes scrunch into little moons and he flashes an adorable toothy grin, endearingly lopsided where it stretches deeper against the little orbital piercing at the right side of his bottom lip.

“Noona!" he growls, pulling you into a bear hug. "Where have you been? The last two times we went to noraebang there was no one to sing Through the Night with me!"

"Ah...hah...", you nervously chuckle, pulling away from his embrace as you search your brain for an excuse other than business.

"I'll sing with you, Googie!"

You turn to see your salvation from further explanation in the form of a giggling young woman bouncing up to clutch Jungkook's arm and steady herself as she sways on her platform heels. She smells like soju and fruity perfume.

You smirk and thank her, patting her hand where it clutches your friend's tattooed forearm before she's dragging him away down the hall.

"Make sure she stays hydrated!" You call after him with a shake of your head, making your way through the throng of guests to the bar area.

The furnishings of the residence are a study in classy postmodern minimalism, punctuated with abstract urban art – though you notice that some of the Kaws pieces are missing, likely stored away for safekeeping from rowdy party-goers.

The sleek chrome and granite full-service bar is stocked with liquor and beer, and a commissioned mixologist is crafting darkly colored cocktails. A buffet-style spread offers the traditional jjajangmyeon and an assortment of other delicious eats.

The spacious dining area is littered with small tables draped in black linens, each bearing centerpieces of hellebore, leather leaf, black carnations, and eucalyptus. The living room has been converted to a dance floor, complete with a glittering disco ball. House music booms through the built-in speaker system as guests in groups and pairs move to the beat.

You glance over a drink menu of themed cocktails as a voice sounds from over your shoulder.

"I recommend the Down With Love."

Turning, you flash the speaker a grin.

"Alright, but is it giving Judy or Barbara?"

Taehyung raises a disparaging brow.

"It's a gimlet. Judy, obviously."

You chuckle, putting in your order for the suggested beverage.

"You look good," he remarks, gesturing at you with the unlit cigarette tucked between his first two fingers, his other hand slipped into his pocket as he leans against the wall.

He doesn't look bad himself, you think, in his black satin top and flared Merlot trousers.

"Thanks," you smile as the bartender hands over an inky concoction garnished with a grapefruit slice twisted into the shape of a heart and run through with a toothpick.

You eye it skeptically.

"How do they make it black?"

"Activated charcoal. C'mon."

Tae links your arm through his and weaves through the bustle to a table of familiar faces. Yoongi raises a whiskey tumbler in greeting and you clink your glass with his, sliding into a chair next to Taehyung and reaching over to give Namjoon's arm an affectionate squeeze. It seems that all the members have turned up, save Seokjin, who's been a taken man three years strong.

You fall into easy conversation with the boys, and just when your difference of opinion with Namjoon over Lee Bul's latest installation piece is developing into a full-blown debate, Jimin slides up to the table and spills onto Taehyung's lap.

"None of you are dancing!" He whines breathlessly, poking Tae's cheek as the other man smiles shyly.

"Jungkook is," Yoongi rebuts, taking another bite of jjajangmyeon.

He's not wrong, though to your amusement, the maknae appears to be getting danced on more than anything else.

"Where's Hobi hyung?" Tae queries, prodding gently at Jimin's full cheek in return.

Jimin's eyes dart to you, a smirk spreading slowly across his lips as his gaze rakes up from your heels to the choker around your neck.

"Good question," he hums, rising to take your hand and pull you up from your seat. "Let's go find him."

Jimin heads for the French doors at the far end of space that lead onto the terrace. They're propped open, and cool evening air floods the apartment, keeping the atmosphere from suffocating under the warmth of body heat and the scent of rich food.

"Jimin!" You hiss, as you approach the rooftop patio, "What are you doing? This is the opposite of subtle!"

He laughs merrily.

"You're so cute when you're flustered!"

You don't have any more time to grumble as you emerge under the darkening sky, just beginning to speckle with stars barely visible against the glow of string lights wrapped around the cozy outdoor enclosure. There's a small electric fire pit surrounded by plush patio furniture, and live greenery all around.

The energy is much more relaxed than within, but even so, you feel your pulse quicken as Jimin guides you toward a small group at the corner of the terrace. You recognize a few of the men and women gathered as industry producers, but none of that really matters because all your brain can register is him.

And holy shit does he look good.

He's arresting sophistication and effortless elegance. A silk charcoal dress shirt, sleeves rolled up to the elbow, ripples along the lines of his torso - save where the top three buttons have been neglected to expose the smooth planes of his toned chest. His lean, athletic legs seem even longer than usual in fitted black slacks, his pretty wrists and fingers sparkling with jewelry where his thumbs are slipped into his pockets. His hair has been slicked back from his face, and his eyes are just barely obscured by a pair of lightly tinted wire-rimmed aviators. That brilliant, warm heart-shaped smile cuts through all the sharp darkness of his garb, and your breath catches in your chest when Jimin calls out to him.

"Hyung!"

As Hoseok's eyes meet yours the grin stretched across his face falters, but he quickly regains composure.

"Eyyy," he greets you, striding forward and wrapping his arm around your shoulders to pull you into a side hug. Of course he smells as incredible as he looks.

"Hi, Hobi," you murmur a bit shyly, returning his embrace.

"Hyung," Jimin pouts cutely, "Save us! She was putting our guests to sleep talking to Namjoon-ah about art theory."

"Hey," Hobi chides in a warning tone, cocking his head to the side to glance down at you. "Don't enable the poor guy – he needs to get laid."

"Well nobody is going to approach him if she's hanging around looking like that." Jimin gestures casually, a mischievous twinkle glinting for a moment his eye.

Hobi's arm slips off your shoulders to grasp your hand as he steps back. He's never been good at keeping his feelings from his face, and the look trained on his features as he appraises you has you thinking you made the right decision when you put on that dress.

"How about we keep you out of trouble and on the dance floor, hm?" Hobi says with a sly smile, raising your hand and tilting forward in a posture of invitation.

You roll your eyes playfully, unable to bite back a smile of your own as you motion for Hobi to lead the way, careful to avoid Jimin's eyes as you let the rapper guide you back into the thrumming pulse of the festivities.

He gently pulls you onto the dance floor and tugs you into him, keeping a hold on your right hand as he slips the other just below the curve of your waist. You settle into an easy step to the lively beat. Hobi's eyes search your face as you tilt it up to him, running a hand up his chest to adjust the collar of his shirt with a sigh. You fiddle with the soft fabric between your fingers.

"I'm sorry, Hobi," you murmur, just loudly enough for him to hear.

When he just smiles a bit sadly you feel your heart squeeze and you drop your head to his chest. You will yourself not to cry as he slows his movements, slipping a knuckle beneath your chin to raise your gaze to his own.

"Hajima," he protests, "Let's talk later. Right now, how about we just have some fun? I missed you."

His expression is sweet and earnest and you feel like your chest might not have room for anything more than your complete and utter affection for this man.

"I missed you too," you admit with a little grin, pressing yourself against him just a bit more firmly and gazing up at him through widened eyes. He blinks for a moment, and then suddenly, there it is again, blooming across his lips - that blinding gorgeous smile, and that heady, infectious laugh.

In one quick motion, he spins you around to face away from him as the music drops to a deep, throbbing EDM number, his fingertips grazing your hips and his lips ghosting the shell of your ear.

"You did, huh?" he purrs. "Alright, then...show me how much."

You suck in a breath because you don't ever think you'll be ready for how quickly he can turn that dark, deep voice in his chest into something that makes you feel like you're astral-projecting. Your first instinct is to push him away, make him take it from you...but this moment isn't for that. After your exit last time around, you’re determined to make him so incredibly certain that you want him. That you need him.

You lean back into him and, whispering a silent prayer of gratitude to the goddess of stilettos, press your ass firmly into his groin. You feel the air leave his lips in a hiss against your neck, and his hands slide to squeeze your hips and tug your body even deeper into his. You grind back against him as your body undulates with the hypnotic rhythm of the beat, but it's not long before he's taken over guiding the motion of your hips to match the rolls of his own.

Your eyelids flutter. You've never been this close to him. Sure, in the studio, things had gotten hot and heavy - but you had only been in his hands. He had only touched you to move you, still you, punish you. Now you are flush against his body, and everywhere you touch as he rocks you in tortuous waves against him tastes like the first sumptuous bite of a forbidden fruit.

You can feel him beginning to swell against the plush of your ass, but even that isn't what has a familiar ache throbbing at the apex of your thighs – it's the effortlessness with which he wrests control of your body, your mind...your very being down to its most primal core.

Hoseok's hand skids up your side and slips over your collarbones.

"I like this necklace," he mumbles into your hair.

You turn in his arms, slipping your fingers around the back of his neck as you raise your lips to his ear.

"I'm disappointed in you, Hoseok," you tut, "It's not a necklace, you know."

He doesn't respond, but focuses on bringing his leg to slot between yours, hiking your dress up enough to tease your mound with brushes over the front of his thigh. You swallow a moan.

He's toying with you, but you won't give in. Not so easily. Not yet.

"I guess you could call it a choker..." you rasp, trying to keep the tremor from your voice as your face presses into the side of his jaw, "That is more descriptive of its actual purpose, I suppose."

For one millisecond in the fabric of time and space you feel his pace falter as the words spill from your lips - then he runs his hand up your back, slipping two fingers under the tight strip of velvet surrounding your throat.

For the first time since you started dancing, you look at him. Crystalline beads of sweat have broken out on his brow, and his mouth is set in a stern line, his eyes hooded and dark as tugs his fingers back to command a view of your gaze.

"Are you telling me," he grits out lowly, digging his fingers into the flesh of your hip so bruisingly you gasp, "...that you showed up to my party wearing a fucking collar?"

You don't answer him - instead you let a wicked smile slip over your lips, refusing defiantly to drop his piercing stare. He has stopped moving you against him, stopped moving entirely. His hands are firm but still where they hold you as his eyes bore down.

"Are you out here trying to finish what we started?"

You tilt your head back, narrowing your eyes seductively.

"What do you think?"

You watch a thousand and one thoughts race through Hoseok's mind as his eyes drop to your neck again and he swallows thickly.

"Oh, fuck it," he hisses, turning and catching your hand to pull you impatiently through the crowd.

You barely have time to wonder what he's thinking or where you're headed when, at the opening to the hall, he spins to grasp your waist and tuck you into a small alcove. He does it so quickly and with such force that you nearly topple the potted plant on the stand beside you.

He pushes himself against you, the tip of his nose brushing yours, and his firm body pressing you to the wall. He holds your wrists in his hands, pinning them to either side of your body. You let out a tiny whimper.

His peppermint breath fans over your cheeks.

"I was going to wait," he whispers loud enough for you to hear him clearly over the music from the room behind you. "I was going to ask you...to stay. After..." he traces his nose along the ridge of your cheekbone as he squeezes your wrists tightly, his nails nipping into your skin. "But you come here with the audacity to tease me like that? Out there, in front of everyone like a desperate little slut?"

His mouth is hovering over your ear as he speaks, sending shivers cascading down your spine.

"I'm not a patient man," he mutters darkly, and you feel your pussy throb.

You struggle slightly against his grasp, and he growls lowly. Turning into him, you press your mouth against his throat, letting your teeth graze his skin as you respond.

"Then don't be."

It's all the permission he needs. He snatches you away from the wall, dragging you down the hall toward the master bedroom at the far end. Your heartbeat hammers in your chest as you gaze at the dark mahogany door growing closer and closer with every stumbled step you take to match his hurried pace.

He turns to glance over his shoulder, and you follow the action as he grips the handle, turns it, and...

"What the..." Hoseok mutters, rattling the handle forcefully before raising his fist to pound against the door. "YAH! UNLOCK THIS DOOR!" He booms.

You hear muted voices and sounds of scurried movement from within. He bangs again and again until the door swishes open to reveal a flushed and flustered Jungkook, still fumbling with the button of his jeans.

"Hyung! S-sorry, hyung, I was just...we were..."

"OUT." Hoseok demands icily, pushing the door inward on its hinges to reveal the peppy, strawberry-scented young woman from before hurrying forward to tuck herself behind Jungkook as she draws a hand across her smeared lipstick.

You bite back a grin as you watch them scuttle down the hall before Hoseok shuts and locks the door behind you.

"That kid...seriously," he grumbles. "He knows my room is off limits."

You chuckle, despite his lack of amusement, and he takes your hand again, drawing you toward a small couch at the far side of the large room. You take in your surroundings as you cross the space - similarly furnished to the rest of the apartment. The furniture is sleek and modern, Kaws sculptures and collectible figurines occupy tables and shelves. There are a few live plants, including one hanging from a large hook in the ceiling near a massive, raised canopy bed.

He draws you to sit beside him, a crease still pinched between his brows, likely from having to evict the irksome intruders. You laugh softly and run a thumb over his forehead.

"They're gone!" you chuckle, "Don't let it bother you so much. You'll get wrinkles." You tease, and his face softens.

He catches your hand in both of his as it lowers. He sighs.

"I needed a bit of water thrown in my face anyway," he smirks, and you glance down bashfully. "Before anything really happens, I think we should have…a conversation."

You nod in agreement.

"Can I start?" you interject and he nods in return.

You huff out a long breath.

"I want to apologize for how I reacted...last time."

He smiles wryly.

"It was all very new and sudden to me, and...I don't know...I freaked out."

Hobi squeezes your hand.

"You have no reason to be sorry about that. I should have never initiated like that somewhere that wasn't really private. I just got caught up..." he shakes his head.

"No! Me too! I'm glad it happened. I..." you trail off, feeling your face heat. "Oh, fuck, I don't know how to say this..."

He claims he's not a patient man, but he waits, watching with tender eyes as you choose your words.

"I haven't been able to stop thinking about it...like..." you take a deep breath as you gather the courage for vulnerable transparency.

You remember what Jimin said. It's Hobi. You are safe with Hobi.

"It was like nothing I've ever felt before. Like a release...more than sexual, you know? Like, freedom. Like, I felt so alive."

He smiles, nodding his head in understanding.

"I..." you continue, still nervous but with mounting confidence as he makes you feel heard, "I would like to...explore this part of myself, this new world," you gesture, "And...well, I would love for you to be the one to guide me."

You raise your gaze to his. His eyes are shimmering. He slowly raises a hand and brushes his fingers over your cheek.

"It would be my honor," he murmurs earnestly.

A smile blooms across your face and your chest fills with warmth. You raise your hand, curling your fingers into his where they rest against your jaw. He drops your hands, still holding on, to his knee.

"Can I ask how much you know about the community?" he queries, tracing his thumb softly over your knuckles.

"A lot more now than I did a couple of weeks ago!" you respond with a laugh. "I know that I'm a sub, but one that likes to...fight back a little bit?"

Hobi smirks, pocketing his tongue in his cheek. His eyes glint.

"A brat," he answers.

"...Yeah."

"Want me to work for it."

Your mouth quirks up in a grin.

"The harder the challenge the bigger the payoff," he hums, glancing thoughtfully down at your joined hands.

"I think," he says after a pause, "Since you're new to all this, we should start slow. I already know some things you enjoy, and vice versa. But part of this kind of thing is about testing your limits. You're going to come across things you don't like, too. I need you to be able to tell me. Without a second thought. Seriously."

He looks at you intently.

You smile.

"I trust you enough to know that you’d stop if that’s what I wanted. I may enjoy being dominated but I do still know what I want. And with you...I..." You tug at his hand, "I know I could say what I...need.”

He huffs out a little breath, his brows drawing together as he regards you in reverence.

"You know you can be that way with me too, right? Needy?" You ask softly. "I want...to take care of you, that way. Maybe we can...take care of each other."

You're not looking at him. You can't. It's all incredibly intimate and strange. When he doesn't respond, you begin to wonder if you said something you shouldn't have. And then your doubts vanish as quickly as they had appeared when you feel his arm slip around your shoulders as he pulls you into his chest, tucking your head beneath his chin.

Your heart sings.

After a long, quiet moment, Hobi pulls back to look at you.

"Should we set some rules for ourselves?" he asks.

You purse your lips and nod. Admittedly, you had come with a few in mind.

"I think...we shouldn't kiss. Well, not on the mouth. It's...I don't know. I think it might make things confusing."

Hobi looks thoughtful, nodding slowly.

"Which brings me to my other thought," you chew your lip. "I think this should just be about sex. We're friends, and I want to keep that aspect of our relationship strong and uncompromised."

He smiles.

"Makes sense to me. But..." he says with a raise of his brows, "If we do start seeing other people, I think we should tell each other. Especially if they're going to be people we're fooling around with."

You give an enthusiastic hum of assent.

“I don’t have a partner at the moment,” you shake your head, glancing up at him.

“Me neither.”

He clears his throat and shifts his stance.

“When we’re…together,” he gestures in the space between you. “What about protection?”

You blink thoughtfully.

“I’m on birth control.”

He nods.

“Okay…would you want me to wear a condom?”

You feel heat creep up your neck as you meet his gaze with a shake of your head.

“Not unless you wanted you.”

He stares at you for a long moment before chuckling and shaking his own head.

“Ay, you’re gonna be the death of me, you know that?”

You smile and pull your bottom lip between your teeth.

"Oh! And we already have a safeword!” you remind him with a grin.

"We do," he acknowledges, his eyes dropping to the glinting metallic ring adorning your throat.

Your smile falters and your heartbeat quickens…and when he looks back up at you it's like whiplash as he sets you reeling again with a dark, hungry gaze.

"If that thing isn't a necklace," he rasps, reaching his fingers up to touch the cold silver, "How about we put it to its proper use, hm?"

You shiver, pressing your thighs together as your heartbeat drops to your clit.

"Yeah..." you whisper, your breath already starting to come quicker as you reach for your bag and fumble with trembling fingers with the clasp.

Hoseok's brow knits as he watches you open the purse, reaching in to produce a length of light chain about three feet long with a velvet strap on one and a claw clasp on the other. You double it up and dangle it from your hand, your heart thrumming in your chest as you raise your eyes to his.

"You can put it on me," you purr, "...But you'll have to take it from me first."

Click.

That ineffable thing, that invisible force he wields that arrests you has slipped back into place. You can feel it, pouring off him in devastating waves...and you're already starting to drown.

It didn't take him long to wrestle the leash from your grasp. Now you're on your knees before him, hands at your sides as he leans forward to affix the chain to the o-ring at your neck. You're breathing hard from your struggle. He stands to his full height, wrapping the links around his hand until the line is taught. He clicks his tongue condescendingly.

"What am I going to do with you now, hm?" he murmurs, tugging at the chain briefly so that you lurch slightly forward. You whine complaintively.

"Quiet," he hisses in warning.

You bite your lip. You need to obey now. Your panties are soaked and you can feel the turgid swell of your clit with every slight motion of your body. If you are good for him, then maybe you will be rewarded. Being a good girl should earn something. Right now, you will take anything.

Hoseok glowers down at you, tilting his head to the side as his eyes trail over your features, coming to rest on your pouted lips. He wets his own.

"You like to run that mouth of yours...how about we see what else it can do?"

Holy fucking shit. You feel saliva begin to pool under your tongue, your eyes flicking down to the bulge at the front of his slacks. You start to raise your hands toward his belt but he yanks sharply upward on the chain, the metal ring biting into the underside of your jaw, ripping a mewl of discomfort and impatience from your lips.

He lets out a long sigh, shaking his head as his lips curve into a cruel smile.

"So eager that she can't even wait for permission?"

You whimper again, biting your lip as he laughs darkly above you.

"My little whore wants something, doesn't she?"

You give a silent nod, letting your tongue slip out to wet your lips and watch his eyes darken as his pupils swallow his deep brown irises.

"Mmm..." He hums in consideration, bringing his free hand to cradle your chin. "I've told you before, sweet thing, if you want something, you have to ask for it."

Your eyes blink languidly as you look up at him. Your head is swimming as you sway on your knees, the dizzy helplessness of being spun between degradation and endearment hanging over you like a heavy trance. His fingers tighten around your jaw.

"Come on..." he coaxes in a chilly whisper, "Use that pretty mouth to ask Hoseok."

You swallow thickly.

"Wan..." you start softly, but his grip on your jaw sharpens.

"Speak up, I can't hear you," he commands reproachfully.

Heat swells up from your neck and sweat begins to tickle your hairline. You know what you want, you've been thinking about little else since he was pressed against you on the dance floor...but the thought of giving your filthy, aching desires shape has every inch of your body trembling.

"Wan...want..." you struggle over his fingers pressing harshly into your cheeks.

He tuts, and the look on his stony features suddenly warns you that if you don't overcome your nerves...

"Wan' your cock!" you choke out desperately.

Hoseok's lids dip slowly and his lips part, as if your words have been injected into his veins, and you think you could fucking cum at the sight. His eyes flutter open again and he gazes down. You fight for patience and composure with each maddening second of silence that passes. You can feel your pussy clench and your hands follow suit. Hoseok catches the motion. A sickening grin spreads over his lips.

"Want this cock, hm?" he hums, releasing your chin from his grasp to palm over the clothed swell inches from your lips.

You whimper pathetically, letting your eyes slip shut. Fuck you want him. You want your mouth around him. You want to choke on him. You want the thick, sticky milk of his release on your tongue.

"So tell me, brat," he hisses, wrapping another loop of chain around his palm so that he holds you on a mere few inches of leash. "How do you want my cock?"

Any shame has been dispelled from your being in the presence of your burning desire, and you raise heavy, lustful eyes to his dark ones.

"Wanna suck it off."

You can see his chest beginning to rise and fall with more effort as he pulls you by the leash, in tortuously slow deliberation, until your lips are ghosting over the zipper of his slacks. He glares down at you, the corner of his mouth curling up in a sneer as he holds you in place.

"BEG."

A violent tremor of arousal jolts through your abdomen and you gasp.

"P-please..." you stammer dumbly against the soft, dark cotton.

"Again."

"Please..."

"Please, what?"

"Please..." you breath shakily, "Will you fuck my mouth?"

You feel him twitch under the vibration of your supplicating words.

"Alright," he relents in a rasp, "But keep those hands at your sides, understand?”

You nod.

“Unless,” he tugs at the chain again,”You need to stop. Then you grab my leg and squeeze.”

“Okay.”

“What are you going to do, baby? If you need me to stop?”

“Squeeze your leg.”

“That’s right,” he hums and the repeated instruction.

You chew on your lip as he pulls off his belt and slips open the button, giving a tug at your collar. As you look up at his hooded eyes, you know exactly what to do.

You nose at the seam, trying for one moment to ignore the throbbing bulge against your cheek as you find the zipper with your teeth and drag it slowly downward, your eyes never breaking his burning gaze.

"Good girl," he hisses, pushing his pants down his hips to reveal a pair of tight, black boxer briefs, a sizable strain pulling at the flexible fabric where he's hard beneath them.

He hooks two thumbs into the elastic and tugs down, his fully erect cock springing free to bob against the side of your face. A sticky streak of precum smears across your cheek as you seek his head with your lips, barely having time to register the smooth tip, or the pretty, pulsating veins as you rush to swallow him whole.

Hoseok lets out a long, deep groan as you suckle greedily around him. Allowing your spit to slick his shaft you pull back, keeping just the crown between your lips as you worry your tongue along his dripping slit.

He's rock hard and heavy on your tongue as you lean in to take him farther down your throat, bunching your hands into your dress at the aching urge to cup and stroke the velvet skin of his scrotum.

"Fuck," he grits out from between clenched teeth, "That's right..."

You bob lower and lower on his shaft, seeking to take as much of him as you are able. When you feel his tip brush the back of your throat, you moan around him. His free hand flies into your hair, and suddenly he's yanking you off of him. You cough and splutter at the sudden motion and he tugs the chain so that you raise watery eyes to him. He releases your hair to absently stroke himself as he lightly pants over you.

"Asked me to fuck that throat. Think you can take it?"

You nod as you attempt to wipe drool pooling on your chin into your shoulder.

"Words," he pushes, snapping the chain around his wrist.

"Yeah," you mock, matching his tone, a spark of defiance reigniting inside you.

Hoseok lets out a hollow laugh.

"So confident. We'll see about that."

He slips two fingers of his free hand into the strap of your collar and tugs you back toward his cock. You open wide, extending your tongue to catch the head and pull him between your lips.

You move to swallow him again, but he halts you.

"Keep still," he mutters coldly, and the fingers at your collar hold you tightly in place as he slowly slides his hips forward in a thrust that has him inching toward your soft palate.

Your eyes water, but you have never been more determined to fight your gag reflex as he pulls back and pushes in again, deeper, his cock tapping again at the back of your throat.

"Goddamn, you really can take it," he groans in a shaky voice. "Such a good little slut for Hoseok. Such a pretty, filthy little mouth."

Your nostrils flare as you draw air through your nose, and you swallow, the muscle of your throat contracting tightly around him. At this he seems to break, suddenly pulling back his hips to snap them forward as he sets a rough, self-indulgent pace.

Your eyes water, spilling over from the brutal stretch and sting, but you dig your fingers into your thighs, determined to take him as long as you possibly can.

You start to feel light-headed, and just when you think you're going to have to tap out for air, Hoseok's pulling you off of him and wrenching your face upwards to run his wild eyes over it.

You gasp for breath a moment, and then you're opening your mouth to him again, blinking up through bleary eyes in a silent, hungry plea. He shakes his head slowly as he gazes down at you, chest heaving.

"Shit, look at you..."

You're a site. Tears and mascara streak your cheeks, saliva and precum slick your chin and neck, your parted lips swollen. Hoseok's fingers twist where they're still hooked into the collar.

"You still want it, don't you? My god..." he smears the tip of his cock along your bottom lip.

Your eager tongue wriggles forward to brush over him again. He swallows, and with a growl he slaps his cock down harshly over it. You let out a little sob as your soaking, aching cunt clenches around nothing.

"Alright," he mutters in a husky whisper, "Gonna fucking ruin that tight little throat. Gonna fill it the fuck up. Blow my load all over that nasty little tongue. And you want that, don't you? Wanna be Hoseok's pretty little cumslut, hm?"

You nod, and then remember the rules.

"Yes," you croak, and open wide for him again.

He grits his teeth and tugs at the collar to pull you slowly over him again with a shudder. You've proven more than capable and it's not long before he's chasing release at a punishing pace. It's sloppy and desperate - the hollow, wet sounds as he fucks your face a pornographic symphony.

Suddenly you think you can feel his cock twitch and jerk as it hammers into your mouth, and when he grows so incredibly hard, you know he's about to reach his peak.

You lock eyes with him through your tears, watching his features strain to maintain their composure. Without warning he grabs the back of your head and slams into you, arching over as he cries out.

And he cums.

Thick ropes spurt down your throat as he quivers and throbs.

The moment he's spent his last drop of release he fists into your hair and roughly pulls you back, letting his softening cock fall free. You gasp for breath, coughing as you choke down the last remnants of his seed. Lips trembling, your eyes search his face for what you so desperately need...and you find it.

His lids are heavy over his eyes, mere glistening slips of midnight visible as they gleam down at you; his beautiful lips are parted as he pants, the honey planes of chest glistening with sweat where his shirt fails to obscure it.

He's breathless and sated and glorious, and you bask under the intensity of his gaze. He releases his hold on your collar and lets the leash clatter to the ground, bringing his hands to your face. He cups your cheeks, brushing his thumbs over the streaks of tears.

"So, fucking good for me," he mutters shakily, his brow drawn, "Such a pretty, perfect little brat."

Your eyes slip shut under his words of praise. You could move mountains if he asked you to, you were certain. In this moment, in this space, anything for this man. Everything.

You feel his hands leave your face as he moves to help you stand, before tugging his briefs back into place.

The heat of the moment past, you become acutely aware of the stinging soreness in your knees as you struggle to your feet – and the sticky ache of persistent hunger throbbing between your thighs. You teeter on your heels as blood rushes to your lower legs.

Smiling, he reaches out and pulls you to him gently by the waist, swiping a thumb over your chin.

"You were a good girl, baby. So, so good," He coos in a husky whisper. "You remember what good girls get, hm?" He's still calling the shots and demanding answers, but his eyes are soft as they regard you.

"A reward?" you answer hopefully.

He hums in assent.

"That's right, baby. That's right," He brushes at the smeared makeup under your eye. "But let's get that messy little face cleaned up first."

After unfastening your collar he sits you down on the bed, bringing makeup wipes to gently dab away the proof of your efforts, and offers you a bottle of cool water. He comes to sit beside you, eyes tracking you attentively as you drink.

"Want Hoseok to take care of that needy little pussy?" he asks, with a smirk.

"Fuck yes," you breath as you lower the bottle from your mouth.

He arches a brow, and you purse your lips in an attempt not to grin.

"Please," you add in correction.

"Mmm," he acknowledges thoughtfully, turning to gaze over his shoulder at the spider plant hanging from the ceiling a few feet past the other side of the bed.

"Does my little girl want to try something new?" he asks, his eyes still on the suspended planter.

You feel your pulse quicken and stomach twist in anticipation.

"Yes, Hoseok, I trust you," you respond without reserve.

He flicks his eyes to your face, brows drawing together. He wets his lips and huffs out a breathy laugh.

"You have no goddamned idea what you do to me when you say shit like that."

You look away, smiling brightly as you preen under the heat and affection of his gaze.

He reaches for your hand and guides you to rise to your feet.

"Alright, ditch the dress," he orders, gesturing with a flick of his chin as he leans back on his hands and spreads his thighs in a posture of recline.

You step back to give yourself space, already weak in the knees at the prospect of stripping for him. You steel your composure, a spark of boldness lighting in your belly. Taking a few steps away and turning from him, you look back over your shoulder to watch his face as you reach behind to slowly drag the zipper down your back. You make a slow, sensual show of peeling the garment from your body to reveal a lacy black balconette bra and matching thong. Stepping out of the dress and tossing it away, in nothing but your lingerie and stilettos, you stride back to stand patiently before him.

He leans forward and runs his hands up the sides of your thighs until they reach your hips where they slide back to squeeze the meat of your ass.

You bring your hands gingerly to his shoulders.

Tugging your body toward him, he draws himself to the edge of the mattress, pulling you between his thighs as he uses his sharp, white teeth to nip along the soft flesh of your belly. He sucks harshly at some places, leaving flushed little souvenirs of claim in his wake. You don't hold back the proof of your pleasure - repaying his ministrations with gasps and low moans as his hands and mouth explore you.

Hoseok raises his face from your skin, his pupils wide as his gaze settles at your breasts.

"Bra off," he commands, squeezing your ass again as you reach back to unfasten the clasp and pull the straps from your arms.

He hisses and grits his teeth, raising greedy hands to knead at your supple flesh, before pulling them away to twist and slap at your nipples.

You groan and throw your head back, relishing in the shocks of sensation – gushing, as if you could ruin your soaked panties any further. As you press your trembling thighs together he glances down at the last remaining vestige of your modesty, lips spreading into a wicked grin.

"You know I can fucking smell it - how wet you are? My god, want you to wear it like a perfume, fuck..." He runs his right hand to rub against the dampness that has the lace clinging to your slit.

The moan you let out is so needy it's practically a sob. Hoseok laughs low in his chest.

Suddenly he’s standing and spinning you around, leading you to the end of the bed. He places your hands on the footboard and instructs you to bend over, sliding your hips back until your ass is on full display. He runs his hands over the bare flesh of your cheeks.

"Now," he growls, "Can't fuck this ass until it's properly marked, can we?"

You swallow and let out a whine. The blood is already rushing to your head in a familiar surge and in the split second of silence before impact, you know what's coming - the anticipation somehow even more intoxicating when you remember how it feels when he...

Smack!

You whimper, your fingers gripping the bed frame as he delivers blow after searing blow. When he has satisfied himself with the flushed tone streaking the globes of your ass, he gives it a final squeeze, commanding you to wait where you are.

You hear him as he moves to the side of the bed to pull an object from beneath it. He seems to be grappling with something - the clink of metal and soft rustle of leather interrupting the sudden heavy hush. He returns to your side, taking your hands from the bed and bringing you to stand. As he leads you to the far side of the bed, you see it: hanging from the large hook in the ceiling that once bore the spider plant there is a large leather contraption. You've never seen one in real life, but you know what it is.

"You have a sex swing?" you murmur in awe, momentarily forgetting yourself as you reach out to brush your fingers over the soft leather. There are buckle straps at different places and a metal bar running across the top. He lightly grips your waist, turning you to face him again. He dips his head forward and you inhale the cool mint of his breath.

"Gonna put you in it," he murmurs, "You remember our word, right?"

"Yes," you breathe.

“Say it.”

“Foxglove.”

He smirks.

"Good girl. Panties off," he instructs.

You couldn't be more eager to pull the sopping fabric down your legs and toss it aside, but when you reach to remove your shoes, he catches your wrist.

"I didn't say you could take those off, did I?" he reprimands, and your pulse begins to hammer in your throat.

He’s gonna fucking strap you to this thing in your goddamned heels.

You comply with him as he helps you into the seat, fastening your wrists together to a strap that has them raised above your head. After securing your hands, he raises your legs, carefully stretching them so that your feet are on the outside of the wide set cables, hooking your heels to catch on the bar across the top to hold your legs, spread wide, in place. With each restriction he checks in, making sure you’re completely comfortable with his choices.

When he finishes he comes to stand before you, heaving out a sigh through his nose as he trails a hand down the back of your thigh.

"Look at you," he groans as his eyes rake over your body.

You can feel your pussy leaking. Your heart pounds. The muscles in your legs strain a bit from the stretch and the bindings nip into your wrists and feet. You are completely exposed to him...and it is utter perfection. Like you were made to be at his mercy. You blink up at him through the fuzzy haze that keeps intensifying as you relinquish yourself deeper and deeper into his control.

His eyes slip shut for a moment and he gives an almost imperceptible shake of his head before bringing his lips to graze against the back of your calf.

"Hoseok..." you whisper, trembling.

His eyes open and lock with yours. You hold each other's gaze in silence.

Nothing needs to be said - you both know. You both understand.

He unbuttons his shirt and slips it off, and after discarding his briefs he is as naked as you are. With one hand he grips your leg, slipping two fingers of the other to slide through the swollen, sticky folds of your cunt. You cry out, your pelvis shuddering - so ripe to be touched that the contact sends a shock like an electric pulse through your being.

"What a pretty fucking pussy...so desperate for me," he mutters.

You watch his beautiful fingers as they slip through your glistening lips and over your throbbing clit before he pulls his hand up. He lets it hover in the air for a moment before bringing it down with a harsh smack against your mound.

A scream strangles in your throat as he repeats the motion again. Your whole body shakes with arousal.

He clenches his jaw as he trails his fingers down to your aching hole, dipping in shallowly to gather your bountiful slick. He raises his fingers to his lips, tasting you as he watches you tremble beneath him. He withdraws them with a pop.

"You know how much you like that? Getting this little cunt slapped?" His eyes trail down. "You're dripping down your fucking ass."

Shuddering violently, you whimper, tugging impatiently at your restraints.

"Yah," he warns, and you still. "Guess you're ready for me, huh? Just like that day..." He smirks condescendingly. "You're always ready, aren't you?" He hisses. "Need me so fucking badly...all of the time."

You sob as your walls contract again and again. He takes his cock into his hand and slides it through your folds, teasing the tip over your clit.

It's euphoric, but it's not enough. You sink your teeth into your bottom lip as you fight your own desperate need until the copper taste of blood seeps across your tongue. Somehow, it doesn't even hurt – you can't feel anything past the need for him to fill you. You feel his tip prod your entrance and you gasp.

“Look at me," he rasps.

Your eyes snap open. Your legs are shaking, vibrating the entire apparatus as he finally, slowly, sinks into your wet heat. The stretch of him is exquisite, and your eyes roll back in your head as he groans, steadily pulling back to push into you again.

“Shiiiiiitttt…” he hisses through his teeth, “Fucking made for me. Does my little brat like that? Hoseok’s cock stuffing that tight little cunt?”

“M-more…p-please…” you mewl, nearly unable to even form the words as his ridges drag deliciously along your taught walls.

You're so incredibly worked up that already you can feel a climax building in your belly, and he's only just started to fuck you. Unable to touch him any other way, you squeeze around him tightly.

He lets out a grunt, picking up his pace as he uses the mobility of the swing to pound you onto his cock.

You cry out, your head rattling against the leather as stroke after stroke sends you hurtling toward your high. Your mouth hangs open, and your vision begins to blur at the edges, the position of your arms making it harder to breathe. It’s going put you over the edge. He catches your glazed stare.

"Don't you fucking cum until I say," he grits out breathlessly, and you let out a wail, head falling back.

You can feel yourself barely holding on as he slams into you, teetering on the edge as you hear his voice.

"Whose little whore are you?"

You try to speak but the words won't rattle out of your chest.

"Whose?" he booms.

"Yours!" you press out in a sob.

"Who do you kneel for?"

"You!"

"Who owns this pussy?"

"Y-you!"

"And who the fuck am I?"

"HOSEOK!"

"Cum, slut." he growls.

...And you free-fall through time and space.

The summer evening air is warm against your skin as you step out under the rose gold twilight. Behind you the chic dining venue is still abustle, and you wave coworkers a fond farewell as they head off to continue the evening with karaoke. It's been a big day for you, and there's someone you've been waiting to talk to.

You press the green call button and wait as the line rings.

"Yeoboseyo?"

The warm voice on the other end has a smile blooming on your lips.

"Hey, Hobi-ssi!" you hum.

"Hey hey!" he chrips, "What's up?"

"Oh, nothing," you respond casually, "Just got done with a company dinner. Someone got a promotion, so we all went out."

There's a pause on the other end.

"Oh," answers slowly, "That one you put in for?"

"Mhm."

You hear him scoff in amusement

"Well, at least you seem to be taking it well."

"I'd say I'm taking it extremely well, which is only natural, considering I got the job."

"Yes, well...wait, YOU WHAT?!"

You pull the phone momentarily away from your ear as his joyful, raucous laughter blasts through the speaker.

"You're gonna make me go deaf!" You chide. Your smile is brighter than the setting sun.

"I'm so proud of you."

"Thanks, Hobi."

"You should celebrate!"

"I did go out with my work friends...but..."

"You should come over," he interjects.

The register of his voice has changed. You recognize the new one.

"Yeah?" you swallow, as your heart rate quickens. "Well...what if I do want to go to karaoke?"

You wait for his response, watching your ride share pull up to the curb.

"Yah - you gonna be a good girl…”

You hold your breath.

“...Or do I have to make you?"

-FIN-

#hoseok fic #oneshot #bts oneshot #hoseok smut #hoseok imagine #hobi x reader #hobi smut #hobi x y/n #jhope smut #jhope fanfic #jhope x reader #jhope x you #jhope x y/n #jhope imagine #bts imagines #bts smut #bts x reader #fic: make me

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strawberryjimin13 · 9 months ago

Text

BTS REACTIONS: YOU HAVE A TOXIC BEST FRIEND

— Pairing: members x f!reader

— A/N: Hey guys! This is my first time uploading in forever. I already had a prologue of a series here I was planning on writing but got caught up in life (I’m still caught lol) but writing has always been my passion and this is my way of distressing. Although I can’t focus on writing the series right now, I thought I could start uploading little reactions or drabbles that have been sitting in my drafts unfinished for a long time! Any feedback or suggestions is appreciated :) although go easy on me I’m trying my best XD

— English is not my first language so I apologise in advance for any mistakes or typos!

୨♡୧ KIM SEOKJIN ୨♡୧

It was a calm and clear night. You had planned to meet up with your friends for a night out and were undeniably excited as you bounced around your apartment getting ready. It had been forever since you last hung out with the girls as everyone got caught up and busy with life. This whole thing was planned by your best friend so everyone could meet up and destress while enjoying some gossip.

Seokjin smiled to himself as he sat on the bed watching you apply the last of your makeup. He couldn't deny the fact that you looked incredible in your outfit. A simple black short, tight and long sleeved dress reaching you mid thigh paired with stockings and platform knee length boots.

It was a simple combination but Jin loved it. He got up from the bed and made his way towards you, standing in front of the dresser. He would usually take this time to annoy you by making dad jokes but he felt particularly worn out today from the harsh dance practice. He wanted nothing more than to cuddle with you but he understood how much you were looking forward to this meet up and said nothing, instead opting to hug you as he wrapped his arms around your waist and buried his face in your neck.

"Have fun and be careful jagi" he whispered to you slowly. "You don't have to worry Jin, all the girls will be there. Why don't you put on one of my face masks and destress playing a game while I'm gone" You suggest as you run your hand through his hair.

Jin chuckled softly at your suggestion, his breath warm against your neck. "That actually sounds like a good plan," he murmured, reluctantly pulling away to look at you. His eyes were full of warmth and admiration. "You look stunning, by the way."

You smiled, feeling a rush of affection for him. "Thanks, Jin. I'll be back before you know it." After a final quick kiss, you grabbed your coat and headed out the door, excitement bubbling inside you. The night air was crisp, and the city lights twinkled as you made your way to the meeting spot. The bar was lively with chatter and laughter when you arrived. You spotted your friends at a corner table, waving enthusiastically. As you joined them, the evening quickly filled with animated conversations and catching up on each other's lives.

Midway through the evening, the topic shifted to hr es and interests. Your best friend, who had always teased you about your love for a particular TV series, couldn't resist making a comment. "Oh, and how's your little obsession going?" she said, a smirk on her face.

You felt a familiar twinge of embarrassment as the others laughed lightly. Before you could respond, Jin's words from an old discussion echoed in your mind that you shouldn’t feel ashamed of your interests. You took a deep breath and tried to stand your ground. "It's going great, actually. I even got Jin hooked on it. We've been binge-watching it together."

Your best friend seemed slightly taken aback but quickly recovered. "Well, I guess if Jin likes it, it can't be that bad," she said, a hint of reluctance in her voice.

The conversation continued, but the initial comment had left you feeling unsettled. Despite your efforts to stay engaged, the teasing from your best friend didn't stop, and soon, her laughter felt more like mocking that made even your other friends uncomfortable. The hurtful comments began to pile up, and you could feel your confidence waning.

Finally, it became too much. Making an excuse about not feeling well, you left the restaurant early. As soon as you were out of sight, tears began to stream down your face. The drive home felt endless, your mind racing with all the hurtful words that had been said.

When you reached your apartment, you were barely holding it together. You opened the door to find Jin lounging on the couch, a game controller in his hand. He looked up, immediately noticing the tears in your eyes. Concern washed over his face as he rushed to your side.

"Jagi, what happened?" he asked, gently cupping your face in his hands.

You couldn't hold back any longer and broke down, sobbing into his chest.

"She just kept making fun of me, Jin. It hurt so much." He held you tightly knowing exactly who you were talking about and started comforting you. "I'm so sorry, Y/N. You don't deserve that. Your friend should support you instead of making you feel bad about things you love."

You clung to him, feeling a mix of relief and sorrow. "I thought it was just joking, but it really hurt." Jin pulled back slightly, looking into your eyes. "Jokes shouldn't make you feel this way. You need to talk to her about how you feel, or maybe it's time to reconsider who you spend your time with."

You nodded, wiping your tears. "I know. I just didn't want to lose her. I've known her literally since we came out the womb"

"You won't lose true friends by standing up for yourself," Jin said softly. "And no matter what, I'm here for you." he smiles softly at you.

He led you to the couch, where you sat together in silence for a while. Jin's presence was soothing, and slowly, your sobs turned into sniffles. He handed you a tissue and stroked your hair gently.

"Do you want to talk about it more, or just relax for a bit?" he asked.

"Can we just relax?" you murmured, feeling drained.

"Of course," he said, grabbing a cozy blanket and wrapping it around both of you. He picked up the controller again and handed it to you. "How about we play a game to take your mind off things?"

You managed a small smile, grateful for his understanding. "That sounds perfect."

As you played together, the weight of the evening began to lift. Jin, in his usual playful manner, started making his signature dad jokes, which never failed to make you giggle.

"Why don't scientists trust atoms?" he asked with a twinkle in his eye.

"Why?" you responded, already smiling.

"Because they make up everything!" he exclaimed, grinning widely.

The joke wasn't that funny but you couldn't help but laugh. Jin's antics continued, his exaggerated expressions and goofy behavior working wonders to distract you from the earlier events.

"Thank you, Jin," you said after a while, your voice full of gratitude.

"For what?" he asked, feigning innocence. "For being the incredibly handsome, hilarious, and charming person that I am?"

You laughed again, feeling the tension ease out of your body. "Yes, for all of that and for being here for me."

Jin wrapped an arm around your shoulders and pulled you close, giving you light pecks on the lips. "Always, jagi. I'm here for you, no matter what."

As you cuddled together, you felt a renewed sense of strength. With Jin by your side, you knew you could face anything.

⊹

୨♡୧ MIN YOONGI ୨♡୧

The practice room, typically alive with the sound of music and the energy of rehearsals, felt unusually heavy today. The mirrors reflected your troubled expression, your movements sluggish as you tried to focus on your routine. The tension from a recent phone call with your best friend lingered in your mind, making it hard to concentrate. Frustrated, you finally gave up and sat on the floor, staring at your phone.

Yoongi, who had been practicing his own routine nearby, noticed your unease. He quietly walked over and sat beside you, offering silent support. After a moment, he gently asked, "What's wrong?"

You sighed, running a hand through your hair. "It's my best friend again. She keeps forcing me into doing things I'm uncomfortable with. Today she wanted me to flirt with some random person, knowing full well that l'm in a relationship with you. When I told her I didn't feel comfortable, she just brushed it off and said I was being too sensitive and uptight."

Yoongi frowned, his usually calm demeanor now filled with concern. "That doesn't sound like a friend, Y/N. You shouldn't let her treat you this way."

You shrugged, feeling a mix of shame and confusion. "She's been like this for a long time. thought it was just her way of joking around, but now I feel like she wants to humiliate me." you mumble.

Yoongi shook his head slowly. "Y/n….Jokes aren’t meant to make you feel uncomfortable or pressured. A real friend respects your boundaries and listens to your concerns." he says looking into your eyes.

You looked down, feeling a lump in your throat. "I know, but it's hard to confront her. She always makes me feel like I'm overreacting or being too sensitive. She even says I'm boring now that I'm with you, and I'm just imagining things when I tell her how I feel."

Yoongi placed a gentle hand on your shoulder, his touch comforting. "Y/n friends don't gaslight you and they don't force you into situations you don't like." he says knowingly. Having been part of a large friend group. He knows what healthy friendships should look like.

His words resonated deeply with you, and you felt a tear slip down your cheek. "I just don't know how to stand up to her." you replied, wiping the tears off of your face.

Yoongi sighed softly, his eyes full of empathy. "You need to be honest with her about how you feel. If she truly values your friendship, she'll understand and change her behavior. If not, then maybe it's time to reevaluate if that's the kind of friendship you want to be a part of."

You nodded slowly. "You're right, Yoon. I need to talk to her." you say as you wiped the snot from your nose.

Yoongi offered a small smile. "You're stronger than you think, Y/N. And you're not alone in this. You have a lot of people who care about you and who want to see you happy."

You managed to give a small smile. "Thanks, Yoon. You always know what to say." He chuckled softly and pulled you into a warm embrace. "I try. And I'm always here for you, no matter what. "How about we take a break and get some fresh air? Clear your mind a bit." he says looking down at your face.

You agreed, and the two of you stepped outside, the crisp air helping to lift some of the weight from your shoulders. As you walked together, Yoongi shared stories and made lighthearted jokes, his quiet humor easing the tension you felt.

By the time you returned to the practice room, you felt a renewed sense of determination. You knew the conversation with your friend wouldn't be easy, but with Yoongi's support and advice, you felt more confident in addressing the issue.

Later that evening, as you prepared to confront your friend, you replayed Yoongi's words in your mind. You took a deep breath and dialed her number, ready to stand up for yourself and your boundaries.

⊹

୨♡୧ JUNG HOSEOK ୨♡୧

It's late evening, and you're in your apartment, the soft glow of lamps casting a warm light over the room. Despite the comfort of your home, the tension from another exhausting interaction with your best friend weighs heavily on you. Your friend's constant need for attention and the guilt-tripping over spending time with others had left you feeling drained. You pace the room, your phone clutched tightly in your hand, trying to process the conversation you'd just had.

Hoseok, who had been visiting and lounging comfortably on your couch, noticed your stressed demeanor. He sees the way you're moving restlessly and decides it's time for a heart-to-heart conversation. With a cheerful smile that lights up the room, he stands up and walks over to you, placing a reassuring hand on your shoulder.

"Hey, what's got you so worked up?" he asks, his voice radiating warmth and concern.

You look up at him, your frustration evident. "It's my best friend again. She's always demanding attention and making me feel guilty for spending time with anyone else. I try to explain that I need a balance, but she just makes me feel like I'm abandoning her.*

Hoseok's expression softens, and he gently guides you over to the couch, encouraging you to sit down beside him. "That sounds really tough, baby. It's never fun when someone makes you feel guilty for wanting to live your life and have other relationships."

You nod, feeling a mix of relief and continued frustration. "I've tried to explain to her that it's not about her, but she just doesn't get it. She keeps saying l'm changing and that I don't have time for her anymore. It's like I'm constantly walking on eggshells."

Hoseok listens intently, his hand resting comfortingly on yours. "You shouldn't have to feel like that. Friends support you and understand that you need a balance. I mean me and the boys have always kept a healthy bond and if not we discuss our differences and find common grounds. It sounds like your friend might be struggling with her own insecurities and is projecting them onto you."

You sigh deeply, feeling the weight of Hoseok's words. "I know, but it's hard to set boundaries without feeling like I'm hurting her feelings. I don't want to lose her, but I also need to live my life and be fair to the people who care about me."

Hoseok's eyes light up with a burst of his signature sunshine personality. "Hey, you've got every right to take care of yourself, and you don't have to feel guilty about it! Sometimes people need a little nudge to understand what friendships look like. Let's make sure you're feeling good too. How about we turn this evening around and have some fun?"

You look at him, intrigued and curious about what he was thinking. "What do you have in mind?" Hoseok's face brightens as he gets an idea. "Let's have a mini celebration of our own! We can start with a fun dance-off to some of our favorite tracks and then watch a movie or two with all the best snacks!"

You can't help but smile at his infectious enthusiasm. "That sounds amazing, Hobi. Let's do it!"

As you set up for the evening, Hoseok's bright energy turns the room into a lively, happy space.

He puts on some of your favorite upbeat songs and shows off his best dance moves, making you laugh and forget your worries. The movie marathon that follows is filled with laughter, cozy blankets, and delicious snacks.

⊹

୨♡୧ KIM NAMJOON ୨♡୧

You're sitting in the cozy cafe, surrounded by your laptop, worksheets, and notebooks from university. The low hum of the city outside barely penetrates the quiet, creative atmosphere of the cafe. Despite the vibrant and inspiring environment, your downcast expression suggests that something is weighing heavily on you.

Your best friend, who had been chatting with you about your latest project, suddenly makes a comment that hits hard. "Honestly, Y/N, you're such a perfectionist. It's almost laughable how you stress over every little detail. Do you really think this assignment is going to make a difference? You act like it's some huge achievement. It's just schoolwork."

You try to keep your composure, but her words cut deep. "I know it might seem like a lot, but I really want to do well. This is important to me."

Your friend rolls her eyes, clearly dismissive. "Important? You're making a big deal out of nothing. It's pathetic how you put so much effort into these assignments. Maybe if you weren't so obsessed with getting everything perfect, you'd actually have a life outside of your textbooks."

The harshness in her voice makes you feel small and inadequate. You force a tight smile, a small part of you believing what she said. "Yeah, maybe you're right."

You focus on your work, but her toxic comments linger, gnawing at your confidence. Just as you're about to give up on your task, the door of the cafe swings open. Namjoon walks in, spotting you immediately. His warm, friendly demeanor brings a smile on your face. He makes his way over to your table, greeting you with a bright smile.

"Hey, babe! How's everything going?" Namjoon's presence is a welcome distraction, and his positive energy starts to lift your spirits.

Before you can respond, your friend interjects sharply. "Oh, Namjoon, you're just in time. We were just talking about how Y/N gets so worked up over her assignments. I'm honestly amazed at how she can make such a fuss over something as trivial as schoolwork. It's like she thinks she's doing something world-changing."

Namjoon's expression shifts from casual friendliness to a serious one. He notices the tension and hurt in your posture and eyes. "Really? I think it's important to recognize how much effort Y/N puts into her work. She tries her best in everything"

Your friend's face flushes with anger. "You don't get it, Namjoon. I'm just being realistic. Maybe you should stay out of it." She stands up abruptly, clearly offended by Namjoon's defense. "| don't need to listen to this. I'm done here." Without waiting for a response, she storms out of the cafe, leaving you and Namjoon behind stunned at her outburst.

Namjoon turns to you with wide eyes. "Are you okay, Y/N?" He reaches out, gently taking your hand. "I'm sorry you had to deal with that. You don't deserve to be treated like that."

You nod, feeling a mix of relief and lingering hurt. "Thank you for stepping in. Her comments really got to me."

Namjoon pulls you into a hug, his warmth enveloping you. "You're doing amazing, Y/N. Don't let anyone make you feel otherwise. Your hard work is something to be proud of."

He places a tender kiss on your forehead, his affection bringing a sense of calm. "You deserve to be treated with kindness and not someone belittling you or your work. Don't let anyone's negativity get you down."

As you lean into him further, you feel the tension slowly melting away. Namjoon's presence is a soothing balm, his gentle touch and kind words helping to heal the sting of your friend's harshness. "Thank you for always supporting me Joonie."

Namjoon smiles down at you, his eyes full of love. "I'm always here for you, babe. You're strong and incredible, and I believe in you. No matter what happens, remember that you have someone who truly cares about you."

With Namjoon by your side, you felt your feelings validated. The negative comments fade into the background and the evening at the cafe becomes a reminder of the positive and caring presence Namjoon brings into your life, making you feel valued and loved.

When you leave the cafe, you're not only carrying the weight of your work but also the knowledge that you have someone who stands by you and supports you unconditionally.

⊹

୨♡୧ PARK JIMIN ୨♡୧

You arrive home from work, the exhaustion of the day heavy on your shoulders. The apartment is quiet, the only sound being the soft hum of the refrigerator. You drop your keys on the hallway table, noticing the faint aroma of the lavender candle Jimin likes to light. The warm, golden glow of the evening sun filters through the windows, casting a serene light over the living room.

As you step into the room, you see Jimin standing near the window, his back to you. His usually bright and cheerful demeanor is replaced with a tense, rigid posture. The sight sends a jolt of worry through you.

"Jimin? What's wrong?" you ask, your voice soft and concerned.

He turns to face you, his eyes filled with a mix of anger and hurt. "I heard something today," he says, his voice shaking. "Your best friend told me you've been seeing someone else behind my back. She said she didn't feel right hiding such information."

Your heart plummets, the weight of his words crashing over you. "What? That's not true! I would never do that to you, Jimin. You know that..." You trailed off. "You can even check my phone or anything if it means we can clear this misunderstanding." you add desperately. You couldn't believe what you were hearing, especially the fact that it came from your best friend? You felt sick to your stomach.

He runs a hand through his hair, his distress evident in his every movement. "Why would she say something like that if it wasn't true? She's your best friend. Why would she lie about something so serious? She said she wanted to warn me."

Tears well up in your eyes as you step closer to him. The room feels colder, the once comforting ambiance now a backdrop to your situation. "I don't know why she's doing this, but I swear to you, Jimin, I've been faithful and I will continue to remain faithful. I love you more than anything."

Jimin's anger starts to wane, replaced by a deep sadness. He looks around the room, his eyes lingering on the pictures of the two of you that decorate the walls. "Then why would she try to hurt us like this? I just- I knew deep down you wouldn't have done something like this. I trust you...I just felt hurt" he mumbles the last part.

You reach out, taking his hands in yours. "She's been causing problems for a while now, ever since I got this job. Gossiping, spreading lies... I think she enjoys creating drama because of the fact that the fact that she can't make fun of me anymore. But I promise you, my feelings for you are real. I would never betray you."

Tears start to fall down your cheeks as the emotional toll of the situation overwhelms you. Jimin pulls you into a tight embrace, his own tears mingling with yours. The soft fabric of his sweater presses against your cheek, a small comfort amidst the chaos. "I'm sorry for doubting you. I just...love you so much, and the thought of losing you terrified me."

You hold him tighter, your voice trembling. "I love you too, Jimin. You're the most important person in my life. I need to cut her out. She's toxic, and she's trying to ruin everything in my life."

Jimin nods, his grip on you tightening. "You're right. We don't need that kind of negativity. We'll deal with this together."

You both sit down on the couch, the plush cushions providing a small respite from the emotional storm. The soft glow from the candle flickers, casting dancing shadows on the walls. Jimin wipes away your tears with gentle fingers, his touch reassuring. "We'll get through this, okay? Our relationship is stronger than any lie she can tell."

The ticking of the clock in the background is a steady reminder that time moves forward, regardless of the pain. "Thank you for believing in me. I don't know what I'd do without you."

He kisses your forehead softly, his lips lingering. "You're my everything, Y/N. We'll move forward from this, stronger than ever."

⊹

୨♡୧ KIM TAEHYUNG ୨♡୧

You're at a serene park, the late afternoon sun casting long shadows on the ground. The tranquil setting, with its lush greenery and the soft rustling of leaves, opposite of your internal turmoil caused by your best friend's constant rivalry.

You sit on a wooden bench near a small pond, watching the ducks glide effortlessly across the water. Your mind is a whirlwind of emotions as you think about your upcoming wedding with Taehyung. The excitement and joy you should be feeling are overshadowed by your best friend's actions. She had planned her wedding for the same week as yours and hadn't even bothered to tell you, despite her recent engagement. When you confronted her, she called you hurtful things, saying Taehyung was with you out of pity and accusing you of always copying her.

You take a deep breath, trying to calm yourself, but the words still sting. The rustling leaves and gentle breeze do little to soothe your aching heart. You're so lost in thought that you don't notice Taehyung approaching until he's right beside you.

Taehyung, who was walking Yeontan around the park returns and sits down next to you, his usual playful and lighthearted energy noticeably subdued. Yeontan, his fluffy dog, sniffs around your feet before settling down with a contented sigh. Taehyung looks at you with his soulful eyes, full of concern. "Hey, what's wrong? You look really upset."

You glance at him, trying to hold back your tears. "It's just... everything with the wedding. And my so-called best friend. She planned her wedding the same week as ours and didn't even tell me. When I confronted her, she said I don't deserve you and accused me of copying her even though we have been engaged for a while and our wedding plans have been happening for months."

Taehyung's expression shifts from concern to a mix of anger and irritation. He reaches out his arm and wraps them around your shoulder to bring you closer. "That's not right. You don't deserve to be treated like that, especially by someone who's supposed to be your friend."

You squeeze his hand that is on your shoulder, finding some comfort in his touch. "I just don't understand why she's doing this. It's like she's always trying to compete with me, to one-up me. And now, this? It feels like she's trying to ruin our special day."

Taehyung's eyes flash with a protective fire. "You deserve better than this, Y/N. Our wedding should be about us, about our love and commitment to each other. If she can't be happy for you, then maybe she doesn't deserve to be a part of your life."

You look out at the pond, the ducks still gliding peacefully. "It's just so hard. She was my best friend for so long. But now, I don't even recognize her."

Taehyung pulls you even closer that your head is resting on his chest. "People change, and not always for the better. But you have to focus on what's important."

You nod, leaning into his embrace, feeling his steady heartbeat against you. "You're right. I need to let go of her and focus on us and people who actually care about me."

Taehyung's voice softens, filled with his signature gentle care. "Exactly. We'll get through this together, just like we always do. And I'll be right by your side, no matter what."

He kisses the top of your head, his lips lingering for a moment in a gesture of reassurance and love. "And remember, you deserve all the happiness in the world. Don't let anyone make you feel otherwise."

⊹

୨♡୧ JEON JUNGKOOK ୨♡୧

You're at a lively party celebrating your recent promotion, the room filled with upbeat music and the buzz of cheerful conversation. The glow of string lights and colorful decorations creates a festive atmosphere, with people mingling and enjoying themselves. Despite the celebration around you, you can't shake the feeling of disappointment.

Earlier in the week, you had received a major promotion at work, a milestone you were eager to share. You had organized this party to mark the occasion, hoping to celebrate with friends and loved ones. However, your best friend's response was underwhelming. She had offered a brief congratulation before quickly redirecting the spotlight to herself, as if your achievement was merely a backdrop for her own.

You're standing near the snack table, trying to enjoy the festivities while feeling overshadowed. The party's vibrant energy contrasts sharply with your inner frustration.

Just then, Jungkook arrives, his charm adding to the party's atmosphere. He spots you standing alone, looking unsettled, and makes his way over to you.

"There you are baby! it's your special day!" Jungkook says with a wide smile. Before you can react, he sweeps you up into his arms, spinning you around with playful enthusiasm. "Congratulations!"

As he sets you down, he leans in and places a series of soft, celebratory kisses on your cheeks, his eyes sparkling with joy. "I'm so proud of you. This promotion is amazing! I know how hard you worked for this. I'm so proud of you babe."

Your initial surprise and delight quickly fade as you catch sight of your best friend nearby, her forced smile and dismissive demeanor still fresh in your mind. You let out a sigh, feeling the weight of the day's events pressing down on you.

Jungkook notices the change in your mood, his expression shifting from playful excitement to concerned seriousness. "Hey, what's wrong? You don't seem as happy as you should be." You explain, "I'm glad about the promotion, but the way my best friend reacted? It feels awful. It's like my success doesn't matter unless it's about her."

Jungkook's smile fades. "Hey don't let that take over your mind. You should enjoy your celebration without feeling overshadowed regardless of how she acts. This is about you, pretty."

As if on cue, your best friend approaches, her smile now strained and forced. "Oh, Y/N, you're still here?" She says as if this party wasn't organized by you to celebrate your milestone. It made anger bubble up in you. "I was just thinking about how great it is that you got a promotion. It's nice, I guess, but let's talk about my new project. It's really making waves." She continues.

Before you have the time to reply, Jungkook sweeps in. "Actually, Y/N's promotion is a big deal because she worked very hard to achieve it. Maybe you could try being genuinely supportive instead of making it all about yourself."

Your best friend's smile falters and she scowls. "Are you seriously calling me out at your own party? I was just trying to be polite!" she says looking towards you as if she expected you to defend her behavior.

Jungkook remains firm, his tone unwavering. "Politeness isn't enough. If you're going to be here, you should show some real respect rather than always making everything about you."

The atmosphere of the party is now charged with tension, your best friend's frustration evident as she struggles to respond and instead she decides to storm out of there.

"Thank you for standing up for me," you say softly. "I really needed that."

Jungkook pulls you into a warm, reassuring hug. "You're worth celebrating, and I'm here to make sure you know that. Your success is important, and I'll always stand by you."

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joshiji-darlingyuyuno · 10 months ago

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ㅤ 🪸͟ ָ֢ ’’ 𐙚˙⋆.˚ 𝓶𝓮𝓮𝓽 𝓴𝔀𝓸𝓷 𝓼𝓾𝓲𝓷 ๋࣭ ⭑⚝

kwon suin masterlist

ᯓᡣ𐭩 ࣪. basics ୭ ˚. ᵎ

birth name: kwon suin 권수인

birth date: 1995..14..02

birthplace: goyang, gyeonggi province, south korea

residence: nonhyeon-dong, gangnam-gu, seoul

occupation: celebrity, artist, singer, dancer, producer, founder&director of Darling Entertainment

nationality: korean - greek (dual- nationality)

ethnicity: korean

languages: english, korean, french, greek, italian, japanese, chinese

height: 170cm

weight: 45kg

blood type: O+

partner: doh kyungsoo (exo's D.O)

status: married

mbti: infj

debut: 2007

ᯓᡣ𐭩 ࣪. career ୭ ˚. ᵎ

history:

2007 - duo group 'darling (달링)' with shin ryeonha (신련하)

2012 - debuts as a soloist

2015 - debuts with seventeen

2016 - debuts as an actress in descendants of the sun

position in seventeen: co-leader, main vocalist, producer, lead dancer, visual,

suin's/ 'darling's fandom: dearest (디어에스트)

her emojis: 🐋🪼🪸🪷🍡🌊🪐🎀🧸🫧🖇🩰

social media: @sususuinkw.n

weverse: @sususuinnova

brand ambassador: graff,, patek philippe,, dior,, alexandar mcqueen,, hermès,, van cleef& arpels,, brunello cucinelli,, bottega veneta

ᯓᡣ𐭩 ࣪. trivia ୭ ˚. ᵎ

she is seventeen's co-leader, meaning she shares the leader position with s.coups. this was because she was elected as leader by all the members and the company, but suin felt that s.coups would make a great leader, so they comprimised by having themn both leaders

she is the oldest member in seventeen and is their senior as she debuted in 'darling' in 2007

some of her nicknames include; original visual,, blueprint,, the trend,,original ace,, nation's center,, nation's daughter,, miss korea, korea's voice,,

she is a-list celebrity in hollywood, not just in korea

she was under a company called 'whipser' when she was active in 'darling' and for her solo career, then pledis was bought into her company. but in 2019, suin left whisper and started her own company named 'darling entertainment' after her group.

meaning she is the founder and director of the company

she is the creator of aespa

seventeen, ateez, aespa, btob, day6, and taemin are now under Darling Entertainment

she produces 80% of seventeen's songs alongside woozi, but she produces 100% of her own songs

she is the most credited artist, and the youngest artist to be awarded that title. she has credit for 600+ of her own songs, not included songs she produced for others.

she is the most known and recognized name in the korean industry

"if you don't know kwon suin in korea, you are a spy"

she is the hidden ace of going seventeen, she rivals jeonghan

she bought a multi-million penthouse in korea and she has another penthouse and vacation house in greece

she created the trends in kpop (not including her fashion influence); photocards, lightsticks, fansite, fansigns, fansign calls, fancams, idol content, tiktok challenges, singing osts, random dance, having lore, ending fairy, dance breaks, highlight medley, brand ambassador, dance practice, behind the scene videos, encore, personalised in-ears and mic, western collabs,

she popularized idols appearing in variety shows by appearing on "running man" and boosting their ratings

she was the first idol to have 'pre-releases' and an intro and outro track

she has an emotional support spoon

she was an ivf baby

she was the first idol to be a "new years couple" (when dispatch reveals couples on new years ykyk)

her ears go red when shes shy

she made the name 'carats' for the fandom

she concerts usually lasts for 4-6hrs, but once she had a 9hr concert and still didnt finish her entire discography

locals: "i don't know kpop, but i know suin and bts"

she is unfortunately the female idol that has been in the most danger

her newest nickname is "idol with the most aura"

and yes, suin and kyungsoo are married, they married in 2019, kyungsoo proposed in 2018, and they announced their relationship and engagement in the mv for "only" which even included their proposal video

ㅤㅤ kwon suin masterlist

comment for requests!

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mytaegiheart · 21 days ago

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Moan: A Dirty Shorts Fic

When he dances... he makes you Moan

Pairing: Idol!Hoseok x Female Reader

Rating: 18+ (minors DNI)

Notes: Inspired by a text prompt from one of my friends in my BTS Discord group and dedicated to her.

Moan

“Meet me at the practice studio.” was the text message you received from your boyfriend as soon as you left your job for the evening. Wondering what he was up to, you didn’t hesitate to ask the driver who picked you up to take you to the studio as soon as you were settled in your seat.

You could hear the loud bass thumping as soon as you stepped off the elevator, the vibrations felt through the soles of your shoes even under the thick carpeting in the hall.

You knew he didn’t like to be disturbed when he was practicing, so you quietly slipped into the room and found an out of the way spot to watch and observe.

He was dressed simply, black tank top, baggy sweats that rode low on his hips, threatening to fall to his knees. You felt your pulse spiking as you stared at his wiry but muscular frame.

His hair was a fluffed up mess, as if he'd been running his hands through it repeatedly. He kept telling you he was going to get it trimmed, but that was months ago.

He was pacing in the center of the room, head bobbing and eyes closed as he absorbed the music into his head, his body, his very soul.

You waited, barely breathing...

He starts subtly, slow. You can't feel it, nor see but as the music continues and he starts to get into the groove, you can almost touch it and taste it.

It's a feeling that grows, is almost tangible in the air.

He begins to hit his stride, body moving in ways that only he knows how to do. As he goes on, sweat begins to form at his brow, rolling down his face, drenching his chest and making the material mold to his form.

He goes harder, riding on the rhythm, seemingly not realizing you're in the room.

Dropping to the floor, his hips going deep as if he's making passionate love to something only he can see.

You wonder if he's thinking about you. Your thighs clench at the thought of it.

He moves across the room like water, pausing where you're sitting on the bench against the wall. His eyes snap open and pin you with a heated stare and your breath gets caught in your throat.

He drops to his knees in front of you, hands sliding up your legs and beneath your skirt to caress your thighs, placing enough pressure on them to make you open so he could slip his body between them. Your skirt rides up, exposing your thighs further to his probing gaze.

His lips ghost across yours, his breath warm as his arms slip around your waist. He yanks you close, forcing your breath from your lungs as desire creeps over you.

“H-Hobi!” you moan as his hands slip beneath your ass and pull you down onto his hard cock that is currently tenting his sweats. Dancing always did make him horny as fuck, and you were always the lucky recipient.

Tonight was no different.

He smirks, knowing he has that effect on you as he hikes you up into his arms and carries you across the room to pin you against the mirror at your back, grinding against you and making you moan deeply in your throat.

His lips cover yours, kissing you hard as he works to free himself from the confines of his sweats, and once freed, he yanks your panties completely off, promising to buy you a new pair as he wastes no time sliding his hard length inside of you.

You both moan at the feelings you invoke in each other.

Music still thumping, a new song playing, his hips start moving to the beat and all you can do is hang on, absorb and moan...

-End-

#bts #jung hoseok #bangtan sonyeondan #bts fanfic #bts fanfiction #Dirty Shorts #hoseok x reader

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bluemari23 · 1 year ago

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main masterlist

this is going to be my main masterlist where everything is going to be organized☺️

I write for whichever member I choose to. this is my blog and I reserve the right to write whatever I wish.

IMAGINES

SEVENTEEN

8:32 | choi seungcheol

where you feel insecure during a cuddly morning with your boyfriend

lemon tart | choi seungcheol

a new cafe for a much needed date brings out tons of giggles and plenty of kisses

soul glow | choi seungcheol

you attended your first concert, waiting a long time to see your ult group perform. unable to recognize a soul bond taking place, you leave early, leaving seungcheol to scramble to find you.

soul haze || choi seungcheol

soul glow pt.2

you had just gotten home after leaving the seventeen concert early, only for your phone to start ringing with what you think is the biggest joke of the century. it turns out, that maybe you left too early.

anything for you | choi seungcheol

where he can tell your feelings are becoming too much again and he decides to keep you with him for the day

new _world || choi seungcheol

the night of your 18th birthday left nothing to be desired; waking up to no hint of any soul bond left you one of the unbonded. almost eight years later, however, you find out that you are very much not unbonded, and that your soulmate is someone who you admire. very much.

darl+ing you || choi seungcheol

new _world pt 2

You were on your way to South Korea, leaving your life behind to follow your soulmate back home. Your anxiety runs amok, and Seungcheol tries his best to get to know you better.

don't wanna cry || choi seungcheol

you had been ignored and neglected again, on the night of your soul bond anniversary. you were tired and felt defeated. and it took just that for your soulmate to snap out of his funk and remind you of why you were soulmates.

sparkling || choi seungcheol

literally falling for your soulmate was not what you had in mind when you got up for your first day of work that morning.

BTS

muscle tension | park jimin

you feel a little stressed after a family visit and your husband helps relieve some tension

cake cake cake | jeon jungkook

your boyfriend eats the cake for a party and thinks he can get away with it

hey soulmate | min yoongi

your first day on the job doesn’t turn out the exact way you envisioned

inspiration | min yoongi

you had been called to your soulmates studio for "inspiration" and walked into an unexpected but not unwelcomed situation

remember our touch || bangtan

you try to push away your bad memories and your soulmates help you replace them with good ones.

ATEEZ

warm and soft | kim hongjoong

your soulmate knows exactly what to do when he can tell your stuck in your head, needing to just feel him against you.

dancing like butterfly wings || park seonghwa

you’ve been feeling a little down lately as you experience another flare up, and not wanting to feel like a burden, you try to to hide it from your soulmate.

festival love || kim hongjoong

you wait patiently for your soulmate to finish his practice rehearsal for the famous festival so you can go spend the day together before his performance. Things don’t necessarily go as planned but everything turns out alright in the end.

dazzling light || kim hongjoong

your soul bond activates at a concert and you seriously doubt your actually going to be able to meet them, not when they are on the stage and more than likely can't see the soul light that surrounds you.

HEADCANONS

BOYFRIEND BTS

bts and how they would kiss their s/o

bts and the place they like to kiss you the most

bts and how they would react to being jealous

bts and how they would react to their s/o being shy with other people

bts members and how they would react to their foreign s/o being the 8th member of bts (poly)

bts members and how they would react to their non-idol s/o (poly)

bts and how they would react to their s/o falling asleep in their lap

bts and how they react to their s/o's natural hourglass figure

bts and how they react to their small/petite s/o

bts and how they would ask you out after you've been friends for a while

bts and how they would react to their girlfriend trying to hide their pots flare up

bts and how they react to your niece/nephew saying their name

bts members and how they would love their plus-size s/o

bts when their independent soulmate suddenly wants to be babied

hybrid!bts when they are clingy with their mate

bts: sacrifice you or the world

BOYFRIEND SEVENTEEN

bf!seungcheol and how he loves his plus-size s/o

These works nor any part of their content may be republished, reproduced, translated or used in any manner without the express permission of purpleyoonn. These are works of fiction. The names, characters, places and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.

#bluemari23 #masterlist #main masterlist #oneshots #imagines

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mariabtsos · 1 year ago

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Never Ending ||m.yg||

Description: wasn't Yoongi the one that was supposed to give you flowers for no reason?

Genre: One-shot, Yoongi x f!reader, established relationship, fluff, Yoongi is literally the sweetest man alive (wbk)

WARNINGS: None, this idea came after seeing this really sweet like reddit post, it will be at the end of this post.

Word Count: 2.6k+

Ever since coming back from service, BTS’ comeback preparations had been nonstop. It was almost like their debut days, they started early and ended late, whether they were practicing the choreography for a new song or recording their parts again, or getting back into recording RUN BTS.

You and Yoongi had seen very little of each other, working almost opposite schedules with a Saturday or Sunday off sprinkled in where you would mostly sleep and catch up on what you had going on so far, having those little moments made all the time you missed him worth it, you loved them, it was how you were able to build your relationship in the first place.

You and him met when your best friend practically begged for you to come with her to a double date. Yoongi was the one you were paired with, and you connected almost instantly. You had so much in common, more specifically your mutual love for music and the art behind it, you had small dates where he would take you to his small studio space, he'd told you he was a trainee, and that he was set to debut soon with the guy your friend was on a date with.

A year later, the guy your friend dated didn't debut, but Yoongi did, and that's when the small gestures started, you were at every music show that you could be at, bought every album, and went to every showcase or small gig you could afford. Yoongi showed his gratitude in small ways, he would get you a single rose, or a small cheap necklace, or if he wanted to really treat you he'd save up and take you to a nice restaurant. And as his success grew he was able to give you more, although he wasn't one for extravagant gifts, he always gave you something that made you feel special.

Even whilst he was serving, at the end of each week when he came home he'd bring you flowers and your favorite food, you had never felt more loved.

And now that he was back, you wanted to show him just as much gratitude. He was working so hard to make their first comeback grandiose, and even if he was exhausted, he'd spend his days off spending his time with you only sleeping if you were accompanying him.

You decided to do something simple, you found a flower shop that did the most beautiful arrangements and you called, setting something up that you imagined Yoongi would like; they even gave you the choice to add some fruits, and what better for your boyfriend than to give him the absolute love of his life, tangerines. You hoped this would help him relax a bit, and feel your support even if you didn’t see each other much.

“Okay guys, why don’t you take five, hmm?” Sungdeuk announced to the room, the seven men and their backup dancers immediately heading for water or laying flat on the floor, the latter was Yoongi’s case.

“I said it in 2013 and I’ll say it again, I was told we would only rap, not dance,” Yoongi’s breathing was heavy as he spoke, causing his hyung and Jungkook who were laying on the floor to laugh. “This is good for you hyungs, at your old age you need to exercise to keep your joints healthy,” the maknae giggled, followed by chuckles and laughter around the room from their members and some of the dancers.

“Yah!” Jin yelled as he smacked Jungkook in the back of the neck.

“Yoongi-ssi!” he sat up as he heard their manager’s voice from the practice room door, “come to my office please,” Yoongi nodded, carefully standing up from his spot on the floor, softly kicking Jungkook after he loudly announced he was in trouble.

Yoongi giggled at the the whole thing, his mind slowly making his way back to you, he didn’t have to record anything today, maybe he’d go to his studio later and call you, yeah, that’s what he would do, they were told they wouldn’t be here till midnight today, and that they could sleep in tomorrow before they had to do some photoshoots for their upcoming album, so that meant he could get home before you did and make you dinner. You worked as a nurse, and unfortunately had been assigned 12-hour shifts the past couple of months; going into work at noon and getting out at midnight, by the time you got home and ready for bed, Yoongi would arrive, exhausted, but he still would want to at least have small conversation, your relationship was built with communication, and he wasn’t one to disregard it.

He met the man at the door and followed him to the elevator, reaching the floor where the offices were, they made it to his quickly, where Yoongi’s eyes almost popped out of his sockets when he noticed a medium-sized vase with a beautiful arrangement of flowers and small basket of tangerines. A little white piece of paper stuck out in the middle of all the flowers, Yoongi opened and he smiled so wide.

From Yn, just because. I love you ♡

“As you can tell, they are for you,” the manager chuckled humorously, “you better not fuck it up with her Yoongi-ssi,” he said candidly.

“I haven’t fucked up in 10 years, I don’t plan on starting now,” he kept re-reading your note, he thought your handwriting was beautiful, even when you didn’t.

When he made it back to the practice room with his flowers and tangerines his members immediately started teasing him, especially Jungkook. “Look at our hyung with his flowers! And they say chivalry is dead,” he would say, “yeah hyung, I thought you’re the one that’s meant to get her flowers?” Taehyung added, grabbing him by shoulders and ruffling his hair.

“Yah! Stop it, Ynie is sweet for doing this, don’t see how Yoongi hyung’s face is about to split into two?” Namjoon pointed out smiling, his dimples showing proudly.

They had lived together for 13 years after all, all Namjoon wanted was for his hyung to be happy, and the fact that you did that for him had his heart swelling with warmth. You were so good for Yoongi.

“I need you guys to talk me off of running to the jewelry store and getting her a ring,” the room went silent.

“You don’t have one already?!” Hobi piped up, smacking his shoulder, his good shoulder. Yoongi shook his head.

The guys look at each other, and then at Sungdeuk, “I don’t think no one’s going to talk you off of it Yoongi-ah, in fact, I think everyone should take the rest of the afternoon off,” he announced loudly, “you six, please help him set up,” he asked the other members who immediately pulled the cat-eyed man, grabbing all their stuff, including the flowers and tangerines, and headed out to prepare.

It was 8pm

They had made it to the jeweler just in time, they were lucky he owed Jimin a favor, otherwise Yoongi would’ve had to wait, and he sincerely didn’t think he could.

You guys had started talking more seriously about marriage about 5 years into your relationship, mainly because you had started to feel scared that with idol life, Yoongi would enjoy not being entirely tied down to a person. Thankfully that wasn't the case, and he'd promised you, when the time was right, he would get down on one knee.

He wasn't sure why it took him 10 years to come through with that promise.

Yoongi was grateful for your late nights of conversation after that, every so often you would have little YouTube marathons that would start with alcohol reviews and end in proposals, and he had remembered every comment you made about those rings, he’d also remembered the comments you’d made when one of your friends got engaged. He was able to find a beautiful ring, something he knew you’d like. His members helped get all the materials he needed, as they rushed to your shared apartment and started decorating the place, Yoongi and Jin cooked whilst the rest added finishing touches, at some point Jungkook went and got his camera, stating he’d be the one to stay so he could capture the moment.

Yoongi could complain about the maknae all he wanted, but there was no one as loyal and dedicated to his friends as him.

It was 11:30pm when they were finished, Jungkook and Yoongi were saying goodbye to the others as they made their way into the car they would have to share back to the HYBE building so they could get their own vehicles, they had all ran around in Yoongi’s car, a medium-sized SUV that barely fit all of them, but they managed.

“I call shotgun! I deserve it after going in hyung’s trunk,” Jimin ran after he had said his goodbyes, with Taehyung following closely behind as he whined about him getting shotgun, the rest walked away at a normal pace, not eager to deal with the soulmates and the game of rock-paper-scissors that they would certainly be playing.

Yoongi was pacing around, it was 12:48am now, you’d be home any minute now, Jungkook had hid behind the black sectional in your living room, thankful you had left some space between it and your wall due to the heating system. Yoongi started serving dinner, he’d kept it as warm as he could so that you could enjoy a warm meal before he asked what he believed to be one of the most important questions of your lives.

He heard the digital ping of you punching in the door code and he knew there was no backing out now.

You opened the door to find your house lit by small candles, your dining room table set up with your good plate set, and the flowers you had sent Yoongi as a centerpiece.

“Hi baby,” Yoongi smiled widely as approached you, kissing your lips softly, as if he was savoring you, “hey,” you sighed as he pulled away, as always he took your breath away, “did I miss an important day? Our anniversary has already passed, hasn't it?” you went through the different options nervously, and Yoongi could only chuckle at your silly concerns.

“No baby, I just wanted to thank you for the flowers,” he explained, taking your jacket off and grabbing your bag, putting them both away. You took off your shoes and slipped on your home one on, walking hand in hand with your boyfriend.

He pulled a chair out for you, you whispered a thank you and sat down; Yoongi left a kiss on your hair and went to sit down himself. He’d cooked your favorite meal, you both started eating, it was a comfortable silence at first, which you broke when Yoongi sat up to clean your dishes after you were both done. “How early did they let you all out for you to have pulled this off?” you asked him, supporting your chin on your fist as you watched him.

“Maybe…8:30?”

Your mouth dropped, he’d invested this much time to thank you for something so simple like flowers? You truly didn’t deserve him. Once he was done, he scrolled through his phone a bit, selecting one of the songs on the 3rd CD of Proof, he walked toward you and held out his hand, you recognized “Quotation Mark” almost immediately.

“We’re planning on making it a full group song,” Yoongi explained as he spun you around, making you giggle, how he wished to hear that sound forever.

And maybe, after tonight he would.

He danced around you, because truly they were planning on making it an OT7 song, and there was this bit of the choreo he had added for the purpose of what his plans were tonight. He truly hoped Jungkook was recording this, if you said yes like he hoped you would, he wanted to rewatch this every day until you were married, and eventually show it to your children. Here it came, the part that he’d be taking over once the song was done, the first half of Hobi’s rap was perfect for this.

“...Today, I make sure to throw my heart to you first, a safe landing with you, the catcher,” He got down one knee, pulling out the small velvety box from his pocket, you hands immediately covering your nose and mouth in shock, your eyes filled with tears as the song went on, Yoongi had stopped after he found himself tearing up.

“I’ve always known you were the one for me, you’ve been with me when I was nobody and when success came, you kept me humble, you kept my feet on the ground whilst being one of my biggest support systems. I told you when the time came, I’d get down on one knee, and your kind gesture today was what tied it all together for me, I don’t care if people think it’s not that big of a deal, it was to me.” your chuckled mixed with your sobs, “I want to be able to hear you giggle every day, and selfish as it maybe, I want you to be mine forever, would you marry me, Ynie?” the words left his mouth miraculously, as he was fully sobbing now.

Did your small gesture truly lead him to such a big decision? To join your lives as one was something you had dreamed of for a while, hell recently you’d had a dream of yourself and Yoongi dancing in what felt like cloud, with a beautiful white dress and him in one of those suits that made him look like absolute prince, you could only assume you dreamt of your wedding day.

“Baby my heart’s about to fall out of my ass please say yes,” he chuckled nervously, bringing you out of your thoughts. Poor guy, he’s probably watching you watch him and he’s thinking the worst.

“I’d like nothing more,” you thought Yoongi’s face would split in two, he wrapped his arms around your waist and pulled you in for a tight hug “and I promise to send you pretty flowers and tangerines every chance I get, for the rest of our lives,” you whispered. Yoongi couldn’t help himself, pulling away slightly so he could give you the kiss of a lifetime, he knew how much you love his lips.

“She didn’t say no hyungs!” You heard Jungkook’s distinct giggle and muffled cheers.

“You FaceTimed them?!” Yoongi whined, hiding his face in the crook of your neck. His dongsaeng walked out of his hiding spot, camera in one hand phone on another hand, “I thought you were recording with it!”

“I was recording with my Samsung, you know when you post this video they’ll want to see that,” the younger rolled his eyes, bringing the camera over so you could see the pictures.

“I wish I wasn’t wearing scrubs for this,” you complained, thanking your lucky stars there was no puking or excess of blood spilled on you tonight.

“You could’ve worn a burlap sack and Yoongi hyung would still think you’re the most gorgeous person alive noona,” Jungkook laughed, causing your fiancé to blush intensely. And between the guys congratulating you and Yoongi actually putting the ring on your finger, it really hit you that he was now your fiancé, and that your biggest dream had come true.

Your life would have a never ending amount of love, laughter and chaos, and you wouldn’t want anything else when it came to Yoongi.

A/N:

Hello! Sorry this took so long to get to you! I had a plan for this and when I saw this particular like reddit story thing I just NEEDED to do it with Yoongi. I hope y'all like it!

#bts fanfic #bts #min yoongi #yoongi x reader #yoongi fanfic #yoongi au

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ggukkiedae · 29 days ago

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home

date: late october - early november 2018

warning/s: overworking, talking about mark's graduation

notes from cia: i'm finally back! watch me attempt to catch everything up to now even though the main timeline's still in 2018 💀 anyway, dialogues in italics are spoken in english

word count: 1.8k

gif not mine, found it on pinterest~

hannah has a mini crisis over her identity as dream's hannah and 127's hannah

“Jeno!” Hannah laughed at Jeno’s sigh of relief when he saw her appear in front of him.

“Hannah, Thank God! Doyoung hyung, Mark hyung, and Haechan, they’re all making me sing their–”

“So fly, so hot,” Hannah sang into her mic, effectively interrupting Jeno, before placing her mic right in front of his mouth. Jeno gave her a look while continuing her lines, laughing while mouthing the words with him to help guide him.

“That was not cool,” he sighed while shrugging his coat off as soon as another member of 127 started singing.

“It was funny,” she smiled at him as his coat ended up resting on her shoulders and around her. She pulled it tighter around her, blocking the October air from reaching her skin through her short and thin clothes.

The company had decided to dress her in a short green velvet dress over a sheer chiffon black button down rather than a black shirt and green velvet suit like the rest of NCT 127. The company said something about capitalizing on her feminine charms to stand out from BTS who, although do make a point of making it known Miya was a girl, dress their female member simply in line with the concept

This was a decision she was all for because she loved the outfits they pitched for her for Regular, but her members were right when they pointed out she’d have to face the autumn elements.

“Any more laughs from you,” Jeno secured his coat at her front, “and I’m taking away your source of warmth.”

“You wouldn’t do that.”

Jeno shook his head, looking towards the rest of the members. “No, I wouldn’t. Hey, are you sleeping in the Dream dorms tonight? Because, well, Jaemin said he wanted to try cooking something and needed to know the head count before we come home. Renjun said you’d be there, but you didn’t tell me?”

“Hold that thought,” she patted his cheek before looking towards Mark, who made his way to her.

The two roommates successfully sandwiched Jeno in between their rap part, getting him to dance along with them. Jeno couldn’t do anything when Haechan came and blocked him from behind, trapping him between the three Dream/127 members.

Never once did the smile disappear from Hannah’s face. Yes, getting first place with 127 was amazing, but the energy was just different when she was surrounded by Dream. Like Johnny had noted, the aura of the three 127 maknaes changed whenever they were in Dream. For her, Dream has always been her home.

The lights in the practice room buzzed faintly above Hannah’s head, casting a dim glow over the glossy floor. She was sprawled across the center of the practice room floor, pulse racing as she finished running through the choreography for both “Simon Says” and “Regular” despite still promoting just the latter song. The pressure she felt months ago was starting to build up once again. How is it that she’s done technically two Korean 127 comebacks, a Japanese one, and is preparing for another Korean comeback when she hasn’t even been in 127 for a year yet.

But there was something else. It felt like something in her was shifting, and she didn’t know if she liked it.

When she did “Touch”, it felt natural to her because it fit in with the usual playful demeanor she had adapted to while performing with Dream. It was comfortable. Even “Regular” had a bit of that playfulness as well, but in a cooler way. When it came to “Simon Says”, well, each sharp movement matched with the cold stares she had been instructed to give started to make her wonder if she’d lose that bit of whimsy that she was fond of from growing up with Dream.

A soft knock on the door pulled her out of her thoughts. Without waiting for a reply, Jaemin slipped inside, his usual bright smile dimmed as he took in her exhausted form.

“Hey,” he sat down next to her sprawled out form, lightly patting her stomach, “Mark hyung said you weren’t home yet, so I decided to come check on you. Why are you still here?”

“Just getting some extra practice in,” she murmured, eyes closing for a moment.

Jaemin looked at her, observing her carefully. He knew something was taking up her ,ind, which was probably why she was constantly in the practice room. Though it wasn’t as bad as it was a few months ago, it was still concerning.

“Mhmm, like yesterday, and every day in the past week.” Jaemin gently pulled on her arm to have her sit up and cross her legs so they could face each other. “What’s up, Little Na? And don’t lie to me, we’ve known each other for long enough. I can tell there’s something in that pretty little head of yours bothering you.”

She gave him a tight-lipped smile as he poked her in the middle of her forehead. “I don’t know, Nana. I used to be so worried about not fitting in with the 127 oppas, you know? But now that I’ve been mostly working with them this year, and everyone’s telling me that I’m slipping into the mold easily, I’m kinda… scared?”

“Scared of what?”

“That I’m losing my whimsy. The part of me that makes me fit in with Dream.”

There was a brief moment of silence where Hannah’s words sunk into both of them. Then, without warning, Jaemin thumped Hannah on the side of her head.

“What the hell, Jaemin?!”

“You’re overthinking again,” he shook his head, a small smile on his face. “Hannah, you’re still you, you know that, right? Just because you’re broadening your concepts doesn’t mean you can’t do the old ones. It’s like us doing “Go” then “We Go Up”. Besides, Fans love you as Hannah, whether you’re being cute or cool or chic or whatever. Besides, glare at the camera and wear all the leather you want, Czennies will still find you cute.”

She rolled her eyes, laughing a little. “Now you’re just making fun of me.”

“Always,” he smiled before grabbing her hand, squeezing it. “But if you feel like this, don’t take it out on yourself like this, okay? Talk to us. We’re right here.”

This earned a nod from her.

“Good.” Jaemin stood up then helped her up as well. “Now let’s get you back to your dorm before Mark hyung starts to worry. Well, more than he already is.”

It was dark in the Lee siblings dorm when Hannah was dropped off by Jaemin, but the faint smell of re-heated dumplings met her as soon as she stepped through the door. She dropped her bag by the coffee table in the common area and looked up to find Mark hunched over his laptop on the dining table, already dressed for bed in his sweats and a random shirt, and hair messy like he’s been running his hands through his hair. His phone was propped up against a bottle of water next to his laptop, and his earphones were on.

As she walked towards him, he looked up. His eyebrows furrowed before he glanced towards his phone.

“Give me a second, Hannah just arrived.” He paused for a moment as if waiting for a response before looking up at Hannah and removing one of his earphones. “Hey, Hans. You’re back late. You okay?”

“I’m good, just practiced a bit more. You talking to Yoonmi?” Hannah tried to distract Mark, noticing his concerned look.

“Yeah,” Mark turned his phone so Hannah could wave to the younger girl. “She’s saying to tell you to eat and drink electrolytes. I have dumplings for you in the microwave.”

She smiled and walked to the kitchen, the sounds of Mark talking to his girlfriend fading to the background as she approached the microwave, grabbing a pair of disposable chopsticks and just taking the disposable tray of dumplings, not bothering to transfer them to a proper plate. She couldn’t be bothered to wash dishes tonight.

When she stepped out of the kitchen, she found Mark sitting on the couch expectantly, gadgets turned off, and a space next to him that she knew he cleared out for her. She sighed, moving to sit next to him and putting a dumpling in her mouth.

“Weren’t you talking to your girlfriend?”

“We were on call,” Mark began, pouring Hannah a cup of water, “for an hour and a half. That’s about two hours since we left the practice room. You’ve been pushing yourself too hard Hans. Again.”

His words, though not much behind them, seemed to hit her hard. Maybe it was the fact that the one who matched her perfectionism was calling her out?

“I don’t know,” she mumbled in between bites. “I’ve been a little worried lately. The more everyone says I’ve adapted to 127, the more I feel like I’m losing Dream’s Hannah. Is that weird?”

Mark shook his head, draping an arm behind her on the couch and lightly patting her head, a rare display of brotherly affection. “It’s not weird. It’s not completely the same, but I’ve been having thoughts along those lines.”

She looked up at him in surprise. “You have?”

He just nodded, staring at the wall like he was deep in thought. “I’m about to graduate from Dream. Dream has been my first team since SM Rookies. We were even supposed to Debut before 127. It’s always been my default home, but now? It feels a little like I’m leaving it behind.”

That was unexpected. Mark has never really opened up that easily to her, taking his role as her pseudo-older brother seriously. But for him to admit that to her… It must have been weighing on his mind for a while. And she didn’t even notice.

“I don’t want you to go,” she whispered, barely audible.

His hand moved to rest on her shoulder. “I don’t want to leave, either.”

They stayed like that for a while—no words, no pressure to fix anything. Just the quiet comfort of knowing they weren’t alone in their fears.

After a minute or so of silence and quietly comforting each other, Mark let out a soft laugh. “You do know Johnny hyung’s gonna get all naggy now that you’re overworking yourself again, right?”

A laugh slipped from her as well as she leaned her head on his shoulder. “Doie oppa already chewed my ear off last week when he dragged me out of the practice room. It was 8PM, it wasn’t even that late!”

“Also look at this,” Mark showed her his phone holding messages from Taeyong, all variants of asking if she’s eaten or rested.

“Ugh,” she gave a playful groan, “127 is just a bunch of dads.”

“Only because the hyungs care,” Mark laughs.

The truth of the statement settled in her, easing the ache in her chest by just a bit. Sure, she still had her worries about the inevitable change, but it was okay. She had Dream and 127 by her side.

taglist: @1-800-enhypennabi @strwberrydinosaur @sunflower-0180 @caratinylyfe @1-800-minji @one16core @kimhyejin3108 @chansols @akshverse @world-full-of-roses @stopeatread @allthings-fandoms

drop an ask or a dm if you wanna be added or taken out of the taglist 🥰 requests are also open!

#hannah.wegoup #hannah.regular #lee hannah #hannah #nct female member #nct female addition #nct 127 female member #nct 127 female addition #nct dream 8th member #nct dream female member #nct dream female addition #hannah.nonah #hannah.minnah #hannah.markhan

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magic-shop-stories · 2 months ago

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BTS as fathers pt.1 - JIN

other members

YOONGI,

pt.1 - JIN

Jin’s parenting style is a mix of dad jokes, Gucci sweaters, and unconditional love. He’s the dad who embarrasses you at school drop-off but also makes you feel like the most important person in the world.

💖 Emotional Side & Feelings

Soft Dad

Emotionally open

Hugs

Jokes

Dad humor

Proud, constant bragging

Quiet worries, late-night Googling parenting tips

Love language: acts of service & gift-giving

2 AM snack runs,

surprise Gucci bags

Jin radiates warmth and vulnerability. Despite his confident public image, he’d always double-check if he’s doing enough, staying up late for parenting research and cherishing every hug.

👨‍👧‍👦 What He Does With His Kids

Cooking sessions: Famous Jin Ramyeon with extra flair

King of dad jokes

“Why don’t eggs tell jokes? They’d crack each other up!"

Gaming sessions: competitive, yet lets them win

Spontaneous trips: luxury resorts, hilarious camping mishaps

Fishing lessons with tunes (Super Tuna is probably his childs first dance)

Whether you're in the kitchen or on a spontaneous adventure, Jin’s hands-on approach would ensure every moment is playful and full of life, even if it means struggling with a tent or joking over a shared gaming victory.

📚 What He Teaches Them

Confidence

“Walk like you own the place, even to the bathroom.”

Kindness & respect for all

Humor

“Laugh at yourself, it’s free therapy.”

Hard work: BTS journey stories, perseverance lessons

Jin’s life lessons would come straight from his heart and experiences. He would encourage his kids to be confident, kind, and resilient, reminding them that every challenge is an opportunity to shine.

💎 His Beliefs & Values

Family first

Be yourself

Embrace quirks

Luxury ≠ love: Gucci closet ≠ true happiness

Unconditional support

Balancing high fashion with heart, Jin would instill the belief that material things are secondary to love and self-expression, a core value from his own journey in the spotlight.

🚫 What He’s Strict About

“I know you’re upset, but let’s talk about what happened and how we can do better next time,” he would gently explain, his tone firm yet understanding.

Respect

“You can be mad, but you can’t be mean.”

Honesty: Own up to mistakes

“Even the best of us stumble sometimes. Let’s learn how to stand tall again,”

Screen time limits: Encourages outdoor/family time

🤒 Handling Tough Situations

Sick: Transforms into a full-on nurse (homemade soup, fluffy blankets, cuddles)

Misbehavior: Calm, clear consequences (extra chores, no gaming)

Sad/heartbroken: Cheerleader, ice cream runs, shoulder to cry on

“Appa’s here. You’ll feel better soon.” “It’s okay to cry, it just means you’re brave enough to feel. I’m here, always,” he whispers during moments of heartbreak.

In every tough moment, Jin would be the reliable pillar of comfort and guidance, making even the worst days a little brighter with his endless care.

🎁 Typical Gifts

Jellycats: Daughter’s growing collection (“Limited edition bunny!”)

Designer items: Practical Gucci sneakers, ALO hoodies for his son

Experiences: Trips, concert tickets, cooking classes

“Let’s make memories, not clutter.”

Every gift from Jin would be chosen with thoughtfulness, merging fun, style, and practicality to create unforgettable family memories.

👧👦 Parenting Differences: Daughter and Son

For His Daughter:

Extra protective yet encourages independence

Biggest hype man at dance recitals/art shows

Teaches self-value

“You’re strong, smart, and beautiful.”

For His Son:

Laid-back, yet fully engaged

Role model for kindness and respect

Emphasizes emotional expression

“You’ve got this, champ. I’m here.”

Jin would adapt his style to suit each child’s needs, nurturing creative confidence and empowering his son to be both sensitive and strong.

💬 Typical Things He Says

“Appa’s here. Everything’s going to be okay.” “Did you know I’m worldwide handsome? And you’re worldwide amazing.” “If you’re going to cry, cry in a Gucci sweater. At least you’ll look good.” “Life’s too short to eat bad food. Let’s order...”

🌟 Family Rituals

Sunday Brunch: Pancakes, bacon, dad jokes

Movie Nights: Popcorn, blankets, narrated flicks

“That guy’s definitely the villain, just look at his eyebrows!”

Birthday Traditions: Serenades, personalized gifts

Everyday Teachings: from tying shoelaces to understanding emotions, teachings are laced with humor and heartfelt advice, e.g. fixing a scraped knee, encouraging a new hobby, he’s always saying:

“Every challenge is a chance to shine. Let’s find the lesson in it together.”

Routine would meet whimsy in Jin’s home, where every Sunday brunch and movie night is an opportunity for laughter, love, and unforgettable family bonding.

🌍 Balancing Fame & Family

Prioritizes kids over busy schedule

“I might be on stage in front of thousands, but at home, I’m just your dad who loves you more than anything,” he confides with a soft chuckle

Flies back from events for school plays

Shields kids from media scrutiny

Involves them in work: photoshoots, red carpet outfit selections, taking them to dance practice to see BTS uncles

Even as a global icon, Jin’s heart would remain at home, ensuring his family life is as rich and genuine as his public persona.

💭 His Worries & Efforts

Concerned about career absences

Overcompensates with quality time & thoughtful gestures

Balancing discipline with fun

Constantly learning; texting BTS members (especially Yoongi) for advice

Jin’s journey as a dad would be filled with earnest efforts to balance his professional success with the intimate joys and challenges of parenting, always striving to be the best version of himself for his kids.

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thatgoddamngingerundercut · 8 months ago

Text

It must be tough for you. Things might not go the way you want them to all the time, but I'm sure they also give you a solid reason to keep living. If not, everyone would be lying on the ground already. If it's unreachable, you don't have to struggle so much, but it's worth giving it a try.

From those whose lives you've changed,

Happy Birthday, Kim Namjoon

[BANGTAN BOMB] 'Dynamite' Stage CAM (RM focus) @ 2020 AMAs - BTS (방탄소년단) [CHOREOGRAPHY] BTS (방탄소년단) '달려라 방탄 (Run BTS)' Dance Practice [EPISODE] BTS (방탄소년단) 'Black Swan' MV Shoot Sketch [RAW] ITS Bangtan ver. S2E2 Fly to -ITS- with Bangtan [RAW] ITS BTS ver. EP.7 BTS Cooking Challenge [RAW] Summer Package 2017 BTS: Yet to come - UGH! | Amazon Prime Me, Myself, and RM ‘Entirety’ Photoshoot Sketch RM 'Groin' Official MV RM 'LOST!' Official MV RM 'ㅠㅠ (Credit Roll)' Official MV

#bts #kim namjoon #rm #bts rm #bangtan #bangtan sonyeondan #bts gifs #rm gifs #my gifs #happy namjoon day #welcome to 30 baby #literally he changed my life #like not to be Like That #but I often think 'namjoon wouldn't want me to think this way' whenever my brain turns against me #bangtan bdays

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dudadragneel · 7 months ago

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Hello, guys! It's me!

Sorry for going MIA again, there's just a lot going on 😅

But hey, another fic for you!

This one was a request from @fairyniceyeah !

I'm sorry this took AGES to be ready and posted....(Insert here Sponge Bob square pants "2000 years later")

also I'm sorry if this request took a certain turn...

STP - Standard Temperature and Pressure

BEHIND THE BEAT

Before becoming an idol, Minho was a professional dancer and a backup dancer for BTS, so dancing was a serious topic for him.

He'd always participate in the creation process of their choreographies and it always had to be perfect. Of course they had fun, but when it was time to get serious, they got really serious.

Whenever they had to spend so much time inside that practice room, dancing for hours on end, they remembered their trainee days.

And those days weren't one bit easy.

They had a choreographer but the one who'd mostly work on the choreographies, work with the boys and guide them through it, was Minho.

And when he entered dance practice mode, he could be as scary as pre-debut Chan. So much so that even Chan would get a little scared sometimes.

It was honestly impressive how attentive to details and mistakes Minho was.

They always wondered "how can a single pair of eyes keep track of movements from seven different people?"

Well, that's just how good of a dancer he was.

It was a tiring job and stressful as well, after all he had to be able to deal with seven different dancing styles and personalities.

Felix and Hyunjin were part of Danceracha so he didn't really worry about those two and they did their best to help Minho to the best of their habilities.

But at the end of the day, if anything went wrong or if things weren't going as smooth as everyone wished, he'd take all the blame to himself.

He had pride on what he did.

If the members weren't getting the moves right, wasn't him a bad teacher?

That's exactly how his mind worked, despite everyone trying to tell him he was doing a perfect job.

This time they were preparing for a really big comeback that would be followed by a tour, which meant: no time to rest, no openings for mistakes.

The boys gathered at JYPE's famous cafeteria to have lunch and discuss some of the things they had to work on.

Chan was explaining how they'd record the tracks, how much time he'd need to work with the members on their parts etc.

On the other side, Minho was also doing the same, planning out how many hours they'd have to practice in a day and such.

They knew it all too well how hectic it got when a comeback was around the corner, and yet, they couldn't keep themselves from already feeling utterly tired. Even if they hadn't done much yet.

Sometimes they'd wonder how in heavens they decided on that career and how it would be to just live a normal life.

But those thoughts would always be replaced with some sort of relief, after all they'd also wonder how it would've been if they never met each other. And that thought alone would make any of them tear up. That was just how much they meant to each other.

After they were done with their lunch, they rested for a little while and went straight to dance practice.

Minho's mind was swimming with ideas for the choreographies and he needed to practice them, he needed to see how the movements inside his mind would be shown in real life.

So the dance practices would usually went like this:

Minho would make the boys stretch long enough so they didn't have any cramps or injured themselves.

And then he'd stand in front of the mirror practicing the moves alone for a moment and sharpening them before gathering the others to teach them.

While he did that, the practice room was utter chaos, the boys were running around or lying down or laughing, just simply being themselves.

And while Minho sometimes wanted to punch them, he'd be lying if he said he didn't like that chaos.

- Ok guys! Come on!

After a while, Minho entered his dance practice mode and gathered everyone to start teaching the dance moves.

Most of the time, the group wouldn't make many mistakes, specially Danceracha and more specifically Minho.

Well, sometimes Felix would get some moves wrong or just not do them as sharp as the others but it was due to his back problem. Everyone always reassured him it wasn't his fault but still he was harsh on himself.

And if Felix punished himself like that, Minho did that to himself a 100 times worse. After all, he was a dancer who became an idol, he was a professional dancer before all this, so in his mind, he couldn't make any mistakes.

Yet, while working on the dances for the impending comeback and tour, the universe just seemed to have some sort of conspiracy against him.

Every so often, he'd miss a step, dance off beat, or even forget a little part of the choreography which was really unusual for him.

The boys were already getting worried, they weren't used to seeing him that much out of control of his own movements.

And he was starting to get stressed, really stressed.

Whereas Chan's anger would make him raise his voice a bit and use a harsher tone, Minho's was a more silent one.

Sometimes he wouldn't even mutter a single word.

There would be just this aura surrounding him and whenever one of the boys would dare approach him, he'd just look them dead in the eye.

Like a tiger looking at its prey.

And that was warning enough for the others to back off. In these type of situations, Chan was the only one who could break through Minho's walls and attempt to understand his feelings and calm him down.

The dance practice continued for another hour and so did Minho's mistakes.

"Fuck!"

"Why is nothing going right today?"

He thought to himself.

Not once, not even once he managed to dance the entire routine without making a few, as he'd say, dumb mistakes.

Their choreographer didn't know what was going on. Hell, not even himself was understanding what was happening to him.

Minho was getting progressively stressed and angry. He was acting the same way he acted when he was mad at his stage outfits.

Chan and the boys knew exactly where this was going.

The choreographer called for a quick break so that everyone could catch their breath and Chan took this opportunity to try and talk to Minho, and hopefully understand what was going on.

Minho sat down on the couch, throwing his beanie and cursing.

Oh, he was beyond angry. He was fuming.

Chan sat beside him in silence. Analyzing the situation, the leader understood that trying to get him to say something might worsen the situation.

If Minho needed to say something, he would, if not, Chan wouldn't push him into doing so.

- Damn it! Sorry, hyung.

He immediately apologized for cursing in front of his leader.

And Chan saw that as an opportunity to speak to him, careful not to get him more stressed.

- Is everything okay?

Chan asked with such a gentle tone that Minho almost broke down in sobs.

- Yeah, I'm fine.

He answered, a bit colder than he wanted, but he wasnt in control of his body, let alone his mind.

- Okay.

For a moment Minho thought he hurt Chan's feelings since the leader gave a short answer. He'd even risk saying it was just as cold as his.

But maybe it was just his mind, getting annoyed by the littlest thing.

The fact is, deep down inside, he wished Chan would've insist on asking because part of him wanted to tell someone how he was feeling, if he managed to understand what exactly was it.

The other part, the proud one, didn't want to admit that he wasn't okay. It seemed like this part wanted to show the others and himself, that he could handle things on his own, just like Chan.

And he did manage to deal with things on his own a lot of times but he had already asked for help on a few occasions.

Why didn't he want to seek help now?

He didn't know.

His thoughts were starting to eat him from the inside.

And then, the break was over.

In STP, Minho would be happy to resume dancing. But this time, he was stuck between wanting to dance and make up for his mistakes or not dance at all afraid of keep on making mistakes.

Honestly? It had been some time since the last time his mind took over like this.

And he wasn't liking it, not one bit.

To add to his stress and frustration, his whole body was starting to ache and a weird feeling had settled in his stomach a while ago. But he was so frustrated that he didn't even notice.

Great. Now he had to dance afraid of making more mistakes and conscious of the annoying feeling in his stomach.

And just like the beginning of practice, the mistakes just kept coming.

He was so out of tune with his own dancing that he wasn't even able to analyze the other members.

How could he, when he himself wasn't getting the steps right?

He'd just be a hypocrite.

The members however, were getting really worried seeing Minho like that.

Each time they made a mistake, they looked at Minho, waiting for a correction or something but nothing.

And now Minho was feeling even worse than before.

He felt like his body was about to crumble, his vision was kinda blurry and his mind, oh his mind. It was corrupting him from the inside.

At the same time he couldn't exactly see the members properly, it seemed like he could sense everything inside the room.

And he felt like everyone's gaze were locked on him, piercing through his body, as if criticizing him from head to toe.

Members, choreographers, staff, everyone.

And in fact, they were, but not the way he imagined.

They were looking at him concerned, trying to understand what was happening to him.

Practice went on and so did the mistakes. At some point the choreographer questioned him what was happening but he couldn't really answer so he just muttered an excuse.

Although they had a good relationship with their staff, Chan would get angry at them if he thought they were pushing the members into talking or admitting something or just making them uncomfortable.

And Chan felt something building inside him.

The choreographer didn't use a harsh tone nor was he reprimanding Minho, but Chan since sensing something was wrong with his dongsaeng, he became overprotective.

Changbin noticed Chan starting to get restless and discreetly talked to him, whispering so no one would hear him.

- Hyung.

The younger rapper said, touching Chan's shoulder and bringing him back to reality.

- I know what you're thinking. We noticed Minho-hyung is acting strange. But the choreographer is talking to him normally. Please don't get worked up.

- I know, I know.

Chan sighed and then took deep breaths to calm himself down before he talked back to the choreographer, who was not at fault, and created a bad situation.

And quiet honestly, he also wasn't at fault. He was just caring and protecting Minho, after all he was his dongsaeng and he was supposed to be a leader.

When the choreographer seemed satisfied with Minho's explanation, if there really was one, he resumed practice one more time.

By now it was agonizing to keep dancing. Not only was he not getting the steps right at all, he was also slowing down the others, making practice last way longer.

Minho was feeling so utterly frustrated at himself that the last thin line of focus he had, was completely cut off.

His movements became sluggish, he felt his body tingling and his vision was getting more blurry than before.

He just wanted that practice to end. No, the whole day. And start anew the next day.

It was hurting the boys, specially Chan, to see Minho like that. Because he couldn't get through to him earlier and he knew his dongsaeng didn't like to admit to feeling unwell. But this was getting out of hand.

It felt like Minho had been replaced by someone else.

He kept on dancing, like he was on autopilot, still trying to get the steps right.

Then the choreographer called another break.

And that was when everything crumbled.

The others sat down on the ground, some lay down, feeling tired from the last 3 hours of dancing.

Chan, though, kept his gaze focused on Minho.

The younger man stumbled to the side of the room, bracing himself against the wall.

He would dare say he felt like he was about to die.

When the adrenaline started to subside, he became hyper aware of everything he was feeling, both physically and mentally.

He was overcome with guilt of not getting things right and making the others put on an extra amount of unnecessary effort.

His mind was not giving him one moment of peace and neither was his body.

He couldn't breathe properly, he tried to but it felt like there was no oxygen going inside his lungs, as if his chest was being squeezed. His back was heaving up and down, getting faster each passing second.

His whole body felt like jelly and about to shut down, he felt like all his muscles were close to relaxing all at once.

The rapid breathing made him feel incredibly dizzy, his vision was blurring even more than before and he felt unsteady on his feet, thank god for that wall.

And to top it off, his stomach was rebelling against him. Every single emotion he was feeling, was being reflected in his stomach.

It churned and his lunch was sloshing around like a washing machine, he could already taste the bile in his mouth.

He kept his back turned to the others, desperately trying to get a hold of his own body. But it wasn't working.

His breathing was not going back to normal and it made him feel like he was on the verge of a panic attack.

The nausea was overwhelming him and he tried to fight it back, swallowing convulsively and clenching his fists for dear life. He didn't dare move a muscle and he was actually surprised how he hadn't collapsed yet.

Seeing how his state deteriorated quickly when they took this las break, the members were extremely concerned about him. But at the same time they didn't know if trying to get close to him would be a wise idea.

Almost all of them looked at Chan, desperate for a signal from the leader but before he could raise a hand and nod them a "no", one of them was already missing: Hyunjin.

He and Minho bickered all the time but they loved each other and Hyunjin was just as worried as the others.

He got closer to Minho and placed a hand on his sweaty back making him flinch a little and quickly looking up at him and then dropping his head again, already running out of strength to hold his body.

The younger dancer felt his hyung's back heave up and down quickly and how his hands were clenched in such tight fists, he was worried Lee Know was gonna hurt himself.

Minho tried to focus on Hyunjin's hand on his back for dear life, everything was too overwhelming and he felt like he could faint at any minute. Hyunjin's presence was the only thing that was barely keeping him grounded.

- Hyung?

Hyunjin called out, tilting his head a bit so he could see Minho's face, getting no response.

But the older dancer was in such a state that he wasn't even listening Hyunjin's voice, actually, he wasn't even sure he processed it was Hyunjin who was by his side.

He was basically hyperventilating now and his lunch was threatening to make an appearance really soon.

Minho kept his head low, eyes focused on the ground, fists and jaw clenched, swallowing down the rising nausea. And in the midst of it, trying to get his breathing under control.

But it was no use, it was a battle he wasn't gonna win even if he tried.

Hyunjin moved his hand to his hyung's shoulder, squeezing it and trying to bring him back to earth. And he then positioned himself in front of Minho, lowering himself a bit so he could try to meet his gaze.

But that was the wrong move.

The moment Hyunjin appeared in front of Minho was also the moment he lost his battle against his stomach.

He felt liquid rushing up his chest and hitting the back of his throat faster than he could react.

And then he bent down a little further retching a thick stream of vomit that hit the ground with a sickening sound and unfortunately, got on Hyunjin's shoes.

The younger one was shocked at first but quickly recollected himself while the others rushed to them.

Hyunjin stepped back a bit, trying to stay away from the upcoming mess but kept a firm hand on his hyung's back.

Minho vomited another wave that left him breathless and dizzy.

He was about to lose all strength in his body when Chan and Changbin got by his side and grabbed him.

- Don't worry, Minho-ah, we've got you.

Chan reassured as both him and Changbin gently lowered him down.

- Can someone grab a towel? And some water?

Chan asked and then immediately turned his attention to Minho who was still breathing erratically and gagging unproductively.

- It's okay, it's okay. You're gonna be okay.

The leader cooed, rubbing his dongsaeng's back up and down while also brushing the hair out of his face, only to reveal trails of tears on his cheeks.

Chan's heart sunk to the ground when he saw that, because it only meant that Minho was dealing with something that was bothering him so much to the point of crying.

And Minho crying was a rare sight.

Chan also knew that he never liked to show his weakness to the others, not even tears, so he didn't say anything.

One of the boys came back with a towel and put it in front of Minho to cover the mess on the floor and prevent it from getting bigger.

He kept on gagging unproductively and it was clear that it was hurting him.

-Hey, it's okay.

Chan then noticed that Minho was holding it in, he knew that throwing up in front of everyone, members and choreographer and, well, on Hyunjin's shoes had left him mortified.

Even if the mess had already been done, he'd rather hold everything in than continue to display how out of control he was.

And Chan knew that.

- Kids, Hyung-nim.

Chan said with a authoritative tone, though very gentle at that.

And the others didn't need any other word to understand what he meant and quickly left the room. Too many people and too much attention would only worsen Minho's condition.

- There we go, Minho-ah. It's just you and me here.

Minho was still fighting against the nausea, even though it was just the two of them inside the room.

Wasn't he being humiliated enough?

He grabbed the fabric of his pants, gripping it with all his force, trying to contain the nausea by swallowing convulsively and taking deep breaths.

- It's okay, Minho-ah. No one is watching you, I'm the only one here, okay? Throw up if you need to, don't hold it in, it'll only make you feel worse.

Chan reassured, running his hand up and down Minho's back, his touch so gentle it was making him start crying again, though silently.

He slowly allowed himself to start relaxing and by doing that, his stomach immediately responded by contracting.

Minho lurched forward, more vomit escaping his lips and soiling the towel the boys had placed on the ground.

- That's it. You're doing good, just let it all out.

Chan said with a gentle voice while rubbing his dongsaeng's back up and down and then in circles, feeling how it heaved up and down with each retch.

Another wave came out, even stronger, coming out of his nose as well and hurting his throat in the process.

And feeling the texture of the food in his mouth as well as the tiny pieces in his nose didn't help, it only triggered another wave.

- Hyung....

Minho said with a weak and shaky voice after the bout was over.

- I know, I know. You'll be okay.

The smell of sick seemed to have impregnated in his nose after coming out of it.

He tried blowing it to see if he could get rid of what seemed to be rice and that caused a round of unproductive retches.

Eventually another wave of putrid vomit made its way out and this one left his body shaking from the effort.

And to add to his misery, he managed to choke on a piece of undigested food and started coughing.

- Don't worry, hyung will help you, okay?

Minho didn't even have strength to answer his leader, he just wanted that to be over with.

Chan changed his approach and started to rub Minho's chest, trying to provide comfort and help dislodge what got stuck in his throat.

The dancer kept coughing and gagging, but nothing was coming up and he knew there was more that needed to get out.

He clutched his stomach because it was hurting so much and it wasn't giving him a break.

- Minho-ah, do you think you still have to puke?

Minho nodded weakly.

- Okay, I'll try something but it might be uncomfortable, okay?

Chan moved his hand from Minho's chest to his abdomen, more precisely to the middle and started to massage it, applying a bit of pressure every time.

It seemed to be working because Minho was gagging again and soon it brought up another bout of sick that mixed with the rest in the already soiled towel.

And Chan returned his attention to rubbing his dongsaeng's back, trying to make the ordeal less excruciating.

Minho still puked a few times and it felt like his stomach was determined to turn itself out. Even in his dazed state he was wondering how there was still things in him for him to vomit.

And Chan was getting worried that Minho's stomach was trying to get rid of all the food he ate in the past few weeks.

After about 45 minutes since everything started, Minho was just dry heaving and still gagging a bit. It really looked like his stomach wanted to get rid of itself.

- That's it. You did great.

Chan murmured to him still rubbing his back in soothing circles and his chest as well.

Minho didn't know why but that felt heavenly and comforting, and if he was being really honest to himself, he didn't want Chan to stop it.

- Let's get you away from this mess, okay?

The leader carefully helped Minho to another area in the practice room and sat beside him.

- Hey, can I go and dispose of that towel? Or can I ask someone to come get it?

Minho nodded a weak no.

He didn't want to be alone and he definitely didn't want to be seen.

- That's okay. We'll deal with that later. I'm right here, okay? I'm not going anywhere. Do you wanna try some water?

- mhmm

That was the first sound of his voice Chan heard after that long ordeal.

- Here, rinse out your mouth.

Chan said helping Minho take a sip to just wash his mouth and get rid of the awful taste in his mouth.

- Hey, do you think you can drink a little bit? Just small sips.

Minho hesitated at first but then nodded but he was too out of it and feeling too weak to hold the bottle.

So Chan gently brought it to his lips, tilting it slightly helping him take small sips. And the cold water helped soothe his throat a little bit, even though his stomach wasn't exactly happy about it.

Chan then grabbed a bucket and set it beside Minho so he could rinse his mouth and well, be there just in case.

None of them wanted that room to get any dirtier and they were feeling pretty bad for the staff who'd clean it after.

Chan gently brushed Minho's hair behind his ear to reveal the trails of tears one more time. He also noticed that his face was flushed, most likely due to the embarrassment and his eyes and nose were red from the crying.

He tenderly wiped away a tear that was running down Minho's cheek with his thumb.

- Hey, Minho-ah....do you want to tell me what happened?

He asked with the most gentle tone known to mankind and that broke Minho once more. He started sobbing but he still didn't want to lift his head.

- It's okay if you don't wanna talk about it now. We'll stay here as long as you want, I won't go anywhere.

Chan said reassuring Minho and putting a hand on his shoulder giving it a squeeze, as if proving his words.

He continued to rub Minho's back in soothing circles as the younger boy continued to cry and for some reason the tears just wouldn't stop falling.

Eventually he started to calm down and the sobs stopped, the only sound was now his sniffing.

Apart from that, the room was completely quiet and like Chan said, he was not gonna pressure Minho into talking, so he stayed silent.

- 'm sorry...

The silence was broken by Minho's weak voice, barely a whisper.

He had his head between his knees, looking at the ground with tears still dropping and creating a small puddle.

- Why are you apologizing, hm?

Chan asked softly, stroking his dongsaeng's hair and patiently waiting for his response.

- Because I messed up....and made you guys practice more than needed....

- There's nothing to apologize for, Minho-ah...

- I couldn't get anything right...no matter how hard I tried, I couldn't concentrate and-

He stopped to catch his breath as he felt his chest tightening, a sign that he was on the verge of a panic attack.

- Hey, hey, take it easy. Breathe. You don't need to rush, okay?

Chan reassured as he grabbed Minho's hand and he instinctively squeezed his in return, trying to ground himself.

- Take deep breaths, slowly.

Minho followed Chan's instructions and started to calm down and continued talking.

- Nothing was working and I couldn't even pay attention to you guys and we're so close to the comeback and the tour, this is not supposed to happen....

- Minho-ah, you don't need to put so much pressure on yourself. And this is coming from a person that does exactly the opposite so I don't think I have much say on the matter hahaha.

Chan joked, earning a weak laugh from the dancer.

- But seriously, don't be so hard on yourself. We all have our "off" days, it's completely normal.

- I know, hyung....but-

He was cut off by a sob and then his mind took control again. It flooded with thoughts of not being able to get the steps right even if he tried his best, missing steps during the actual performance, not being able to pour out his 110% on stage.

It was mortifying.

And before he could even notice, he was already having a panic attack. He was hyperventilating, he couldn't stop crying and those thoughts refused to go away.

- They won't stop coming! Hyung, make it stop...

Minho pleaded between sobs and gasps of air.

- Hey, hey, Minho-ah. I need you to breathe.

Chan said placing a hand on his shoulder, trying to bring him back to reality.

- I- I can't--

- Yes, you can. Come on.

Chan was respecting Minho's space to the best of his habilities, but the situation was now escalating and he had to intervene.

He gently lifted Minho's head and turned it towards him, so his dongsaeng was now facing him.

And it took every ounce of strength in his body to keep his composure seeing him like that.

- Look at me. You're gonna breathe with me, okay?

Minho nodded weakly, although unsure if he'd actually be able to.

Chan guided the dancer's hand towards his chest so he could feel his breathing pattern, while holding his other hand.

- You can feel my breathing. It's slow and steady, right? I want you to try and do the same. I know you can do it.

Lee Know tried to but it was just so hard, it felt he was underwater, trying desperately to take in any air but failing. And his mind just kept on repeating the same thoughts over and over again, like a broken record.

He squeezed Chan's hand until his knuckles turned white, his nails almost digging into his hyung's hand, trying to push those thoughts away.

- Keep trying. You can squeeze my hand as hard as you need. But I need you to keep trying, keep on focusing on my breathing.

It took some time, but eventually Minho started to regain control over his breathing. He focused on Chan's breathing as the leader instructed and slowly evened his.

His grip on Chan's hand started to loosen up.

- There we go. Feeling a bit more calm now?

Chan asked wiping away the tears from Minho's eyes and cheeks but never letting go of his hand on his chest.

- Yes...

Minho answered weakly, clearly exhausted and embarrassed about everything that happened.

- Do you think you can talk to me about those thoughts?

- I think so....

Although getting a positive answer it was followed by a silent pause, yet Chan didn't insist.

- I just kept thinking that I needed to do well, that I needed to get everything right and help everyone with their dance. And that we have an upcoming comeback and tour and the choreographies need to be completed by then....and nothing seemed to be working....it was like my body was being controlled by those thoughts and I couldn't shut them up. I didn't want to be a burden and I felt like everyone was judging me for making so many mistakes.

It shattered Chan's heart to hear those words coming from Minho.

- No one was judging you, Minho-ah. No one will ever judge you. We knew something was wrong, that's why we were looking at you, we were worried.

Chan reassured him, running a thumb on his cheek, wiping away a stray tear.

- I'm sorry...

Minho said with a trembling voice looking down but Chan wasn't having it. He gently lifted his face again.

- Don't apologize. Don't you ever apologize for feeling weak, for feeling stressed, for being human. You hear me?

The younger boy just nodded, not really having any words to say.

He felt exhausted.

- Come here.

Chan said gently pulling Minho closer to him and embracing him in a back hug.

Minho allowed himself to be completely embraced by Chan, resting his head on his hyung's arm and the older kept his breathing steady so Minho could match it.

And they stayed like that, for minutes, in complete silence, the room quiet apart from their breathing.

He was so exhausted from everything that happened that in a few minutes he fell asleep on Chan's embrace, the same safe and warm back hug he secretly loved.

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