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ugh-yoongi · 9 months ago

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hang up if u want to | kmg

he's in japan. you're at home, knowing there's no point in staring at your phone, waiting. mingyu might not wanna define what the two of you are, but that certainly doesn't stop him from asking for what he wants.

pairing: idol!mingyu x f. reader genre: situationship au; a lil angst, smut warnings: swearing. sexting — use of gendered terms for genitalia, mentions of oral and penetrative sex, masturbation, images/videos, dirty talk i guess?, squirting. one mention of reader wearing a dress. another mention of reader wearing mingyu’s shirt and it being large on her. (not meant to be an indication of size—that mf is just so large i think most people would drown in his clothes.) mingyu is domineering and kind of brat tamer-y but i wouldn't say this is dom-y at all. he also uses the term "baby" a lot bc i refuse to use y/n. rating: explicit. minors dni. wordcount: 3.6k listen to: namasenda - dare (pm) / khalid, 6lack, ty dolla $ign - otw / keshi - like i need u / edward maya & vika jigulina - stereo love / monsta x - addicted / brockhampton - sugar / shy martin - good together author's note: hello, i barely text men let alone sext them, so if this sucks my bad. i'm also not 100% comfy for writing any groups outside of bts, so i'm also sorry if the characterization is off. the mingyu brainrot was brainrotting tho bc if there's one thing he's gonna do it's look hot holding his phone in a photo, so. here we are. i was gonna wait and post this tomorrow but it's valentine's day so fuck it we ball. thank you: @the-boy-meets-evil, @hot-soop, & @effortandmore for checking this over and brainstorming with me. namasenda for the lyrics in the title and inspo.

Kim Mingyu Missed Call (2)

Your eyes glance upwards at the time. It’s nearing one a.m.; Mingyu’s second call came and went only a few minutes ago. The first one will have come not long after he got off stage, because they always do. There’s a script—unspoken and unacknowledged, but a script nonetheless—and Mingyu follows it religiously.

You sigh. Leave your phone on your nightstand as you change into pajamas, back into the bathroom to wash your face. Roll your eyes as you hear the texts roll in, the sound grating and ominous as it vibrates against the wood.

All part of the script.

Kim Mingyu: just got back to the hotel Kim Mingyu: you up

Also part of the script: this is the only way it goes. Maybe Mingyu wants to text you, but adrenaline’s the only reason he ever goes through with it. That post-concert high, nothing else to do with all that energy but invest it into you, and the thing about scripts is that they get old, grow stale. Always the same thing, and you can only have that conversation so many times before you get tired and rip it up.

We all have roles to play. Mingyu is the one who refuses to define what it is the two of you have, put a label on it. He’s the one who calls from countries away and speaks in that low, hushed tone. He’s the tempter, the one who holds all the cards but refuses to lay them down.

A royal flush, every single time.

And you—you’re not helpless. Not some poor creature fighting for its life in a spun-silk web. Mingyu’s capable of devouring you in more ways than one, but it’s not like that. Not really. As laissez-faire as he is, you come and go as you please, too. Perhaps it’s as mutually beneficial as it is destructive, but that’s the nature of the production; the result of the roles you two of you play.

Kim Mingyu: you ignoring me? Kim Mingyu: i saw your ig story Kim Mingyu: knock it off baby

You smile, private and sardonic, because you aren’t helpless. Sometimes it’s your web, and it’s all Mingyu can do to keep his head above water. Another role you’d borrowed from someplace else but still have memorized. Still remember all the lines, the mannerisms.

On your story: a video of you, bare skin glittering beneath the golden-fluorescent light of your bathroom; you, with your dress unzipped, the straps slipping down your arms; your hand pressed to your chest to keep yourself covered. Your back turned to the camera, visible only in the mirror, as the silk dropped to the floor.

In the settings: only two accounts given permission to see, both belonging to the same person.

In your DMs: Mingyu, on his private account with the username that looks more like a keysmash than any legible thing, reacting with the fire emoji.

Related: the image hovering just above Mingyu’s texts. The one he’d repaid you with not long after seeing your story. A mirror selfie of his own: grey sweatpants hung low on his hips, a soaked-through white t-shirt stuck to his stomach, the lines of his abs visible.

That, and everything below it—all left unanswered.

The thing about Mingyu is he’ll give chase. Doesn’t shy away from all the things he wants; isn’t shy about giving voice to them.

But he’ll never, ever beg.

(Not like this, at least. When he’s in your bed it’s always a different story. He’s a kept man, there, and kept men have no qualms about things like that. Begging for your mouth, your pussy. Begging you to let him come.)

Normally you’d let it go. Let him talk to himself in your texts, because he’s got a lot of nerve if nothing else, but you’d gone out earlier. Grabbed a few drinks with your girlfriends, let the alcohol thrum through you like a livewire. Watched as they danced with men whose names they didn’t know and never learned and thought about what it’d be like to be able to do something like that in public.

Got home, felt a little scorned, just on the edge of bitter. Made a show of taking your dress off in the bathroom mirror and posted it someplace you knew he’d look.

You: did you like it?

Rhetorical. Mingyu may not want to put a label on this thing, might not want to be caged-in and suffocated, but you know what you do to him. All the ways you affect him.

i could tell you, comes the immediate reply, and your eyes are halfway rolled when—

Kim Mingyu: or i could show you

It takes a second to come through, but once it does your breath hitches in your throat. Far from the most obscene image he’s ever sent you, but just as effective. An expanse of tanned, soft skin, lean muscle; still in those same grey sweats, bunched up a little on the thigh as he lays in his plush hotel bed with his legs spread.

At the center of it all, the outline of his hard, thick cock, so fucking big as it stretches the fabric taut.

All you can do is stare.

Mingyu is not of this earth. This thought is nothing new: he has always existed outside the realm of possibility, in more ways than one, so this is merely a fact. Grass is green, the sky is blue, sometimes you can love someone in a way that’s so overwhelming and still be no good for them.

Another fact: it’s primal, the way you need him. Always has been.

You: what am i looking at? You: new sweatpants?

On the other end of the line, it’s easy to imagine his reaction. A quick snort of laughter, tongue pressed into the fat of his cheek before he clenches his jaw. If he were here, he’d haul you into his lap, kiss you deep and messy. Trail his fingers along your skin until they settled in the hollow of your throat.

Pull away just for a second. Just long enough to say, “Watch your mouth,” before he’s licking into it.

Kim Mingyu: don’t be like that 🙄

This time your eyes fully roll. Spitefully, you snap a picture of what’s in front of you: your bedroom wall, some drama playing on the TV, a sliver of amber light from the lamp next to you.

You send it.

You: while we’re sending pictures of irrelevant shit

Truth be told, you’re not like this often, but you get a streak of it every now and then. Only ever at times like this, when the two of you haven’t seen one another in a while and the distance between you is still so ambiguous, untitled.

Usually Mingyu will come by your place. Get you stripped down to almost nothing, have you writhing on his fingers. Then, in between satisfied groans, he’ll slap at your thighs, tell you to stop being a brat.

Kim Mingyu: then send me something worthwhile You: you first

Another beat of silence. Long enough to flick through the channels, plug in your phone, let some of that heat dissipate.

Your phone chimes, and when you look down—

Those grey sweats are long gone, replaced with a pair of black briefs barely containing his cock, still hard and curved toward his stomach. You swallow. Let your eyes linger on the corded muscle of his thighs, all that soft skin. Let your mind remind you, just for a second, how it feels beneath your fingertips, your hands, your mouth.

All the sounds he makes.

Kim Mingyu: is that better Kim Mingyu: is that what you wanted

Unbidden, the corners of your mouth lift. hm… close but no, you type out. Let it sit for a few seconds before you delete it. If Mingyu wants to be a tease, you can do the same.

You situate yourself against the pillows. Angle your phone so the length of your body is visible: your bare legs twisted in the sheets, the bruise Mingyu had sucked into the inside of your thigh before he left just barely making it into the frame. What’s fully visible, though: his shirt that’s draped over your frame, how much it engulfs you, the way you’re drowning in it. In him.

You send it.

You: depends... is this what you wanted?

The response is immediate:

Kim Mingyu: absolutely not. take it off baby.

You’ve starred in this production before, knew where it was headed the second you saw the missed calls, so you’d put on his favorite of your underwear. Skimpy red lace, part of a set he’d had sent to your apartment. Used to tell you in desperate whispers how ruined he was seeing you in them; used to have to rein himself in so he didn’t rip them off.

So you snap another photo. Spread your legs a little further, pull the hem of Mingyu’s shirt between your teeth. Know seeing that sliver of your stomach will drive him crazy, too, but it’ll pale in comparison to the underwear.

You consider video calling him. Want to see his face when you send this photo—the pinch of his brows, the slight drop of his jaw. The way he’ll whimper a little, say baby in that tone that floods you with heat: a little desperate, all hushed awe, bordering on a whine.

The same kind of heat that starts to creep back in again. There’s power in desire, in being desired, and even though you’re here and Mingyu’s in a hotel room in Japan, you can still feel it. Subconscious, like some kind of red string shit. Anticipatory.

Kim Mingyu: goddamn Kim Mingyu: you wear those for me? Kim Mingyu: fuck, i wish i was there to take them off of you

You suck in a breath. and if you were? you send back.

Kim Mingyu: you know that pair is my favorite Kim Mingyu: drives me crazy every time you wear that set Kim Mingyu: but i’ve changed my mind. i want you to keep them on Kim Mingyu: want you to keep my shirt on too You: yeah? you want me to wear your shirt while you fuck me? pull my panties to the side? Kim Mingyu: slow down baby, i’m taking my time with you

In your bed, you snort to yourself. Mingyu has never been patient with anything, but especially not with you. Most of the time he’s so keyed up, wound so tight, that it’s all the two of you can do to make it to your bed—and sometimes you don’t. Sometimes Mingyu puts all that body to use, presses your back to the wall and throws your legs over his shoulders as he eats you out. Wraps your legs around him as he fucks you right there, the slide so, so easy with how wet and messy he gets you.

You remind him of as much. Type out, you? taking your time? i’ve got a couple walls in my entryway that would say differently, and laugh when the reply comes through—can’t help myself sometimes—and promptly stop laughing at the next one: never can, with you.

Kim Mingyu: have i ever told you what i love the most? Kim Mingyu: just kissing you. you always taste so good, baby Kim Mingyu: the way you get so worked up and start grabbing at me when i’m doing it. the way you try to get me to touch you. the way you start grinding your pussy on me like you can’t go another second without me inside you

You feel like you’re on fire. Gets worse with every word you read and re-read, try to commit to memory. You know it all too well, what he’s talking about. Know how warm his skin is, how firm he feels under your touch. Know what he tastes like. How soft his lips are. The way he sounds when you start to writhe, the way he groans when he presses tighter against you, presses you into the mattress, hard cock rutting against you, enough to take the edge off but nowhere near what he needs.

You: love that too You: love when you’re inside me even more

Kim Mingyu: me too baby Kim Mingyu: love the way you feel around me Kim Mingyu: always so fucking tight Kim Mingyu: ffuck

Your stomach drops at his last message. are you touching yourself? you type, even though you already know the answer. Another sight you’re blessed to know: Mingyu’s hand wrapped around himself, how the size of his cock makes it look small in comparison. Head tilted back, abs flexing under the weight of the pleasure.

You get a singular character in reply: 응.

show me.

He doesn’t respond right away. The pause is enough to have anticipation thrumming through your veins, make you a little shaky. Your hand trembles as you trace patterns into your warm, soft skin, pretending it’s Mingyu’s touch and not your own. Pretend it’s Mingyu’s hand that grabs at your breast beneath his shirt, thumbs over your nipple; Mingyu’s touch that has soft gasps escaping you. Pretend it’s Mingyu’s hand that dips beneath the hem of your panties.

Kim Mingyu Attachment: 1 Movie

On the screen: Mingyu’s face greets you first, eyes half-lidded and hazy, the corners of his mouth lifted in a smirk. He tilts his head back, lets you see the sweat-slick skin of his neck, the column of his throat; pans the camera down over his collar bones, his bare chest, before he flips the screen. Can barely fit the entirety of his frame in the shot, and it strikes you someplace deep, how big he is. How overwhelming.

You suck in a breath as your eyes focus—as you take in the way he’s stroking himself. His cock glistens with whatever lube he’d indulged in, but you can’t help but pretend it’s from you and your mouth. Wish you could see the way he’d touch himself as you sucked him nearly to orgasm and told him to finish himself off. The way he’d whine, beg a little, get a little shitty with you.

“Fuck,” you say out loud. You can feel your pupils blow at the thought.

“Jagiya,” comes Mingyu’s voice, intertwined with the sounds of the tv, a city so far away from you, ��fuck, I’m so fu-fucking hard.”

If you’d thought you were on fire before, it’s nothing compared to now. Hearing the need in his voice, watching the way he’s touching himself. The way his hips stutter as his body seeks out more, more, more, always more, and the way he squeezes the base of his cock so he doesn’t come too soon.

“Wish it was you. Wish it was you touching me like this. I—fuck, need you so bad.”

You watch as Mingyu strokes over the head of his cock, as each subsequent pass gets more tacky and wet. Lick your lips at the sight of it. Want, more than anything, to get your mouth on him and taste the salt of his skin, the precome he’s jerking himself off with.

Before he even needs to ask, you start recording a video of your own. Leave your panties on because you know he’d want you to. Record the first pass of your fingers through your slick, let out a disbelieving little laugh at how wet you are, how you can hear it. Moan as you dip a finger into your cunt, just to the first knuckle. Say, “I’m so wet, Gyu, oh my god,” all breathy.

Not all that different from how you sound when he’s here. When he’s flesh and blood and right beside you, on top of you.

You use the wetness you’ve gathered and move your hand to your clit. It’s throbbing beneath your touch, your body already wound too tight, and you nearly hiss in oversensitivity and relief when you finally touch yourself the way you’ve wanted to. “Fuck.”

You force yourself to take your time. Slow, small circles, when everything in your body is screaming to be selfish, begging for release the same way Mingyu’s had.

“Should I finger myself?” you ask. A sharp inhale as your next pass has your toes curling. “Wo-won’t feel as good as you, but I need—need more.”

Before you cut the video, you zoom in a little. Make sure Mingyu will be able to see the way you’re touching yourself, be able to hear the sound of your arousal, the same sounds that have warmth blooming in your cheeks.

Kim Mingyu: jesusf fuck Kim Mingyu: god baby youre so hto Kim Mingyu: wanna see you finger yourself Kim Mingyu: please

It’s a little embarrassing, how incapable you are of denying him anything. You trust him implicitly, love him even more, so it’s second nature to give in, to adjust your phone so you don’t have to hold it. Second nature to press record, pull your panties to the side just like you’d proposed earlier; second nature to make a show of sticking two fingers in your mouth, sucking on them, before bringing them to your entrance and easing them inside.

Nothing compared to the stretch of Mingyu, both his fingers and his cock, but it’s still good. Enough to have you sighing softly, barely audible over the sound of everything else: the rustling of your sheets, the low thrum of your own television, you in general.

A rhythmic song and dance. Practiced. You grow wetter with each push and pull; know Mingyu will be able to see it, the way you work yourself open. That, too, has you a little dizzy. Breathless. You wonder what he sees when he looks at you. Not only like this, but all the time. Does he see an expiration date? Something good while it lasted? Is there just this—something carnal and superficial?

Or does he just see you?

It drives you crazy. Inspires something within you: not just the desire to please him, make it worth his while, but to be something else, something more than this. Has your fingers moving a little faster, has you grinding your clit against the palm of your hand. Has you a whining, writhing mess; has sounds spilling out that you aren’t sure you’ve ever heard come out of you.

You send it before you can overthink it. Whatever Mingyu sees in you, at least these are the images that’ll play in his mind whenever he thinks of you. At least you’ve sunk your claws into him.

Seconds pass in a blur. You’re still on the brink of a mind-numbing orgasm, stuck in this liminal space simply because Mingyu isn’t here, and you know, too, how this goes. Know you aren’t supposed to come without his say-so in the same way he edges himself until he gets yours.

Kim Mingyu: shit shit shit Kim Mingyu: i wish that was me. wanna take you apart like that. wanna finger you while i eat you out, make you squirt all over me again Kim Mingyu: fuck i thin k about that all the time Kim Mingyu: im gonna cum

I think about that all the time.

So do you. You, on your hands and knees, Mingyu eating you out from behind. Bracing yourself against the headboard with one arm, the other one reaching behind you to pull at his hair. You remember how relentless he’d been that night. A man possessed. Disregarded all your breathless pleas, every Mingyu, Gyu, fuck, fuck, Mingyu, baby— that left your mouth. His tongue left your pussy only long enough to say, you can take it, baby before he was right back at it. Before he worked in two fingers alongside his mouth. Before his free hand came down hard on your ass, the sting startling you, making you jerk, forcing you closer to his mouth.

You remember coming with a scream. You remember coming to with Mingyu’s lips to your neck, the sweet way he was speaking to you. You remember the knee-jerk embarrassment you felt when you saw the giant wet spot you’d left on the bed and how quickly it dissipated when Mingyu pressed a kiss to your temple, called you his good girl.

You: you can come, but you know the rule

You move your fingers back to your clit, feel all that pleasure flood back, start in your toes. It’s not long before you’re pulling a blistering orgasm from your body—one that feels like it belongs to Mingyu, wasn’t yours for the taking.

thank you, he replies, right beneath a photo of his abs streaked with cum.

The comedown is jarring. You feel both too big for your body and completely out of sorts now that you’ve fulfilled your role. Now that there’s nothing to do but sit in the stillness of your bedroom, that same drama playing on television, some girl getting her heart broken.

You wonder if Mingyu’s thinking the same. If his body also sags with relief, if the absence of all that tension feels crushing. If the first thought he has in this newfound clarity is also I love you and if he also swallows it down every single time. You wonder if he thinks about his role, if it’s becoming stale and tired.

Because you know what comes next:

Kim Mingyu: i’ll be home soon Kim Mingyu: can i see you

And you also know what you’ll say. After all, you’ve played this role before.

if you've made it this far thank you so much for reading! this is prob not my best work since it's a lil rushed but i needed something to get me out of my slump.

i would love to hear your thoughts! <3

#mingyu x reader #mingyu smut #mingyu imagines #mingyu scenarios #mingyu x you #mingyu x y/n #seventeen x reader #svt x reader #seventeen scenarios #seventeen smut #jewel writes

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winterzsurprise · 19 days ago

Text

Crimson Lovers • KSJ

Pairing: Seokjin x reader

SUMMARY: “I'd spoil you rotten, put you in the nicest, most expensive clothing and I'd still have more to spend on you for an eternity.” Jin whispered into your lips like a promise. If it weren't for your lust addled mind, you'd believe him. “You like wealth, princess? I have plenty. My coven has a dragon, he'd spoil you rotten, he’d stop at nothing to give you everything you'd ever wanted.”

Or alternatively, your friend’s only solution to you being a broke college student with a family to feed is to attend a private feeding party where the most affluent vampires are in attendance to drink fresh blood in exchange for money and get yourself in trouble with the infamous Kim Coven.

Tags: Vampire! Seokjin, Half-Faerie! Reader, Mythical Creatures AU!, SMUT, Cunnilingus, Magic slick (Seokjin passed out from it lmao), Blood sucking(obvs), not beta read.

Words: 5.1k

I just found this one collecting dust in the vault so I decided to post it here since it'll be a shame if I don't post a 5k words worth work. Its supposed to be the first chapter for a mythical creatures and reincarnation au bts x reader story but I immediately hit a wall.

I'll prolly pick it up in the future idk.

• MASTERLIST •

__________

Never in your life have you ever thought a single sheet of paper could weigh so heavily in the palm of your hands like it holds the heaviness of your future.

Depending on your answer, it does.

The card was a vibrant crimson with a nice golden design of modest swirls as margins for the text that are colored in silver, the material no doubt expensive. It was an invitation to a private feeding after all, how could it look shabby when only a selected few are given the opportunity to attend?

By selecting a few, you meant people from affluent backgrounds and some unfortunate people desperate for money.

It was obvious what category you’d fall into.

If you were to attend the party.

“Stop staring at it like it offended your ancestors, I'm just suggesting it.”

Soomin, your friend since high school, says.

“Where did you even get this? You don't know any vampires, do you?”

She shrugs, leaning back into her armchair. “Got a few favours. You were complaining about needing money and thought I could use some of them.”

Scratching your head, you read the card's contents with careful apprehension.

“Relax, it's not enchanted to track where it goes. It's just a normal card, you know I wouldn't force you into something if safety wasn't guaranteed.”

Before leaving the herd to pursue college far from the safety of family wards, your mother had enchanted your accessories with aura suppressors and glamours to prevent people from knowing your heritage.

You were told of horrors of the inhabitants outside the plane, both mortals and supernaturals turning over every leaf in the forest just for a whiff of a faerie.

Your blood is as precious as its golden colour, said to restore even the weakest mortal on its deathbed to pristine condition with a mere drop and turn a half vampire’s miniscule powers into a bottomless pit of a royal pureblood.

Faeries live in constant danger and you'd be damned if you weren’t taught to overthink everything.

“It’s anonymous, they’ll have you wear a mask, don't overthink it too much. My aunt used to tell me ‘your body is an emergency fund, every part of you is profitable. You just need to know the right place.’ or in my case, a man.”

She says, wiggling her fingers in front of your face where a gigantic pink diamond glimmered under the light above you, an engagement ring from the werewolf she bagged from dancing haphazardly on a stranger one friday night.

It's her pride, being able to capture the attention of one of the country's most attractive bachelors. It gave her a confidence that soared so high in the skies, she had nudged the space terminal. You couldn't even blame her for thinking so, knowing you'd share the same sentiments if it were you.

But still, daring to wander around without the wards your mother has spent years of creating to keep you safe, it makes your stomach churn.

Placing the card and pushing it as far as you could, you lean back into the chair.

“I don't know… It's really risky.”

“I’m just suggesting here,” she sighs, sliding the paper back in front of you and patting it. “If all goes well, you wouldn't need to work overtime for a year at least.”

“You saying that only makes me overthink it even more.”

She rolls her eyes playfully.

You knew she was right and the prospect of not working for a year is tempting. But a part of you frowned at the thought of risking your safety for a couple of zeroes in your bank account. Pride is such a fickle thing, so easily threatened and dragged through the mud when desperation kicks in.

But what is Pride in the face of your mountainous pending bills?

Not to mention, your mother and little brother's living situation back in the province. Soobin needed new shoes for school, you've seen how well-worn it has been—if well-worn meant clumsily glued back soles onto the upper body for the nth time with shoelaces frizzled and pulled taut from being twisted into knots and years of washing.

Your barista and supermarket cashier job nor your mother's job as a saleslady in the wet market doesn't reward you enough to save for his shoe while trying to sustain both you and your family, you need more. Taking on another 9-5 job is far from the solution.

Grabbing the paper with a newfound heaviness in your body, you sighed. The address encrusted in silver stood out in the seas of crimson reds, rooting your eyes onto the text.

“You asked for my help and I offer this–this somewhat long term solution.”

“But what if someone tries to track my blood back to me?”

Your mother and brother are counting on you, her salary from selling in the market aren't enough for the both of them. If you were to disappear they would sink further than you all already are, Soobin would stop attending school in favour of working. The guilt from seeing your mother bend over her back to be able to put food on the table would kill him.

It's a burdening feeling you wouldn't wish upon him. He should only know to have fun, make friends, and experience life in high school like a normal teen would.

You can't afford to put yourself in danger.

“I’ll put my name on the list instead. I promise you that you'll be safe, you just need to find someone to feed on you and then you can go, easy money!”

Seeing the hesitance in your eyes, she continued.

“Sometimes you just need to live a little. There's rewards in risking, you know?”

But then again, nor can you afford new shoes for Soobin with your minimum wage jobs.

With a defeated sigh, you looked up to meet your friend's eyes.

“How should I dress?”

________

He should've known better than attending parties the prehistoric council members had invited him into, you'd think centuries of politics would render him immune to these tricky situations yet here he is, standing awkwardly in the middle of the meeting room while holding said invitation and a cocktail. The old geezer was already gone by the time he realised his mistake.

The envelope was a deep hue of red, a foretelling sign of what the party might be about.

It wasn't a shock when he saw the neatly imprinted silver text on the thick crimson paper telling him of a private feeding gathering for both the fortunate and the unfortunate on Saturday.

While being a vampire himself, he never had to feed on strangers when he had his coven to fill him up for the next month or so. His age has allowed him longer intervals between feeding and at this point, he has grown nonchalant with that aspect of his life.

Obviously, he should've ripped it to shreds and incinerated the damn thing.

But a voice whispered at the back of his, urging him to join the small gathering. A nagging feeling tugging at him and telling him he'd miss something important if he were to dismiss the invitation. Yet when asked why he went, he said it's to oversee the event undercover.

He could still feel the burning curious gaze of his brothers on his skin.

Which brings him to his current predicament, fighting off the urge to yawn from the absolute boredom caused by newbloods breaking their backs to impress potential business partners and blood donors.

He silently thanked whoever thought it was a good idea to have guests wear masks. There would've been heaps upon heaps of scandals if he were to be spotted in a feeding party, not to mention, the newbloods trying to peacock their way to being sponsored by the Kim Coven and from the rising irritation burning his back, he might shave off a huge number off the vampire population.

He couldn't remember the times he had done his route around the hall, trying to avoid people vying for a morsel of attention and trying his best to not stay still in one place for people to recognize him but he did know that if he were to go around once more, he's leaving once and for all.

Downing his last martini, he stood up.

Only for a dizzying scent to knock him back into his seat. It grabbed onto his throat with a tight grip, stuffing his head and demanding his attention. It smelled like the sweetest of sin, honeyed and dripping thick on his tongue.

A faerie’s blood, although from a half, is still as tantalising as a pure blooded one.

He hears the murmurs, could feel multiple spawns’ auras spilling out of their body, their greed relentless and non-discriminating as it lashed out over each other, fighting to be noticed by the woman in the black bodycon dress. Why are they looking at her? How dare they lay their eyes on what's mine—

He immediately shook the thought away, making a note to review it later.

You strode into the middle of the ballroom with a sway to your hips, lips painted in the hue of blood stretching into a coy smile as vampires of all ages take a step towards your direction. The dress didn't leave much to the imagination with its thin fabric clinging onto your form tightly. From the spaghetti straps hanging flimsily on your shoulders to the low dip of its collar between the mounds of your chest and the high slits on one side to reveal the plumpness of your thighs, you were mouth watering in every way possible.

With pouty lips tinted in crimson red and hair loosely curled on the side of your face. You were a sight to behold.

Seeing you stride in with all that skin displayed for everyone to see, a ravenous monster at the back of his mind resurfaces. Greed and possessiveness of the others seeped into his skin, awakening something he had long buried.

A potential mate, his mind had whispered

Fuck, you're driving him insane.

Seokjin didn't notice his feet moving, following the alluring scent beckoning him close as if hypnotised but he did see the flirtatious narrowing of your eyes as he approached. If his power is spilling over the floor and deterring everyone from daring to get in between you both, he ignored it.

In fact, he revelled in their soured faces and shivering bodies.

He wasn't one for claiming territories nor was he the type to flaunt his power but for tonight, he'll make an exception.

No one is to dare interrupt him.

“What's a pretty faerie like you doing outside of their realm?”

He tried so hard not to stare at the delectable view of the mounds of your breast or the unblemished skin of your neck and chest but it's difficult with the view granted by his height. Your heartbeat pulsed nervously despite the flirtatious mask you so perfectly strut with.

He could practically taste your scent being this close and his throat dries up.

Fuck, you're gonna make him religious.

“The same as the other women in pretty dresses in this room, darling. Money.”

“Aren't you scared people might hurt you?” It was a genuine question, if he wasn't here to step over the pining prospects, he didn't want to imagine how they would've killed each other for a glance.

You would've been ravaged, you were bold for strutting into a room full of ravenous vampires. It was impressive as much as it made his blood curl. He pushed the thought away, he wouldn't want to scare you off by decorating the hall in gore.

Seokjin could feel your fear, could hear it from the racing beats of your heart under flesh and bones. You were nervous, no doubt ready to bolt the moment you were approached by the predators surrounding you in all directions yet you faced him head on with a false confidence he started to think is real.

If fear were to ever linger in the corner of your eyes, he had a feeling it wouldn't end well for every supernatural in this room.

No one should ever dare scare you.

“I'm desperate. So, if you aren't trying to take me for the night, I have other guys pining for me so excuse—”

“I didn't say I didn't want you, sweetheart. I'm just trying to get to know you better.”

You stopped, looking up at him through your lashes as you stepped closer.

Lithe fingers boldly reached onto his tie pressed neatly behind his blazer—nails painted in a sinful red hue, he notes— tugging and twirling it between fingers as you stepped closer and closer, further drowning him in your delectable fragrance. Your nervous heart beats echoed in his ears and it sounded like the piper's capturing tune, your scent surrounds him like a haze of amortentia, demanding his attention on your eyes, your lips, your skin and to the dip in your waist. All Seokjin could think about was you.

Your soft flesh flashing up at him, teasing him and urging him to have a taste, to feel the rush of your blood coating his tongue and down his throat, to run his hands over your skin and have his marks littering its unblemished surface.

Suddenly his clothes felt suffocating in the heat of his desire.

Was he seriously this floored for someone whose face he hasn't seen?

“All you need to know is that I need a name to moan, handsome.”

He could feel the thread of his patience running thin, lust leaking in and clouding his judgement. He smirked. “Name’s Jin. What should I call you then, sweet thing?”

Your arms reached around his neck, body pressing flush into his chest as you looked up at him through lidded eyes. The size difference not going unnoticed, if anything, it made him want to drive a stake through his heart.

“Cherry.”

He doesn't know who started it first, nor does he remember how you both ended up in a private room after the feeding contract was signed, doors locked behind you both as he pressed you onto its wooden material, the masks long forgotten on the floor. Seokjin felt your lust in how your scent sweetened further like heaven's nectar, grabbing onto his throat and drowning him.

It almost felt sacrilegious that he gets to know you so intimately like this. Almost unfair how your desires grappled with his patience like a cat with a ball of yarn, temptation lighting his skin alight.

Pulling away, his lips immediately zeroed in on your neck. His fangs ached to be buried onto your precious skin but he knows better than to harvest his rewards early. He sucked bruises and marked your throat yet the greediness in his chest didn't relent, if anything, it rampaged further at the sight of you littered with his marks.

They looked so pretty on you.

“You're driving me insane.”

“Shut up and kiss me.”

Taking your lips once again with his, you engaged in a wild dance of teeth dragging over his lips and tongue clashing with yours before picking you up and taking you both to the bed at the far corner of the room.

The straps of your dress falling from your shoulders shouldn't have the effect it does to him yet here he is, throat tight and mouth watering as he hovers over your pliant body, full chest spilling on the sides of your body, raising with your laboured breath with cheeks flushed with desire. His hands pushed the offending fabric of your dress to bunch over your inner thighs, eyes greedily drinking in every inch of skin being revealed to him before noticing how the thick flesh managed to look so small under his palms.

His mouth dries.

He can't wait to see how Namjoon feels about the size difference between you. The man would lose every morsel of control.

“Stop staring!”

“Why should I? You look so pretty like this.”

There's something so sinfully divine in how the fabric only seems to cover the necessary parts of your body, trying its best—and failing—to hide you from his gaze, the devil about to corrupt your purity with a bite.

You whined, hand reaching for him as you flush darker at his comment.

You'd turn Yoongi into a devout worshipper who'd dedicate a thousand songs because of this sight alone.

He ran his hands across your thighs, thumb inching closer to your heat under the fabric and every time it neared your breath hitches. Your heartbeat thuds a little faster, a new melody he's grown to love.

Yoongi would've somehow composed a song with it.

“If you stare any longer, I'm going to start charging you.”

He didn't mean to laugh as hard as he did at that.

“Not much of a threat for me, sweetheart. I'm fucking rich.”

Your scent flares as you let out a soft moan and he captures your lips once more before pulling away with a smirk.

“I'd spoil you rotten, put you in the nicest, most expensive clothing and I'd still have more to spend on you for an eternity.”

You whined and it sounded like the sweetest melody he'd hear once he enters whatever heaven there is for the supernatural.

Seokjin didn't have a kink for spending money on someone nor did he imagine he'd have one, but as he drawled on, he couldn't help but imagine you in the most lavish fabric to pose for him and his coven members, to see your form covered in the softest of silk and the rarest of gems only their money could purchase, his throat tightened.

Taehyung’s designed clothes would fit you perfectly.

“You like wealth, princess? I have plenty. My coven has a dragon, he'd spoil you rotten, he’d stop at nothing to give you everything you'd ever wanted.”

You didn't react to his revelation and he takes it as a win, a silent acceptance of his coven.

“Please just touch me.”

“Where do you want me, princess?”

You take his hand, lithe and small against him, and bring it close to where you wanted him most between legs, nudging his fingers between folds and shocks shoots through his body. He groans, the lacy fabric already drenched with your arousal, doused with your addicting scent.

“I want your fingers inside me, Jinnie. Please?”

If you asked him for the universe with that voice, he would learn how to shrink it and hand it over to you the next day tied with a bowstring.

Are you aware of the power you hold over him?

Instead of moving, he let you move his wrist, watched you with rapt attention as his fingers dipped down your folds, hovering on your clenching hole before rising to nudge your clit, teasing your already sensitive self and moaning from the slightest of touch.

If it wasn't for the unfamiliar signature of a faerie in your scent, he would've thought you were a succubus.

“Look at you grinding on my knuckles so prettily, already so needy for me.”

He pressed light figures of eight on your button and drank in the sight of your desperation with rapt attention. Your hips twisted, eager for more. Tugging the fabric aside with the other hand, he toyed with your clit, using different pressures and motions to figure out what brings you the most pleasure before dipping a finger into you.

Your velvety walls fluttered around him, pulsing with need and tightening oh so deliciously on his finger. His cock stirs in his pants as he adds another digit, he can't wait to bury himself into your warmth.

Seeing you thrash around in pleasure as his fingers drove and curled inside you, got his body crawling with the intense feeling of greed. He wanted to see more of you, to have you on the brink of breaking. Suddenly, the dress flimsily covering you grew offensive. He eyed the material restricting his movements before pulling away from your cunt and reaching up to tug your panties off of you, discreetly tossing it into his spatial storage.

The dress is already halfway off your skin, he could easily tear them apart to replace them with a better, more expensive fabric but decided against it.

He sheds the clothing inch by inch, placing soft kisses and gentle nibbles to newly uncovered skin, leaving you breathless beneath him. Your scent flourished with your magic. It was electrifying. Intoxicating how your power seems to react so well with his.

Like you were meant to be.

Sitting back, he admired the divine artwork before him, embedding the sight into the walls of his brain. Your arms moved to cross over your breasts from his gaze making him reach down to entangle your fingers with his and pressing a gentle kiss to your knuckles.

“Don't hide from me. You look so pretty like this.”

With you finally revealed bare beneath him, he wasted no more time, leaning down to your cunt where your scent was stronger and licked.

Your flavour explodes on his tongue and he groans. Whether it was just your scent he’s tasting or your arousal he could care less, mouth latching onto your folds and tongue lolling on your erect bead as he sucked. His head buzzed, intoxicated by the fluctuating aroma surrounding him. He could die happy between your shuddering thighs threatening to close around his face, he didn’t mind it though, he can go on without breathing if only he could taste your sweet nectar.

Tasting you felt blasphemous, like he broke every heavenly rule there is by having you drip on his tongue. Sinful and outright disrespectful, and he loved it.

Heat ravaged his entire being alight, desire running rampant and restless under his skin. His fingers roamed your uncharted skin possessively, digging his fingers onto flesh and dragging them down, cupping and squeezing whatever he could reach while his mouth busied with your clit. Your hands grabbed at his head, fingers threading and entangling themselves onto his hair, confused whether to push him away or to tug him closer as you edged closer to the precipice of your high.

“I'm so close…! Jinnie please!”

With your back arched, hair laid around your head like a halo and chest glistening with sweat stuttering as you come to a close, skin illuminated by the soft lights of the room, Seokjin swore he has never seen a more beautiful sight than this.

His fangs ached once more.

“Fuck..! I’m gonna—”

He pulls away, teeth sinking into the plush of your thigh and your body seizes with pleasure, the ecstasy caused by his bite pushing you over.

Your blood is light and rich on his tongue, syrupy and honeyed, like the sweetest nectar found only in the garden of eden, the flavour heightened by your climax. Seokjin could taste the sugariness of your orgasm as if it was his own and he groaned. It was dizzying, the taste clogging his senses and stuffing cottons inside his mind as he took and took. He has never realised how hungry he was until he’s bitten into your skin.

His head swims, intoxicated by the raw magic in your blood entering his system, intertwining and entangling themselves into his own before boldly integrating with the flow of his power as if they've always been there. Energy buzzed under his fingers now erratically plunging and curling inside your cunt, further sweetening your blood as you edged between pleasure and pain from overstimulation.

Then in the midst of all the pleasure and nirvana, something clicks into place and he jerks awake from the haze.

Forcing himself to pull away, he almost black out as if he’s been taken off of life support—he feels like he did. Head blank and lightheaded, blood drunk. Even in his bleary state, he could feel it. An additional trace of your magic latching onto his own, a bond unconsciously made.

The uncomfortable stickiness in his boxers didn't go unnoticed and he buried his face into your thigh, blushing for no one in particular.

He cursed under his breath before pushing himself up and wishing you both into the comfortable clothing he had stocked up in his pocket dimension before taking his phone out of it, immediately greeted by the onslaught of text on his lock screen, all two hundred of them from his brothers who had no doubt felt the addition and his intense pleasure from feeding on you.

Normally, he'd be embarrassed by the thought of them knowing what he's been up to but there were more pressing matters to attend to.

For example, the bond formed without your consent and his.

There's panic and confusion swirling madly like a hurricane through the six other bonds. He forced calmness down the lines tethered to his magic before turning back to the issue at hand.

He might have to wake you up and inform you of what happened.

But when he looked up and found your eyes closed, most likely blacking out from the intensity of the unprecedented bonding and the overstimulation from a vampire's bite, he figured that he'd deal with it tomorrow. You looked peaceful and he found himself mirroring the same sentiment, exhaustion weighing his bones. He dragged himself up next to you, arms wrapping around your torso as if he has always been doing so.

There's still insistent tugs down the lines of his bond, demanding answers and the constant buzzing from his phone but that's for tomorrow's Seokjin’s problem to solve, for now, he closes his eyes.

For the first time that year, Seokjin sleeps and wakes from the most pleasant rest he's had in centuries only to end it abruptly when he wakes up with the other side of the bed empty and he freaks.

______

“What the fuck do you mean you just left him?!”

“What the fuck was I supposed to do then?! If he's as high profile as you think, I don't think he'd appreciate waking up next to a one night stand!”

“Not all of them you—ARGH!”

Soomin groaned exasperatedly and loudly, folding over herself as she facepalms on the other armchair in your dorm's living room. Deeming it not dramatic enough, she grabs the pink throw pillow behind her and screams onto it.

Truth be told, leaving Jin earlier that morning placed a heavy weight on your heart. It felt so wrong to walk away from him, as if there's a string tying you to him and now it's pulled taut—which is a crazy statement to think about, there was no bonding ritual so how could you feel so dejected from closing the door behind you?

You have a couple of spare zeroes in your bank account now with bills paid and an expensive pair of black shoes already in transit for Soobin. Why would you be sad from leaving a one night stand?

You couldn't even believe you managed to bag someone that high in the social hierarchy. That party was a nightmare, walking in knowing all eyes would turn to you, all predatorial and hungry, it almost made you want to run back to your mother's arms. But you're an actress, theatre experience be damned if you weren't going to put on the greatest act of your life.

Fake till you make it, you always think and it led to you having the most earth shattering, blackout worthy orgasm as well as owning heaps of money.

Soomin has a different sentiment though, now standing up to crossover to where you sat across her before promptly hitting your body with the pillow.

“You're. So. Fucking. Stupid!” She screams like you had pissed and disrespected her ancestors’ grave, striking after each word. “That man might be Kim Seokjin from the most elusive clan in the world! Number one most sought bachelor and the country's most powerful sorcerer and you just walked away from him!”

“How could you be so sure it's him? All we got is a nickname.”

“His name is literally Jin which is short for Seokjin and he's a vampire wizard! You said he has a coven with a dragon? Well, guess what?! That dragon is Kim fucking Namjoon, another member of the Kim coven! That man is one of the richest in the fucking world and you just ditched his coven’s eldest!”

She swings for the last time and you weren't so fortunate the last few times—already letting down your guard when she began ranting—and it hits you square in the face. You groaned in pain, the zipper on the side of the pillow scratching your skin.

Soomin’s anger immediately dwindled as she realised her error and gasped, falling to her knees and hands already reaching to cup your face to check for visible marks, pillow left abandoned on the carpet.

“Can't be damaging the face that bagged the Kim coven.”

“No damage here.”

“Just my faith in your decision making skills. I mean,” she stands, now more subdued and more disappointed than angry, still you eyed the pillow warily. “You've been wearing yourself down to death for years not only for you but also your family. If you were taken into the Kim Clan, you wouldn't have to worry about money anymore.”

Despite being one of your closest and longest friends, there's always been a huge difference with how you both perceive money.

You're desperate for it, clawing and digging your hands bloody through the desolate desert for a chance of finding one small nugget to sustain your family while Soomin was familiar with it—she grew comfortably living in her parents’ spoils of years of hard work but never enough to buy the highest of quality items until her fiance came and suddenly, she had more than enough to spend for her luxury and you.

You strived and toiled for a smidge of stability whereas she revelled in anything life throws at her without worry because she has her parents to catch her if everything ever goes wrong.

She thinks of luxury as designer brands and ridiculously highly priced products that don't guarantee the greatest quality but you think of luxury as never having to worry about spending a cent over the designated budget for food shopping.

Even then, you loved her to the bone. Appreciated her like a sister from another mother.

“I can't afford to be distracted right now. I have a course to finish and a family to keep alive, I can't be hanging onto blind hope.”

Soomin's eyes softened, understanding and sighed. Turning around, she licked up the stray pillow before settling back into her chair and crossing her arms.

“I'm just… I just wanted you to be happier. It's a life mission of mine to make sure I won't die before seeing you living without stressing over details.”

“I know.”

“I love you, leaflet.”

You laugh and she smiles. “I love you too, queen.”

#bts x reader #bts x fem!reader #bts x y/n #bts x you #kim seokjin x reader #seokjin x reader #jin bts #kim seokjin #seokjin smut

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taechnological · 1 year ago

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there's not a single object in taehyung's place that could be found at a normal person's house

#yes im referring to his insta story lmfaoooo #ALSO HIIIIII ♡#taehyung #bts text

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minisugakoobies · 4 months ago

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Paradise | JJK - Epilogue

Pairing: Jungkook x Reader

Genre: smut, neighbors to lovers (not quite friends but not quite strangers), slow burn, love triangle, Stripper!AU

Rating: M (18+)

Warnings: it's happy ending time!, lots of domestic cuteness, fingering, oral sex (f receiving), shower sex, teasing, dirty talk, someone gets a lap dance 👀, sex in the champagne room, aka sex at work (don't be that coworker!), unprotected sex (monogamous relationship with alternate bc), multiple orgasms

Word Count: 9.1k

Disclaimers: NSFW, obviously I don’t own BTS - they just inspire me

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

A/N: And now we've reached the end! I can't believe it's been three years this month since OC and Jungkook's story began!! A gigantic THANK YOU to everyone who has liked, commented, reblogged, recommended, and/or sent asks about Paradise. This is for you! 💜

Unbeta’d as usual. Please don’t be a silent reader, I’d love to hear from you! Tell me what you think of the ending! 💕

Previous Chapter ♦️ Paradise Masterlist

Bzzzzzzt

Saturday afternoon dawns bright. You can hear birds chirping outside the windows, joined by the buzzing of bees.

Those are some loud fucking bees.

No wait, that’s your phone.

Bzzzzzzt

You grab it off the nightstand.

Huh, nope. No missed texts or calls.

Bzzzzzzt

What the hell is that sound?

Throwing back the covers, you lug yourself out of bed, snatch a t-shirt from the floor and yank it on, and traipse down the hall, following the incessant hum.

Bzzzzzzt

The noise leads you to the bathroom, where your boyfriend stands over the sink, examining himself in the mirror.

“Hey, jagi,” Jungkook greets you warmly. “Did I wake you? Sorry.” He leans over, planting a soft kiss on your cheek.

“No, it wasn’t you. I heard some sort of buzzing.”

“Ah, yeah, that was me.” He holds up some sort of metallic grey tool. An electric razor? But he doesn’t have one of those. You know by now that he waxes for his job, and what little hair ever appears on his face he takes care of with a simple disposable razor. “Testing this out.”

“I didn’t know you had one of those,” you say, leaning against the doorway.

“I don’t. Namjoon-hyung let me borrow it.” He tilts his head left and right, staring at his reflection.

“Borrow it for wh-oooh my god, Kookie, no!”

Your question becomes a wild wail as your boyfriend brandishes the razor and in one swift move shaves off a chunk of his hair. Watching the dark locks tumble into the sink feels like a scene from a horror movie, unfurling in slow motion.

You glance at Jungkook. Where glorious waves once adorned the side of his handsome face, there is now naught but stubble.

Meanwhile, Jungkook chuckles as he examines his handiwork. “What’s wrong, jagiya? You don’t want to see a fresh new me?”

“Not if it means sacrificing your gorgeous hair!” you pout.

Of course you love all of your boyfriend. Goes without saying. But his hair! It’s so pretty and thick and silky and fluffy and -

-and he’s going to shave it all off??

Bzzzzzzt

Another swath joins the first. Two sad curls at the bottom of the sink.

“Kookie, why?” you lament. “Your pretty hair!”

“Relax!” He laughs, running his tattooed fingers over the scruff that remains where he’s shaved so far. “It’ll grow back eventually. You’re starting to make me think you only love me for -“

Upon catching sight of the expression on your face, he trails off, eyes widening.

“Don’t be stupid,” you reassure him. “I love you for so many reasons. More than there are stars in the sky.”

He grins, turning away.

“Your hair is just, like, 25% of that. Maybe 30.”

“Okay, I’m kicking you out now.”

“Don’t bother. I’m going. I can’t bear to watch anymore.” You spin on your heel, heading for the kitchen. “If you need me, I’ll be crying into my cereal, mourning over breakfast.”

“Could you mourn me up a smoothie while you’re at it?”

As you raise your hand over your head to flip him off, he giggles, pausing in his task to admire the way your ass peeks out from under the t-shirt of his that you’re wearing, before disappearing back into the bathroom.

In the kitchen, you quickly whip up a banana smoothie, appreciating how the obnoxious whirr of the mixer drowns out the evil buzzing echoing down the hallway. Sticking the smoothie into the fridge to keep cold until your boyfriend finishes murdering his hair, you sit down to enjoy a bowl of your favorite sugary cereal.

It hasn’t taken much for you to acclimate to Jungkook’s schedule over the last few months since Jennie’s wedding. You’ve all but moved in, hanging around his apartment (usually napping) until he gets home from work in the early hours of the morning. Most of the time, you stay up for a bit, talking and helping him unwind (sometimes fucking, sometimes giving him a gentle massage to soothe his muscles, sometimes just letting him lay with his head on your chest). Usually near dawn you fall asleep, and then wake at noon to spend the afternoon together until he leaves for Paradise in the evening.

So you've become accustomed to a midday bowl of cereal by now. Of course, it helps that you’re no longer bound to the 9-to-5 life, ever since you quit your job.

The bathroom is rather quiet for several minutes, so you figure Jungkook’s completed his horrible task. So you brace yourself for the sight of a shorn head -

-only to be surprised when he strolls into the kitchen with a sharp undercut.

“Well?” He turns this way and that, striking poses as he walks over to you. “What do you think?”

His dark hair is slicked back, revealing a shorn section on each side of his head, perfectly highlighting his brow piercing. Long strands still flow on top, a swoop falling into his eyes as he smirks at you.

It defies the laws of reality, the way something like this can make your hot boyfriend even sexier. How is it even possible?

Standing, you extend your fingers, letting them run over the short hairs, enjoying the pleasant prickle.

“I think I owe Namjoon a thank you card,” you murmur. The soft stubble tickles your fingertips, like fuzz on a peach. “Maybe even a gift basket.”

His smile grows as he draws you into his arms. “See, you were worried for nothing.”

“I really thought you were going to shave it all off!” you exclaim. Nuzzling his face into the curve of your neck, he laughs, amused huffs of breath dancing over your skin.

“Nope.” He slides your hand into what remains of his hair, lithe fingers encouraging yours to wrap around his locks. “I am thinking about dyeing the rest, though. What do you think sounds better - cherry red or buttery blonde?”

“Blonde!” Did you blurt that out a little too fast? Maybe, judging by the cock of his eyebrow.

“Blonde it is.”

“Do you want your smoothie?” You reach for the fridge door, but he stops you.

“I gotta clean up first. All those little hairs…” His eyes drop to your lips. “Time for a shower.” It’s an invitation that you’re all too happy to accept.

Jungkook first steps under the spray of water to rinse away the hairs still clinging to his face and neck. But as soon as you join him, he crowds you against the wall of the tub, mouth meeting yours, hand diving between your legs, opening you up to take his cock. He’s a bit rushed in his movements, driven by a fervent need to bury himself inside you as quickly as possible, but you don’t care, just as desperate to feel him yourself. It doesn’t matter how many times the two of you do this - every time you need him just as much as you did the first time.

When he slides into you, you let out a loud moan, knees already too weak to stand on. He holds you pinned against the tiles as he thrusts into you, wrapping one of your legs around his waist to help keep you up. “So good, jagi,” he grunts, setting a fast pace. All you can do is hang on, every stroke of his thick cock into your throbbing cunt making you sob his name, until your panting gives way to cries of ecstasy. He spills inside you then, his lips pressed to your cheek, breathing soft words of love across your skin.

In the afternoon, after Jungkook has gone to meet Namjoon at the gym, you decide to take a walk downtown to get a little work done. It’s surprising to you how much has changed in the last few months. Before, the thought of working on a Saturday would’ve sent you into an anxious (and annoyed) spiral. But now? You’re not bothered by it at all. Apparently that’s what happens when you like your job.

Not long after the wedding, you’d gone to the interview Wendy had graciously hooked you up with. Jungkook had helped you prepare, but you were still nervous as fuck. You needed to escape your current company. You needed this new job.

But as the interview progressed, that nervousness turned into a different sinking feeling. Because as the interviewer droned on and on about your responsibilities in this new position, it became more and more clear that you were essentially interviewing for the same job you were trying to leave. It wasn’t a way out. It was a trap. If you took this job, you’d be caught in the same quicksand, dragging you down again.

Despite your growing sense of trepidation, the interview went incredibly well, and you felt pretty confident that you would be hearing from the company soon. Which left you with little time to figure out if you wanted the new job or not.

In the end, it was your promise to Taehyung that made the decision for you. His presentation to the bank was a success, and with his new loan, he’d opened his own studio. Even though you’d done countless presentations over the years at your company, helping too many of their clients to count, this was the first time you’d actually felt joy at the result of your hard work. Helping Taehyung to achieve his dream was a special moment.

It also gave you an idea. A week later, you declined the new job offer. And turned in your notice to your employer. No more working for others.

Time to be your own boss.

It’s just a few blocks from your apartment building to where you’re headed. The bell hanging over the door chimes pleasantly as you let yourself into the little shop. Taehyung’s photography studio is technically closed on Sundays, but with the key he gave you, you can come and go as you please. It’s an arrangement that suits you well.

As you’d expected, Taehyung is sitting in his office in the rear of the shop when you get back there. He nods a quiet greeting, then perks up when he sees the second cup in your hand. You’d stopped at the coffeehouse on your way here, knowing that Taehyung is still splitting his time between Paradise and his studio, which means he’s usually exhausted on Saturdays.

“You really are an angel,” he murmurs, grabbing the cup.

“I know,” you grin, taking a seat at the makeshift desk Taehyung had created for you. He’d been so grateful for your help that he’d insisted that you use his office as your own temporary workspace while you established your consulting business. You were in no position to turn down free rent, but you’d agreed to only if he let you act as his interim bookkeeper. It was only fair. “Where’s Yeontan?”

“I gave my assistant the day off,” Taehyung replies. “He’s back at the apartment with Ji and Min.” He pauses to stretch lazily. “Thanks again for helping with the move the other day. We still owe you and Kook dinner.”

“Don’t worry, we’ll make sure you pay up.” You never turn down a free meal, though honestly, it was enough of a reward for you that you’d gotten to watch your friend Jisoo fall in love with her two boyfriends over the last few months. That’s the word she’d used for them both the other day, when you all helped Taehyung move into Jimin’s place. You hadn’t seen Jisoo this head over heels for anyone since… well, since you’d known her.

Taehyung sips his iced Americano. “What are you working on today?”

“Going over the stuff Felix sent me. We’re meeting with the bank on Tuesday.”

Having Taehyung as your first official customer had been a blessing. After he’d raved about you to the other dancers at Paradise, you’d suddenly found yourself with a whole list of potential clients. There was Felix, who wanted to buy a food truck for his baking hobby and start a brownie delivery service; Namjoon, who was considering creating an urban nursery for the plants he grew in his tiny greenhouse; and Bang Chan, who wanted to discuss the possibility of running his own gym. Even Hoseok wanted to introduce you to a friend of his who was thinking about opening up a male strip club called Outlaws. You’d barely struck out on your own and yet your calendar was already packed.

You pull out your laptop and settle in. “What about you, what’s on your slate today?”

“Just going over some shots.”

The other dancers at Paradise were the best hype team. They’d spread word of mouth about Taehyung’s photography and the studio had been booked since day one. Not that his talent didn’t bring in customers on its own. But it was so touching to see the others rally around Taehyung like that.

The other dancers had also embraced you warmly. You’d already met most of them from your visits to Paradise or the night of Taehyung’s exhibit, but once Jungkook introduced you as his girlfriend, it was like you’d gained an entire family of siblings overnight. And now that you’re on the inside, it’s so easy to see the way they care for one another. No wonder Jungkook loves working there so much.

Well, that, and the tips he makes.

Taehyung slides over so you can see his screen. “It’s Jennie and Yoongi’s session, if you want to take a look.”

“Oh, yes, please!”

Jennie and her husband had recently booked a photography session to announce Jennie’s pregnancy. As Taehyung slowly scrolls through the shots, you try and fail to will yourself not to tear up. Your friend’s baby bump gets bigger every time you see her and it’s unreal to think that it won’t be long until Baby Min is here.

Wordlessly, Taehyung hands you a tissue.

“Thanks.”

After spending so much time with Taehyung over the last few weeks, you understand why Jungkook adores him so much. He has a very comforting presence, which is nice for you right now, since building a company from scratch is a nerve-wracking experience.

“So, tonight’s the night, right?”

Again you grin, nodding. “Yeah.”

“How are you feeling?”

“Excited. But also if I’m being honest, a little scared.”

Everyone - all of your friends and family - has been super supportive for you during this time, lending their help whenever asked. But no one has been more supportive than Jungkook. He’s listened to you rant about your worries and fears at two in the morning when you know he wants nothing more than to hit the pillow and snooze until noon. He’s made you meals when you were too busy to tear yourself away from your computer to eat. He’s spent so much of his own time taking care of you that you started to fret you’d turned into another job for him.

But when you voiced this concern to him, Jungkook shook his head. “Taking care of you isn’t a job,” he’d said. “I do these things because I want to, not because I have to.”

You’ve never known anyone like him before. Never known someone who could be so selfless, so freely giving of himself all the time. So freely giving of his devotion, in every sense of the word. You can’t help but want to worship him yourself.

Despite his claims that he’s doing these things of his own free will, you still feel like you owe him something. A sign of your appreciation. Hence your plans for tonight.

“Why scared?”

You finish your drink, but don’t put the cup down, twirling it in your hands as you think. “What if I make a total ass of myself?”

“Not gonna happen.”

“Easy for you to say,” you snort. Of course he’d be confident, if he were in your shoes. Taehyung radiates an aura of exceptional self-assuredness. It’s difficult to imagine him being rattled by anything. If tomorrow he was told that he needed to perform emergency brain surgery, he’d snap on his surgical gloves without so much as batting an eye.

“Listen, I know Jungkook. More importantly, I know how much he loves you.” Taehyung flashes you a reassuring smile as you look at him. “There’s nothing you could do tonight to change that.”

The funny thing is, you’re pretty sure he’s right.

Jungkook’s already making dinner when you get back to his place. The delicious scent of gochujang jjigae draws you into his kitchen, where he stands facing the stove, his back to you. Walking up to him, you can’t resist sliding your arms around his waist.

“Hi,” you sigh, burying your face between his shoulder blades, breathing deep the ocean scent of his cologne.

“Hey jagi,” he hums, a happy note vibrating through his chest as he rests his tattooed hand on top of yours for a second. “Food’s almost ready. Can you grab some bowls?”

As you reach into his cabinet, it strikes you just how domestic this moment is, getting ready for dinner with Jungkook, like you’ve done so many times before. Thankfully, he’s the one who usually does the cooking, while you help however you can (typically just by staying out of his way - it’s what you do best in the kitchen). It’s unbelievable how easily you’ve fallen into this routine with him. Not a trace of fear in you as you reflect on it.

“I wasn’t sure if you were gonna be back in time to eat with me, but I made enough for two just in case.” He joins you at his little table, ladling stew into your bowls, before he takes the seat across from you. He’s dressed like he usually is for work, just a hoodie and sweats, since he’ll be changing into costumes all night.

“You’re too good to me, Kookie,” you simper playfully with a sweet grin, but you really mean it, knowing that if you’d texted him that you wouldn’t be back, he’d still make extra and put it in the fridge for you.

He rolls his eyes, but the tips of his ears betray him, turning pink. The two of you dig into your meal, quietly enjoying the food and each other’s company.

“I meant to ask you,” he says after a few minutes, “do you know when Jin-hyung will be back in town?”

When you’d called things off with Seokjin, you’d made him promise to keep in touch while he was out traveling for his cooking show. He’d taken that pledge to heart, texting you brief updates and sending photos from the road. You’re glad to have made another friend from this whole experience. Especially one whose name you can drop to make hard-to-get dinner reservations. (Seokjin gets a real ego boost when you do that - he’s the one who suggested it in the first place.)

Though things had gotten off to a rocky start between Jungkook and Seokjin, they’d become fairly good friends themselves. It doesn’t really surprise you, since they have more in common than they thought (not even counting you) - both are talented and determined, funny and handsome, not to mention both give a hell of a lap dance. Also, it’s hard not to love Jungkook, no matter how you meet him.

“Um, I think last time I heard from him, he said he’d be back in two weeks for a short break.”

“Good. That should give me enough time to finish.” He doesn’t say anything else, but you can read between the lines so well with him by now.

“Jin’s going to love his portrait,” you reassure him.

As soon as Seokjin had seen Jungkook’s artwork, he’d wasted no time in commissioning the younger man to paint his portrait, to be hung in his newest restaurant. You know that Jungkook is thrilled at the opportunity, but he’s also a little nervous, wanting to impress Seokjin. It’s pretty cute, truth be told.

You glance up to find Jungkook watching you with a small smile.

“What? What are you looking at? Am I a mess?” You grab your napkin, dabbing at your face, but he shakes his head.

“Nothing. I’m happy you’re here. I feel like I’ve barely seen you the last few weeks, you’ve been out working so much.”

“Oh, right.” You scratch your ear, giving him an apologetic look. “I know, I’ve been busy.”

“I’m not saying that’s bad!” Jungkook raises his hands. “I just… missed you.”

“Kookie,” you sigh, heart bubbling over with fondness. Your boyfriend is such a sap.

You set down your spoon and rise to your feet, locking your arms around him. He looks up at you with so much love in his eyes you nearly pinch yourself. But you don’t have to. This isn’t a dream, it’s your life. Silently, you thank the universe for everything you did that led you to this man. Then you press a gentle kiss to his waiting lips.

“I missed you too. But I’m hoping all this will be worth it.”

“It will be, jagiya,” Jungkook asserts, cupping your face gently. “I know it’s hard. But you know what you’re doing. And you’re not alone - you’ve got so many people in your corner. Like me.” He grins, kissing the tip of your nose lightly. “I believe in you.”

There’s a sudden lump in your throat, making it impossible to speak, so you let your lips express what you feel. What’s left of your dinner sits forgotten as you climb into his lap, kissing him until you’re both breathless. Only then you’re able to whisper a quiet thank you.

Jungkook’s right. You can do this. Especially with him by your side.

Sparkling Rosé ✨ (8:15): Are we still on for brunch tomorrow?

Bestie 😇 (8:17): Yes! I miss you guys

Bestie 😇 (8:17): This baby’s not even here yet and they’re already keeping me busy

Bestie 😇 (8:18): Plus I’ve been craving waffles for days

Sparkling Rosé ✨ (8:19): We miss you too!

Sparkling Rosé ✨ (8:19): And you too, YN! You work too hard

You (8:20): I know 😔I miss you all too

Lovely Lisa 💋 (8:21): I’ll be there!

Queen Ji 👑 (8:22): Yes we’re doing brunch because YN needs to tell us allll about tonight!

Sparkling Rosé ✨ (8:23): OH THAT’S RIGHT!

Lovely Lisa 💋 (8:23): Ahhhh that’s tonight?!

Sparkling Rosé ✨ (8:23): Break a leg! 🙌

Lovely Lisa 💋 (8:24): LET’S GOOOOO

Queen Ji 👑 (8:24): You are going to KILL IT

Bestie 😇 (8:24): *airhorn.gif*

You (8:25): 🙈🙈

You (8:25): We’ll see

You (8:25): But thank you 😘

Queen Ji 👑 (8:26): Oh no! None of that

Queen Ji 👑 (8:26): Trust me, you’ve got this

You (8:27): And just how are you so sure about that?

Queen Ji 👑 (8:28): Jimin told me. He never lies

You (8:29): I knew I should’ve asked Namjoon

Sparkling Rosé ✨ (8:29): As if he wouldn’t tell me

Sparkling Rosé ✨ (8:30): I like the guy but he can’t keep a secret to save his life

Lovely Lisa 💋 (8:31): Relax, you’re gonna be amazing! Just have fun with it

Bestie 😇 (8:31): Yessssss have fun

Queen Ji 👑 (8:32): But also put your back into it

Bestie 😇 (8:33): You should probably stretch first

You (8:33): Yes, eomma, I will

Bestie 😇 (8:34): I’m going to kindly ask that you never call me that again

You (8:35): But you’ll be hearing it all the time soon!!

Bestie 😇 (8:35): Not from you though! 🙅

Queen Ji 👑 (8:36): Sorry, eomma, we’ll behave

Bestie 😇 (8:37): Oh god, *especially* not from you

Bestie 😇 (8:37): Okay I’m out. I’ll see you all tomorrow. But don’t forget!

Bestie 😇 (8:38): 📣You’ve got this! 📣

Queen Ji 👑 (8:38): She’s the best mom

A few hours later, you find yourself alone in an unfamiliar space. A small room, containing only a handful of pieces of dark furniture. Velvet curtains drape three of the walls, while the fourth is a mirror. A crystalline chandelier hangs from the ceiling, the glass reflecting the soft lighting, scattering shimmering spots of illumination around the room as the bass pumping from the overhead speaker makes the decoration bounce.

You wipe your sweaty palms on the skirt of your dress, wishing you could take your friends’ advice and relax right now. Instead, your nerves are jumpy and your pulse is racing. The waiting isn’t helping.

As you switch seats for the tenth time since you got here (you can’t decide which is a better place to sit, on the pleather couch or the matching chair), you adjust your dress, hoping you look more confident than you feel. Confidence is key for what you’re about to do, according to Jimin.

Maybe you should’ve thought this through more. More practice would’ve been helpful, too. Why did you decide to do this now? You’ve really got to work on your patience, you think, eyeing the couch again before moving seats again.

The curtains sway slightly as the door to the room opens. Immediately your mind empties of all thoughts as your adrenaline kicks in. It’s showtime. You sit up, trying to strike an enticing pose, waiting for the man who opened the door to finish locking it and turn around.

“I hope I didn’t keep you waiting t- baby??” Jungkook freezes, head cocking to the side in confusion. You knew that Jimin had told him he had a Paradise customer waiting for him in a private room. “What are you doing here?”

“I wanted to surprise you,” you grin, suddenly feeling really shy. Which is the exact opposite of what you need to feel right now, if you’re going to pull this off. “So, um, surprise!”

Jungkook smiles, obviously thrilled with your surprise, and crosses the tiny space in two strides. You stand to greet him, taking in his outfit, a silky black shirt unbuttoned over a pair of black leather pants. He looks just like he did the night of Jennie’s bachelorette party, only with a new haircut. The fabric of his top is soft beneath your fingertips as you lay your hands on his shoulders, accepting his kiss hello.

“Not that I’m not happy to see you, but… you know you didn’t have to pay to see me, right?” Jungkook murmurs against your lips. “I’ll dance for you any time.”

You do know that, because he’s danced for you several times now. Sometimes he likes to get your opinions on a new routine, and other times… other times, he just feels like dancing for you.

Knowing all this, you nod, smoothing down the folds in his shirt, trying to distract yourself from the way your stomach is tying itself in knots. Relax, you remind yourself, taking a deep breath. There’s nothing to be nervous about. It’s Jungkook.

“I know. But this actually isn’t about me tonight. It’s about you.”

Applying a little pressure on his shoulders, you push Jungkook onto the couch. He looks up at you questioningly, but doesn’t say anything, merely takes a seat. That’s so like him - to read you so well that he understands you’ve got something planned, so he’s letting you lead the moment. Just that tiny act of deference heartens you, leaving you more sure about what you’ve got planned.

You walk over to the panel on the wall that controls the overhead speaker. Your phone is already hooked up, and with a few swipes, you change the playlist.

“I wanted to do something for you, to show you how much I appreciate everything you’ve been doing for me.” For some reason it’s easier to explain why you’re here without looking at Jungkook as you do it, so you fiddle with the phone a little as you speak. “I know the last few weeks have been stressful, because of everything I’m trying to do, and I just… I want to thank you. And I thought this was the best way to do it.”

When you turn back around, Jungkook’s watching you with such a rapt expression that you can’t help but feel almost foolish about being so worried about this. It doesn’t matter if you can’t give him a show on the same level that he does. You’ve got his full attention no matter what you do.

You’ve got his love.

With that comforting thought, you take a steadying breath, in and out, and then begin.

Dancing is really not your strong suit, but the biggest lesson Jimin taught you is that it’s not the moves themselves that matter - it’s the attitude with which you perform them. It’s all about setting a mood.

So you let the music guide you. Let yourself sink into the groove set by the drums and bass. Jungkook lets out a tiny “oh, fuck,” when you start to shake your hips. You fight the urge to giggle, biting your lip in a sultry manner instead. You’re wearing a cute but simple dress, something that will be easy to remove when the time comes, but you dance like you’re dressed in the sexiest outfit imaginable, sliding the skirt up your thighs a little to tease him.

Even though you’re only a few feet away from Jungkook, you take your time approaching him, dragging out the anticipation. His hands rise automatically, reaching for you, but you dodge his grasp, taking them in your own hands instead. Something else Jimin taught you - lay down the rules right away.

“I’m here to dance for you, Kookie. So let’s get one thing straight - I’m the one in charge.” You squeeze his hands to draw his attention to them as you place them at his sides. “That means no touching me, unless I say it’s okay.”

Jungkook blinks at your words, but he doesn’t argue or try again to touch you. “Yes, baby,” he says, eyes brimming with adoration as he nods at you, and again you feel a surge of confidence.

With your back to him, you place a hand on both of his knees, guiding him to spread his legs apart. Then you lower yourself into his lap, laying back against his chest and tilting your face towards his. If either of you leaned forward the slightest bit, your mouths would touch, but you resist the urge, and he waits breathlessly to see what you’re going to do next.

You bring your arm up, then trail your hand down his chest, across your breasts and stomach, and on to his thigh, just skimming past his crotch. His hips buck slightly beneath you, and you grind in his lap, giving him the friction he seeks.

“Don’t worry, I’ll touch you all you want,” you whisper.

Jungkook groans loudly. You glide around the couch until you’re behind him and run your hands down his arms and over his chest. The silk of his shirt is starting to stick to him where he’s sweating. You’ve barely started and you’re already having an obvious effect on him.

It’s not just his temperature that’s rising, you note with a smug smile when you return to your spot in front of him. The tight material of his pants barely restrains his erection. Again you sit on his thighs, facing away from him, throwing your legs out in a wide stance as you pop to the beat.

“Shit, baby, yes,” Jungkook praises you with a deep groan when you lean forward, giving him a good view of your ass as it bounces. “Where’d you learn to dance like this?”

“Well, um…” you pause to bend further, nearly touching the ground, enjoying how Jungkook swears quietly when he gets a glimpse of your panties, “you know how I’ve been so busy lately?”

“Uh-huh…” Jungkook responds mindlessly, far too occupied with the sight in front of him. He’s being so patient, keeping his hands at his side like instructed, but the telltale twitching of his fingers lets you know that he’s fighting hard to behave.

You decide to take pity. Just a little. Turning, you straddle him, and grab his wrists. “Here you go,” you wink, placing his hands on your hips. “Just hold on for me.”

Jungkook hums, vision trailing up your body from where your hips are swaying to where your breasts are now in his face.

“I was working, but I wasn’t at Taehyung’s studio. I was taking some lessons from Jimin.”

He looks up at that. “Wait, you were what?”

The surprise on his face makes you giggle. There’s that wide-eyed Bambi look that you love so much. As the next track on your playlist starts, something a little slower, you shift into a grind, dragging your ass over Jungkook’s lap. He hisses, fingers tightening their grip, almost bruising in their hold, but he doesn’t try to guide you like he usually does when the two of you are in this position. It impresses you, the restraint he’s showing.

It makes you want to make him lose control.

You run your fingers through his hair, lifting it off his face, and lean close to his ear. “I wanted to make this good for you, baby. Give you exactly what you deserve.” Your lips hover across his cheek, not touching, but your breath caresses his skin, making him shudder beneath you.

“Jagi,” Jungkook swallows thickly, eyelids heavy with desire as he peers at you. “You’re amazing. I can’t believe you’ve been hiding these moves from me.”

You bite back another big smile. “You haven’t seen anything yet.”

His hands fall from your waist as you spin around, nudging his legs apart. Following the rhythm of the music, you undulate your body down his, your back sliding down his chest, then down his lap, until you’re on your knees. Then you place your hands on the ground in front of you, lowering your bottom half to the floor in a slow humping motion, before flashing him as you whip your legs into a split in order to roll yourself onto your back.

“Holy fuck, jagi,” Jungkook gasps, digging his hands into the couch on either side of his thighs, desperate for something to clutch. “You’re finally gonna do it. You’re going to be the actual death of me.”

Despite yourself, you start giggling. “Kookie! Don’t make me laugh.” You take your time rising to your knees, then to your feet, playing with the hem of your skirt. “I want you to take this seriously.”

“Oh, I am, baby, believe me.” Jungkook bites his lip, nodding. His eyes follow the path your hands take, dragging the skirt up to reveal your lower stomach. Meanwhile, one of his hands has found its way to his crotch, squeezing his hard cock through his pants. You’d considered making another rule earlier, that he couldn’t touch himself, but truthfully, you want to watch him enjoy himself.

“Good boy,” you purr, and Jungkook whimpers loud enough for you to wonder if you’ve tapped into something previously undiscovered about him, but you’re too busy to ponder it any further as you swing your hips, using his knees to help you drop yourself down to the floor again in a low squat.

The power you feel as he watches you is beyond intoxicating. What you’re doing right now is nothing compared to the skill he displays when he dances, but you understand a little better why he does this for a living. You feel like you could do anything right now.

As you come back up, you lean into him, hands on his chest, your face so close to his, and this time the need to kiss him is too strong, so you stop denying yourself, connecting your mouths briefly, just enough to have him chasing you when you pull away. Before he can protest, you distract him by pulling your dress over your head in one swift movement.

“Baby,” he moans, eyeing the matching lingerie set you picked out especially for tonight, his favorite color and his favorite texture, the black lace just begging him to run his fingertips all over it. “Is that new?”

Of course he’d notice. He’s got the contents of your underwear drawer practically memorized. Not surprising since most of the sets are from him. He’s got a thing for nice lingerie and you’re more than happy to indulge him.

“Bought it just for you.” With your back to him, you straddle one of his thighs, centering yourself on the thick muscle, and roll your hips in slow figure eights. Grabbing his hands, you wrap them around you, placing one on your bra and the other just over the band of your panties. “Do you like?”

Jungkook’s answer is a wordless growl as he strokes the lace. You hum, tossing your head back so it rests on his shoulder, and slip the hand over your lower stomach down further, until he’s cupping your mound.

“Ah!” you gasp, hips jutting forward when his eager fingers go rogue and press against you in a sign of his slipping control. “I - I’m guessing that means yes.”

“It means fuck yes,” Jungkook declares. “You’re driving me insane right now, you know that?”

“I think I’m getting the idea,” you reply, trying to focus on finishing your dance and not just outright humping his hand. Tracing your fingernails down his forearms makes him loosen his grip enough for you to climb off him. As the next track plays, you drape yourself over the side of the couch so your back hits his lap, and lie there shimmying to the beat for a few seconds before unhooking your bra and tossing it aside.

“Jagiya,” Jungkook rasps roughly, tongue licking furiously at his lips, and even though you’re only maybe halfway through the routine you’d been practicing, you decide to skip to the end, because clearly your boyfriend is close to breaking, and frankly, so are you.

You throw your leg over his lap, straddling him again. Taking his hands, you lace your fingers together, using him as a counterweight to help you dip backwards, so low your head nearly brushes the ground, before you roll back up, pressing your forehead to his. You stare at his mouth and he stares at yours as you inhale a steadying breath to speak.

“You can touch me now.”

The current of electricity simmering between you suddenly blazes out, igniting the air around you. His hands slide to the small of your back, and your arms loop around his neck, both of you pulling each other as close as possible as you meet in a charged kiss. Jungkook moans into your lips, tongue chasing the sound. Your mouth parts to let him in.

Jungkook’s hands keep moving, gripping your waist, your ass, your breasts - it’s like he’s been starving for you, like those few minutes that he wasn’t allowed to hold you were an eternity and now that they’re over he must take his fill. Your skin vibrates beneath his fingertips, so much pent-up energy ready to burst, and you seek an outlet, grinding your hips down onto his.

“Kookie,” you whine helplessly, and Jungkook grunts in response, rutting his erection against you, fitting between your legs so perfectly, the two of you like puzzle pieces coming together to form a complete picture of lust.

“I’m here, jagi,” he murmurs, lips brushing along your jawline and back to your mouth before continuing down the other side. “I’m here.”

In a second, you’re on your back, watching Jungkook peel off his shirt before he covers your body with his. His kisses are just as greedy as his touches, and you lose yourself in him, devouring the desire on his lips with a wild ravenousness of your own.

But as he trails kisses down your body, you open your eyes and stare directly at the chandelier hanging over you, and a thought hits you with startling clarity - oh, right, you’re still at Paradise. At Jungkook’s place of work.

“Jungkook. Jungkook,” you repeat, threading your fingers through his hair to tug his head off your breast, where his tongue was lapping at your nipple. “Should we do this here?”

Jungkook blinks at you a few times. “Isn’t this - don’t you want to?”

Of course you want to. But all those times you’d pictured this moment, your best hope was that he’d enjoy the dance and promise to thank you in private later when he got off work. You hadn’t really considered that you’d do such an amazing job that the two of you would fuck on the spot. (Okay, that’s a lie, you’d considered it a lot. But still. Imagining fucking your boyfriend at his job and actually fucking your boyfriend at his job are two very different things.)

“I want to,” you reassure him, brushing a wandering drop of sweat from his brow. “I just don’t want to get you in trouble.”

Jungkook laughs, leaning up to press a kiss to your cheek. “Baby, trust me, I’m not the first one to do this. There’s a reason “no sex in the champagne room” is a saying.” He sees the mix of confusion and disgust on your face and laughs again. “I’m not worrying about it and neither should you. But if you are, we don’t have to do anything. This has been more than enough for me.”

“So… you liked your dance?” you ask in a tiny voice.

Jungkook lets out a pained groan. “Baby, I loved it. I can’t believe you did all this for me.” His hand brushes over your hip, playing with the lace there. “You’re too good to me, you know that?”

“Not true.” If anything, he’s the one too good to you. “But I’m trying.”

He kisses you again, slow and sweet. You feel yourself melting into his embrace. Any remaining concerns vanish as Jungkook lowers his head, taking your nipple into his mouth again with a messy kiss. If he’s not worried, why should you be? Besides, as you arch your back, chasing Jungkook’s tongue as he drags it down your torso, only an apocalypse could stop you now, and maybe not even that.

“You know,” you start, gasping slightly when his teeth graze lightly over the swell of your stomach, “I’ve fantasized about this.”

Jungkook glances up at you. “Oh yeah?”

“Yeah. I mean, I usually pictured you dancing for me, but, um, we always ended up fucking.” A flash of heat licks the back of your neck as you meet Jungkook’s eye.

“That’s usually how I imagine it, too,” Jungkook informs you. The casual admission of this mutual secret fantasy stokes your arousal. Jungkook flames it further when he ruts his hard cock against you. “Sometimes you ride me, sometimes I bend you over this couch, but it always starts with me giving you a private show.”

Your breath leaves you in a hiss. “Fuck. That sounds good.”

“Which one?”

“Both,” you groan, rolling your hips. “All of it.”

Jungkook kisses your neck to smother his laughter. “It’s not too late, you know. I can make those fantasies come true.” His tone deepens as he speaks, becoming darker. Oh, you know this tone so well. He’s shifting to demon mode.

“Another time. I mean,” you clarify immediately, not wanting him to misunderstand, “you can give me a private dance another time.”

“Aww, is my baby too worked up right now?” he teases, and this time he doesn’t bother to even try to hide his laughter when you whine, pressing your hips into him again. “Okay, jagi, I promise I’ll dance for you another time. I won’t make you wait any longer.”

Again he slides down your body, kissing over the soft lace of your underwear. He pulls your thighs apart with his hands so he can stick his face directly between them. His stuttered breath blows hot over the damp material barely covering you. Impatient, you reach to push your panties down, but Jungkook grabs your hands and pins them over your head. “Kook!”

Jungkook shakes his head at your pouty cry. Leaning over you, he catches your bottom lip with his teeth, pulling it to his mouth for another wet kiss.

“Let me, baby,” he coos sweetly, and then he takes the lace band in his teeth and slowly drags your panties down your body using only his mouth.

“Fuck that’s hot,” you moan, unable to tear your gaze away. Jungkook hums, dropping the sodden silk on the ground before lowering his lips to kiss your pussy. He’s sloppy and loud, and in a brief lucid flash of sanity you pray that the music covers the sounds out in the hallway.

Jungkook always moves at his own pace, in his own time, and nowhere is that more evident than the way goes down on you. He loves building you up slowly, so slowly, until you’re going out of your mind begging him to let you cum. Tonight, however, he’s moving fast, slipping two fingers inside you, getting you ready for him. If asked, he’d claim it was for you, but the truth is that he needs you as much as you need him right now.

“Love the way you taste,” he murmurs, fingers spreading you wider, dragging his tongue over your clit. He curls his fingers, smirking at your gasp, and repeats the movement. It feels so good, too good, so your hand snakes out and grabs his wrist, and he stills, looking up at you in confusion.

“Wanna come on your cock,” you explain.

He groans, reclining back on his knees. “Whatever you want, jagiya,” he says, fingers flying to the laces on his leather pants. He’s used to taking his time untying them on stage, drawing the moment out seductively, a marked contrast to the clumsy way he tugs on them now, trying to undo them as quickly as he can.

With only a little bit of struggling, he pushes his pants down, then kicks them off completely. He wraps one hand around his hard length, thumb and forefinger pinching slightly just below the flushed head. Your teeth sink into your lip as you stare at him, taking in sight of this gorgeous man kneeling between your legs, looking every bit as hungry as you feel.

“Tell me how you want it.”

You clench unconsciously at Jungkook’s command, mind running through all the possibilities. Honestly, you don’t care how, you just need him inside you now.

So you reach out, gently prying his fingers away from his cock. Jungkook sighs when you take it in your hand, a sound of deep-seated contentment, like he’s been waiting all night for you to touch him. You understand the sentiment, thighs twitching as you slowly pump him a few times, using his slickness to make your movements easier.

“Just like this,” you say, guiding him towards your slit. He hisses as you slide his head through your folds, and presses forward a bit, helping you coat him in your arousal.

“Okay, jagiya,” he murmurs. He arranges himself between your legs, lifting one calf, then the other, over his broad shoulders. You shiver, breathless with anticipation as you catch the feral glint in his eyes. “Just like this.”

A harmonious pair of moans fill the room when he enters you. He waits for a moment, because as rushed as his fingering was, it wasn’t enough to fully stretch you out enough for him. When you whisper, “okay,” he starts to move. The first few rolls of his hips are slow and easy, him savoring the tight warmth of your cunt around him, you delighting in the sensation of being filled so completely. He kisses the side of your knee, staring down at you as you whimper beneath him with every languid thrust.

When your hands stretch out for him, he leans down, bending you in half to press his mouth to yours. He sinks deeper into you, your bodies locking together more closely, and you lace your fingers through his hair, until you’re breathing each other’s kisses like air. You whisper Jungkook’s name and he sighs yours back.

“Love you so much, jagi.”

His mouth nudges your head to the side in search of that sensitive spot behind your ear, and you open your eyes to catch sight of the two of you in the mirror. Even if the room were pitch black right now, you’d be able to see yourself lying there, the way you’re lit from within. Your love for Jungkook burns inside you like a star in the night sky, pulsing bright and steady.

“I love you, too.”

Jungkook’s pace steadies, his pelvis starting to bounce off your ass with more speed.

“Oh, fuck, yes, baby,” you moan, watching him piston his cock inside you. “More, please, Kookie! More!”

Never let it be said that your boyfriend doesn’t listen. He pulls out, getting off the couch, and, with strong hands gripping your thighs, positions you with your hips resting on the arm of the couch, to raise you high enough for him to plunge back in from a standing position.

And then he gives you exactly what you asked for.

Jungkook fucks you hard and fast. His furrowed brow drips with sweat as he snaps his hips into you. You know nothing could break his concentration now - eyes sharply focusing on your expression, ears listening for the change in the pitch of your voice. When he feels your walls starting to constrict, he grips your thighs to tilt you just enough to find the right angle to tap your sweet spot with every pump -

“Jungkook!” With a loud gasp of his name, your climax arrives. Your cunt pulsates so tightly around him that Jungkook clamps his arms around your legs, pulling your ass flush against him so he can grind into you.

“Oh, fuck, jagi, ‘m so close.” His voice is already wrecked, sounding rough and broken. He bends slightly at the waist, forcing your legs closer to your stomach, putting you at an odd angle, but you’re still buzzing with pleasure so you don’t notice the stretch, just let out a low moan as Jungkook starts to move again.

He bends further, sliding his hands behind your back, and then he lifts you, using that surprising strength of his to hold you as he slides around to sit on the couch. Your legs support you just long enough to straddle him, and then you sink down onto his cock, more than happy to collapse against Jungkook as he fucks up into you.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” he chants, bringing one of his hands up to cup your cheek. “Always so good, jagi.” You meet his gaze, struck by the love you see in his eyes. No matter how often he looks at you like this, it makes your heart sing every time. You kiss him before sitting up, meeting his thrusts with your own movements.

“Come for me, Kookie,” you murmur sweetly, drawing your boyfriend’s eye with the movement of your hand as it heads down your stomach. Your fingers rub at your clit, rolling the engorged nub around, and the delicious drag of his cock inside your constricting walls has you hurtling towards a second orgasm just as Jungkook reaches his first.

Your playlist begins the last song as the two of you cling to each other on the couch. Jungkook’s arms are still locked around your back while you rest your head on his shoulder. He sings along quietly to the music, his soothing voice wrapping around you like a blanket. It’s a favorite song of his, just as it’s a favorite of yours - the song from your rooftop dance at Jennie and Yoongi’s wedding.

When the music ends, Jungkook sighs. “We should definitely do this again.”

You laugh, sitting up. He grins at you and you lean forward to press a light peck to the tiny mole under his lip. “I may have booked you all night.”

“Like I was gonna let you walk out of here anytime soon,” he scoffs. He stops your giggling with his kiss, lips soft and lingering, and you sigh, hugging him close again.

There’s a part of you that can’t believe you just fucked your boyfriend in a strip club, but somehow it felt inevitable that you two would end up here like this. Like from the moment you walked in here all those months ago, there was no other way this would go.

It was such a strange trip to think about. You had to go all the way to Paradise to meet the love of your life who lived next door. Fate could really take the most roundabout way, but the journey was more than worth it.

“You really didn’t have to do all of this for me.” Jungkook’s voice brings you back to the moment.

“I want to do everything for you,” you reply with a shake of your head. “You deserve the world, Kookie.”

“I have everything I could ever want, jagiya. Right here in my arms.”

Normally, this is where you would roll your eyes at him for being so sappy, but that’s hard to do when you’re blinking back tears. Instead, you squeeze him a little tighter, so he knows that you feel the same way.

“You know…” Jungkook starts after a few seconds, then stops. You shake him a little to urge him to go on. “There is something else I’ve been thinking about. Something I want to do, but I wasn’t sure if you’d be into it.”

“What is it?”

He glances down, and there’s the shy bunny smile that you remember from all those months ago. “I’d love to paint you.”

“Naked?” you whisper, hand to your chest, looking scandalized.

He laughs, nose wrinkling in glee. “That actually wasn’t what I meant but I’m absolutely down if you are.”

“We’ll see,” you grin, kissing his cheek. “One thing at a time. Right now, we’ve got this room to ourselves, and I believe you promised me a dance.”

“Yes I did,” Jungkook agrees, chin jutting out to catch your next kiss with his lips. “Anything for my love.”

“I love you, too,” you sigh, kissing him back.

************************************************************************

A/N 2: Yes, there will still be some drabbles down the line, but this is the end of the main story! Thank you for sticking with me! 💕

If you liked this fic, please consider reblogging! Likes do not help it get seen by other readers. 💕

Masterlist 💜 Find me on AO3 💜

#bts smut #jungkook smut #bts scenarios #bts imagines #bts x reader #jungkook x reader #jeon jungkook smut #jeon jungkook x reader #jungkook x you #jeon jungkook x you #jungkook fanfic #bts fanfic #thebtswritersclub #fic: paradise

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shaisuki · 6 months ago

Text

FAVORS FOR A AMENDMENT

𝐒𝐄𝐑𝐈𝐄𝐒 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓

᭝ ᨳଓ ՟ content warnings exhibitionism, fluff, descriptions of body insecurities, harassment, dubcon, fingering, power imbalance, power abuse, reader wears dress, she/hear pronouns.

᭝ ᨳଓ ՟ notes a little side story of a shopping trip after the event of sick favors. currently writing the revenge arc now.

᭝ ᨳଓ ՟ taglist: @missakward123 @lupitalove @i00bear @socialanxietyvictim @tourmalxine @labelt-san @ghostlyworld @kashxyou @chiiiiiiiiiiifuuuuuuuu @cute-sucker @skii-high @boyimjustaloserforyourlove @jossayuuu @bubblesandsand1-0 @ply4vnce @witchymermaid12 @luna-v-roiya @mariyumemi @sinfullygay @higurumapet @kvk6433qkcigv @s-j320 @bts-skz @imcreepininyourheartbabe @hazzelle-kento @cashcadaver @n1vi @kiruupon @vebbiewuzhere @its-princessmara @ssetsuka @unicornqueen05 @idkwhattimdoingere2 @sunnytyun @tomriddles-wh0re @ya-mamaaaaa @wateriswhatiam @red-writes @saltyladyflower @greyclouq @bahurani @lovayle @okayiamkassandra @sealikesushi @sanzuandmikey @spicana @luvysmai @uniquenicefangirl @ushijimaschubbs @lansy-4 @eggieshiteru @jellibean2018 @uchihabucketlist @sunadmoby @cupidscourt @divinedolliebun @rottmntrulesall @mmeharuno @haesify @sleighter

a shopping trip with the two sounds fun but it's actually not. you hope that it won't be hectic for you and it would be the first they are genuinely nice to you.

“wear something good.”

the text message in your phone says. sent by suguru first thing in the morning after your alarm rang. you have been dreading the later day since yesterday after they left and you're too worried too sleep and tirelessly turning then you slept. you only think of one thing. it would be humiliating for you. you've never done shopping.

shopping is fun. they say but to you is not. you have to deal with numerous disappointments such as clothes not fitting you right. it's either too loose or too tight. you would rather save yourself from the embarrassment of men and woman staring at you weird of the nasty look that people in the store would give you for simply shopping. now, it will be a lot worse. there's satoru and suguru who would make it worse and the next time you step inside in a clothing store you would faint.

hoping that plans will get cancelled for today is simply a far cry from a dream. there's a chance gojo would cancel but suguru, he's a different story. you would not dare tell a thing about it and you know what will happen if you simply ditch again even you recently recovered from being sick. they won't believe you and so, you forced yourself to rummage through the measly clothing you have. the meager clothing you packed since you left home were destroyed. it was either ripped or taken by them. trophies they treat all of your clothing except for the tattered ones. you didn't know where they get to be that strong enough to tear your clothes off.

it's only for today. you convince yourself and you decided to grab the clothing that you consider good for yourself. a black short sleeved knitted top paired with a dark flowy green skirt that rested in your ankles and your black combat boots. there's a small chance that they wouldn't rip this clothing off you. it's the only good one you have.

you were done thirty minutes before the time they scheduled and you grab your small sling bag to carry your own stuff and then you bid goodbye to your roommate and then went to the train station where you will waiting for them both.

you waited for five minutes before suguru arrives. stiffly greeting him like he wants and he orders you to seat beside him while you both wait for gojo who have a habit of running late for every time event. geto doesn't complain and only pulls his cellphone from his pocket to type a quick text to satoru.

“we're here. get your ass running.” he types before hitting the send button and putting it back to his pocket. you placed your bag in front of you. clutching it to lever yourself from what to come. suguru is particularly the harsher one when pissed and when he's silent you assume the worst when it comes to him.

there's a brief silence surrounding you both except for the incoming screeching of the incoming train and footsteps of people trying to catch up the train. it's a weekend and twice the people was crowding the train station. you were both seated in a nearby bench placed in the waiting area. you were getting a little weary of the silence coming from him and you stole a glance geto and you find he was staring at you. panicking you immediately whipped your head to the side. lowering your head in defeat. he was probably criticizing you for what you were wearing and how you looked.

“i'm sorry.” you muttered. “i can't find anything good.” you apologized. they were right, you were pathetic. you were apologizing for being you. your lips tremble and you let out a shaky breath. trying yourself to keep the tears at bay and not make it worse in front of him.

suguru chuckles at you for sounding so troubled, it's not like he cared what you wore. “it's fine. you look nice.” he commented. moving closer to you and rubs your back. before he could open his mouth again to speak. a voice calls him.

“suguru~.”

gojo's voice came booming. he arrives with his hands tucked in his pockets. geto's face turns into a scowl. “satoru, i told you to be early. what time is it now? tsk.” he clicks his tongue in annoyance and gojo just rolls at his eyes at him before glancing at you. “what were you and (y/n)-chan talking about?” he asked curiously. a little left out that you were both talking and he's not included.

“just talking about how she look nice. does she look nice, satoru?” geto is somewhat purring when he said that and gojo shrugs. “boring.” gojo said uninterested. “let's go now, suguru. we're taking (y/n)-chan to show the joy of shopping.” beaming with a mischievous glint in his eyes and your stomach drops. it was malicious when satoru would say something like that and you were already anticipating it and yet, you could never get used to it. then the announcement of the incoming train booming in the speakers rang in your ears and they dragged you inside with the dread coming with you.

it wasn't good. how the feeling of being trapped between them spikes your heart rate up. they intentionally shoved you in the closed train door while the other passengers filled the spaces now occupied and it was now crowded. it was sure a jam-packed weekend in the train and you were pressed against the cold automated doors of the train and your two bullies are in front of you. they sure towered everyone including you and they can't keep themselves from smiling from the close proximity of your soft body being squished against them. they were clearly enjoying your misery.

sure, it was clear as the daylight that this two, more like gojo satoru have his own chaffeur and a car that drives him whenever he wants and anytime. he was the heir of a huge company and it was provided for him without asking. he likes the luxury but it can never the compare of doing some he deemed as enjoyable to you in public with his bestfriend of course. call this somewhat of a fantasy.

suguru got your skirt hiked up despite the length of it. his hand between your creamy thighs. massaging the flesh before rubbing your clothed pussy. nobody can see what he was doing. obscured by both of their wide builds. you are biting your lips. your eyes silently pleading for them to stop but suguru continues to assault your pussy. plunging two of his fingers and you didn't think it would come to this today and in a public transportation.

your eyes were turning misty and it didn't help that your body like what suguru was doing to you and satoru was creeping his hand under your shirt to squeeze the bountiful flesh in your stomach. mercilessly assaulting your body and you hoped someone may take notice and intervene but no one, not even a single had noticed you in this transportation full of people and the ride continued like that. by the time you all reached the next station, they acted like nothing happened. annoyed by your turtle like movements, they put you in between them to match their strides and to avoid losing you in this crowd of a place.

they take you to what looks like a high-end shopping district in the part of the city where they easily navigated like they know where to shop and hang out. silly you to think like that. of course they know it. they frequent it like it was just a regular day for them and you were lucky to be here because of them.

you follow them mindlessly. unfamiliar with the place and you were wary of everything and you felt underdressed for some reason. various designer stores are littered in every corner and every turn. some are familiar and some you can't even pronounce. mannequins are clothed with the latest fashion trend. displaying for shoppers to admire and you realized that a single clothing in this area cost a year of your expenses and you have to work half of your life to splurge on these designers. you were suddenly conscious of the money you brought with you. it was enough for a fare money and meal to yourself. surely, these two won't expect you to pay for this shopping trip. you were just going to pretend you like everything they bought. this is a another prank to you they are going to pull.

they stop in a boutique where upon entering two attendants started taking measurements of you. confused, you stood like a statue until they were done and began skimming the clothes in the rack.

another attendant escorted you three in a private room. puzzled, do these kind of stores have their dressing room in just the corner. why is there a private room like this? you think this is the place where bored rich housewives spend their time with or where mistresses splurge the money of their wealthy boyfriends who doesn't have the time for them and a credit card will make up for it. you were neither of the two.

the attendant pretends like you weren't there. unceremoniously flirting to both of them where they only ignores her. when her attempts proven to be a fail, she left not without glaring at you first — why was it your fault?

before you could find your answer for that kind of reason, two employees came wheeling a two huge clothing racks filled with different clothes and they left it next to the dressing room and you look at them both.

“try all of them and show it to us, princess.” suguru orders you to and you nodded. stepping inside the dressing room and it was spacious. you didn't dare question them about this. asking begets punishment and you were no mood nor have the capacity to take it. you just have to play along for today. you were hoping they would leave you after you move the curtains away and see nothing on the empty couch.

you blindly grabbed a clothing item after you've stripped. putting it on and you didn't like what you see in the mirror, it feels wrong. funny you can think of your body as unpleasant when you're living in it for all of your life and it got worse when you crossed paths with the boys outside of this dressing room. you were going to cry like you always used to but you sniffle away the tears and take huge deep breaths before stepping outside to show them what you've put on.

you didn't dare to meet there gaze and for the last minutes you were going back and forth to the dressing room each time draped in the clothing from the rack the employees choose for you and you listened to what they approved and disliked. you can't voice your opinion in front of them and by the time you were done trying all of them. you were tired.

gojo bored out of his mind after that little fashion show coming to their favorite toy pressed the button beside in the couch. the attendants earlier came running and gojo gave them his credit card. dismissing them in a snobbish manner in which they paid no mind since half of their clients like him are like this. tolerable cause he's loaded. they can't say no to money.

you left the boutique shortly after and to your horror the two decided to hit a few shops. they bought you shoes and accessories that suit their tastes to you. they were like children picking out stuff that they like and made casual comments how a particular piece would not suit you. you were almost sighing out of relief when they made a final stop to a clothing store but instead your breath got stuck.

it was fairly a busy day for the store. women are hovering clothing racks and when you're bullies stepped inside they were suddenly quite. followed by giggles and whispers. checking the two out and you look at both of them. both of in a dress shirt paired with black slacks and dress shoes. geto in a black one and gojo in a white one. they were classy in their own way and you can see from the way they dressed they came from a good and wealthy family.

they both make way to choose what they were buying for you today unlike the earlier assistance of employees. both of them were choosing the clothes. stacking them in their arms as they gave it to you to try. nodding you were back in the dressing room again. you take a peek behind the curtain after putting the first piece of clothing and you see them being both flirted in which you understand. you hope it will be a blessing in disguise and if they were successful they could take them both and ditch you so you can go on your merry way back to your dormitory. they were beautiful of course, the women. far from you. they were what you define as girls who really took care of themselves and aware of how they look and uses it with their seductive gaze that leaves men wanting them and that includes the two but they're more interested to you and you sure taking your sweet time to change.

satoru was the first to break. casually showing the girl who was flirting to him that he's not interested and it left him eventually. it's easy to fend the women to geto's part. glare at them like they were beneath you and they will get the part. he's getting annoyed by it from incessant yapping of flirting plus you were taking too long.

they find you backed in the corner. trembling. posture hunched and your eyes are swelling with tears. “what's wrong?” suguru asks you. you shaked your head. “nothing. just nervous.” he raises a brow and ignored it. “nervous for what? we've gone different stores and this is where you chicken out?” satoru reprimands you and suguru glares at him. sometimes satoru could be this insensitive but the asshole was insensitive from the start and it just extends to you.

explanation aside, you look beautiful in that dress you were wearing. he grabs your hands and positions himself behind you. a little crowded since this was a dressing room and the bitches outside should fuck themselves for joining you.

summer dresses suits you.

the baby blue color of the dress added by the small purple flowers dotting all over it suits you nicely. flattering the plush figure you have and can you see yourself the way to see you. satoru shuts up the moment he sees you in this dress.

“a dress and you look nicer than you usually do. it's generous for us to offer you this right. no more boring clothes for you.” his finger tracing the curve of your chest and then to your stomach. giving it a firm squeeze. suguru kisses the juncture of where your neck and shoulder meets. you shivered at the gesture. you were completely bare in front of them despite the clothing you have on. the mirror and the reflection doesn't do any good in your current situation.

you meet satoru's and suguru's gaze. “they wouldn't care if we fucked here right now, won't they?” satoru's voice is crisp. his lips brushing to your own. taunting you to make a move but you remained unmoving. he nibbles on your lips. hand creeping up to feel the supple skin of your thigh before raising it to put in the side of his torso. grinding his bulge to your clothed cunt.

“satoru, i'm sure they won't mind but let's do it for a another time. we don't want to ruin our princess looking so pretty in her dress. i'm sure (y/n) will return the favor.” suguru reasons and satoru begrudgingly accepts it. “we're wasting time here.” suguru added.

“i need to change.” your voice tiny and the two raises a brow at you. “you're keeping the dress.” satoru commands you and you nodded. they step outside and you followed. satoru grabbed the clothes you were supposed to try and went straight to the cashier to ring it up. suguru and you trailing mails behind him as he swipes his credit card without a care. he looks at you both.

“where to next?”

surprisingly they took you to the aquarium after a quick bite. there's more time before you all return to the university and it won't be shopping all day cause it would get boring and they already bought clothes that would suit you so a change of sight would be better and so, you're here. it wasn't bad. it reminds you of a distant childhood memory. you were afraid that they would ruin this for you. a cherished place of yours.

various ocean life swam in the vast space of the aquarium and you can't help but to stare in awe. it's like you were back again being a child. always fascinated by the sea life and if it was your choice you would have a career that relates to this but due to certain circumstance you were forced to take a degree that is practical. things happened but you didn't regret it. you enjoyed watching the different species of sea animals in one place so much that you wandered on your own forgetting that you were here with the two.

they know it wasn't intentional for you to let go. you were lost in this paradise and judging from your reactions it was your favorite place. you wander side by side. reading the educational signage about the species that are placed in the huge aquarium. you stand in the middle when you see a huge sting ray swims above you and gojo would regret it if he won't take a picture of you in that position. the camera clicks and it generates a picture of you. the ocean blue background adding the beauty of the photo. he continued to take candid photos of you. at this point his gallery were full of your photos. a album dedicated for you.

suguru finds your antics adorable. the way your eyes lit up when a shark or a school of fish swims in front of you. it added to your personality and he see you being beautiful and just you. in the middle of this all and for once you were genuinely happy. how can his selfish urges destroy this moment and he thinks it can wait for a later time to act on it. they let you to enjoy yourself and it was worth threatening you for this trip.

you ended up in a isolated part of the aquarium where jellyfishes are glowing brightly in their tanks. a luminescent glow. colors varying to pink, dark blue and purple. their tentacles moving in slow motion and it was like they were hypnotizing you. realizing where you are you turn around and you see them behind you.

they were checking the place and guarding you. afraid that you'll leave them. you know the drill when they did something good for once to you. there's an exchange for their kindness and you decided to give it now. a way that they will let you easy the next time you will do something wrong in their eyes.

“thank you for bringing me here.” you shyly muttered. you stood in front of them. in your tippy toes you reach for suguru in which he bent his body for you to reach him. you place a chaste kiss in his cheek. “thank you, suguru.” and then you went to gojo also in tippy toes but the latter have something in mind. he grabs you by the waist and he pulls you for a kiss. his lips hungrily claiming your own. you opened your mouth voluntarily knowing how he likes it when he's kissing you like this and he didn't hesitate to put his tongue inside your mouth. his wet muscle moving in circles and his grip on you tightens.

when he was done suguru had done the same to you. wanting a taste of yours in his own. you were glad for being in the deserted part of the aquarium. no one's here to see you being like this. when they're this gentle to you, you pretend they were kind and were your lovers but they're not. they're your bullies who back in the university, in the campus where they do as they pleased to you even when you're crying, squirming, begging for them to stop. you were just playing along for them. to avoid being punished for fighting back. they weren't exactly who tolerates but abuses it.

when they were both satisfied to you. satoru positions his phone in front of you three. a photo he say. he wants a memory of it. to commemorate this day and you oblige. you were in the middle between them. sandwiched by their towering bodies and your force a smile for the picture. cause no matter how this day made you temporarily happy it won't make up for the misery they put you through.

when they decided to go back in the campus. satoru called his driver. a limousine pulling up in front of the aquarium and inside are the shopping bags containing the clothes they purchased for you. you were now seated between them and for once they didn't made any advancement towards you.

your body is tired and you refused to rest. you were with the two and being asleep is where you get violated but the pull is strong. your eyelids are forcing you to close your eyes.

noticing your drowsiness, suguru held your cheek and pulled it to rest in his shoulder. “sleep.” he orders and despite the urge to stay awake you gave up. you will know when you arrived at the campus gate but it didn't. throughout the ride you were asleep and both of them chuckled as you were dead asleep. they did really tire you out and by the time they reach the campus you were still asleep. it was already night time and there would be no students in the campus at this hour. suguru decided he would carry you much as to satoru's displeasure but accepted it. grabbing the shopping bags and they both went your dorm room.

unlocking the door of your room with the spare key in your purse, they both went inside and there's no sign of your roommate which they were glad for. suguru carries you to your bedroom and satoru places the bags in the floor of your room.

geto tucks you in your bed. not bothering to change you out of your dress. you look beautiful on it. they both stayed for an hour. admiring you in your sleep and just touching you. they would have you for tomorrow and they let you rest for today. you were tired and where would be the joy of fucking you if you're tired to take them both.

suguru kisses you in your lips and then to your forehead. covering you with your blanket and satoru did the same. stealing a kiss from you and they left.

what a day. they enjoyed being with you and seeing you clothed in different kind of dresses and they can't wait for you to wear what you've brought them. the money was really nothing for satoru. all he knows is he spent it so well to you. he should splurge on you sometimes.

suguru on the other hand is happy to seeing you enjoying yourself earlier in the aquarium. he didn't felt this being genuinely happy for so long and he was okay with it. not wondering where this random burst of happiness came from.

the money and influence they have is nothing when they see you smiling earlier and maybe they did it cause they were a little bit of guilty for being so rough to you the other day but for now it was nothing. they were all about making amends. well, it's not really making amends knowing it's nothing for the things they put you through. they know they were forgiven for what they did to you and they're about to commit again.

what about it? you can do the same thing again and again if you have the money and influence. there's nothing to really sweat about it. really.

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euphorajeon · 6 months ago

Note

'make it right' with jk for the 1k celebration pleeeaaaasssseeee 🫶

light of the morning

— request: jeongguk + make it right - bts

— pairing: jk x f. reader

— genre: fluff, angst

— word count: 2.7k

— warnings/tags: idol!jk, college student!oc, mild angst, they're best friends, insecurities and self-doubt thoughts.

— summary: in the eternal night that seems endless, jeongguk finds his peace in the light of the morning.

— author's note: hi anon! thanks for requesting :) summary is obviously inspired by the lyrics of make it right, which i used as the general inspiration for the story. i hope it doesn't stray too far from what you had in mind, hehe. enjoy!

a continuation of opposite of sun. i suggest to read that first before reading this!

masterlist

‘Jeongguk Takes Over Times Square With a Surprise Performance’

‘Massive Crowd Gathers In Times Square for a Jeongguk Surprise Performance’

‘Jeongguk Surprises Times Square Crowd With a Free Concert’

It’s been a day since Jeongguk’s surprise performance at Times Square, and the media headlines praising his performance just keep flooding in. In the articles, there were no flaws in his performance. Impeccable. Perfect. The media especially highlighted the way his fans only got a 30-minute notice before the performance, yet they were able to fill up the streets of Times Square. They were loud, singing along to his songs word for word, and Jeongguk is so proud.

The praises didn’t only come from online articles, they also came from the radio hosts and interviewers who were lined up in Jeongguk’s schedule today. It’s refreshing to answer questions outside of the usual ‘What’s your favorite food to eat in the US?’ and about his surprise performance instead. Jeongguk is grateful that his manager, Namjoon, scheduled these interviews after the performance instead of before it.

“Do I have any more interviews for today?” Jeongguk asks Namjoon, peeking at the clock on his phone. It’s only a little after seven in the evening. He knows it’s a silly question to ask, already knowing the answer by the look on Namjoon’s face.

“You have two more, actually,” Namjoon answers regardless. “Plus taping for two songs for one of them. I thought you knew this already?”

“Uh, yeah, just making sure.” Jeongguk clears his throat, eyes still on his phone.

“You’ve been checking your phone a lot today. Something wrong?” Namjoon inquires, a worried look replacing the duh one he had on his face earlier.

“No. Everything’s okay.”

Yes, something is very wrong.

It’s been more than a day since he video-called you, a little over a day since his performance at Times Square, and little less than a day since he texted you the YouTube link of said performance. In that time frame, his phone is completely void of any notification from you. No texts, no calls, even no tweets or an Instagram DM. You’ve been totally silent and it’s starting to get on his nerves. Why are you leaving him in the dark?

“You sure? You look like you want to punch someone.”

What he wants is praise from you! No, he doesn’t want it, he needs it. All the flowery words from the media and radio hosts mean nothing if he hasn’t heard one from you. Ever since he started his singing career, your opinion has always been one of the first ones he seeks. Without it, he’s lost. Left wondering whether his performance deserved the accolades, or they were only for his pretty face.

“Jeongguk, we’re here. Put a mask on and smile. You can worry about your best friend later,” Namjoon says the moment the car comes to a stop in the parking lot of a building somewhere in New York. Jeongguk looks at him as he’s getting off the vehicle, confused. His manager throws him a small smile. “Don’t look like that, it’s kinda obvious you’re thinking about her.”

“I haven’t heard from her since yesterday, hyung,” Jeongguk sighs. “I have the right to be worried.”

“You’re not the only one with stuff to do, you know? Maybe she’s busy too. I’m sure she’s fine,” Namjoon tries to reassure him. “Give her a call after this, to ease your mind.”

Namjoon is right. You’re probably busy juggling midterms and your part-time job back home. The chasm he felt yesterday opens back up, gaping to remind him that you two are worlds apart. Superstar Jeongguk who replies to texts in seven business days has no right demanding a reply from a regular college student after only one day.

Two more interviews. Two more songs to perform. Then he can hear your voice, see your face, and everything is going to be okay again.

Jeongguk finishes his schedule for the day a little after 1 AM. He tries to call you in the car, on the way back to his hotel. No answer. Tries again when he reaches his hotel room. Then tries again after he showered and changed into comfortable clothes to sleep in.

Ten missed calls.

Jeongguk goes to sleep with a dark cloud in his mind, completely restless.

In the morning, when the sun is already up—the way the moon is in Seoul, where you are—Jeongguk cracks his eyes open to stare at the ceiling in his room, his heart still heavy with worry. Also heavy is his head when he sits up on his huge hotel bed, likely due to his tossing and turning in his sleep all night. It doesn’t help that his lockscreen is still void of notifications labeled with your name. You’ve been MIA for almost two full days. Where are you?

He sends seven more bubbles in your chatroom, a sigh slipping past his lips when the tiny word under the blue bubble only reads delivered. He’s on his last thread of hope when he clicks on your contact picture to video call you, and that thread snaps when all he’s staring at on the screen is his own puffy and tired face.

Maybe he should order some breakfast. Get something to munch on, pry his mind away from the thought of you and what you’re up to in a country far, far away from where he is. He hopes you’re okay. He hopes you aced that midterm you were up until three to study for (although you spent the good part of the last hour talking to him on FaceTime). He hopes you’re eating well and not some instant cup ramyeon or shitty take-out from the Chinese place by your apartment that you frequent because it’s cheap.

After skimming through the room service menu, Jeongguk places an order of breakfast enough to feed five people. (What? He needs his energy. And a distraction.) The kind hotel staff who took his order informed him that his food will be ready in around 20 minutes. Good. Plenty of time to track his schedule for today and not think about you. (So much for a distraction.)

As it turns out, his itinerary for today is not packed with work schedule. Namjoon had only written ‘Explore’ along with a note to bring the camera noona who usually follows Jeongguk around to film all of his adventures as an idol. Said “adventure” is typically limited to dressing rooms of music shows, though. Oh, maybe Namjoon wants him to stroll around the city and make a vlog out of it, give his fans a little peek of what he does in his down time in New York.

In order to do that, he has to shower, get dressed, and maybe get his makeup done. He definitely needs to get his hair done, though, there’s no way he’s going out with this bird nest atop his head. Or maybe he could go natural, let his hair breathe for the day. Namjoon said it makes him look like a college boyfriend, and apparently, his fans love the look. Throw some hoodie and jeans on, and Jeongguk would be ready to go to class with you.

Ah, you again.

His mindless scrolling on Twitter in procrastination halts, the words on his phone not registering as his mind goes back to you. What would it feel like to go to class with you? To watch your focused face in class, trying to absorb knowledge from the professor? To be there next to you, answer your question whenever you struggle to grasp a concept? To be your college boy—

A knock on his door interrupts his thoughts.

Jeongguk stills, waits for the shout of room service! to follow, but it never comes. The clock on his phone tells him it’s only been 10 minutes since he ordered breakfast, so maybe it’s not room service after all. Maybe it’s a staff member, coming to tell him to get ready for the day.

As Jeongguk makes his way to the door, come some more knocks, this time more tentative than the one prior. Before he could reach the door, the person on the other side speaks.

“Jeongguk..?” It sounds muffled by the door, but the voice rings familiar in his ears. It’s the voice he last heard almost two days ago, via a video call connection between New York and Seoul. Could it be? No, it couldn’t … right?

Jeongguk’s eyes are right in front of the peephole just as the voice sounds again: “It’s me, Bun…”

There, in front of his hotel door, stands a girl 15 centimeters shorter than him, dressed in black jeans and her favorite sage green sweater, with a lump of black fabric hanging off her left arm. A faded black baseball cap sits on her head, so faded it looks almost navy. When she finally looks up to peek at the peephole, Jeongguk loses his breath.

It’s you. It’s really you.

Jeongguk is so stunned that he’s frozen in place, just staring at your confused expression that slowly morphs into one of anxiety.

“Did Namjoon give me the wrong room number..?” you mumble, fishing your phone out of your pocket.

Jeongguk has never yanked a door open that hard in his life.

You tear your eyes away from your phone, jumping in surprise at the sudden movement. His eyes lock with yours, and the shock on your face melts into a smile.

“Hi!”

You’re obviously exhausted, having just got off a 14-hour flight from Seoul, moving 13 timezones backward, seeing the sun when you’re supposed to see the moon. But the way you beam at him is full of glee, your eyes bright despite the obvious fatigue. Jeongguk is mesmerized.

Wordlessly, he reaches for your shoulders to pull you into a hug. They feel more prominent than the last time he hugged you, and he doesn’t know whether it’s from your haphazard eating schedule or just … time. He doesn’t remember when he last gave you a hug. Doesn’t remember the last time he saw you in the flesh like this.

“You just woke up, didn’t you?” you say from somewhere near his collarbone.

“Maybe,” Jeongguk mumbles. “Maybe not. I feel like I’m still dreaming.”

“Up in the clouds, are we?” you chuckle. “Well, if you’re done dreaming then maybe we could come in? Backpack’s starting to hurt my shoulders.”

It’s right at that second that Jeongguk just realizes the huge backpack hanging off your small frame. The poor bag is bursting at the seams, like it’s gonna comically explode if you even try to unzip it. Jeongguk closes his fingers around the small handle on top, testing the weight.

“Did you fit your whole life into this? Why is it so heavy?” he complains, immediately untangling your arms from his body so he can slide the backpack off you and onto him instead. “I feel like I’m about to do the 20 kilometers march in the military.”

“Hah! Try navigating JFK with that on your shoulders. It’s way harder than the military,” you huff, following Jeongguk into his hotel room.

He sets your backpack down on one of the couches, turning around to get answers to a thousand questions in his head, but pauses when he sees you’re still standing by the door. Your eyes are scanning the room slowly, stopping at Jeongguk to look at him with an unreadable expression on your face.

“What?” Jeongguk says.

“It’s huge,” you say. “The room, I mean. They usually are in your vlogs, but it’s different seeing it in person.”

This could turn into another conversation about their differences quickly, but Jeongguk is not in the mood to deal with distance today. For once, you’re an arms-length away from him. He doesn’t want to fuck this up and send you back to KST, 13 timezones away.

“Eh, I think your backpack is bigger.” He shrugs. Safe route, for now. “What do you have inside that bag, really?”

“My brick ass laptop, thank you,” you say sarcastically, finally going deeper into the room just to give your backpack a protective hug. “Still have a midterm to finish and submit here.”

“You still have midterms and you’re here in New York?” Jeongguk gapes. “Why?”

“Because you asked me to be here,” you state like it’s obvious. “Well, not like that, but you looked so sad on our last video call that I booked a flight here as soon as we hung up the call. Didn’t really realize the weight of it until I was watching your performance with Yeseo and I blurted out that I bought a ticket to New York and how maybe it was a stupid thing to do on a whim like that. She looked at me like I was stupid and said I should totally go. So. Here I am.”

If selective hearing is a sin, then Jeongguk would be guilty because he heard nothing beyond the part where you said you were watching his performance.

“You watched my performance?” He parrots his thoughts. “But you said you would have been asleep…”

“No sleep is worth my best friend’s sadness.” You throw him a small smile. “Actually, Yeseo set an alarm for it. And then I went to have the midterm with a terrible headache because I didn’t get enough sleep. But it’s worth it, the performance was amazing. You did great on that stage.”

“I did great…?”

At this point, Jeon Jeongguk should change his name to Parrot Jeongguk, because all he ever does is just repeat things he heard. First his thoughts, now you.

“Yes, of course you did great, Jeongguk. Wasn’t it obvious, the way your fans were screaming their lungs out for you?”

I only wanted to hear it from you, Jeongguk thinks. The media headlines and praises from the radio hosts and interviewers flash in his mind, all positive feedback for his performance, yet still planted a seed of doubt in his mind. It caused an ugly darkness to settle in his mind, one that worsened with every call you didn’t pick up.

“Why’d you ghost me, then?”

Way to ruin this moment, Jeon Jeongguk.

“I didn’t mean to, I’m sorry. Between catching up on sleep and rushing for the flight, I just didn’t have the time to look at my phone at all. Also, I was on the plane? It takes a long time to get here from Korea if you didn’t know.”

“So it’s not because my performance is bad?”

You get up from your position on the couch to grip him on the shoulders, your nails digging into the material of his t-shirt. You have to strain your neck to be able to look him in the eyes, but you hold his gaze firmly like the position doesn’t hurt you at all.

“Jeon Jeongguk, listen to me. Your performance was great, you looked handsome, your singing was on-point, your high note was awesome, your dancing was super cool, and the crowd was really loud. I don’t know what kind of validation you seek, but I personally think everything about your performance was perfect.”

Yours. I only want your validation.

Slowly, the darkness in his mind begins to disperse, replaced by this warm beam of light piercing through the clouds. It settles in his mind like a blanket, protecting him from any more bad thoughts. He thinks it’s because of you, bringing light wherever you go. Can that light be shared with him? Will he glow from the inside out if he connects his lips with yours? Why does he want to lock lips with you?

“Jeongguk, are you okay? You look like you’re floating in the clouds again.”

Yeah. No. I want to press my lips against yours. Can I?

Three knocks sound from the door. And then: room service!

Jeongguk clears his throat (and his mind along with it.)

“Do you want to explore New York with me after we have breakfast?”

Jeongguk might want more, and he might be ready to admit it. After all, the light to his darkness is here. If not now, then when?

“Sure, it’ll be a fun best friend adventure!”

…maybe some other time.

a/n: thank you for reading! i'm planning to have a part 3 of this but let's see if i can actually find the time to write it ahah

#bts #jungkook #jeon jungkook #bts jungkook #fanfic #fic #bts fic #bts fanfic #bts au #bts college au #jungkook college au #jungkook drabble #jungkook oneshot #jungkook au #jungkook scenarios #jungkook fluff #jungkook x reader #jungkook x you #jungkook angst

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