#hoseokhasmyheartxx | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

eoieopda · 9 days ago

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waaaah i’m glad you read it despite not “going here” and that you liked it!! tysm 💕

triple-dog dare | lsm

“Bambi.”

The sternness of his tone surprised both of you, so much so that when you snapped to look at him, both of you froze. Your moon-sized eyes were further proof that your childhood nickname still rings true to date, although your being the deer made him the oncoming car in this scenario.

He didn’t love that analogy.

Recovering quickly, he pulled the Ace from his sleeve: the surefire way for one of you to get the other onboard:

“I triple-dog dare you to come with me.”

pairing: lee seokmin x reader summary: when you're left off the guest list to seokmin's parent's thirtieth anniversary party, you're content to keep your questions to yourself and stay home. seokmin, on the other hand, is not content. in fact, he pulls the one card he knows will always win. au: childhood best friends to lovers genre: fluff, angst, smut type: one-shot rating: 18+ only. minors do not have my consent to interact. wc: 13k cw: pov switches, complicated sibling dynamics (seokmin’s), there is in fact one (1) bed, halmonis gone wild, stupid childhood nicknames, fingering (v), oral sex (m receiving), multiple orgasms, implied penetrative sex (p in v). reader notes: afab, uses she/her pronouns, wears a dress/heels to the party, is implicitly an only child. the setting is intentionally ambiguous, so she's not implicitly korean and/or asian. there are no descriptions of body shape/size, complexion, etc. a/n: thank you to the incomparable @daechwitatamic for beta-ing this! it's been a long damn time since i've written anything, so this might not have seen the light of day without jo, the hype-man. on that note, i suck at summaries; just read the fic, lmao. svt masterlist. svt permanent taglist. multi permanent taglist.

For being the walking disaster that he is, there have been shockingly few moments in Lee Seokmin’s life where he’s needed to shove his oversized foot into his oversized mouth.

Prior to the incident at your apartment, the last time he’d embarrassed himself like this was when he’d asked his oldest sister, Soyeon, in earnest whether or not she was pregnant, only to learn that she was just bloated; and he’s just an ass.

To your credit, you’re far from cruel when he slips up, but that almost makes it worse. You visibly deflate when he asks his well-intentioned but ill-fated question, rather than letting him have it the way his two siblings would have done.

The day in question went like this:

He asked, “Did you reserve your room yet for the 31st? If not, we can double up. It’ll be a lot cheaper.”

And you blinked, stunned like you’d been slapped. “Have I what?”

It dawned on you both at that moment that, for whatever reason, his parents’ thirtieth anniversary party was in fact news to you. Two things then happened at once: you tried to hide your surprise and the twinge of pain that comes with being excluded; and he racked his stupid brain to find any explanation for why you had to feel either one of those things.

The best option he found was to gently toss his middle sister, Seonmi, under the metaphorical bus.

“Seonmi’s been working on something special for them. You know how she gets,” he waved dismissively. “So obsessed with finding the perfect napkins — ” He wiggled his fingers for emphasis. “�� and creating custom cocktails, that she misses the forest for the trees.”

You didn’t look convinced. Likewise, you didn’t look any less uncomfortable.

Fuck.

“I’m sure it was an honest mistake.” To drive his point home, he reached from his spot on your couch to give your knee a reassuring squeeze. “I have a plus-one, so it’s not like it’ll be a logistical problem. You belong there as much as we do.”

And he meant it, wholeheartedly.

All his life, the running joke has been that Soonyi and Minseok Lee have four kids: two biological daughters, a younger son, and his otherwise unrelated twin, who spent more time sleeping on his top bunk than in her own home next door.

The way he saw it — and the way he’s sure his parents would see it — is that no family gathering is complete without you. That’s a hill he’d die on if need be.

You shifted in your seat, which caused his hand to slip off your knee, whether or not you meant for it to happen. Glancing uneasily out your window, you worried your bottom lip between your teeth, mumbling, “I don’t know…”

Seokmin frowned. You didn’t see it, though, and therefore weren’t moved by it. Instead, you cycled through your anxious thoughts at high velocity. If he was still touching you, he’d be worried that your sparking brain might catch him on fire.

“What if it’s not a mistake? I mean, what if it’s a couples thing?”

He couldn’t even classify these questions as rhetorical because he wasn’t meant to hear them in the first place. Though you asked out loud, each one of them was for your ears only. From his half of the couch — miles away — his frown deepened, unbeknownst to you.

“You know, Seonmi follows me on Instagram; she’d know that Kai and I broke up a few months ago. Maybe she doesn’t want me to feel awkward? Even if I went, and I didn’t feel weird about that, her expecting it to be weird might make it weird, right?”

Fuck.

You’d spiral all day if Seokmin didn’t stop you. As much as he loves how thoughtful you are, he knows better than most that you have a tendency to take it too far, inflicting that relentless consideration on yourself until it wounds.

“Bambi.”

He didn’t love that analogy.

Recovering quickly, he pulled the Ace from his sleeve: the surefire way for one of you to get the other onboard:

“I triple-dog dare you to come with me.”

Begrudgingly, you’d conceded, just like Seokmin hoped you would. You sat with him while he figured out travel plans to the mountain resort, helped him visualize what the hell he needed to wear to an event like this. When the time came, you sent him half the cost for the room he booked, even though he repeatedly insisted that you didn’t need to chip in.

Now, that unsolicited sum sits untouched in his Venmo balance. You sit next to him on the night train out of town.

Sit, he thinks, is a bit of an understatement. You’re barely upright, so exhausted from your work day that his shoulder and side are bearing most of your weight. His arm went from tingling to numb an hour ago, but Seokmin doesn’t mind. There isn’t a burden he wouldn’t carry for you, up to and including you yourself.

Besides, he’s not worse off for being left to his own devices. In fact, he keeps himself thoroughly entertained by taking selfies of the pair of you. The aftermath will stay securely in his camera roll — largely because you’d kill him if you saw how squishy your face is, pressed against his coat, or how your little pout trembles slightly, almost as if you’re trying to talk through your sleep — but he still finds it worth the risk. This mochi-cheeked version of you is one of his favorites.

When Seokmin has amassed enough silly photos to comprise a dossier, he tucks his phone back into his pocket with a self-satisfied smile. You’re still out cold, so you don’t stir at his subtle movements or the sound of the concession trolley rattling your way down the aisle.

The girl manning said trolley is significantly outweighed by the thing itself. She hardly looks old enough to have graduated high school, he figures, and he can’t imagine how it is that she’s working at this hour — or how she got stuck doing this job, when it takes all she’s got to maneuver the giant metal contraption through all the train cars.

“Anything, sir?” She asks politely, albeit slightly out-of-breath.

Even though she’s speaking to him, her gaze is directed squarely at his hat, leading him to believe that she may also be too shy for her job. Nonetheless, it’s been two entire hours since his dinner, and he’s on the brink of starving to death, so he coughs up a few bills in exchange for several different snacks.

She could do him the kindness of assuming his massive pile of food is for sharing, but she doesn’t. She gestures to you and whispers, “Anything for your —?”

Seokmin intercepts the question, knowing exactly where it’s headed: in the same direction as the million others like it that he’s heard over the years.

“— parole officer?” He supplies with a smile, “No, this nap is fueled by a lot of crab rangoon. She’ll be out for the duration, I fear.”

Both halves of his response seem to stun her, which means he has to cover his inevitable laugh with a fake cough.

This bit of yours will truly never get old, although the implications that prompt it did a long time ago. It was a stroke of genius on your part, dodging inaccurate references to your relationship status by offering up something too absurd to converse around.

“You two make such a cute couple,” an Uber driver once told you.

“He’s not in a relationship,” you’d politely corrected him. “He’s in witness protection. I’m duty-bound to keep him and his identity safe.”

The silence turns awkward, so Seokmin thanks the girl and gives her a smile he hopes says, “you’re allowed to run away from me now; I won’t take it personally.” She bows her head a little too eagerly, then skitters off with a grimace, like she pulled something in her neck.

Alone again with you, he wiggles gently upright in his seat so that you can rest more comfortably against his pectoral, rather than his shoulder bone. Even though you’re still asleep, Seokmin swears he hears a quiet mmpfh, as if you’re expressing gratitude. He bites his lips to keep from smiling, knowing that smiling in your proximity is one step away from laughter: the only thing you’ve never been able to sleep through.

Instead of giving into the urge, he murmurs, “You should get paid royalties whenever we use that joke. Being as smart as you are should pay off.”

Now, he knows he’s not simply hearing things because you’re just barely loud enough to overcome your own mumbling.

“Agreed,” you sigh on an exhale before slipping to sleep off again.

“Well?”

There are two beats between his first question and his next: the unfilled gap you’ve left in the conversation and the cab’s trunk shutting firmly. “‘s that cool with you?”

Seokmin stares at you, staring at him. His expression is soft, like your lack of responsiveness is something to be fond of, rather than annoyed by. It’s unexpectant, too, leaving the door wide open.

You blink. “Sorry — I — What did you say?”

Hitting him when he least expects it, you shift your suitcase from your dominant hand so you can gesture properly to the bright, poorly crocheted bucket hat flopping over his forehead. “It’s a bit hard to hear you. That hat is so loud.”

His quizzically raised eyebrows drop in an instant. Likewise, that airy smile of his flattens into a straight line.

Bullseye.

“Is it me that you hate?” He asks, tone dead serious as he points his finger towards his own chest. “Or is it the very concept of whimsy?”

You’re too busy biting back a grin to protest when, without being asked, Seokmin reaches out and takes the handle of your suitcase into his own hand, as well as the garment bag you’d draped over your arm. Before turning away to abscond with both sets of luggage in addition to his own, he shoots you an incredulous look. It dissolves entirely before his face even disappears from view.

“This is an objectively delightful hat,” he mutters, nonetheless, in furtherance of the bit.

He spots a member of hotel staff standing on the sidewalk directly outside the hotel’s double doors and pleads his case to them. “She made me this hat, you know,” he announces, gesturing back to you with a nod.

The valet’s uniform hat casts a shadow under the lamplight, but it doesn’t do enough to hide the expression on their face. It is abundantly clear — even in the dark — that they didn’t hear a single word Seokmin said before he offered up that bit of trivia, seemingly apropos of nothing. They muster up a customer-service smile that doesn’t reach their eyes and tell him it’s a wonderful hat. Meanwhile, you roll your eyes from behind because nothing either of them just said is true.

That hat is the byproduct of delusions of grandeur and innumerable skeins of color-conflicting yarn. You made it for yourself, believing that you were the kind of cute and kitschy person who could pull it off; and inconsolable weeping Christ, were you wrong. It was — no, is — your greatest fiber arts failure.

Frankenstein’s floral monster would be in a secondhand shop somewhere if you’d had any say in the matter. It isn’t because you didn’t. Seokmin “rescued” it from the “to donate” pile on your bedroom floor. Since then, he’s worn it at every — public — opportunity, season be damned.

Admittedly, he’s exactly the kind of cute and kitschy person who can pull it off, but you’ve decided out of sheer pettiness to keep that appraisal to yourself.

You take your time catching up to him, both because his long legs make it hard to keep pace; and because the room is reserved under his name. After all, he’s the welcomed guest, not the reluctant party-crasher. The receptionist is already handing him a white keycard when you finally reach the desk. Seokmin holds it up between his index and middle fingers, closed-eye grin sparkling in a matching shade of ivory.

Though the journey up to your shared room is long, the real trip is being confined to an elevator with mirrors for walls.

No matter how hard you try to avert your eyes, you manage to keep finding some new, horrible angle of your stale, post-train state. It’s torture. Three versions of you stare back with deep, dark undereye circles; and all you can think about is how dull your complexion is — especially in comparison to Seokmin, who may as well be bioluminescent with the way he glows from the inside out.

It’s joy, you know, his primary state of being and something he radiates like no other. He’s happy to be here, happy that you’re here, and happy to be happy. Whether or not he means it to be, it’s infectious. Now, you feel yourself starting to smile, too.

Despite your quiet observation, you must have missed him looking at you. Seemingly out of nowhere, he carefully sets down your belongings, raises his now-empty hand, and cups the right side of your jaw. Unaware that you’ve frozen solid, he swipes his thumb carefully over your cheek, tilting his own head to the side and frowning.

“I got you bad, huh?”

You blink.

“The zipper on my coat,” he explains, laughing. “Looks like it took a bite out of you when you used me as a pillow on the train.”

For reasons you can’t possibly explain, the only word to roll off your tongue is a sheepish, “Sorry.”

For a second, Seokmin is just as confused as you are about whether you’re needlessly apologizing to him or his coat. He chuckles quietly at how easily distracted you both are, then he gets back to the point: “Does it hurt?”

“No.”

Your response comes unnaturally quick. Your pulse does, too, when you finally make eye contact with him. After clearing your throat, you give him a half-hearted smile, ignoring whatever medical event you seem to be experiencing. “I didn’t know it was there until now.”

He hums in acknowledgment, then rescinds his hand. You watch in silence while he re-encumbers himself with your luggage and turns back to face the elevator doors, which open almost immediately.

Seokmin steps out easily, like the weight of your respective burdens doesn’t mean a thing. “I’d say this way, please, but I’ve already forgotten the room number,” he admits with a sheepish laugh. “The keycard’s in my pocket.”

You take his cue and reach into the front, right pocket of his coat for the keycard. As soon as you see the room number, you snort.

“You booked room number 218 because that’s your birthday, and then… what? You forgot your own birthday?”

“I’m deeply flawed.” He sighs, put-upon. “Now, let’s go, Bambi. It feels like you packed a week’s worth of bricks.”

There’s no time to point out that you never asked him to carry your suitcase or bag for you in the first place. Likewise, there’s no opportunity to ask exactly how many bricks is a week’s worth. He’s on the move again before you can blink, energy evident in each step regardless of how late it is.

Once again, you follow Seokmin’s lead. Despite the signage, which is clearly visible on the wall, he walks confidently in the wrong direction, prompting you to grab him gently by the elbow and steer him the opposite way. His smile doesn’t falter; he plays it off as if he was just testing how closely you’re paying attention.

It takes several turns down several additional hallways before the pair of you reach your target. When you come to room 218, you tap the keycard against the reader, causing the lock to click open. You turn the handle, push the door open into the room, and step awkwardly out of the way so your personal bellhop can get by.

“This is what I was trying to tell you when you so viciously insulted my favorite accessory.” Seokmin nods his head towards the center of the room. “All of the rooms Seonmi included in the reservation block have a king-sized bed — singular. The rooms outside the block are criminally overpriced for ski season.”

It’s far from the first time you’ve doubled up, so you shrug. “Just like old times, right? Like, when you thought your house was haunted, and you forced your way into the top bunk with me?”

“First of all,” he says as he sets both of your suitcases down and places one hand on his hip, the other pointing at you. “We were six.”

After locking the door behind you, you toe off your shoes, smirking at him from over your shoulder. “What’s your second point?”

“It was haunted —” He insists. Then his stern expression melts into something smug, the way it always does when he’s about to blatantly rewrite history. “— and you asked me to come up there because you were scared.”

A laugh slips out of you automatically, but you selflessly decide to let him have this. Crossing to him, you pat him on the bicep, patronizingly simpering all the while, “You are the brave one.”

Even though you’re both cowards, and he knows it, he pockets this little victory with a pleased hum and a grin.

Turning away from him, you make a beeline for the closet area near the door. There, you shuck off your coat and hang it up, out of the way. While you do, Seokmin passes you both your garment bag and his. From there, the pair of you work in efficient silence: you, pulling your respective formal wear from their bags and smoothing out any wrinkles; him, tucking away your extensive collection of toiletries in the bathroom.

When everything is in its place, you turn back around and notice for the first time how beautiful the room actually is. Though the shades of the floor-to-ceiling windows are almost completely drawn, the snow-covered mountains are at least partially visible through the gap in fabric. If you had the time, you’d spend all day tomorrow sitting on the forest green, velvet chaise directly in front of the window, staring at frosty peaks so massive, they feel close enough to touch.

To your right, an electric fireplace heats the room, while a portrait-framed television hovers on the wall above the mantle, flipping through famous artworks as a screensaver. In between flashes of Van Gogh’s Almond Blossoms and Klimt’s The Kiss, you catch a glimpse of Seokmin’s smile reflecting on the black screen.

Awestruck, you turn to him and sigh, “Don’t let me get used to this.”

He jerks his thumb to his right, gesturing towards the bathroom. “Don’t judge me if I steal one of the bathrobes. They’re probably more expensive than half the shit in my apartment.”

“I won’t, but they’ll bill you for it when they figure it out,” you warn him. “On that note, do you need to shower or anything before I start my skincare side quest?”

Seokmin shakes his head, causing the crocheted abomination to flop. “All yours. My hair’ll get weird if I don’t deal with it tomorrow before we head out.”

And with that mental image of his insurmountable cowlick, you quickly grab your pajamas and shuffle off towards the bathroom.

The first few seconds after you close the door are spent gawking at the insanely intricate, geometric tile pattern in the walk-in shower. Thinking of how much time it must’ve taken to lay each one of them, you set to work on your own tedious task: your ten-step regimen of cleansers, toners, serums, and moisturizers. Seokmin says otherwise, but you don’t think any of them truly make a difference. As stupid as you know it is, the routine itself is therapeutic, even if your skin is no more bouncy and glowy than it was before.

When it’s all said and done, you emerge from the bathroom to find your best friend stretched out on the half of the bed nearest the door with his eyes fixed on his phone screen. It’s the side of the room he always chooses, claiming that it’s to protect you from any intruders, but you know the truth: he’s too much of a freeze baby to sleep near the window, and he knows you like it cold.

“Feeling refreshed?” He mumbles to the best of his ability; his sweatshirt hood is pulled up and drawn so tightly that it squishes his cheeks and chin, restricting his movement.

Chuckling quietly as you go, you pad over to your half of the bed and slip under the comforter. Like a moth to a flame, the other occupant sends his last text, tosses his phone to the side, and scoots closer to you, eager to siphon whatever extra body heat he can. His head winds up on your shoulder, while your cheek rests against the top of his head.

“Before you tell me that I look it, I’d encourage you to stare long into the abyss that is my under-eye circles.”

When he laughs, it’s merely a puff of air from his nose. “You never look as tired as you feel,” he says distractedly, fiddling with the drawstrings of his hoodie. “Pretty miraculous, given how little sleep you get.”

That comment warms you up so thoroughly, you wonder if he can feel it. Then, you wonder if that was the point. You intend to tease him for that, but then it dawns on you how fidgety he’s being. It’s rare for him.

“You okay, Thumper?”

It feels silly, using that nickname after so long. Your clumsiness stuck around for the ride, continuing Bambi into perpetuity; but he grew out of his companion name when he hit puberty, and his giant feet were suddenly proportional to the rest of him.

He’s certainly no bunny, nor is he a child, but the low ebb of anxiety rolling off of him reminds you of the scared little neighbor boy you used to know. It fits, even if it is silly.

At first, Seokmin begins his explanation without peeling his gaze off his restless fingers. “Apparently, Seungcheol and Mingyu are in town.” Then, his eyes slowly lift up to find you peering down at him. “They want to meet up to go snowboarding before we leave.”

Ah.

There it is: the top-secret look in his eye that only you can decipher. The one he’s been practicing for years, at your insistence, for moments like this, when he needs to be talked into something. When he needs to be brave and avoid missing out on something he’d love, solely because it freaks him out.

You respond the same way you always have; the way you once pinky-promised you always would: “I triple-dog dare you.”

He sighs deeply, neither fully resigned nor relieved, but then he nods. His head knocks slightly against your shoulder as he does. “I’ll do it.”

And that’s that; it’s settled.

Or so you think.

A beat passes in silence, until Seokmin suddenly pipes up again, “But you’re going to have to hold my hand on the chair lift, or I’ll pass out and fall to my death.”

“Deal.”

You grab his hand now in consideration of your promise and scratch affectionately at his palm. Surprisingly, his thoughts haven’t made him clammy. His skin is even softer than usual, likely due to the expensive hotel lotion he’s undoubtedly now harboring in his suitcase. Tongue firmly in cheek, you look at him sideways.

“Just — leave the hat in your suitcase, okay? The snow will be blinding enough.”

Seokmin’s been dressed and ready for at least thirty minutes, but you’re still standing exactly where you have been for the last forty-five. Face pinched, you turn this way and that in front of the mirror, smoothing fabric that’s already wrinkle-free, apparently for the hell of it.

“I’m oh-for-three.” Your exasperated sigh is punctuated by your bare, right foot stomping on the carpet. It doesn’t make the impact you likely hope it will, at least sonically. It does, however, speak volumes about how close to the ledge you are.

“All of them looked good,” he says earnestly. “I think this one is my favorite, though, if that means anything.”

Apparently, this is the wrong answer. Your wild-eyed gaze lifts from your own reflection until you’re staring him dead in the eye through the mirror.

“Why did I even pack this?” You ask, “Do you see this?”

Suddenly, you lift a manicured hand to point at your neckline, from which he’d admittedly been averting his eyes. “This is too much cleavage for a family function, isn’t it?”

As quickly as you glanced at him in the first place, you go right back to fussing with your dress, thankfully missing the way he swallows thickly.

Fuck, now he’s staring — but you’re the one that made him look in the first place — and he can feel heat rising to his ears, a dead giveaway. His sudden silence does enough to communicate his struggle. He has no idea how to respond without vaulting over the boundaries of your friendship.

Is it hot in here?

Deciding to rely on his usual tactic, he jokes his way out.

“If you think I’ll ever side against tiddie…” He forces a grimace, shaking his head gravely. “Then you really don’t know me at all.”

You laugh loudly, and whatever one-sided tension filled the room snaps like a twig. Better still, the smile you give him stays on your face while you reassess your dress. Seokmin takes it as a personal victory that you commit to his choice, rather than cycle back through your options for the second time.

While this means that you’ll both be able to hit the open bar sooner rather than later, the biggest upside is that he no longer has to keep excusing himself to the bathroom so you can change again, and again, and again.

You finish up quickly, tossing on jewelry, and then turn to him. His shoulder keeps you steady while you slip into your devilishly high heels. Seokmin pays them little mind now, however; his attention is drawn to the accessories you’ve chosen. Sure, they match perfectly with the rest of your outfit, but that’s not what strikes him. It’s the fact that everything you’ve picked was gifted to you by his parents at one point or another.

Unable to stop himself, he reaches out and gently taps on one of your dangling earrings. “Eighteenth birthday,” he muses to himself.

Then, both his gaze and his hand lower to your necklace. He skims his fingertip along the delicate, gold chain, inadvertently making you freeze up. “Christmas 2019?”

You shake your head slightly, though it barely counts as movement.

“Ah,” Seokmin corrects himself. “2020.”

Sensing that he’s somehow made you uncomfortable, he reels himself back in and clears his throat. “Shall we?” He asks, furnishing you with a bent arm to loop yours through.

You take his cue, link your arm to his, and sigh, “I suppose we shall.”

The walk to the elevator is quiet, in that neither one of you says a thing. Seokmin can hear the gears in your head turning, though, without any conversation to drown them out.

You step inside that glorified, mirrored box; and for a few minutes, he lets you work through the thing he knows ruined your sleep last night. That is, until he hears your breathing come a little quicker than usual.

“Hey.”

It was supposed to be a jumping off point. He was going to go from there and reiterate that you belong here with him. The plan was to reassure you for as long as it takes to get you to believe it, but you look up at him almost helplessly, and his Etch-a-Sketch brain is wiped clean in an instant.

The very best he can do is smile and offer a single word: “Hi.”

“Hi,” you whisper back, eyes twinkling.

Your plagued frown curves slightly back in the right direction. The creeping shroud of doom lightens, if only a little bit.

“That’ll do, pig.” You swat his arm, but he says it again, emphatically, “That’ll do.”

Halfway through you scolding him for quoting Babe at a time like this, the elevator door reopens, ready to regurgitate the pair of you out onto the ballroom level.

Unlike the lobby, which sits only one floor below, this floor looks like it was ripped straight from the pages of a fantasy novel. Everywhere he turns, there’s something new — and vaguely elven — to look at. Fairy lights hang in perfectly spaced arches from the lofted ceiling, delicately illuminating the exposed, wooden beams above. The chandeliers — plural — are crafted out of antlers of some kind, cutting between rugged and highly refined.

As stunning as it all is, Seokmin’s mind snags on a single conclusion. You’re the one who voices it, though, much to his surprise.

“This is the most Seonmi thing I’ve ever seen in my life,” you whisper to him, all without taking your eyes off the extravagance in front of you. “Is this a dress rehearsal for her wedding next year?”

He bites down on his lips hard to keep his laughter to himself. Of course, you’re dead on. Nothing about this space feels like his parents, who are supposed to be the sole focus of this entire event. He already found it odd that they agreed to such a big to-do in the first place — especially when it would require their loved ones to go out of their way, literally and financially — but this is….

“Am I being petty, or is this kind of… selfish?”

Petty, no.

Psychic? Probably.

“You’re right, and you should say it.” Seokmin nods and withdraws his arm from yours so that he can drape it properly around your shoulder. “This way to the beer, please. We’ll need it.”

Merely four steps in the direction to the bar, and a screech rings out from somewhere neither of you can locate. In fact, Seokmin’s head is turned the opposite way when someone launches themself at you, damn near ripping you from his hold.

“Oh, my god! I knew you’d come!”

Soyeon’s relief in seeing you is palpable. Seokmin can practically feel his bones being crushed as she hugs you tight, swaying from side to side. He catches a glimpse of your expression, which barely peeks through the curtain of his oldest sister’s hair; you’re far happier now than you were in the elevator.

His sister kisses the side of your head. “I missed you so fucking much. I love my residency program, but I hate how far away it keeps me.”

A solid minute passes by like this. When it starts to get unbearable, Seokmin clears his throat, hoping to remind his sister that she hasn’t seen him in months, either; and he’s also standing right here.

Instead of greeting him, Soyeon shoots you a wry smile. “Who is he today? A fugitive you’re harboring?”

In tandem, the two of you appraise him with thoughtfully narrowed eyes. See, this he didn’t miss: being both of his sisters’ least favorite younger sibling.

“Oh, no, though I can see why you think that.” You shake your head, then reach out to pat his shoulder patronizingly. “If anyone asks, this is a foreign diplomat, and I’m the interpreter he can’t understand a word without. Best not say hi to him; he won’t know what you’re saying.”

Soyeon nods, though Seokmin wonders if she truly gets what you’re trying to achieve. Not quite, he realizes a moment later. Instead, she covers his chin with her hand so she can squeeze both his cheeks at once.

“He’s adorable,” she coos. “Doesn’t look old enough or mature enough for diplomacy, though.”

Seokmin rolls his eyes. “Well, we can’t all be doctors, can we?”

Again, in tandem, all eyes on him widen with feigned shock. Between overlapping gasps of “he does understand!” and “someone’s been studying!”, he shakes off his sister’s touch and scowls.

“If you’re going to keep bullying me, can you at least do it at the bar? That way, I can numb my suffering with booze.”

At this, Soyeon drops the charade and pulls him into a hug like a vice grip. She holds him so tightly that his vision starts to get spotty. It’s not until he gently pats her back, begging for air, that she lets him go.

“I missed you too, Thumper,” she swears, prompting you to snicker.

Now, he’s annoyed for a completely different reason — one that makes even less sense to him. That nickname hasn’t bothered him in the last decade, so it shouldn’t now. Then again, the only person who’s called him Thumper since middle school is you.

The rules are different for you, if they exist at all.

“And I promise to catch up with you later, but I’ve got five thousand questions for Bambi, and the answers aren’t half as juicy with you around.”

Just like that, his plus-one is subtracted.

As much as you love Soyeon, she’s no Seokmin. With him, talking is easy; he never rushes to fill silences, doesn’t steer the conversation with a white-knuckled grip.

On the contrary, his oldest sister comes forward with a pickaxe, smashing through small talk while she mines for the wild stories she thinks she’s missed out on since moving away.

You don’t blame her, really. If you spent all your hours in a hospital, only sleeping in the lulls between other people’s trauma, you’d probably become just as intense — the human equivalent of a cracked-open fire hydrant — in the search for closeness, too.

In the thirty minutes you sit with her, you brief her on all the cliffhangers you’d left her with the last time you saw her.

Yes, you’re still stuck with your lease in the same apartment; and the old lady next door still regularly sets off the building’s fire alarm by accident.

No, you decided not to stay with Kai and haven’t spoken since the breakup; he needed more of your time and energy than you wanted to sacrifice for him.

No, Seokmin still hasn’t gone out with anyone that you know of in months. In fact, it’s been so long since either of you have touched on this topic, especially compared to how little time he and the last girl were together, that you can’t even remember her name.

Beyond that first, limited fact, you keep your mouth shut about the rest. It’s not your business to share; and it wouldn’t kill her to ask Seokmin about himself for once.

The longer you spend with her, the more frustrated you find yourself getting, although you keep this fact to yourself, too. Soyeon and Seonmi have both spent their lives fussing about Seokmin, talking about him like he’s some helpless baby, without doing much to get to know him.

That’s it.

If you were at all confident that Soyeon would take the initiative, you’d let her find all of this out on her own. She won’t, you know, but maybe it’ll sink in if she hears it from you.

“Seokmin’s doing really well, now that you mention it,” you offer, though she barely mentioned him in the first place. “He got promoted last month; he’s now lead architect on that massive commercial lot downtown. Apparently, it’s still a secret, whatever it is they’re putting there. Must be something special.”

Seokmin is something special, you all but yell inside your head.

Soyeon’s eyes brighten.

Nobody loves secrets quite like she does. You wait for the barrage, anticipating all the questions to which you’ll have to respond with “seriously, I don’t know,” but they don’t come.

Instead, she puts her drink back on its coaster, reaches out, and squeezes your wrist with her slightly chilled hand. “I’m grateful that he’s always had you, Bambi. If he didn’t, I don’t know if he’d lean in to opportunities like that.”

The look on her face tells you she means it. Maybe that’s what makes your stomach sour: that she can sit there, hearing of Seokmin’s accomplishments, and still find a way not to credit him for them.

Anger ignites inside of you. The flames lick up your esophagus, ready to explode, and you suck in a breath with every intention of letting her burn.

But then an arm slinks around your waist. Seokmin’s head bumps slightly against yours until you’re cheek to cheek.

“I hope I’m interrupting something.”

For a second, you think his slight tipsiness caused him to misspeak. Tilting your head to the side the best you can, you look at him out of the corner of your eye and catch his very subtle wink.

Soyeon opens her mouth, but Seokmin makes his wish a reality.

“Sorry, sis,” Seokmin says, entirely unapologetically. “I just found out that the band takes requests; and I’ll be goddamned if Bambi and I don’t show you clowns the meaning of dance.”

It takes no encouragement whatsoever for you to slip off your stool, get to your feet, and inch your way closer to his side. Then, like a starting gun was fired, the two of you bolt clumsily away from the bar, with you shouting “sorry!” over your shoulder as you go.

Your heels skid against the dance floor when you finally reach it, but Seokmin steadies you before you can eat shit in front of god and everyone.

“You’re way too expressive, you know that?” The fact that he’s out-of-breath doesn’t keep him from laughing. “I could’ve seen that grumpy turtle face of yours from space.”

Unintentionally, you prove his point, drawing your eyebrows together and frowning. “I do not —”

“— Also, I lied,” he interrupts yet again.

This, coupled with the everything else going on, leaves you too stunned to speak.

“This band is all trot, all the time. They don’t take requests — trust me, I tried — but if you stay here with me long enough, we can kill two birds with one stone.”

Seokmin doesn’t wait for you to answer because he knows it’s a yes. He doesn’t wait for you to assume your position, either, and instead holds your left hand in his right before placing your right on his left shoulder. This close, you feel the urge to tell him how handsome he looks with his hair parted off his forehead. You don’t, however.

The music swells behind you. Seokmin leads, and you follow, swaying slowly and moving across the floor.

“Two birds?” You remember to ask, one eyebrow arched.

His right arm lifts. “Spin,” he whispers. You step under his arm, then twirl. While you’re facing the opposite direction, he continues, “There. Do you see it?”

“Oh, my god.”

You do.

The bar stool you were just occupying is now filled by Seokmin’s great-uncle, Hajoon, while his new and much younger girlfriend, Yunhee, hovers near his shoulder. Even from this distance, you can see the look of abject distress on Soyeon’s face, totally unhidden by her attempt to seem engaged.

You return to your position in front of Seokmin, your hand accidentally landing on his bicep, rather than his shoulder. Flustered by the deceptive bulk there, you immediately scoot your palm back to where it belongs.

He leans in so that only you can hear him. It doesn’t feel necessary at all, given how loud the band’s horn section is, but you don’t recoil this time.

“They had me trapped over by the appetizers,” he explains, low voice making you shiver involuntarily. “Every time he started a story with when I was your age, I wanted to point out that Yunhee hadn’t been born yet.”

You can’t help the laugh that erupts out of you and therefore can’t pull your head away from Seokmin’s ear in time to save him. Instead of wincing or complaining, he looks at you and breaks into laughter of his own as soon as your eyes meet. The effect doubles, and before you know it, both of you are teary-eyed.

“How the hell did you get away from him?”

It’s a feat you've never once managed. Uncle Hajoon’s inability to read a room is equal parts due to his horrible hearing and his tendency to never stop talking. Even if he did leave space in the conversation for you to excuse yourself, you’d never successfully get the message across.

Seokmin lifts his arm again but not for you. He takes his leave to spin himself, simpering as he goes, “That’s where Yunhee came in handy, actually. I didn’t know she had it in her, but she’s not as much of a dud as we initially thought.”

“Oh?”

“She told him that I should be able to dance with my girlfriend, and he shouldn’t keep me any longer.” He shrugs. “It didn’t seem like the time to correct her.”

All the heat in your body goes straight to your cheeks. Nonetheless, you attribute it to the dancing and choke out, “No royalties for me, then.”

“Not this time.” Seokmin shakes his head. “I said that Soyeon was trying to catch up with everyone and would love to hear his stories.”

You bite back a grin. “You’re a bastard, you know that?”

“Maybe.” He smiles with every single one of his teeth. “But you’re free.”

“Surprisingly so. I haven’t felt the Eye of Sauron on me at all yet.” Just in case your statement serves as a jinx, you glance around the room for Seonmi. The tension you’ve been keeping in each one of your muscles slackens when, once again, your radar is blip-free.

“Dinner was supposed to start ten minutes ago. If I had to guess, she’s either leaving a scathing Yelp review or personally waterboarding the chef as we speak.”

“Both at the same time,” you counter, earning a wry smile. “She inherited your mom’s self-assuredness. If she believes she can, she will.”

After the pair of you dance through two more songs, the band breaks, and the hotel’s battalion of waiters come in, bearing domed, silver trays. Seokmin takes off in a hurry for your assigned table in the far corner of the ballroom, so famished that he barely remembers to tug you along behind him.

Through the meal and all its complimentary wine pairings, you do your best to focus on the conversation. Seokmin introduced you to the few people sitting with you that you haven’t had the occasion to meet yet. While he does what comes naturally to him, charming them with ease, you struggle for the first time to pay attention to him.

A few tables over, Seonmi sits down with her fiancé, joining the company of her parents; Soyeon and her date are there, too, leaving Seokmin out by design. Like an insane person, you can only watch her, rather than Seokmin’s blatant theft of bites from your plate. She laughs at whatever jokes her mother cracks, but you’d recognize that look of veiled angst anywhere. She isn’t happy, you realize. You can’t avoid the feeling that you’re the reason why she isn’t.

Time passes, somehow too quickly and too slowly. The plates are emptied, then cleared away by the wait staff — except for your half-empty glass, which is your third. Much like the other guests at your table, the joyful buzz you’d been feeling so far leaves, too.

All that’s left is you, Seokmin, and that ominous, storm cloud you can’t seem to shake.

“You’ll probably feel better if you talk to her.”

He’s always more observant than you give him credit for. You snap out of your zoned-out stare across the room in order to look at him. You frown. “I doubt it. She already looks pissed. Me parading my presence here despite her isn’t going to help anything.”

“Bambi,” Seokmin sighs, not impatient but gentle. “She’s not exactly warm, but she has always liked you. There’s literally no reason why she wouldn’t be happy to see you —”

You open your mouth to argue.

“— that happened over twenty years ago, and you really need to stop feeling guilty about it —”

You close your mouth, cross your arms self-consciously, and sink in your seat. Despite yourself, you glance over at him and catch the way he’s looking at you. He doesn’t need to say the words out loud for you to hear them.

It’s either the unspoken dare, his reassuring, soft-eyed smile, or all the blasted merlot that does you in. You’re not sure which of the three was the coup de grâce, and as you slink off towards her table, you realize it doesn’t matter. For one reason or another, you’ve decided that fear isn’t going to get the better of you this time.

Seonmi somehow senses you coming. Even without the band underscoring your movement, your timid steps across the mahogany parquet should’ve been impossible for anyone to pick up on.

Must be an older sister thing, you think, being doomed to keep a perpetual eye on others.

She doesn’t say anything when you slip into the chair next to her, which doesn’t bode well but isn’t a deal breaker, in and of itself. The important thing is that she doesn’t get up to leave. You tell yourself that this is a good sign. The knot in your stomach begs to differ, however.

Say something.

Say anything.

“Everything’s… lovely, Seonmi, seriously.” You gesture around you, smiling, but she only gives you a cursory look. “You’ve really outdone yourself with this one.”

Seonmi takes a sip of her cocktail — something bitter, the petty voice in your head assumes — and lets the corner of her mouth rise slightly. If it’s the closest thing you’ll get to a smile, you’ll take it. She hasn’t granted you a proper one in the decades since you got gum in her favorite Barbie’s hair.

“Thanks, kid,” she sighs, setting the drink back down on her personalized, cardboard coaster.

You can’t remember the last time she called you “Bambi”, let alone your real name. Just like Seokmin, you’ve always been a child to her. Apparently, you always will be, no matter what you do.

Her grip around the glass remains rigid, not unlike her overall posture. Condensation weeps under and around her manicured fingers, uninhibited. You watch those droplets soak through the coaster’s design, darkening her parents’ initials and wedding date, while you mull over whose turn it is to talk.

Ultimately, as is usually the case, Seonmi makes this decision for you. Without so much as a glance at you out of the corner of her eye, she muses, “It was a lot of work, getting all the details ironed out.”

You pick up on the subtext immediately. One of those details would’ve been the guest list; another, the invitations. Seokmin assumed it was all an accident and said as much to you no fewer than a hundred times, but this little comment from his sister blows his assurances to smithereens.

Your exclusion wasn’t an accident at all.

Suddenly, somehow, the room is twenty degrees colder. You shoot a panicked glance over to where Seokmin was just sitting, wanting nothing more than to slink back to his warmth with your tail between your legs; but he’s not where you left him. In fact, he’s nowhere to be found.

Fuck.

“Ah,” is the best you can do.

And then the two of you sit awkwardly in silence while the seconds age in dog years.

You should’ve brought a drink over with you so you’d have something to do with your hands. Or your phone — except you left it on its charger, you idiot — or a time machine, so you can revoke your bullshit decision to walk over here in the first —

“He deserves that, don’t you think?”

The combined suddenness of her voice and the switch in topics makes you jolt ever so slightly. You try to pass it off, to pretend that you’re simply adjusting the skirt of your dress, but your efforts go unnoticed. Seonmi is too busy pointing casually ahead, drawing your focus to the center of the dance floor.

Like absolutely no one else is watching, Mr. Lee twirls around his laughing wife, his heart-shaped smile beaming so brightly that it almost hurts your eyes. The love of his life has to hold one of her hands over her mouth to keep her laughter from bursting out; the other hand is raised with the rest of that arm, allowing her husband to spin himself underneath. When he’s halfway through, she surprises him, drops her arm down, and embraces him fully, giggling all the while.

It almost makes you tear up �� Mr. Lee’s unabashed, silly love, and how much it reminds you of his spitting-image of a son; the way Seokmin’s mother’s eyes sparkle in the same blissful, radiant way his do. Maybe the same can’t be said for his older sisters, but it’s abundantly clear where Seokmin came from. It’s even clearer where he should end up.

“Yes,” you breathe, and it almost sounds like a laugh because of course, he does. Before you can stop yourself, you ask, “Is that really a question?”

No, you realize too late, it’s bait.

Without batting an eye, she counters, “Is it really so hard for you to let him have that?”

Seonmi turns her head to look you dead in the eye. Confusingly, despite her words, there’s nothing in her tone or gaze that reads like malice. If anything, the slight furrow of her brow shouts concern.

Your mind is spinning too fast to keep up with. Whatever her next move is, you’re too dizzy now to see it coming and too disoriented to follow it. With the knot in your stomach tightening further, you stammer, “Is — what?”

“God,” Seonmi drops her face into her hands. “You don’t get it, do you?”

A fish on dry land, all you seem to know how to do is open and close your mouth. You may not be literally flailing, but with the state your mind is in, you may as well start.

“Seokmin loves love.”

She says each of these words slowly, like she’s trying to hammer each nail through a thick skull.

“It’s the one thing he’s wanted most since he was a kid, yet I can count on one hand the number of short-term relationships he’s been in. He doesn’t ever bring anyone home to meet us; he doesn’t bring anyone to weddings, or parties, or holidays; he just brings you.”

Of course, you’ve been right there through all of his situationships. He’s always scant on details when they end — and you’ve never pressed for any — but you know better than anyone that nothing has stuck long-term.

You’ve never thought about how odd this really is, but with Seonmi spelling it out for you now, you can’t come up with a single, good reason why someone as objectively incredible as Seokmin can’t make these things work — or why, even as you rack your brain, the only constant you can find in his life is you.

She glares now, as if she’s daring you to speak; as if you’ve got anything she’d deem worth adding. The bulldozer revs up again, whether you’re ready or not: “You’ve always been the only person he saves space for, whether or not there’s a place for you, and he has no room left in his life for someone to love him like that —”

Seonmi points again to her parents, who are circling slowly on the dance floor, talking softly to one another.

“So, what is it? Do you truly not see what he’s missing, or are you choosing not to because you like his attention?”

Your eyes burn with tears, but you can’t let them fall, and you can’t wrap your head around why that is.

Who are you hiding them from: Seonmi or yourself?

The longer she stares at you, the muddier it gets. You don’t want her to be right. You don’t want to be the kind of person she’s describing; but there’s something awful whispering in the back of your mind, saying that you might be.

You’ve left every relationship you’ve been in, telling everyone who asks in the aftermath that you like being on your own better. But that’s bullshit. It’s not your own company that you keep when you’re single; it Seokmin’s.

He makes sure that you never spend a day feeling alone, that he’s always available over the phone in the rare times he’s not physically with you. As his best friend, he treats you better than every single one of your exes ever has. Like you’re worth more than anyone else will credit you.

What kind of friend are you if you feel relieved whenever his relationships expire?

Seonmi’s hand drops, landing half-heartedly clenched on the tabletop. Just the same, her voice drops until it’s almost a whisper.

“I am begging you,” she pleads, eyes narrowing desperately as they search yours. “If you don’t want him, someone else will. Please just — get the hell out of their way.”

By the time you reach the elevator, all you’re left with is a blur. You’ve already forgotten how the conversation ended, or which one of you was the first to get up. If she said anything else to you, it was drowned out by your own hammering pulse and a looping chorus of voices validating your biggest fear, stating in no uncertain terms that you don’t belong.

You’re shaking when you reach your floor. Heels clicking under unsteady footsteps, you make for room 218; and as you go, you shove your hand into the well-concealed pocket of your dress for the keycard Seokmin forgot to grab himself on the way out earlier.

He’s certainly not in the room when you finally step inside, although you have no clue where he’s gone. It’s for the best. The door closes behind you, and with no one to see it happen, you burst into tears.

All rational thought flies out the window, shaken off by the tornado of utter confusion tearing through your brain. You grab your suitcase, needing nothing more than to be anywhere else, and begin haphazardly throwing your things back inside of it.

Why did you still come with him, knowing it wouldn’t end well? It wouldn’t be the first time you’ve told him no; he would’ve listened if you truly meant it.

If you didn’t mean it when you initially tried to squirrel your way out of this, why not? Was it just your friend asking sincerely that won you over without a fight; or was it because you knew, deep down, it’d hurt to see him bring someone else?

Why would it hurt?

The answer to that will crack the foundation of everything the two of you have built, but only if you admit it to yourself. It can’t threaten you if you don’t say it out loud, don’t make it real.

So, you won’t.

You’ll bury it deeply enough to forget about, repour the concrete, and tiptoe through the rest of your life with your best friend still at your side.

That is, if your friendship survives the weekend — rather, your sudden departure from it — at all.

“Halmoni, it’s time to go back to your hotel, okay?”

He coos this, as if he’s pleading with a toddler at bedtime, because that’s exactly what it feels like to wrangle the drunk, 80-year-old clinging to his arm.

Physically, she needs to hold onto Seokmin to keep herself steady. Mentally, she’s ready to run and has made several attempts to do just that when she thinks his guard is down. It’s no wonder the hotel staff cornered him and begged him for help; she’s too wily for those who don’t know her.

The manager had at least done him the courtesy of hailing a cab. It sits out front, warm and waiting, while he shepherds his grandmother through the lobby.

“— and another thing!” She slurs.

There is never not another thing. She shouldn’t bother concluding her sentences in the first place; she’s never done talking.

“I told your sister — I said, Sunny —”

Seonmi, he dares to presume, although he doesn’t dare to correct her.

“— you can’t have stuff like this —” She gestures animatedly, albeit vaguely around her. “— in places like this and expect retirees to pay for it! I said — oh, what did I say? — Ah, I said, ‘find me the cheapest motel in the area, or I’ll be staying in your room with you’ —”

Her kitten heels hit the brick outside with an angry thwump.

Seokmin can’t help himself. “She didn’t go for that?”

“No!” His grandmother squawks.

The driver sees the ball of a woman wobbling his way and quickly exits the cab, skirts around it, and flings the back door open for her.

“I can’t imagine why, halmoni,” he lies through his teeth, which shine down on her in his best, least sincere smile. “You’re a blast in a glass.”

She roars with laughter, even while two grown adults work together to pour her into the backseat without bumping her head on the doorframe. “Glast in a blass!”

“Exactly. Can you —?”

He gives up before he finishes voicing his request; it’s no use. Instead, he bends down to hug her and finagles the buckle of her seatbelt while she’s too distracted to fight him off. That click is the most beautiful sound he’s ever heard, after the clunk of the door shutting her in.

By the time Seokmin turns to the cab driver, his grandmother is fully slumped in her seat, pilled peacoat rising and falling with every wine-laced breath.

“I am so sorry.” He sighs, which devolves into a sheepish laugh, and fishes all of the cash out of his pocket. No tip could possibly cover the emotional toll of this ordeal, so he does his best and gives the driver everything he has.

The driver’s eyes widen. Seokmin gets the impression that he doesn’t quite understand the task he’s undertaking.

Poor bastard.

Seokmin continues, “My grandfather is at the inn already; he didn’t feel well enough to come here, but he’ll be ready to get her inside once you drop her off.”

“Sounds easy enough.” The driver smiles and holds out his hand to shake.

Seokmin reciprocates, and he declines to explain just how wrong that assessment is. He thanks the man and chirps a quick goodbye to his grandmother before rushing back inside.

Walking into the ballroom, he hopes to find you and Seonmi laughing about whatever misunderstanding had gotten in your way before. At the very least, he expects you to still be sitting next to each other at the same table. That would be good enough, he thinks; he could assist in repairing the situation from there.

The problem, it seems, is beyond his help. Neither one of you occupies the same table. If his quick scan tells him anything, you’re not even in the same room.

No matter which way he turns, he can’t spot you. His sister, on the other hand, is near the far corner, having what looks like a nightmarish conversation with their parents. There are approximately five billion things Seokmin would rather do than get in the middle of that, but you don’t have your phone on you, and he has no other way to find out where you went.

Above the heads of the two women, Seokmin’s father catches sight of his approach. They lock eyes; there’s something insane in his father’s gaze. The older man shakes his head, mouthing “no.”

Seokmin stops short, raises his hands with the palms up to get across his confusion, and mouths back, “Bambi?”

In response, his father extends a single finger and points upwards. He then makes a shooing motion with his hand. His wife and daughter are so engrossed in their argument that neither of them catches the pantomime or Seokmin’s quick exit, back the way he came.

On the elevator ride upstairs, Seokmin worries. The most likely explanation is that you went to find your phone so that you could find him – but you haven’t texted or called him in the time he’s been looking for you, so he supposes it isn’t likely after all.

Maybe, he thinks, the wine caught up to you. You’re not as strong a drinker as you think you are. While he walks down the hallway to room 218, he steels himself. Even though you both hate it, he’s ready to hold your hair if he walks in and finds you with your head in the toilet. That dress looks too good on you not to be expensive; he’d rather talk you out of your embarrassment tomorrow than have you shell out for dry-cleaning.

You didn’t deadbolt the door behind you, which strikes him as odd. In fact, you didn’t even close it properly; it isn’t latched. All he has to do is tap on it for the door to open.

“Bambi?” He calls out before stepping inside entirely, thinking it’s only decent to confirm in advance that he’s not an intruder. “Sorry for disappearing. I had to pour my grandmother into a cab – it was exactly as awful as it sounds.”

The faint rustling sound he hears isn’t coming from the bathroom, which is both dark and unoccupied. Part of him wants to take this as a good sign, but the rest of him wonders if he’s walking in on a burglary. That flicker of fear is followed by a stupid sense of validation:

You always laugh at him when he cites this as his reason for choosing the bed closest to the door; you claim it’s statistically unlikely. Finally being able to say “I told you so” after a robbery wouldn’t make either of your belongings magically reappear, of course. That said, it might make him feel a little better.

But the figure rooting through your suitcase isn’t a bandit at all. It’s you with your coat on.

“Um,” he starts, unintentionally startling you. “What is….”

His question peters out when you look up at him. There are broken mascara tracks down your cheeks, as if you tried to wipe them off without actually looking at them. Above them, your wide eyes are wet, like you’re seconds away from crying all over again. Even worse, you’re trembling.

Seokmin’s only instinct is to reach for you. Before he can wrap his arms around you, you jerk away from him. “Please don’t.”

So, he stops, though he doesn’t understand why. This is quite literally the only time in your life that you’ve pushed him away.

“What’s going on?” Ideally, he’d project calm at a time like this. He just sounds desperate. “What happened with Seonmi?”

“She — um, she didn’t — It wasn’t that bad; I’m just… You know how sensitive I get when I drink wine.”

Like a switch flips, a half-hearted smile takes over the bottom half of your face. It’s not real; if it was, your eyes would light up and crinkle at the corners. Whatever that look is, it’s bullshit.

Seokmin gestures to your suitcase, where everything you brought with you has been unceremoniously shoved. “Sensitive enough to, what, run away? No. I’m not buying it. She said something — or did something — to make you this upset. Bambi, what happened?”

His urgency is selfish, he knows it. Seonmi’s always been way too intuitive for her own good. There’s no way she hasn’t noticed the way he looks at you when you aren’t looking; how god-awful he is at acting platonic.

He tries — has been trying, for a long time now — to shake these feelings off because he knows you’re not emotionally available. Because he knows who he’s supposed to be for you, and how devastating it would be if he threw your friendship away.

That devastation is right in front of him now; and it’ll push you out of his life forever if he doesn’t shut it down. He has to get in front of it.

You strike first, though. “Seokmin, why didn’t you bring anyone else?”

There are two ways for him to interpret that question: with the emphasis on anyone, meaning not you; or as an escape route. For your sake, he chooses the latter.

“She gave me a plus-one, not a plus-two,” he says softly.

Despite his tone, it must hit you like a punch. You nod curtly, once. “Got it. Basic math. Thanks, Seokmin; that was never my strongest subject.”

Foot, meet mouth.

You immediately set back to work, reaching for the lid of your suitcase to close and zip. Before he thinks once, let alone twice, his hand darts out and flattens against the mesh inner pocket on the top, preventing you from doing so.

“No.” He shakes his head firmly. “Not happening.”

You don’t scowl at him the way he expects, nor do you even stop to look at him. It’s far worse than that; your eyes start swimming, focused helplessly on your suitcase.

When you speak, your voice cracks. “I shouldn’t have come in the first place. I knew that this invitation shit wasn’t an accident; I knew I wasn’t welcome to —”

“— You came anyway.” Seokmin doesn’t mean to snap at you, but the point is moot. Softening at the edges, he quickly continues, “And I’m glad that you did because I don’t want to be here with ‘anyone else’.”

It’s not the whole truth, so it may as well be a lie. You know him too well for him to get away with it; it was stupid of him to try. Your head turns, and the slight narrow of your eyes says it all.

I triple-dog dare you to tell me the truth.

This fork in the road has two dead ends. His only options are to do just that or double down and lie straight to your face, while you see straight through him. Either option pulls the pin, he figures, so it’s no longer a question of who gets hurt; it’s who gets hurt worse.

Seokmin jumps on the grenade.

“I don’t want to be with anyone else!”

It comes out too loudly, startling you. In a way, it’s angry, too. He wishes could project that anger onto Seonmi for starting shit, as usual, but the person he’s maddest at is himself for putting you both in this position.

For the first time ever, he can’t decipher the expression on your face. He’d shove his foot into his mouth to try and keep himself quiet, but his adrenaline is firing on all cylinders, and he can’t seem to stop shouting.

“And I’m really fucking sorry to say it because I know you don’t want to hear it, not from me or anyone else. So, you can leave, alright? I’m not going to stop you.”

The force of the surprise almost knocks the air out of him, so quick that Seokmin can’t process what’s happening until his back is flush to the wall behind him — until your hands, flat against his white button-up, curl to grip the fabric, and you kiss him so hard that he sees stars.

You’re surprised too, it seems. When you pull away, chest heaving, you freeze in the same way he does. Eyes searching the other’s, unsure of what to do now that twenty-plus years’ worth of boundaries have been blown to bits.

You whisper, “Are you still sorry?”

Of the five million feelings swelling inside of him — fear, kind of; joy, yes; fucked up by your blown-out pupils, definitely — regret isn’t one of them.

Actually…

He cups your face in his hands like water from a spring, drinks down the sight of you in this new and perfect light. “I’m only sorry that it took me this long to tell you,” he confesses before kissing you back twice as hard.

You’d ask Seokmin to pinch you and prove to you that you’re not dreaming, but the fear you feel at the thought of waking up is too overwhelming.

Even if it wasn’t, he can’t help you, can he?

His hands are far too busy.

Your pretty dress is long gone now, having been shucked off and tossed somewhere out of sight. In its place, it’s Seokmin’s body that now drapes over yours, warm in touch and tone, like molten gold.

His middle and marriage fingers curl inside you, working you up again; and all you can do is cling desperately to his hair, whimper, and wait for the fall.

“I take back what I said earlier,” he murmurs between nips and kisses at your neck.

You can’t ask him to elaborate. You’re too close to careening over the edge for the second time tonight; too busy babbling fucking nonsense.

His simper against your throat reverberates all the way down, lights up your every nerve in tandem like a switchboard. “Only an idiot would tell you to be less expressive.”

The pad of his thumb swirls over your clit; its movement synchronizes with his middle finger inside of you, targeting your weak spot. He presses down on that spongy patch of nerves, and your hips buck involuntarily, a hallmark of your body begging for you while your words fail.

“You were right, though.”

You summon all your concentration. “I’m always right,” you counter. Seokmin pulls his mouth away from the underside of your jaw just to look at you pointedly. “You’ll have to be more specific.”

He picks up the pace of his ministrations, pulling no punches. You’re teetering on the ledge with no real ability to lift your own neck; your head crashes back against the pillow as you wail, clenching and gushing around his fingers.

“I do know how sensitive you get,” he snickers before slipping his fingers from you and sweeping down to kiss you sweetly.

The ringing in your ears has barely subsided, but you’ve decided not to take anymore of his teasing laying down. Slipping your fingers from his hair, you move your hands to his shoulders; and with whatever muscle control you still maintain, you flip him off of you, onto his back.

“How long —”

You climb over his lap and straddle him, placing your palms flat against his chest. It’s as much a show of dominance as it is a carefully disguised trick for balance.

“— have you been waiting to say that?”

Caught red handed, Seokmin shoots you that trademark, heart-shaped smile. His cheeks were already flushed from the effort he just expended on you; that perfect pink only deepens when he blushes and laughs, “What, you think I can’t come up with killer lines in the heat of the moment?”

You scratch your nails gently down the lines of his abdominal muscles. “Nope,” you purr.

Sitting up on his elbows, Seokmin tilts his head to the side and narrows his dark eyes at you. You’re nowhere near used to seeing him look at you like this, like you’re something to be devoured. The feeling of being wanted so badly makes your stomach flip.

“Give me some credit, won’t you?” He asks, voice low. “You’re a knockout; you’re naked in front of me for the first time; and it’s a miracle I can talk at all when I feel this concussed.”

When you lean in, he licks his lips expectantly. You’re close enough to kiss him, of course, but you stop a few millimeters shy of your mark and watch him fight the urge to pout. His eyes search yours, almost pleadingly.

“Is that why you’re still not naked?”

Seokmin’s next move is to reach for the black briefs he’s still got on, but you stop him, encircling each of his wrists with your hands.

“Ah, ah, ah,” you tut with a patronizing shake of your head. “You’re fired. I’m in control now.”

If the little sigh he lets out is any indication, he is very much on board with your self-promotion.

He takes your cue and reels himself in, allowing you to move further down his body, your fingertips hooking under his elastic waistband and tugging as you go. When his length finally springs free, you duck your head to take him into your mouth, beyond eager to feel his weight on your tongue.

“Oh, my god,” he groans, eyelids fluttering, while you swirl your tongue around his head. “Feels s-so —”

The rest of his sentence gets stuck in his throat; you take what you can of him down your own throat, working whatever remains with your hand.

Seokmin wants so badly to watch, you know he does, but he’s sensitive, too. His head tips back, eyes closed and mouth hanging open.

It’s messy, the spit dribbling down your chin and the sound brought forth by the suction of your mouth around him. The obscenity of it all spurs you on. Nothing inspires you quite like Seokmin’s breathy whines and low moans, though. Above all else, it’s his reaction to you that slicks the inside of your thighs.

You’d give him the ending he deserves, right down the back of your throat, but you feel his fingertips graze your shoulder, beckoning you to look up at him.

Voice rough, he pleads, “Come here.”

With his steadying hands on you, you move back into your original position with your bent knees on either side of him. You immediately spot the indent his teeth have left on his lower lip, which is now slightly swollen. Delicately, you brush your thumb over the mark. “Oh, you’re a goner.”

Seokmin looks at you pointedly. Though you tease, you’re even worse off: drunk on the taste of him, as much as the sight of him underneath you, wanting you just as badly.

“Alright, alright,” you concede. “I am, too.”

The hand you use to wave dismissively at him then reaches down between your thighs, fingers wrapping around his cock and lining it up with your entrance.

“But I’m taking you down with me.”

And you do.

So thoroughly that you barely recall him staggering off to the bathroom when all is said and done, the wash cloth he returns with to clean you up, or the way you slump into his waiting arms before promptly falling asleep.

You sleep so soundly, in fact, that you don’t stir when the sun blares through the open curtains. Likewise, when Seokmin carefully maneuvers himself out of the tangle of your limbs and places your head on a real pillow instead, you’re none the wiser.

What finally gets to you is the clatter of the expensive, hotel-issued shampoo clattering against the floor of the shower, echoing off the tile like a sonic boom. You sit bolt upright in bed, staring bleary-eyed in the direction of the bathroom.

As if on cue, Seokmin pokes his head out of the doorway to see if you managed to sleep through the noise. Damp hair splays over his forehead, hanging just as loosely as his lazily-knotted bathrobe. If you weren’t still too sleepy to function, you’d love nothing more than to grab him by that tie and drag him back to bed.

“Shit. I’m sorry, Bambi,” he coos, though his mouth is full of both toothpaste and a toothbrush in a distinctly greener shade of blue than usual.

You merely point at his mouth with a half-powered look of distress, otherwise unable to put your suspicion into words. He doesn’t get it; he glances down at his chest, looking for what he assumes is a stray glob of paste.

When you finally do speak, it’s a prayer: “Please tell me that’s not mine.”

Seokmin blinks at you, then down his nose at the toothbrush he’s using. He cocks his head to the side, opens his mouth to assure you it isn’t, and finally, when the realization makes his eyes widen, he groans.

You wail, “Noooooo!”

Memories of your last trip together clash before your mind — specifically, attempting to navigate a drug store in a foreign language while you shopped for the replacement toothbrush Seokmin is currently holding.

Ears bright red with embarrassment, he ducks back into the bathroom. Immediately, you hear a rush of water from the tap, which nearly drowns out his feeble cry of “I’m sorry!”

“I know it’s an honest mistake, but how do you make it twice?”

You collapse back onto the pillows and bury your face in your palms; and you stay that way, even when you hear him padding softly over to you. The mattress shifts under his weight as he makes his way, one knee at a time, until you feel him looming over you. His hands reach out and gently pull yours from your face.

Before you can get any ideas, Seokmin flattens himself on top of you; a weighted blanket, smelling like vanilla and spearmint. He folds his arms across your chest and props his chin up on the top of his right wrist, bright eyes sparkling as he peers up at you.

Suddenly, you find it very difficult to be annoyed with him. The worst part is that none of this is by design. He always just looks at you this way, not to get out of trouble but because you’re you.

Your hand reaches out of its own accord and brushes the remaining damp strands off his forehead. When your touch lingers, Seokmin leans into it, warming your palm with his cheek.

“Hey,” you say, after failing to come up with anything better.

He beams. “Hi.”

“Why are we awake at this hour?”

That smile of his evaporates slowly, giving way to a grimace you’ve seen before. “Seungcheol and Mingyu want to meet up at the ski lodge before the post-brunch crowd gets there,” he explains. “And I told my parents we’d get breakfast with them first, since yesterday was… well, mostly a disaster.”

“And it will conveniently provide you with time to think of a way out of snowboarding?” You chuckle quietly and pat his cheek.

Seokmin shakes his head firmly, then stretches his neck enough to kiss you.

“No,” he mumbles defiantly against your lips. “I never back down from a triple-dog dare.”

#hoseokhasmyheartxx #jade speaks #re: triple dog dare #dokyeom #svt

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orchidyoonkook · 2 years ago

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7, 24, 44 for BTS!

-hoseokhasmyheartxx 💜

Okay now that I’m home and can actually put thought into my answers:

Stephhh!!!!!!! My darling. Thank you ♥️♥️♥️

7. School trilogy, HYYH era or WINGS?

Wings because A) hello. Wings. But I didn’t really vibe with the whole school trilogy, still love it tho, and even after four years and vast effort and research, the HYYH era still confuses me greatly.

24. What immediately comes to your mind when you think of Yoongi?

Safe space. Home. Talent. Lover. Magic. Comfort.

44. If you were given the chance to say one sentence to all of them, what would you tell them?

Thank you for keeping my happy and sane when I couldn’t do it by myself, I hope we as ARMY are able to do the same even a fraction of the amount you’ve do for us, and that if you ever need a break or need to leave, our love for you will never dissipate and we will respect and support you regardless.

#i love them so much and I hope they do what they need to be happy #Thanks steph ♥️♥️#hoseokhasmyheartxx #asks #ask games with yoon #ms.mailbox📬

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ceceslibrary · 10 months ago

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CECE'S FIC RECS

BTS

Updated: April 24th, 2024

Fic Rec list 2

Namjoon

TRY AGAIN | jiminscockr1ng

Tonight We're Dancing | unique-high

"Cry for me" | prettyprincejk

Cleaning Day | gojosnympho

About Love | jjkeverlast

Closer | joon4eva

Between the pages | hwanghyunjinenthusiast

Cross Your Mind | dearlyjoonie

Lifeline | downbad4yoongi

Late Night Texting | hobistyles

My Feet to Follow, and My Heart to Hold | daechwitatamic

Sundress | cheolhub

Doom boy | soft4gguk

Sexy Feeling | btsrunmylife

My Goddess | purpleyoonn

Quid Pro Quo | sopejinsunflower

Dream Girl | nmjoon-n

Rival Academia | aseaofyoongi

Cat and Mouse | aaagustd

Too sweet | teenytinyjimin

Jin

Payment Plan | trivia-yandere

Oh Baby | k00sblogger

Yoongi

Angel | sailoryooons

So it Goes | prodagustd

A New Rhythm | sluttywoozi

Three tangerines | kithtaehyung

Wife | mggsv

Jhope

"Missed you." | dilfhoseokie

Daisies | jeonaachu

Jimin

Disease | piedinthepiper

Camping | swanlakebaby

Missing You | swanlakebaby

My girl | k00sblogger

Daddy's Home | lovecoree

Taehyung

His Special Secret | kooktrash

Craving You | hoseokhasmyheartxx

The End is You and I | yonkimink

Distraction | lovecoree

Jungkook

Malibu | joonberriess

Seven | joonberriess

All mine | tanniefm

Side B!tch...? | bubbbii

Sunkissin' | peachyjeonss

Wild Thoughts | sxtaep

On and Off | gashinabts

The Broken Vow | lleldey

Blackout | jjungxkook

Long Way Home | sparklingchim

Over The Odds | jungk0oksthighs

Between Roommates | kooktrash

Shut Up and Kiss Me | ahgasegotarmy116

I miss you, I'm sorry | teenytinyjimin

Let me take care of you | ahgasegotarmy116

Nothing Serious | kooqitas

OT7/Multiple Members

Boyfriend for Hire | remedyx

All Bite, No Bark | spiderlilyserendipity

3 strikes | mapofthesea

Wolves in Sheep's Clothing | peachypinkgloss

Agains The Odds | jungk0oksthighs

WWE

Jey Uso

White Lies | tribalhoochie

We Ain't Going to Bed Angry | rays-hunter01

She My Bestfriend, Yeah We Ain't a Couple | kyleoreillylover

Mr. Right Now | femdisa

Massage. | miyuhpapayuh

Chasin' | southerngirl41

Warm | msbigredmachine

This is Cinema | romanreignseater

Baecation | tribalhoochie

Jimmy Uso

I Hate You Too | femdisa

Dressing Room. | miyuhpapayuh

Beauty Calls | aintnorainbows

Pull Up | harmshake

It's A Scream, Baby | theninthwonder

Stay By My Side | aalyssah

Tension | visionarymode

Permission | theninthwonder

Can you focus on me? | pr0wlerpunk

Roman Reigns

Lingerie Fun | strawberry-milku

Can't Handle It | visionarymode

Under His Spell | southerngirl41

Forgotten Kisses | uceyreiignss

Michael B. Jordan/Erik Killmonger

I get high, high, high | cocoa-puffs

Just Friends | cocoa-puffs

Freshout | cocoa-puffs

Domesticity | cocoa-puffs

In the Morning | nahimjustfeelingit-writes

Office Bae Series pt. 1, pt. 2, pt.3, pt.4, pt.5, pt.6 | nahimjustfeelingit-writes

Neighbors to Lovers pt. 1, pt. 2, pt. 3, pt. 4| nahimjustfeelingit-writes

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theharrowing · 2 years ago

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HARROW. What do you mean this isn’t the worst???

We’re gonna be even more broken??? OH GOD. I can’t take anymore 😩😭😭

But I’m in love with Collateral and I’m gonna stick it out even if every chapter breaks my heart. 💜

😅 HI STEPHHH!!!!

uhhh, well...you know.........crime boss stuff.......mafia........things get really bad sometimes. and uhhhhhhh.............we haven't even hit the eye of the storm, yet. we're still watching the clouds open up overhead and attempting to take shelter. or something. idk. you'll seeeee!!! 🥰🥰🥰

#hoseokhasmyheartxx #i love my moots #especially the darling steph #fic: collateral #you've got mail 💌

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borathae · 14 days ago

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aaaaaah subby yoongiiiii 😭😭😭🥹 i miss him so much :(

Friendship Over | MYG x f.Reader

“You and Yoongi have been best friends for years and yet your friendship is build on perhaps the biggest misunderstanding on earth. You, totally into inexperienced guys, think that Yoongi steers away from romance because he is ace and therefore you keep quiet about your huge crush on him. While Yoongi, very eager to get sexy with you, thinks that you are only interested in experienced guys and therefore he sucks up his major crush on you. When one night, you accidentally run in on him touching himself to the thought of you, the foundation of your friendship crumbles irreparably and you are forced to make sense of the rubble.”

Pairing: Yoongi x f.Reader

Genre: best friends to lovers!AU, Smut

Warnings: subbiest!Yoongi, inexperienced!Yoongi, shy!Yoongi, Yoongi in glasses, Domme!Reader, completely whipped!Reader, misunderstandings but make it two idiots in love <3, she thinks that he is ace and he thinks she isn't interested in "virgins", but it's quite the opposite, bruh these two just need to talk fr, male masturbation, handjob, getting caught, neediest making out, she is a lil rough with him but in a loving way, Yoongi is a natural ngnfng, they take turns making the other feel good, body worshipping, nipple licking & play, oral sex (m. & f.receiving), cum swallowing, safe penetrative sex in lotus & cowgirl, he cums so many times, listen. they're all new sensations to him so bear with him <3, he is literally this -> :O the entire time, imagine being a sub and experiencing subspace for the first time in the safest way, yeah this is what happens to him, dirty talk & praise, i feel so feral for this yoongi omfg, naked cuddles & giddy giggles for aftercare hihi <3

Wordcount: 11.5k

a/n: AAAAAAAAAAAAAH! i love him i love him i love him he is such a cutie pattootie boongie woongie sweetie lovely pookie <3 this is an idea from kinktober24 which wasn't chosen for the official list, but i still wanted to write it because it is such a VIBE and we love nerdy virgin!Yoongi with a paSSION eheheh 💗

A short trip during spring has been your friendship tradition for years. Perhaps it is also the reason why you also haven’t had a boyfriend in years. The last one you had, did not like knowing that you would be sharing a room with your male best friend for three nights. You assured him that said best friend was on the ace spectrum, but alas he made you choose and so you chose Yoongi.

It was an easy choice, because it will always be Yoongi. If Yoongi asked you to, you would be his girlfriend in a heartbeat. He is the man of your dreams. He is mature and knows his place in life. He is intelligent and witty. He is highly empathetic and always knows the right comforting words to say. He is kind, so incredibly kind, and he is sweet. He is creative and full of wonderful ideas. He is your calm haven as much as he is the biggest source for your laughter. He is just so funny and most of all, he is a total nerd.

Just like you.

You and Yoongi can spend hours obsessing over your newest shared nerdy fixations and it wouldn't become boring. Many friendship trips ended in you and he locked up in your hotel room while you obsessed over your shared interests together. Each year and for each occasion, you get the other presents inspired by each other’s interests and you are even working on your own DnD campaign together.

He is your dream man, but you also know that he is aromantic and ace and that anything remotely romantic was weird to him. No way in hell would you ever tell him your feelings if it meant making your friendship – and him – uncomfortable.

So you stay quiet while you go on these friendship trips, pretending that sharing a room and bed with him doesn’t totally mess with your sanity and that spending so much quality time together doesn’t completely fuck you over. Sometimes, during these trips, your daydreams of being partners are so intense that you have to stop yourself from calling him baby.

One time, you actually did and Yoongi blushed and you totally saved yourself by turning it into a funny thing. A running gag so to speak, although the only gag running is you. From your confession. Because you’re a coward.

Yoongi is many a things, but he definitely isn’t ace. Nor is he aromantic. Yoongi is actually a complete and utter sucker for romance. And sex. Yoongi loves sex. In theory. In practice not that much. The thought of getting naked in front of someone scares him to the point of willingly staying a virgin. Not that he wouldn’t want to change it, but being naked. Why does one have to be naked during sex? This is so embarrassing.

Yoongi also thinks that you are the most amazing person to ever exist. If someone asked him who would be his dream partner, Yoongi would describe you. You are intelligent, charismatic, funny and have the kindest heart he has ever seen in a person. When he is with you, his mind quiets down and at the same time, he wants to keep being goofy. He also thinks that you are the most beautiful person existing. Inside and out, you are everything he wishes for.

But he also knows that you are so much cooler and much more mature than him when it comes to relationships and that experienced people are a total turn on for you.

And Yoongi is very far from being an expert. So he stays quiet in order not to break his own heart by being rejected for being a loser virgin.

The time you called him baby still haunts him, by the way. Not that this is in any way relevant to this story.

“The water pressure sucks. Just a heads up”, you say, entering the bedroom in nothing but a towel.

Yoongi, sitting on bed and playing a card game on his phone, looks at you only to instantly look away again. His heart skips a few beats. Holy wow.

“I feel like I’m still dirty, even though I really scrubbed myself”, you continue, oblivious to his flabbergasted stares.

“This sucks”, Yoongi answers you, hoping that he sounds calm enough not to call attention.

“It does. Big times.”

Yoongi glances at what you are doing. You are laying out an outfit, including your underwear. It is the lacy kind. Yoongi loves the lacy kind. He presses his legs together in hopes of stopping any kind of blood flow to his dick. He can’t risk it. How embarrassing would that be? He gets hard over your underwear. This is The definition of what a loser virgin would do. You don’t know that he is a virgin and Yoongi really wants to keep it this way.

“Does it still stand that you want to chill?” you ask him, throwing your clothes and lacy underwear over your arm.

You and he talked about dinner and Yoongi said that he wasn’t really hungry and that he would prefer to stay in the room. You don’t blame him. After all, he was the one who had to drive for six hours.

“Yeah. Is it okay if I do?” he says.

“Yes, it’s totally okay. I’m starving, I can’t wait. I hope that the restaurant is better than their water pressure. Otherwise, we totally chose the wrong hotel this year.”

You are talking to him as you walk back to the bathroom to get dressed.

Yoongi feels like a pervert, but when you are already in your underwear, you manage to change positions which makes it possible for him to see you in the reflection of the mirror. A decent person would look away, but Yoongi is a disgusting piece of shit. At least that’s how he feels as he runs his eyes up and down your barely clothed body, wishing for a higher deity to give him strength. You are so beautiful. The lace sits on your curves as if it was made for you, the cups of your bra hold up your breasts in such a nice way and your butt looks so perfect.

It aches. Yoongi wants to touch you and call you beautiful, but he can’t. He can’t because he is a loser virgin and you only like experienced men.

You wear a flowy slip on dress, returning from the bathroom with light makeup on and the sweet scent of your perfume accompanying you.

“Can you help me with my necklace?” you ask him, walking to his side of the bed and sitting down on the edge of it.

“Sure, yeah”, he tries so hard not to squeak his words. You are so close to him that he can really smell your perfume.

You roll your head to the side, exposing your neck to him. You put highlighter on your shoulders and the area of your collarbones. It reflects the lights in a faint shimmer. Yoongi feels jealous of the necklace which gets to brush over this part of you. He is a complete mess, barely managing to close your necklace.

“Done”, he lets you know, accidentally brushing his fingertips down the nape of your neck as he pulls back. Goosebumps cover your skin in reaction and a shiver moves you.

Yoongi gulps.

“This just totally give me the shivers. Do it again.”

Yoongi repeats the touch. You shiver and giggle, reaching back to scratch the spot he touched.

“Totally ticklish too”, you look over your shoulder at him.

If Yoongi was any more of a disrespectful asshole, he would close the distance and kiss your neck. But he isn’t and so he gawks at you with a racing heart.

“Thanks for closing the necklace, you’re a darling.” You stand up and give him a sweet smile.

Yoongi looks up at you over the brim of his glasses. His heart is beating out of his chest by now. He doesn’t know how many more trips he can take before he just bursts and confesses. This year is torture. His feelings are eating him alive.

“I’m downstairs for some. I’m taking the key card and my phone. So if you get locked out, call me”, you say, getting ready to leave.

“Yeah, okay. Have a good meal.”

“Hopefully I will. Have a good chill.”

He chuckles, “I will. Thanks.”

“See you.”

“See you. Bye.”

You leave the room soon after, abandoning Yoongi in his loneliness and yearning. If only he had more experience, he would take this fateful step and confess his feelings for you.

If you were his girlfriend, he would cook for you all the time. He would write you songs and he would perform them to you. He would rub your shoulders on stressful days and wipe your tears on sad days. He would constantly tell people that he was your boyfriend and he would even try to get over his fear of being naked for you.

Yoongi knows that you would feel so nice. Warm and soft. He would love holding you and tracing your body. He would kiss you all over and get droopy from your scent.

Yoongi feels it. It’s happening again. His own disgusting thoughts are turning him on. It happened last year too.

The bed was smaller than this year and you ended up spooning him accidentally while Yoongi laid wide awake with a hard dick and a racing heart. He remembers that he had to leave the room early and secretly jerk off in his car because it just wouldn’t go down otherwise. This was the first time he touched himself to the thought of you and the memory comes back to haunt him.

Is this his fate? Did his brain connect these friendship trips with unbearable horniness? Is he destined to jerk off in secret each fucking year until he shrivels up and you find the love of your life in someone else? Is this it? Is he supposed to stay the pervert best friend who gets off on you?

Yoongi rolls out of bed and tries to get rid of his boner by doing a few jumping jacks. He is not going to give in again. Last year was a mistake, something which will never happen again. No woman deserves to be treated this way. Yoongi is too fucking grown to be such a stereotypical virgin.

The jumping jacks help until his eyes accidentally land on your open suitcase and the second set of lingerie you left on top of your clothes. It’s the lacy kind again. Red this time around. He messes up the jumping jacks, instantly feeling how blood rushes back to his dick. It’s useless. He won’t be able to survive this fucking trip if he doesn’t take care of it. Forcing it away will only end in him getting needier and the boner to be harder to hide. He has to do it now and never think of it again. Yep, that’s what he’ll do. Get it over with quickly and then hate himself for it.

Dinner was a complete fail because the restaurant was already closed. Fifteen minutes later and after one sad trip to the local supermarket for some dry bread, you are already back in front of your hotel room. You try to sneak into the room just in case Yoongi fell asleep. You open and close the door silently and tiptoe into the room. You abandon your heels by the door and continue to tiptoe to the bedroom.

And then you see it and it almost makes you scream.

Yoongi is under the blanket and has his eyes closed. His arm makes the very distinctive movements a man makes when he jerks off. His constant small moans are another indicator

And you feel frozen, feeling your entire world view crumble as you watch Yoongi – the supposedly biggest ace out there – touch himself.

The better part of you tells you to turn around and leave. It almost wins until your name suddenly slips from his lips.

Quietly. Like a beg. So filled with pleasure.

Your knees buckle at the sound of it. If lady boners were a thing, you would have one. A huge one.

“___, you’re so soft, ah…”

Panic. How the fuck are you going to make yourself known? Clear your throat? Cough? Say his name?

“Ah-ah”, Yoongi mewls and arches his back, throwing his arm over his eyes as he clearly finds release to the thought of you.

And you are spiralling. Holy fuck. He just orgasmed to the thought of you.

“Urgh, fuck”, he comes down with a deep growl and gritted teeth, following it up with a squeaky whimper.

Speak! Say something!

He needs a few seconds afterwards to catch his breath. You should make yourself know, but you lost any ability to make a noise.

He just orgasmed to the thought of you.

Yoongi drops his arm from his eyes and opens them. His glasses are tilted, his hair is ruffled.

“Fuck”, he whispers, voice filled with shame.

He sits up to get a tissue, using it to wipe his hand. Afterwards he disappears under the blanket for a moment to clean himself.

“You’re fucking disgusting, Min Yoongi”, you hear him talk to himself.

You are totally frozen and mute, unable to make sense of what just happened.

Yoongi reappears and screams. He saw you, now jumping out of bed in horror.

“What, what, what are you doing here?” He stutters. “Since when. Oh god, since when? What did you see?”

“Uh…I heard my name and… saw what it did to you.”

“Oh my god”, Yoongi falls to his knees, “I’m so sorry, please don’t call the cops. I promise, I’ll leave. You won’t have to see me again. I’m so sorry, oh my god, I’m so sorry.”

“No. Uh.” You shake your head to get back to reality. “It’s fine. This was hot.”

“What?”

“I really wanna kiss you.”

“What??”

Yoongi stands up, gawking at you. It feels as if everything he ever believed was a lie. You want to kiss him??

“Excuse my bluntness, but this made me wet. Like seriously, watching you orgasm to the thought of me changed me as a person”, you say, looking at him as if you wanted to ravish him whole.

Yoongi stutters, but he does it so hard that it stays unintelligible for you. It was definitely something nervous and shocked.

“Do you want me to come closer?” you ask him.

Yoongi blushes vividly. He nods his head shyly, covering his face.

“Holy fuck, Yoongi…”

You close the distance in wobbles, wanting to fall over him like a rabid animal. You want him so bad.

Yoongi panics.

“I’m a virgin!” he yells his confession.

You stop, gawking at him with widened eyes. Yoongi’s face is bright red, his eyes are big.

“Well! Uhm… I jerk off and uh, I had hand stuff done to me. In a club. Once. I was drunk and it was dark. I….And I kissed women. And uhm men. Woah, I just said that.”

“You just said that.”

“Forget I ever said anything. Actually? Forget about me all together. I need to go. Goodbye.”

“Yoongi, hey”, you stop him, holding his hands gently.

Yoongi stops, avoiding your eyes as he does nervous gulps repeatedly. His glasses are starting to fog up by now. This is how high you are raising his temperature. You aren’t helping when you take his chin between two fingers gently. Yoongi feels like prey, vulnerable and totally at your mercy. And the most confusing thing? He likes it. A lot.

“I get that you’re nervous, but don’t be. I don’t judge”, you assure him. You can’t stop looking at him. It has become so much more exciting ever since his confession. Shit, you need to control yourself. It wouldn’t be mannerly to fall over him as if you are starving.

“You don’t judge me?” he asks quietly.

“Of course not. This just totally messes up what I thought of you, so uhm, sorry if I still sound a little shocked.”

“Is it that bad?”

“Not at all. I just always assumed that you were aro-ace because you said that anything romantic and sexual feels weird to you.”

“It’s not weird to me. I’m…” he lowers his head in shame, “I feel weird about being naked. The thought of being perceived in such a state totally gives me a panic attack. I just dipped whenever sex was insinuated and yeah, I did this for years until being untouched felt easier than the thought of being seen did. Now I’m in my thirties and a loser virgin.”

“Shit, I didn’t know this about you. I’m sorry that you feel this way and that you feel this way about yourself. I should have asked, you know, talked to you about it.”

“No, I’m glad you didn’t. I feel like a loser.”

“You’re not a loser. It’s totally valid to start later than others. I just don’t get it. You’re fucking gorgeous. People should be all over you all the time.”

“Oh”, he lowers his head.

“Sorry, insensitive. Trauma from a bad experience? Is that why you feel weird?”

“No, just insecurities. I guess. And, I don’t know, I guess just feeling like I’m gonna be judged for liking it a certain way.”

“How do you like it?”

“I’m a complete sub, but I’m a guy. I don’t know”, he explains rubbing his neck to self-soothe.

“I know it’s probably not gonna help you, but I think that you’re the most handsome man ever. And I like to snack on subby guys like you. Virgins are my favourite.”

“What?” he gasps, finally meeting your eyes. “But you like experienced guys.”

“Yeah, guys who have experiences in life. Someone who is mature and knows what he wants. You know, someone who will build me a home and who wants to take care of it together. Someone who knows what to say when the day is rough because he is empathetic and kind. This kind of experience is sexy. Someone like you is sexy.”

“What do you mean??”

“I have feelings for you. For quite a few years now.”

“Holy fuck.”

“That bad?”

“No, just. Are you serious? I swear to fucking god, if you’re just messing with me, friendship over. I’m in a vulnerable state right now and I can’t take a fucking prank-”

You silence him by kissing him. Yoongi’s knees give up, back colliding with the wall and hands grasping your waist. He is kissing you. Well correction, you are kissing him. But oh my god.

You break the kiss, not because you want to but because you need to. Your hands are on his hips, your eyes undress him slowly. Yoongi suddenly feels eighteen again, lips still tingling from your kiss.

“I’m too fucking grown to mess with your feelings like that”, your voice sounds like heaven to him, “I know what I want and how I feel. You’re the guy of my dreams and the fact that you’re a total sub and a virgin just makes me want you even more. Sorry if this comes off as totally blunt, but this is my truth.”

“Kiss me again. Please”, he begs, head far gone and body burning up.

You give what he wishes for gladly. A kiss. So deep and emotional that it is difficult to handle. You press yourself against him, cornering him against the wall while Yoongi barely manages to keep himself standing. He digs his fingers so deep into your waist that he dimples your softness, his heart never raced like this before.

“Is this good? Do you like this?” you mumble between kisses, hands restless on his squirming body and lips starved for him.

“Good. So good.” He answers you in helpless, totally needy moans, still only grasping your waist because he is star struck.

Just like he confessed, Yoongi kissed women before. And men. But none of the people he kissed felt like you feel. When he kissed them, Yoongi felt in control of himself and as if it was just a simple kiss.

But with you? With you, there is no ounce of control left in him. This is so much more than a kiss. It makes him feel so fucking high.

And needy.

So needy.

The kiss breaks, but Yoongi doesn’t get to breathe. You drag him to bed, throw him atop of it and climb him. His hands are pinned above his head instantly and his thighs finally know the weight of you.

“You have to stop me if I’m too fast”, you tell him.

“Don’t stop.”

You kiss him again. Needier than before. So much sloppier too. Yoongi can barely keep up, soon having to break it just to breathe.

“How do you fucking breathe when you kiss like this?” he asks.

“No idea, I always get dizzy”, you say and giggle, “sorry, I’m way too rough aren’t I? Should we stop? How far do you want me to go?”

“All the way.”

You exhale shakily. Yoongi gulps. It’s out there now. He wants all of it with you. Take the hands of the wheel and shift to the highest gear. Yoongi doesn’t want this to stop.

He gazes at your lips. They are puffy and wet from kissing. He did that, he thinks. He fucking did that and he wants it again.

“Are you sure?” you ask.

“Please.” He licks his lips nervously, which lets you know that he still wants to say something. “I just can’t promise you a good time. I’ll try, but you have to guide me.”

You chuckle, cradling his cheeks to lean down and kiss his lips.

“Just being with you, already means I’m having the best time ever”, you say, tugging on his lower lip playfully.

Yoongi moans, lifting his head to chase the sensation. You give him a playful growl, which totally messes him up, and shove his head back into the pillow. Again, it messes him up. It’s so sexy when you’re rough with him. Yoongi didn’t think that the things he fantasised about would actually feel this good.

“Do you like it when I’m rough with you? You’re moaning so much.”

“I like it so much. You’re so sexy.”

“Mhm Yoongi…I can be even sexier…”

You straighten up, giving him a playful smile as you hook your hands in your dress to take it off.

Yoongi lies, totally frozen, and stares at you as if you were a goddess. His brain can barely comprehend what is happening to him. He might actually develop a headache from mere sensation overload. Is he still daydreaming?

Yoongi gasps and pinches himself.

“Ouch.”

You laugh, lifting your brows in question, “what was that for?” you ask, throwing the dress to the floor.

“Just panicked and needed to check if I’m awake.”

“You’re dumb”, you laugh, leaning down and cradling his cheeks, “this isn’t a dream, silly. Although it feels like one.”

He gulps, gawking at your lips with needy puppy eyes.

“Touch me as I kiss you”, you say and claim his lips.

Yoongi shudders, squeezing his eyes shut and slamming his hands on your body with such passion that you gasp. You giggle, biting his lower lip.

“Sorry.”

“You’re good, fuck so sexy.”

You kiss him with tongue for what he did and Yoongi is a goner. He tries to figure out your rhythm, resulting in your kiss to be so much needier than you planned it to be. Not that you mind. Kissing Yoongi is a dream come true. You always knew that kissing his lips would be a different experience. They are so perfect. So pouty and soft and so goddamn pretty. Sometimes when he talked to you, all you could do was stare at his lips and daydream about how it would be to kiss him.

And now you are kissing him and it is better than any daydream ever made it out to be. Your heart is racing so much, your skin is twice as sensitive to touch and your pussy has never wanted to have cock more than she does tonight.

Yoongi is currently stuck in his own life-altering experience. He is touching you. The thing he fantasised about is actually happening and you are so much softer than you were in his imagination. Your skin is like the finest silk he ever touched. Warm and tender and soft. So soft. Yoongi thought that he would be obsessed with the spots where your underwear digs into you, but he was wrong. Your waist and back feel so good to touch. They fit under his palm as if his hands were made to hold you.

Yoongi doesn’t know just how tightly he can hold you, but he has to try. Just once. One squeeze. Strong.

“Yoongi, fuck”, you breathe, abandoning his lips to kiss a messy path to his neck.

“Oh woah”, he lets out, gasping for air afterwards. He shivers, squirming under you.

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah…don’t stop, please.”

“I can’t stop. You smell so good and taste, mhm, your taste…” you trail off, dragging your tongue down his neck until you reach the collar of his shirt.

Yoongi realises quite a lot about himself right in this moment. He realises that the reason why he felt so weird about being naked was because he was never really turned on correctly. Because right now, he curses the existence of his fucking shirt.

“Wait.”

“Sorry, too far?”

You straighten up in sync with him sitting up. Your air catches in your throat as you watch him take off his shirt.

“You don’t have to if you feel weird about it”, you say.

“I want it”, he says and throws the shirt on the floor. He drops back in the pillow, gazing up at you submissively and so ready to be devoured.

Your heart might jump out of your throat if this keeps going. He is so beautiful. His skin is fair and his nipples are dark in contrast. They are so perky, currently hard and swollen from the cool air. His tummy is soft in contrast to his pecs and under his pretty belly button, a faint happy trail disappears in his boxers.

You have never felt more attracted to a person than you do right now.

“I’m fucking serious when I say this. You are fucking gorgeous, holy fuck.”

“You think?”

“I do. Fuck, I can’t believe that you’re real. It’s insane.”

Yoongi squirms, heart doing somersaults in his chest. It basically goes crazy when you reach behind yourself to unhook your bra.

“Oh my god”, he whispers, ogling your breasts.

“Thought we could match.”

“Oh my god”, he insists and flutters his lashes.

“First pair of tits?”

“In real life, yeah. Oh my god, you’re beautiful. What the fuck?”

You chuckle. He is so cute when he curses.

“Can I touch them?” he asks.

“Yes.”

Yoongi sits up. The sparks between you and him are electric. You look so deeply into each other’s eyes, sharing air and the same pulse. You give him a little playful smirk, flustering him.

Yoongi lowers his eyes, studying your chest. He lifts his hands to it, placing them over your breasts.

You sigh softly, leaning into his touch.

Yoongi exhales, blinking away the emotion in his eyes.

He can feel your heart like this. It is racing. He can’t explain why this affects him the most, but it does.

He lifts his eyes, whispering your name.

“Yeah? Is this good?”

He gives you his answer by kissing you. He moans with you and while you make a sound because he surprised you, he makes it because he could feel your heart skip a beat and then speed up. And this is turning him on more than anything else.

He squeezes your soft breasts instinctively, feeling tingly when you moan and kiss him deeper in reaction. So he does it again. And again. And fucking again. Until he made up a rhythm and you roll your hips on his lap in a needy rhythm. Your arms are hooked behind his head, your fingers are playing with his hair.

Yoongi brushes his thumbs over your nipples, learning first hand what this does to you.

“Shit, this feels so good”, you sigh into the kiss, running your fingers down the nape of his neck so you can dance them up to his scalp again and grab more of his soft hair.

It feels so good to him too and so he does it again. And again. And again. And again until he made up a rhythm and your panties start to feel soaked against his thigh. He wasn’t born yesterday, so he knows that this is a good sign. He gets you wet. It’s insane to him, turning his brain into liquid.

“Yoongi, this is…” you trail off, hugging him close in a shiver of your body. His hands sadly have to slip to your back like this, but it doesn’t matter.

He feels your breasts squish against him and this is otherworldly to feel.

Yoongi is seriously so far gone. All that he currently exists for is the intimacy you and he share. He has never been as focused on anything as he is right now on what you and he are doing.

You slide your hands to his hair and push with your chest. Yoongi falls. The kiss breaks, but the connection between your souls is still there. He gazes up at you through his slightly tilted glasses, having no idea how he should ever be normal again when he knows how you feel.

“One last chance. I’m serious, once you give me the go, I will fall over you like I’m a vampire and you’re blood”, you tell him, fucking him slowly with your hungry eyes.

He laughs. You laugh as well. The connection only grows. Fuck, you’ve never been more turned on than you are right now laughing with your best friend because you are both having a good time.

“Please be a vampire”, he allows you, readying himself for what was to come.

“Fuck, I’m gonna eat you”, you growl and fall over him just like you warned him that you would. “Lie back and enjoy, baby. This is about you now.”

Yoongi has to very quickly learn what he agreed on getting done to him is a lot harder to handle than he thought it would be. Your hands and mouth are restless and hungry. Touching and kissing and biting him everywhere. And the licking. Jesus fucking christ, there is so much licking happening that Yoongi soon starts writhing and squirming because it feels so fucking good.

“You’re so sexy. Holy fuck, your body. Yoongi, I’m obsessed. You’re so handsome”, you are babbling between your feast, driving away any kind of insecurity he could ever feel.

And as you praise him constantly, you help him learn a lot about his own body. His collarbones are nice to be sucked hickeys on to. It feels really tingly when you run your fingers up and down his sides. His tummy is insanely sensitive to the point where he needs to squirm. And his nipples. Fucking hell, his nipples. Yoongi didn’t think that arching his back was possible but then you swirl your tongue over his perky nipple and follow it up with a bite, Yoongi is a goner.

“How’s it for you, handsome?”

“Good”, he mewls.

“Good. It’s good. Baby, I’m so obsessed with you. Holy fuck”, you rasp and do the sexiest thing of dragging your wet tongue all the way down to the hem of his boxers.

Yoongi has never felt more desirable and at the same time ruined than he does right now.

Only lied out and devoured like this, does he realise that he is still in only his briefs. And that they are fighting against the second boner of tonight. It aches so much more than the first one. Quite frankly, Yoongi has never felt so much pain between his legs than he does right now as he is being explored by you.

“Please”, he begs, which he didn’t even know that he could do.

“Want me to take care of it?”

“Yes”, he mewls, writhing from side to side and rubbing his legs together. This was the sexiest thing he was ever asked. Yoongi doesn’t recognise himself anymore. What is happening to him and why doesn’t he want it to stop?

“I’m going insane, I mean it”, you confess, hooking your fingers in his soaked briefs. You take them off completely, throwing them on the floor.

The next moment is spend in star struck silence as you stare at his cock.

He has the most perfect cock you have ever seen. Listen, you saw your fair share of dicks in your life and you can say with complete honesty, that Yoongi’s is the sexiest cock ever. His tip is flushed and his shaft curves slightly. The sexiest part, however, are the prominent veins spanning all over his cock. Of course someone with his hands would have a veiny dick. If this continues, you might start barking.

“___?”

You lift your eyes at his shy whisper, “yeah?”

“Can we turn off the lights?”

“Oh”, you realise, “totally! I’m so sorry for staring. I just haven’t seen such a sexy cock before. I didn’t want to make you uncomfortable”, you explain yourself, reaching over to the light switch.

“Wait.”

“Yeah?”

“You really think that I’m sexy?”

“Yes, I’m serious. You have the kind of dick you only see in fanart. You know, the really sexy fanart on Patreon I pay for.”

Yoongi instantly understands what you mean. Sometimes you showed it to him because he asked under the pretence that he was just interested in art, while he secretly used these moments to make a picture of what you like. In his head, the dicks in these drawings were so much sexier than his dick could ever be, but if you seriously think that his dick looks like those dicks, Yoongi has won in fucking life.

“Keep the lights on”, he says.

“You mean it?”

“Yeah, keep them on. I”, he giggles, hiding behind his hands, “shut up, I look like this?”

You snicker, “mhm, you do. You sexy beast.”

“Shut up.”

You tug his hands away, pinning them above his head as you hold them. You look at him as if he was your everything, raising his pulse.

“I’m so into you”, you whisper.

“Please”, he begs, chasing your kiss.

You give it to him gladly, kissing him until air is sparse. And only then, you begin your next journey. Down to his aching cock, for which you feel so starved that it hurts. You use your fingers to paint a path for your tongue, leaving out his cock when you reach him to lick his inner thighs instead.

Yoongi twists the sheets. He didn’t know that this was a real thing. Sometimes when he lost himself in a good fanfiction and it talked about people twisting the sheets in pleasure, he always thought that this was the creative choice of the author. Nope. This actually happens and Yoongi has no control over it.

He twists the sheets and seconds later, tugs on them as you sink him into your warm mouth.

“What the actual fuck?” he gasps out, sitting up slightly.

You purr around him, shoving him down with your hand on his chest.

Yoongi drops in the sheets, arching his back. There you are again, being a little rough with him. Yoongi gasps for air as if he has never breathed before, cock throbbing in your mouth.

You sink him in completely, moaning around him. He is the perfect size for your mouth. Oh you love his cock. You swallow around him, purring in pleasure.

Yoongi shakes, throwing his hands over his eyes which results in his glasses to fall off messily.

“Stop. I’m gonna cum.”

You slip off of him, almost setting him off. His hips twitch, following your mouth.

“So sensitive”, you coo, swirling your tongue over his cockhead while your fingers jerk off his length.

“Please. What the fuck. This feels so good. Stop, I have to- ah!”

“Mhhm, what a pretty cock you have and so sensitive”, you purr, giving it kisses.

One. Two. Three. Four because you love him. Five because he is so sweet. Six because he twitches so perfectly. Seven and then you sink him in again.

You keep your tongue pressed against him, relaxing your lips so they would move around him as you fuck your face with him. Your right hand is playing with his dainty nipples, while your left is rubbing the base of his cock.

“Please stop, I’m gonna-”, he can’t finish his sentence because you make him moan oh so easily.

You understand him nonetheless, slipping off his dick to talk. You switch nipples and slide your left hand to his balls.

“Please…stop”, he gets out, totally out of breath and quaky.

“You really wanna stop?”

“No, but. But. Ah. But I have to…oh god, I have to fucking cum”, he presses out, tensing his neck and putting his hand over your hand to squeeze it. His palm is sweaty and warm. This is so sexy to feel.

“Cum in my mouth, baby. I like it”, you encourage him, slipping him back inside to suck on his pretty cock. Vigorously if one may add, to the point where your cheeks fall in and Yoongi feels as if you are sucking the soul out of him.

“Ah! A-ah…” He grabs your head with his other hand, hips twitching uncontrollably. “Please, fucking shit, ah! Please, ___, please.”

You knew that he wouldn’t last long, but this wasn’t the goal. You want tonight to be fucking perfect and if this means that he orgasms in your mouth prematurely, then so be it. This is so sexy to you. It’s honestly everything you wanted for years. You thought about him like this in your most sinful nights, imagining the taste of him. And now you are greedy and want him as quickly as possible.

He tastes so much fucking sweeter than he did in your imagination, dulling your senses to nothing but him.

“Ah please. A-ah, oh god. Oh god.”

You slurp and moan as you suck him off, pushing Yoongi into the kind of high which nothing will ever be able to recreate. Orgasms from a mouth just hit differently. They are so much warmer and leave one’s legs just so fucking wobbly.

And Yoongi currently experiences the first ever high like this, twisting your hair and cursing in a broken voice. You can also hear glimpses of your name, but they’re oh so broken in pleasure.

You swear that you actually came with him. Holy shit, he sounds so sexy when he orgasms. For just a second, one must think about his voice and then imagine it when a high shakes his body. Yes, exactly, the lethalness of him is out of this world.

Just like he did for his first orgasm, he comes down with a growl and gritted teeth, dropping into the sheets. He pushes you off, covering himself and fighting for air.

“Oh my god. Ahm. Oh god. Ah.”

You help him through it, kissing your way up to his lips. You made sure to swallow all of him before you kiss him.

“Good job, babyboy.”

Droopy but with more confidence, Yoongi cups your cheek, kissing you back. He is a lot noisier, purring constantly. He even gives your lower lip a tug before ending the kiss.

“What the fuck”, he purrs tiredly, gazing at you. His cheeks are so flushed, his eyes are slightly glassy. He looks so happy. Shocked, but happy.

“First ever head?” you whisper your question, tracing his pecs. Your leg is swung over one of his thighs, knee resting between them.

“Yeah.”

You scrunch your nose, “I can assume that you liked it?”

“So much, you have no idea”, he says and licks his lips.

“You wanna say something?”

“I’m sorry for nutting so soon. I swear, this was really overwhelming for me.”

“It’s okay. I knew you wouldn’t last long. I rarely last long during head. It’s really sexy to me.”

“You like it too?” he croaks out, lifting the inner corners of his brows submissively.

“Yeah, but I rarely got it.”

Yoongi doesn’t like to hear this. Now that he knows how good it feels, he feels enraged thinking that such sensations are a rare thing for you. Someone like you should be adored this way constantly. The fucking moment you first kissed him, all he wanted was to make you feel good too. How on earth could other guys not feel the same?

“What’s with the angry face?” you ask him.

“It’s just…you should have felt it a lot.”

“You’re so sweet. I guess I just have trash exes.”

“You do. I never liked any of them”, he confesses, making you chuckle. He licks his lips, “can I?”

“Eat me out?”

“Yeah. Please.”

“Yes, oh my god.”

You and he switch places, kissing as you do. He is between your legs, hands on your body and skin melting with yours.

He is the one to break the kiss, gazing at you. Your heart flutters because of him.

“If I do something weird or wrong, tell me please.”

“Yes, I-”

He interrupts you before you can continue by connecting his puffy lips with your neck. His fingers paint paths and swirls, his lips trace them. He even sucks on some spots, flicking his tongue over your skin just like you did to him.

“Yoongi…wow….”

“You smell so good”, he whispers and purrs, rubbing his nose down your neck to your collarbones. “And you’re so soft”, he adds, following it with a small hickey on your left collarbone. And your right one. He doesn’t want it to feel left out.

“When I put your necklace on, I wanted to do this to you”, he confesses, totally sending you down a spiral because...

“What the hell? This is what you were thinking? Oh my god, Yoongi…aaah”, you moan, squirming.

“You’re beautiful”, he rasps and continues his path down to your chest.

He is going to take his time. Just like you did when you explored him. He is going to kiss you, bite the soft spots and lick the tender areas.

Yoongi might have started this evening as an inexperienced idiot, but he will be damned if he lets his inexperience stop him from loving you right. He fantasised about what he would do to you so many times that he has to be an expert at them now that it finally happens. And judging by how much you sigh and moan and squirm, he is doing a good job.

He kisses you, feels you up and uses his mouth on your nipples. He knows that this feels good. You moan because of it, chasing the touches.

For just a second he slips off, trying to dirty talk even if his heart is hammering in his chest.

“You have the prettiest tits. They’re perfect.”

You sigh and arch your back to chase his lips in reaction. Yoongi takes your nipple back inside, closing his eyes. Perhaps he isn’t that bad at dirty talk. You seem to really like it.

Yoongi feels confident in continuing. He explores your tummy and waist, wanting to make you feel so good.

He wasn’t born yesterday. He’s grown enough to know that if it feels good for him, it also feels good for you. So he tries to mimic what you did to him and hopes that it feels good to you. He just doesn’t know how good it actually feels until you break the silence with a curse. He was in such a trance, mind completely focused on you, so hearing you curse feels like a slap to the face.

He is between your legs by now, having nuzzled your inner thighs before. He looks up at you, frozen in panic. Did he do something wrong?

“This is fucking insane, I’m so horny”, you confess and chuckle, “fuck, just lick me.”

Yoongi’s cock tingles. As does his stomach. So you liked it. A lot.

“Do you want it over your panties? Uhm, they’re so pretty”, he asks shyly.

“Thanks, they’re lace.”

“I know. The lacy kind. I like them.”

You meet his eyes. He is shy, but courageous at the same time.

“You say the sexiest stuff. No panties, want you raw”, you say and lift your butt so you can take off your underwear. You lift your legs too, keeping them in the air when you throw the panties to the side.

“Wow, this is…wow”, Yoongi whispers, staring without shame. His mouth is agape, his eyes are widened.

“Come closer, baby.”

“Okay. Like this?”

“Yes, like this.”

Yoongi almost passes out when you put your legs over his shoulders and writhe sensually. This is so hot.

He looks up at you, deep into the sultry eyes you give him.

“You look so good with my legs on your shoulders, handsome”, you coo.

Yoongi snorts a chuckle in coyness, lowering his eyes because he possibly couldn’t look at your eyes anymore. You snicker, enjoying his flustered reaction with a racing heart.

“Whenever you’re ready.”

Yoongi doesn’t need to be told twice. He wraps his arms around your thighs and goes down on you, gazing up at you as he does. He needs to see if you like it. You gasp, thighs tensing under his fingers.

Yoongi needs nothing more than the first lick to already be obsessed, moaning into you.

“You taste so good. What the fuck, I missed out big times”, he says and buries himself in you again.

He looks for the good spot with slow flicks of his tongue, making it feel incredible for you without even trying.

“Is nice, baby”, you sigh.

But he thinks that he could do better. Yoongi knows from fanfiction that women can arch their backs from getting ate and you aren’t arching it yet.

He lifts his mouth, gazing at your pussy. He needs to study you, make out where to focus on. His hands rub your inner thighs as he memories the view of you.

“What’s the matter?” you sound desperate.

“Where do you like it most?”

“Oh. Oh wow, this is sexy. I guess I like it here a lot. You know what a clit is, right?” you show it to him.

“I do. Yours is so pretty”, he whispers, drooling.

You mewl and drop in the pillow, “fucking hell, I’m so horny.”

“Same”, Yoongi confesses in the sexiest rasp ever and buries himself back in you. He took a glimpse and thinks that he knows the spot now. He swirls his tongue, waiting for your reaction.

You writhe, rubbing your feet over his back as your legs move with you. A small moan escapes you.

Better. He can do better. Yoongi fixes his tongue. He feels the difference first and sees the effect it has on you second.

You arch your back, twisting the sheets and curling your toes.

“There. What the fuck, ahmm.”

Yoongi feels euphoric. He closes his hands around your waist and presses his tongue closer. He swirls and flicks it, moaning each time you moan and squeezing your waist whenever you writhe.

“Okay. Woah. Ah. Wow. What the fuck? Yoongi, holy fuck”, you get out, genuinely losing it.

The way he goes down on you feels so good that you completely forget that he never did this before. Of course he is a natural. Someone with his pretty mouth and witty tongue has to be good at oral.

“Serious, Yoongi”, you grasp a bundle of his hair, “I’m already close. A-ah…”

Yoongi fucks the sheets, pulling you against his face until your butt is off the sheets. Your legs hook behind his head tightly, he purrs and grasps your hips, moving them for you so you are grinding on his face.

This isn’t like him at all. This can’t be your shy, nerdy best friend. A demon must have replaced him. You lift your head with the little strength you have left, croaking his name.

This is actually him. Yoongi is between your legs, Yoongi is the one who grinds your hips on his face. This is actually him. Yoongi might genuinely go a little feral when he has your pussy on his tongue. She has him acting up. The realisation shoots shakes through your body.

“I can’t. Baby, fucking hell”, you moan, dropping into the pillow again.

Yoongi purrs into you, taking your clit between his lips to suck on her. He ends it by grinding his tongue against her, purring so deeply.

“Holy fuck. Urgh, Yoongi”, you get out, tugging on the sheets and trembling.

Yoongi feels high. He is so eager to get you over the edge. So eager in fact that he starts using his entire mouth for it. Tongue and lips and messy saliva. And of course, he does everything right with it.

He throws you over the edge just like this. Tongue kissing your pussy and using his strength to help you get there easier. He surprises himself as well with how hard it hits you.

“Yoongi!”

He looks up at you in shock. Is he doing This? Is he responsible for the pretty face you are making and the tremors of your body? Yoongi curls his tongue against your throbbing clit, making you moan loudly and writhe. Fuck, he is the one doing this to you.

Yoongi fucks the mattress harshly, speeding up his tongue which results in you to wail up and tug on his hair.

“Yoongi! Ah, Yoongi!”

His name from your mouth. Yoongi feels delirious. This is so hot. He needs more of you. More. He sucks on your clit, totally lost to you.

“Sensitive! Baby, slow down!”

Yoongi can’t hear you, purring around you despite how much he overstimulates.

“Yoongi…baby…slow urgh fuck.”

It takes you quite a lot of strength to actually wrestle him off of you. And he doesn’t let go without complaint. He mewls in distaste, soothing himself by sucking on your inner thighs instead. His grip on you is strong. Which is turning you on so much. Of course someone with his hands has strength in them.

You drop with a groan, squirming from side to side as you try to recover from one of your best highs ever. And it’s by none other than your shy best friend. With surprisingly strong hands. And a really fast tongue. You might not leave this night sane.

“You’re insane.”

Yoongi only stares for a moment before the unbearable desire to kiss you overcomes him. He starts at your tender inner thighs and kisses his way up to your lips eagerly.

He reaches your lips feeling droopy and totally devoted to you. You kiss him back eagerly, playing with his hair. But you don’t get to taste him for long, pulling him back to talk.

“What the fuck was this?” you ask, staring at his puffy, pink lips. They’re still glistening from what he did.

“Why? Was it bad?”

“Uhm, no? Hello? You just made me shake, what the hell?”

Yoongi blushes, looking to the side.

“I just did what I thought would feel good for you”, he mumbles with a pout.

“I can tell you that you did everything right. I’m done for.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, this was it for me.”

Yoongi feels equal parts proud and angry. He made you feel so good, but it was to such a level that you don’t want more.

“What’s with the pout?” you ask him.

“No, it’s nothing.”

You snicker, “you want more, don’t you?”

“Not if you don’t want to.”

“Lie down.”

Yoongi obeys, shivering when you cuddle into his side and begin tracing his torso.

“I’m not done with you either. Don’t you worry. Just need a quick breather.”

He blushes, looking to the side. He is so cute and you are still so droopy from the high he gave you that you end up giggling and stubbing his flushed cheek with your nose. You nuzzle against him afterwards.

“You’re so cute”, you gush.

Yoongi accepts it silently, feeling too flustered to come up with anything. His heart is beating uncontrollably. Naked cuddling is everything. Being called cute comes close second. A kiss on the cheek is third.

“Are you really sure about more?” you ask him.

“Yes”, he nods his head vigorously, but falters as a question runs through him, “are you?”

“Yes I am. Just want to make sure that you’re still comfy. My first time was kinda traumatic, yeah. Don’t wanna do the same thing to you.”

“What? Who was the bastard?” Yoongi asks, furrowing his brows.

“I’m good, god I’m good. It’s been years and I’m over it. God, you’re so cute”, you gush, having to kiss him for being so perfect.

Yoongi is tense at first but relaxes very soon. He melts in your hands, rolling to the side to wrap his arms around you and kiss you deeper. With tongue. It’s perfect. Everything about him is perfect.

It isn’t long and you are both so turned on that you are out of breath as you break the kiss.

“I think I saw condoms in the bedside table”, you say.

“I’ll check”, Yoongi says and flips over.

You use the opportunity to place kisses on his back and shoulder. And Yoongi is done for. He manages just enough to get a condom but then melts into you, eyes closed and butt wiggling against you. All his mind thinks about is last year when you accidentally spooned him and he had to touch himself because of it.

And now he is here. Naked and hot in your arms while you kiss his neck and rub his nipples.

“Please”, he sighs, placing his hand over yours, “please take me, I can’t handle this anymore.”

“Fuck, you say the sexiest stuff”, you rasp and press yourself closer, “condom?”

He shows it to you.

“Yes, thank god. Imagine if there were none and we’d have had to stop because of it.”

“Don’t make me think of that”, he cranes his neck, gazing up at you with the most submissive and devoted eyes ever. “I don’t want this to stop. Not ever”, he whispers.

“Wow you”, you get out. You have to cradle his cheek and rest your forehead against his, rubbing noses together because the intimacy asks for it. “Me neither. This is so sexy, but also feels like everything I ever wanted.”

“Yeah.” He sighs his words. “Just wanna be with you.”

“Then put it on and let me have you, Yoongi baby. Please, I’ll lose my mind otherwise.”

“Yes, okay.”

He wiggles out of your hug and sits up. You sit back, watching him work.

“You know how to do this, don’t you? You have to make sure to pinch the tip of the condom.”

“I know, I’m not a total noob. I did the thing with my tongue and made you cum, remember?” he teases.

He flusters you a little. He can be so sexy with his wit if only he wants to.

“Shut up, you. How could I forget?” you mumble and nudge his arm.

Yoongi smirks lazily, giving you sexy eyes.

You squeeze his arm, “hurry up, I’m serious.”

“Right. Sorry.”

The condom is put on soon after and you can get back to kissing him. You climb his lap, playing with his hair and grinding your pussy against his cock.

Yoongi has to break the kiss because of it.

“Don’t do this.”

“Not a fan?”

“No. Yes! I like it, but I wanna be inside you. Not cum like this.”

“You’re sensitive again, mhm?”

Yoongi pouts, earning himself a kiss and a chuckle.

“You’re so cute.” You kiss his nose. “How do you want it? I could ride you or I could be on my back? Or do you want to slip inside from behind, mhm?”

“The first one sounds good”, Yoongi squeaks out, gulping. The options you listed are so sexy to think about. He feels droopy.

“Okay, then we’ll do it like this. Are you ready?”

“I’m ready”, he whispers, gazing into your eyes like a love drunk puppy.

“Put your hands on my waist.”

He obeys because it comes natural to him to obey you. You lift your hips and shimmy into the right position. He looks up at you. His heart races so much. He is so ready.

You sink him in.

Yoongi widens his eyes and squeezes your waist. A whimper leaves him against his will.

“Slipped right in, baby. How’s it for you?” you talk to him while you sink down.

Better than anything. Life changing. Unlike anything he could have imagined. The best thing ever. So warm. And soft. So fucking warm. Yoongi has no idea how it is for him because he is currently overwhelmed by it.

“A lot”, he gets out, tensing his thighs under you. He can barely keep his eyes open, feeling dizzy.

“Try focusing on me, baby. Breathe.”

Yoongi takes the shakiest and quickest breaths ever, fluttering his pretty lashes at you. You cradle his face with both hands, rocking back and forth as you take him in.

“You’re doing so well, baby. Keep breathing, that’s it.”

Yoongi always thought of himself to be someone independent, someone who doesn’t need to be babied and pampered. But to be honest? Being held like this and talked to in such a caring way feels really fucking good. Like, really fucking good.

He bottoms out and you waste no time, picking up the most lethal rhythm you learned. You swirl your hips, bouncing up and down on him as you do. And Yoongi is a goner. He squeezes his eyes shut, scrunching his nose. He gets out half of your name then only manages to create little sounds. Gasps and mewls and even a few whimpers. And he doesn’t even feel embarrassed about it because you hold his face in such a comforting way, which in return makes him feel so goddamn needy for pampering.

“Pretty, you’re so pretty. And you feel so good, baby. You’ve got the best cock.”

“Be quiet, please”, he croaks, voice slightly pitched and so shaky.

You chuckle, “you’re not into dirty talk?” you ask, knowing very well that this wasn’t the reason why he told you to shut it.

“Please, don’t tease me”, he instantly figures you out, leaning into your touch because it’s so difficult to keep his head held high. He even pouts, cheeks squishing as they melt into your palms.

“I can’t help it, you are so easy to tease”, you whisper and shove him down into the pillow.

“Ah, wait.”

“You okay?”

Yoongi reaches behind his own head, pulling out his glasses. He checks them.

“Okay, they’re good. I laid down on my glasses”, he says and puts them on, “now I see you in 4K again.”

You snicker, “you’re a dork”, you lean down and kiss his cheek, “and you’re so much fun to ride”, you add in a sweet coo, clenching down on him to really get the point across.

Yoongi twists the edge of the pillow and throws his head back, mouth agape and throat producing the sweetest moans. You give his nose and chin a kiss each, then sit up to show him how much better it can feel. You put your hands on his chest, playing with his perky nipples as you pick up speed.

“Wait. Slow. Please”, he begs, mewling each time you bury him deep inside you. His body is trembling so much and he feels so much pressure in his stomach. It is so deep and hot, spreading down his legs as well. He is repeating himself here, but this just feel so fucking good.

“You’re so sensitive”, you tease, slowing down for his sake. You keep him buried deep inside, swirling your hips back and forth while you rub your hands up and down his chest.

He looks up at you, lids heavy and cheeks flushed. His hair is hanging into his face messily, his fingers squeeze your hips.

“I can’t help it”, he breathes out, gasping for air afterwards.

“But you like it, don’t you?” you are teasing him, which Yoongi instantly figures out.

“Please”, he squeezes your hips in warning, “don’t tease me right now.”

You chuckle, bending down to mouth at his jawline, fingers playing with his hair.

“Sorry, you’re so fun to tease, baby”, you rasp and tug on his earlobe with your teeth.

Yoongi mewls, bucking his hips up involuntarily. It knocks a moan out of you, which you let him feel against his ear. Of course it drives Yoongi crazy. Why shouldn’t it? He bucks his hips up again, melting into a mess when you moan in reaction. One more time.

“Fucking shit”, he gets out, rolling his head to the side you are at, claiming your lips in a messy kiss. He even cradles the back of your head for it, holding your waist with his other hand as he rolls his hips up. It’s intense like this, but manageable. He can control the speed like this and he has to concentrate on moving, which means his brain isn’t solely zoned in on the hot tingles.

It’s also fucking ecstatic how much this makes you moan. Yoongi gets so high from it, breaking the kiss to whisper against your lips.

“Your pussy’s heaven.”

You shiver, twirling his hair.

“You know that if you talk like this and – ah – fuck like this, I wanna ruin you?”

“Do your worst then”, he challenges, which thinking back, was a very stupid idea.

You give him a dirty smirk and sit up.

“Right thumb on my clit. Now.”

Yoongi obeys.

“Good. Play with it”, you order and lift your hips only to slam them down as you begin your punishing rhythm.

Yoongi thought that he could do as he was told. Nope. His thumb stays unmoving because his brain stops working as you increase the pleasure by a hundred. He shouldn’t have challenged you. What a stupid fucking thing he did. He is going to climax. It’s too intense.

“Slow. Please slow, I don’t wanna cum already please.”

“Nah, you wanted it, so bear it.”

“Fuck, urgh, fuck ___.” he growls, scrunching his face.

“I know, baby, I know. Just keep breathing”, you coo, arching your back so you can dance your hips on him. It feels fucking incredible to you because his cock hits the best spots and his thumb is perfect to grind on.

“I was wrong, I can’t cum yet. Please.”

“But Yoongi, I love when you cum”, you taunt, smiling wickedly.

Yoongi whimpers, arching his back helplessly. There is no way in hell that he can last any longer. You fucking ruin him.

“Please, I really can’t hold it anymore”, he tries again, grasping your waist to the point where he bruises you accidentally.

“Then don’t, baby. Be my good boy and cum for me.”

Yoongi always fantasized about how it would be to have you order him to climax. This fantasy helped him over the edge so many times in the past. And now it’s actually happening and it sounds so much sexier than he could have ever imagined.

Yoongi orgasms with a moan of your name, throwing his hand over his face and twisting his own hair this way. His thumb stutters on your clit as he uses what last strength he has left to keep it there.

“Oh my god, how do you look so sexy when you cum? Fuck Yoongi, you’re making me cum too”, you confess, tightening around him as your own high hits you. Being with him was enough to get you there.

He comes down first, mewling as you ride out your high and therefore overstimulate his poor cock. When you finally come down as well, Yoongi swears that he is one second away from crying, glasses dirty from pressing his arm against it.

“Oh god, baby”, you whisper shakily, dropping on top of him, “baby. Yoongi baby, oh my god”, you babble, cradling his face as you kiss every single inch of it. “Baby, oh my baby. You were amazing, oh baby just come here, you.”

Yoongi feels so good. Yes, what old news, but fuck he feels so good. Is it actually humanly possible to feel so goddamn satisfied and loved and giddy? Because he thinks that he might be doing something inhuman right now with how fuzzy he feels.

“How are you? Are you okay?”

“M’kay”, he gets out, nodding his head.

“Yeah? You’re okay? Was it good for you?”

“Yeah. But so short…I’m sorry.”

“Don’t worry about it. It was your first time. It’s allowed to be short. Besides, you held out longer than some others. You even thrusted your hips for a little.”

“I guess. I’m…really tired”, he confesses and exhales deeply, rolling his head to the side to stub your palm with his nose. He kisses it next, smiling in such a giddy and pretty way.

Then he giggles, peeling his droopy eyes open to gaze up at you. You scrunch your nose, giggling with him.

“Did we really do this?” he asks.

“We did.”

“Oh god”, he lets out and giggles even harder.

“I know”, you agree, snuggling into him.

He hugs you, rolling to the side so he could really snuggle into you. His dick slips out of you this way, but this is okay because you are hugging and it’s so nice.

It takes you a while to calm down from your giddy giggles and once you do, you are facing each other, sharing air and gazing into each other’s eyes. He is dancing his fingertips up and down your back, while you dance them over his features. His glasses sit on his face weirdly because of the pillow.

He takes them off, snuggling deeper into the pillow afterwards.

“They were annoying.”

“I can imagine.”

That the sex was out of the world is written on both your faces. The silence you share is so familiar, but a hundred times more intimate than it was in the past.

“Does it always feel like this?” he whispers.

“So good?”

“Yeah. I feel fucking amazing. Does it always feel this way?”

“Not with everyone, rarely, I don’t know. It felt like this with you.”

Yoongi’s eyes fill with emotion. He takes a deep breath and exhales, cupping your cheek. You lean into the touch, lowering your lids halfway. You still get butterflies when he touches you like this. He is so gentle with it.

“What are we now?” he asks.

“Can I be honest?”

“Please.”

“If-”

“Actually, if it’s something bad. Can I get dressed first? I don’t wanna get my heart broken naked” he interrupts you.

You chuckle, “can I finish?”

“Yeah. Sorry.”

“It’s okay. What I wanted to say was. If we are anything other than boyfriend and girlfriend, I will actually cry. I secretly yearned for you for years.”

“I’m so glad that you said this”, he confesses and blushes.

“You are?”

“Yeah. I feel the same”, he says and meets your eyes.

You squeak, having to giggle afterwards because you are so goddamn giddy. Yoongi giggles with you, kissing you back eagerly when you smooch him. And smooch him. And smooch him again.

“Oh my god, Yoongi baby. You’re my boyfie now?”

“Yeah, I’m your boyfie”, he says in a cute way, heart dancing in his chest. “Can I tell people that I’m your boyfie?”

“Of course, oh wow, you’re making my heart burst.” You start babbling which you always do when you’re happy. “Okay, but I need to take you out on a date tomorrow, I’m serious. A real date. Breakfast. The biggest breakfast ever because the restaurant was already closed tonight.”

“What? You didn’t even get dinner?”

“It’s alright. I snacked on you, didn’t I?” you tease, wiggling your brows.

Yoongi looks away, blushing vividly, “shut up, this isn’t funny”, he mumbles, pouting.

You laugh, “I think it is hilarious actually.”

He meets your eyes fondly, squeezing your waist gently.

“Whatever.”

You smile and run your fingers down his temple. Yoongi lowers his lids in relaxation.

“What’s gonna happen to us now?” he asks.

“Right now? We should clean up and pee to prevent UTIs and then we could cuddle.”

“No I mean. For the rest of this trip?”

“Are you trying to figure out if I could be down for more sex?”

He blushes, “maybe?”

You snicker and push him onto his back. You put your arm over his chest, holding his hand above his head. Yoongi looks so happy to be where he is.

“I’d be so down for more”, you tell him, smiling prettily.

“Really?”

“Mhm.”

“Me too. I’m so down”, Yoongi confesses, adding with a blush, “I think I might be obsessed, actually.”

You chuckle fondly and kiss him, knowing that from now on, life will be so much better.

#reviews #hoseokhasmyheartxx

715 notes · View notes

jwirecs · 2 years ago

Text

RECOMMENDED BTS FICS OF JULY 2023💖

hello, hello! here are my bts recs of july! hopefully these beautiful stories get more recognition as well as the writers 💝

** anything in parentheses and bolded are my thoughts that can be disregarded if needed **

🔞smut || 💔angst || 💕fluff || ✅completed || 🔄ongoing || 💯favorite

Alcohol Free || @blue-jisungs💕✅

↳ in which your best friend yoongi gets to know your secrets while you sip on various drinks. with each one, he’s more shocked… and amused.

Nothing’s Changed || @hoseokhasmyheartxx🔞💕💔✅

↳ You and Yoongi have been best friends since college. The rest of your friend group wants to go on a couples’ trip, leaving you and Yoongi to share a room. But to your surprise, your room only has one bed… will the two of you be able to get through the week without letting the other know how you feel?

The Love Plaza || @mayolive-writes🔞💕✅💯💯

↳ Needing to take a break from the long trip to college, you and Jungkook are forced to stay at the only lodging available within 70 miles, a love motel. And much to Jungkook’s dismay, there’s only one bed.

Til You Make It || @jinkookspencil💕💔✅💯

↳ jungkook is startled when you call him in need of a favor... to play his dream role - your boyfriend - for a day...

Bet On It || @minisugakoobies🔞💕✅💯💯

↳ What's a little wager between enemies? How about if it's your body on the line?

Lovin' You Right || @kookslastbutton🔞💕💔✅

↳ Your new badass neighbor won't leave you alone. You know the type, the guy your mama wouldn't want you bringing home. He'd break your heart as quick as he'd take it.

5+1 || @joon4eva💕✅

↳ five times you wanted to tell Namjoon you loved him + the one time you finally did.

Baby Fever || @95rkives💕✅💯

↳ what was supposedly a peaceful morning stroll in the park, an unexpected encounter triggers namjoon’s intense desire for a baby, turning him into an adorable, baby fever-filled mess.

Cherry Flavored || @jjksblackgf🔞✅

↳ You bet with your boyfriend that he can't handle more than five minutes of your tongue, but Jungkook never turns away from a challenge. You'll make sure to keep him in his place.

Moving In || @dreamescapeswriting💕✅

↳ (this was an anon req to the writer, short summary: yoongi leaves his stuff at oc's apartment, slowly moving in. shts too cute man)

Panties Over Pastries || @genkima💕✅

↳ you and your lovely boyfriend, Jungkook, decided to have a baking date planned for today ! I wonder how it turns out..

Spicy 'N Sweet || @thvhoe🔞💕💔🔄💯💯💯

↳ Jeon Jungkook is the perfect guy… to piss off your parents. He’s buff, inked up and the definition of their worst nightmare but hey, when love comes knocking on your door there’s not much you can do. It’s not like you planned on falling for him… it just kind of happened, and honestly, you're not even mad about it. Not at all.

The Boxer's Girlfriend || @i-am-baechu🔞💕💔✅

↳ Jeon Jungkook is known throughout Korea as the top boxer. He’s swift in his attacks and calculated with everything. He’s dangerous in the ring but he was also dangerous to his girlfriend, Y/N L/N.

Cat Got Your Tongue? || @jessikahathaway🔞💕💔✅

↳ You were exhausted from schoolwork and just needed a chance to unwind. Jungkook, campus fuckboy, offers his services to help alleviate the stress from studying but is he going to cause more stress than he relieves?

Cherry || @peachypinkygloss🔞💕✅

↳ Jungkook has a crush on you and he does everything to conquer your heart (like eating your pussy whenever and wherever he feels like it).

Bunny Buns || @kittyscupcakeandbunny🔞💕💔🔄

↳ Jungkook needed to hide. He was on the run. And what better place for a bunny hybrid to hide then a Bunny coffee shop? How could he resist? You smelled sweet and looked nice. All it took was one smile of yours and a bunny bread and he was on all fours for you.

Moon || @hobeemin🔞💕✅ Pt 2.

↳ (theres no summary, and i suck at summarizing, but im a sucker for hybrid fics so that says sometime.)

Break My Mind's Eye || @flowerwrites06🔞💕✅

↳ Jungkook thinks marriage is the only way to seal a deal.

Diamond Trail || @flowerwrites06🔞💕✅

↳ The theft of his most elusive and mystery possession leads to a web of trickery that threatens every large syndicate in the country. (alternative: Yoongis’ prized possession is stolen but he’s not the only gang leader being betrayed)

Distraction || @melancholy-of-nadia🔞✅

↳ After a series of circumstances leads you to be the assistant/right-hand woman of Bangkok's local thief/gang leader Min Suga, you're diligent in fulfilling your role in helping him take down Detective (& Underground Mafia Boss) Agust D. What you didn't expect in this role, was to catch your own boss reading p*rngraphic material during his free time and finding out there are consequences to distracting him.

Wishes || @i-am-baechu🔞💕💔🔄💯💯

↳ After a long day of classes, Min Yoongi decides to take a break at the music hall that has become his second home. He walks in with his cigarette lit and his blank expression quickly changes when he sees a girl playing his piano. The moment their eyes meet, their lives become complicated and Yoongi blames himself for her future pain. Was the love we had honest? (i dont have a gang!au banner so its going in with the mafia!au. also yall already know im a huge sucker fore mafia/gang au's along with hybrids. its currently on going, but i know that i will be on a roller coaster while reading this series)

Devoted To Trouble || @jeonsweetpea🔞💕💔✅💯

↳ In which the whole world finds out Jungkook is Spider-Man, but he doesn’t care about anything but you. OR Can you survive seven days of Jungkook pining over you while his identity is exposed to the world? (i dont have a spider-man!au banner, but spider!kook????? when yoongi said that this man will annoy him even at the age of 100, lord where is the lie. but also, we love a persistent & annoyingly cute man.)

For Glory || @mono-moonchilds🔞💕💔✅💯💯

↳ A fight to the death. No rules, no refs, and nowhere to run.

Monachopsis || @personasintro🔞💕💔🔄💯💯

↳ after receiving unpleasant news that doesn’t allow you to grow your family, your husband comes up with an idea that unfortunately involves his brother whom he despises (wasnt too sure what au this fic would fall under but i say it goes under the parent au cause min yoongi gon be a father whether he likes it or not.)

Seven || @joonberriess🔞✅

↳ “You know night after night, I’ll be fuckin’ you right,” or: “Girl hold on my baby daddy calling again.”

Unconditionally || @rmsrkive💔🔄💯

↳ for the past three, almost four years, it has only been you and your twins after having been abandoned by your ex-boyfriend. you expected it to remain that way for the rest of your lives until one day you accidentally run into one of his bandmates at the park

Way Back Home || @solemnreads🔞💕💔🔄💯💯

↳ "please tell me this isn't what i think it is" he asks you with tears in his eyes. you look down at the sight of your son with an oxygen mask on his face while your daughter is sleeping on the couch near the wall. you look into his eyes, broken and sad. you've dreamt of this day for years, wondering how he would react. but here you are, hoping he could've meet the twins under different circumstances. "yes...they're your children."

Wrong Time || @spideyjimin🔞💕💔✅💯💯

↳ meeting ten years later the girl he deeply fell in love with is something Jungkook never thought would happen. But here you are, standing before his eyes with a bright smile on your face as you walk through the massive lobby of his company. At that exact moment, he realizes that the two of you fell in love at the wrong time but is now the right time?

Added Color || @bangtansmaus💕💔✅💯

↳ Yumi was perfectly fine with not finding her soulmate yet. she never really cared about the idea of soulmates. she’s fine with just running her bakery and living with her brother Jimin and their two best friends Jungkook and Taehyung.

Do check out all of the other BTS Fics that i have reblogged as well!!

** if there is any fics that you guys would like to recommend, please do! i am slowly running out of fics to read **

#bts smut #bts scenarios #bts fluff #bts angst #bts enemies to lovers au #bts established relationship au #bts best friends to lovers au #bts friends to lovers au #bts social media au #bts dad au #bts mafia au #bts hybrid au #bts friends with benefits au #bts fic recs #bts recs

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trustfratedjin · 1 year ago

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BANGTAN OT7 FIC RECS VOL. 1

Aight, here we go

Keep in mind that the 18+ warning does NOT only apply to smut, so please read the individual warnings on EVERY fic, thank yeowww :)

OT7

Idol!AU

Little Do You Know by @yoongiofmine Complete 18+

Relax, It’s Our Honeymoon! by @birchandspruce Complete 18+

You Complete Us by birchandspruce Complete

wild, wild, wilderness by @kimnjss Complete 18+

home sweet castle by kimnjss Complete 18+

The Plot Twist ft Soulmate!AU by @blog-name-idk Ongoing 18+

The Line Between Love And War ft Soulmate!AU by @purpleyoonn Ongoing

baby (you complete us) ft Soulmate!AU by purpleyoonn Ongoing 18+

Unorthodox by @beahae Ongoing 18+

The curious move-in to apartment 27 by @sor-vette Ongoing 18+

Got the music in you baby by @minniedaisies One Shot

Love Starved by @hollyhomburg One Shot 18+

The Sex Strike by @borathae One Shot 18+

Soulmate!AU

The Book of Soulmates by @alpacaparkaseok Complete

Moonchild by @jeonggukkiepabo Ongoing? idk hehe 18+

Mafia!AU

Between The Bloodshed by @agustdakasuga Complete 18+

Ethereal ft Fantasy!AU by purpleyoonn Complete 18+

Ride With you by @jellifysh Ongoing 18+

The Way Of A Criminal by agustdakasuga Ongoing 18+

Thou Shall Not Steal by @xherxx Ongoing 18+

A/B/O!AU

House of the Omegaverse ft Dark!AU by @sopejinsunflower Complete 18+

Lone Wolf by @sopebubbles Ongoing 18+

Before I leave you ft Dark!AU by @hollyhomburg (READ THE TW FOR REAL) Ongoing 18+

Royal!AU / Historical!AU

The Return of an Empress by @you-are-my-joy Complete 18+

Fall of Empire by @aloneatpeace Ongoing 18+

Hybrid!AU

Abundance by @angelicyoongie Ongoing 18+

100% sure i've read more but i can't remember any of em rn lol

Dark!AU

Death Valley by @bangtangalicious Complete 18+

College!AU

Everything Falls (Into Place) by blog-name-idk Complete 18+

Thesis It by xherxx Complete 18+

The Apartment Games by @softiejoon Maybe discontinued but here for the aesthetics

Kings of Campus by @luxekook Ongoing 18+

Journey to the dick by @whatifyoulivelikethat One Shot 18+

Sharing is Caring by @theharrowing One Shot 18+

Fantasy!AU

Recrudescence ft Idol!AU by @chimchimsauce Complete 18+

To have, to hold, to make you stay by sor-vette Complete 18+

Other

All the Kinks ft Multifandom, Multi!AU’s by @helvonasche Complete 18+

Getting Back Into The Swing Of Things by jellifysh Complete 18+

Boyfriend for Hire by @remedyx Ongoing 18+

Audios by @youmyjhope 18+

Sh. by @wwilloww Ongoing? idk hehe 18+

NOT OT7

Idol!AU

Need by @bang-tan-bitches ft KNJ, JHS and MYG ft A/B/O!AU Complete 18+

The bias room by @chimivx ft MYG, KTH and JJK One Shot

Desperate by borathae ft PJM, KTH and JJK One Shot 18+

Floored by @lavienjin ft JHS, PJM, JJK One Shot 18+

College!AU

Stretch You Out by @chateautae ft KNJ and JJK One Shot 18+

Fantasy!AU

bitten & knotted by @jamaisjoons ft JHS and KNJ One Shot 18+

Other

Magic Hands by @breadoffoxy ft PJM and KTH Complete 18+

Fucking Around by @tanniefm ft PJM, KTH and JJK One Shot 18+

The Art Of Self Restraint by @scribblemetae ft PJM, KTH and JJK One Shot 18+

The Sope Surprise by @chelsea-chee ft JHS and MYG One Shot 18+

The D Box by breadoffoxy ft KSJ, MYG and JJK One Shot 18+

Swiss Miss by @here4kpopfics ft KNJ and KSJ One Shot 18+

Bigger & Better by lavienjin ft KNJ and KTH One Shot 18+

Package Deal by @hoseokhasmyheartxx ft JHS and MYG One Shot 18+

Rain On Me by @dawnagustd ft KTH and JJK One Shot 18+

When i tell you my hand is cramped from all the clicking and my eyes are blurry for staring at the screen for 8+ hours...

AND THIS IS HOW WE CONCLUDE 1/9 REC POSTS WUUUU

Stay tuned because I still have to post the recs from each member and one final giving a massive shoutout to all my favorite BTS fic authors of all time (including everyone here and many more hehe)

You'll notice that some authors weren't properly tagged, that's cause tumblr wouldn't let me tag more than 50 users, so I made sure to tag the writers AT LEAST ONE TIME in case there were more than one of their works mentioned here :)

Btw, if any of the links don't work or there is a mistake or anything, please let me know so I can fix it :)

BANGTAN'S HYUNG LINE FIC RECS VOL. 1

BANGTAN'S MAKNAE LINE FIC RECS VOL. 1

#trustfratedjin's fic recs #bts fic rec #bts smut #bts x reader #ot7 x reader #bts fanfic #bts x you #bts fic #jungkook smut #taehyung smut #jimin smut #hoseok smut #yoongi smut #seokjin smut #namjoon smut #bts fic recs

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piedpiperslists · 1 year ago

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Seokjin Drabbles (XXVII)

* s - contains smut

Pure Galaxies by @jjkeverlast angst, best friend’s brother, secret relationship, cabin trip au Summary: Taehyung wasn’t supposed to find out on your annual cabin trip, that you were hopelessly in love with Seokjin, someone who’s in the zone of ‘do-not-date.’

Musical Chairs by @ugh-yoongi rivals au, teachers au

Got Me All Messed Up by @ugh-yoongi s brother's best friend, FWB

Want It Anyway by @ugh-yoongi s brother's best friend, FWB

Don’t Bring My Mother Into This by @jjungkookislife friends to lovers Summary: “This is a one time thing.” + “My mother adores you.”

Not Like Me by @jjungkookislife friends to lovers Summary: “You’re not as funny as you think you are.” + “Could he make you feel as good as I do?”

Drunken Confessions by @hoseokhasmyheartxx friends to lovers Summary: When you go to pick your best friend up from the bar, the last thing you’re expecting is a drunken confession.

[drabble] by @ubemango fake dating au

I Hate U, I Love U by @jeonbunnie angst, FWB, college au Summary: If loving Jin is wrong, you don’t wanna be right.

Rewind by @singguks childhood friends to lovers Summary: In which... childhood friends reunite in a serendipitous moment, sparking nostalgic memories, unspoken feelings, and the return of an irreplaceable bracelet.

A Question for You by @minisugakoobies established relationship Summary: Jin's got a question for you.

What a Line by @minisugakoobies friends to lovers Summary: Waist rubs while laying close to each other + “I want to explore your body if you’d let me.”

Keep It Down by @minisugakoobies s ft JJK, established relationship

[drabble] by @kidguk established relationship Summary: Getting married + “No, no, no. I know where this is going to lead. We do not have the time for sex.”

Run Away by @7ndipity established relationship Summary: Just a little thing about you and Jin spending a lazy day together.

#ksj list #seokjin drabbles

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minisugakoobies · 11 months ago

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Thank you, Steph!! 💕

Cheap Wine & Second Chances | JHS

Pairing: Hoseok x Reader

Genre: smut, fluff, angst (just a lil'), friends to lovers, the one that got away, non-Idol!AU, Valentine's!AU

Rating: M (18+)

Warnings: swearing, kissing, drinking, dirty dancing, thigh riding, dirty talk, oral (m receiving), rough fucking

Word Count: 8K

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

Summary: Valentine’s Day has brought Hoseok, your best friend from college, back into your life. Is this your second chance to get the one that got away?

A/N: Written as part of the To All the Folks I’ve F*cked Before Valentine’s Day 2022 collab! Hosted by the amazing @dntaewithluv and including 7 different Valentine's Day stories in a choose your own adventure-style collaboration!

Unbeta'd as usual. I would love to hear what you think - my inbox is always open! 💕

Masterlist 💜 Find me on AO3 💜

READ THE INTRO FIRST

His hair is darker now, and the years show more on his handsome face since the last time you saw him, the laugh lines around his eyes a little deeper. But you’d know that smile anywhere. It’s him. Jung Hoseok.

Your Hobi.

He bends to scoop up the box of chocolates and hands it back to you, and you stare at the perfect cupid’s bow of his lips as a laugh slips out. It takes you way too long to smile back, stunned as you are to see a ghost.

“Hobi?” you finally utter, barely registering that he handed you your chocolates.

“Hey Cinnamon,” Hobi replies, warm eyes crinkling. “Long time no see.”

That’s putting it mildly. It’s been years. More than a few. But that smile, that bright burst of sunshine, it hasn’t dimmed one bit. Even standing here in this dingy parking lot now, surrounded by grimy litter and rusty cars dripping oil onto the pavement, it hits you with as much joy as the first time you ever saw it.

Anthro 110, Human Origins. First day of classes, freshman year. Ever the eager student, you sat near the front of the room, laptop at the ready for note-taking.

As your classmates started to trickle in, you saw him. Clad in a hoodie and joggers, with fluffy chestnut hair, he sauntered in cheerfully, flashing the most gorgeous smile you’d ever seen. So beautiful, in fact, you nearly stopped breathing for a moment, unable to focus on anything else. Your eyes followed as he climbed the stairs before you realized you were basically staring and forced yourself to look away.

After briefly mentioning the syllabus, the professor wasted no time in getting right down to business. Your fingers flew across your keyboard as she began her lesson.

“Pssst. Hey. Excuse me?”

Typing furiously as your professor droned on, you first tried to ignore the gentle voice hissing behind you, but finally gave in. Turning, you looked over your shoulder, and were greeted by a sweet smile from the gorgeous hoodie guy.

“Sorry. But could I get a piece of gum? I saw you chewing some.”

You nodded, sliding the pack out of your pocket. He took one look at it and frowned. “Cinnamon? You don’t have any mint?”

“Are you seriously criticizing the free gum that you asked me for?” you retorted, slightly annoyed.

He blinked, lips twitching, and quickly took a stick. “Fair. Sorry. Thanks.” He smiled again, shining that brilliant beam on you to full effect, and your irritation quickly faded. You nodded, going back to your laptop.

You weren’t sure what was faster - your typing or the beating of your heart.

His name was Hoseok, you soon learned. And he was just as interested in anthropology as you were, constantly asking questions and engaging in fascinating discussions with your professor. One day after class, he asked you to join a study group he and a few other students were starting for midterms. Of course you said yes. The chance to spend more time with your crush sounded like a dream, even if you wouldn’t be alone.

The group only lasted long enough for you to ace your exams. But Hoseok kept showing up to the library at the agreed-upon time and so did you. Your conversations drifted from the origins of humanity to your personal lives. He told you to call him Hobi, and he insisted on calling you Cinnamon, because of your gum of choice, but also because you were a ‘little spicy’ - his words. The comment rolled off of you as a dumb joke, nothing more.

After all, Hobi was madly in love with his grade school sweetheart. She was one of his favorite topics of discussion at your one-on-one study sessions. From the sound of it, the two had been attached at the hip since they were toddlers, pushing each other over on playgrounds. Whenever he returned from a weekend trip home, he’d gush about her, telling you all the wonderful things she’d said or done, and you did your best to keep your crush buried deep, hoping your head bobs and well-timed laughs would be enough to keep him from knowing.

As winter melted into spring, the two of you spent most of your free time together, in the library, in the cafeteria, at so many parties, telling each other everything. Hobi was incredible, so open and caring that at times you found yourself wondering if you’d dreamt him up. How could someone that gorgeous also be so kind and so funny? Surely the cosmic balance had to be out of whack somewhere.

Parties made you wish you could blur the lines a little. Hobi loved to dance, and you were his favorite partner. To your deepest shame, you were never much of a dancer, but it never mattered because you had Hobi leading you.

God, the way he moved, flowing around you, guiding you with every step. You let him mold you, moving your arms, your hips, with his deft hands. Like a rock being worn smooth by running water, you became graceful under his touch.

You were never more jealous of his girlfriend than in those moments. Did he dance with her like that? Hold her the way he held you? That line of thought always inevitably led to you wondering if any of those slick moves of his found their way to her bed, so you tried to stop it before it could go too far.

Hobi took a dance class in the spring which culminated in a student showcase at the end of the semester. Naturally, you went to cheer him on. When the music for his routine started, all traces of your happy-go-lucky friend disappeared. The fierce look on his face as he performed sent goosebumps racing down your arms. As the audience roared their approval, that radiant smile you cherished so much returned. So it came as no surprise to you when he said he was adding dance as his minor.

At the beginning of your second year, Hobi and his friend Hyunwoo got an apartment together at the edge of campus. The tiny place was cramped, but that didn’t stop them from throwing parties there as often as possible. The best thing about the apartment was that Hyunwoo had figured out how to access the roof. Many nights were spent up there, side-by-side on the sagging cushions of an old couch they’d hauled up, drinking soju while laughing under the starry sky.

The roof was also the best spot to be alone if either of you needed to be consoled about your various woes. Like a week into the semester when Hobi mournfully announced that he and his girlfriend broke up.

“She just kept asking me, ‘Why study dance? What are you going to do with that?’” Hobi sighed, sneakers scuffing the rough surface beneath his feet, shifting uncomfortably with the memory of the break-up fight. He took a swig from the bottle of peach soju you were sharing.

“Uh, did you tell her you don’t have to ‘do’ anything with it right now?” you replied, shaking your head.

“She was only thinking of the future. As in money. She doesn’t expect me to make a living that way. I mean, fuck, I don’t even know if that’s what I want to do. But… I can’t be with someone who doesn’t believe in me, you know?” He shrugged, and the need to wrap him up in your arms became unbearable. You clutched his arm, giving him a half-hug as you rested your head on his shoulder. Hobi sighed again, pressing his cheek to your hair.

“I say this not as your best friend, but as a person with two eyes and a brain, Hobi. You are incredibly talented and intimidatingly passionate. With those two traits, you’re unstoppable, no matter what you choose to do. She’s a fucking idiot if she can’t see that. She’s also a fucking idiot if she’s only worried about your financial worth.” You paused. “Actually, I’ve got a whole list of reasons why she’s a fucking idiot, if you have the time.” Yanking out your phone, you swiped through an app. “Let me pull up my notes.”

Hoseok laughed. “Not necessary,” he declared, grabbing your cell and tossing it onto the couch next to him. “I don’t want to think about her anymore tonight. Let’s just enjoy the view.” He draped his arm over your shoulders and pulled you into his side again. “Thank you.”

“For what?” you asked, tipping your head back to peer up at him.

The city lights reflected in his eyes shimmered as he gazed back. “For everything. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

This was it. This was the moment. The moment.

The one where you confess your crush, reveal your feelings, and maybe even share your first kiss. The moment you’d dreamt of over and over.

Or, that would’ve been the moment, if it were still freshman year.

But it was sophomore year, and you’d met someone. Over the summer, while staying on campus to rehearse with the marching band, you’d become close to a classmate named Kihyun. He was smart and sexy and you had a lot of fun together.

Dating him didn’t stop you from hitting the dance floor with Hobi like you always did. No one else could ever measure up to your favorite dance partner.

Kihyun only lasted so long as a boyfriend, though. After him came Jooheon. Another cutie who made you swoon. You spent several weeks with him, too. But he had the same fatal flaw as Kihyun.

He wasn’t Hobi.

By the time you realized this and ended things with Kihyun, Hobi was in a relationship of his own. Same with Jooheon. Each time, that crush of yours stayed rooted right where it was, buried in your heart.

The year flew by. Hobi spent more and more time dancing, locking himself away in the practice rooms. Some nights, you’d pick something up from the cafeteria and take it to him, eating dinner together on the dance studio floor. In the spring, Hobi went to his advisor to discuss double majoring and was told there was no way he could do so and hope to graduate within four years. A gray cloud seemed to hang over him after that, causing you worry.

You tried your best to cheer him up, but your words couldn’t change the facts. When you saw the brochures on his desk from other schools, you knew what was coming.

“I’m transferring,” he finally blurted one night as the two of you laid on the couch on the roof.

You sat up immediately, feeling like you’d been socked in the gut. Predicting this moment didn’t make it hurt any less. “To where?”

To a university with a special program in cultural anthropology that allowed him to merge his majors. The fact that it was in another country gave him no pause. It was exactly what he wanted.

“Joy dumped me,” he informed you suddenly, bitterness creeping into his voice as he mentioned his latest girlfriend. “She flat-out said she doesn’t want a long-distance relationship. Even though we don’t live in the Stone Age and can still see each other thanks to that little thing called the internet.”

As much as you loathed the way she broke Hobi’s heart, Joy’s reluctance seemed… understandable. Plenty of your friends struggled to maintain relationships when their beloveds were in a neighboring city. Even with the incredible technology that could connect you, could it truly be the same when the person you loved was half a world away?

Hobi fell silent as he waited for your response. The uncertainty in his eyes surprised you. Was he afraid that you would protest, try to convince him to stay? How could you do that, when this was what he wanted? You couldn’t be that selfish.

“I’m so happy for you, Hobi,” you finally stated, smiling to sell it as best you could. Maybe if you smiled long enough, you could trick your heart into believing it, too. “Not about Joy, sorry that ended. But… you found a way to follow your passion. That’s amazing!”

As Hobi threw his arms around you in a relieved hug, you sighed. At least you sold him.

The rest of the semester came and went. Hyunwoo announced he was throwing a bon voyage party for Hobi after finals ended. Hobi made plans to head to the airport from the party, intending to spend a few weeks getting a lay of the land in his new home before classes started again. The thought of going from a party directly to a red eye flight to a foreign country filled you with anxiety, but to him, it sounded like a fun adventure. Besides, as he loved to tell you, he never wanted to be the last one to leave a party.

A horrible sadness settled over you the day of the party. A heavy weight, dragging you down. It rained most of the day, which you appreciated, the gloomy weather perfectly matching your mood.

Since you were staying on campus again for band, you’d picked up a job at a department store across town. Near the end of your shift, a coworker called out. As much as you didn’t want to risk missing Hobi, you were also dreading that final goodbye and needed a distraction, so you didn’t refuse the request to stay late.

Eventually you headed home, just enough time to get changed before the party. Traffic moved a little too slowly for your liking. Then it stopped completely. Unable to turn around, you were trapped, watching each minute tick by in a panic. What if you got there too late?

You frantically texted Hobi several times, letting him know the situation, and he replied in his typical soothing manner - no worries, I’m not leaving yet, I’ll see you when you get here. Trying to keep you calm, no doubt. It almost worked.

Once the cars in front of you began to move again, you changed direction, heading straight for Hyunwoo’s. Unwilling to wait for the elevator, you ran up several flights of stairs, panting by the time you reached his door. Catching Hyunwoo’s eye, you didn’t even have to say a word before he pointed to the ceiling.

Hobi stood alone near the edge of the roof. His jaw dropped as you burst through the door, probably at your disheveled appearance. But you didn’t care. You were just relieved that you didn’t miss him.

“Cinnamon! I told you you’d make it.”

“I almost didn’t,” you huffed slightly as you joined him. “What are you doing up here alone?”

Hobi gestured around him. “Enjoying one last look at the city.”

It was a beautiful view, for sure. All of campus stretched beneath you, verdant and majestic, stately buildings standing quiet in the night air, and beyond it, the bright neon glow of downtown blazed. Both of you were quiet for a few minutes as you took it all in. At least, he was taking it in. You were trying desperately to figure out what to say.

How do you tell someone everything you’ve been feeling for the last two years in only a few minutes?

“Have I ever told you my theory, about what makes someone a dancer?” Hobi spoke suddenly.

The question came out of nowhere. Caught off guard, you shook your head.

“Passion is important. So is commitment.”

“Flexibility,” you add, thinking of the many complicated moves Hobi could pull off with panache.

“Yeah, that too. But you can have all of those things and still not be a dancer if you don’t have timing.”

“Ah, I was just gonna guess that, but you beat me to it.”

Hobi smiled at your quip, but unlike his usual sunny grin, this one didn’t reach his eyes, and that terrible sadness crashed back down onto you again.

“Timing is everything. You can feel the music with your entire body, but if you can’t find the beat, sync to it, become one with it, then you’re not dancing. You’re just… flailing. You have to get the timing right.” He reached out and brushed a stray hair from your face. “We never got the timing right, did we?”

There was no need to try to sum up what had been locked in your heart for the last two years. With that simple question, Hobi told you that he felt the same.

Tears pricked your eyes as you shook your head.

“No,” you cleared your throat a little, hoping to keep the waver out of it, “no, we didn’t. And now it’s too late. You’re leaving in… how long now?”

Hobi glanced at his phone. “My ride to the airport should be here in ten.”

You’d cut it even closer than you’d thought.

“We’ll keep in touch,” he stated, repeating something he’d told you over and over since the day he said he was leaving, and you nodded, but you already knew it wouldn’t be the same. He’d move on to his new life, and you’d go on living yours. “This isn’t the end.”

“Right.” You grabbed his hand, squeezing a little. “I know we will. But… I’m still going to miss you.”

“I’m going to miss you, too,” he admitted, voice a little rougher than you’d ever heard it, and he slid towards you. “Can I…” he trailed off, eyelashes lowered as he peered at your lips, “can I have a kiss goodbye?”

Before you’d finished whispering, “Yes,” he was kissing you, one hand holding the back of your neck as the other wrapped around your waist, pulling you flush against him. The cry of surprise that left you dissolved on Hobi’s tongue as it slipped into your mouth.

It’s been years since you’ve thought about that kiss, but staring at Hobi now brings the moment back with startling clarity. You can smell the petrichor in the air, feel the softness of his lips and the sharp bite of his teeth, even taste him on your tongue, a faint peach-tinged sweetness that lingers as you remember.

All too soon, Hobi broke away, and you followed him down into his old apartment. No one said a word about you seeing Hobi to the car waiting for him at the curb, and no one said a word when you came back alone, tears on your cheeks and a fading warmth on your lips. But Hyunwoo threw an arm around your shoulders and handed you a beer and the rest of the night faded from alcohol-soaked memory after that.

Both of you did stay in touch, for a while. There were phone calls and texts and even a few long video chats, despite the horrible time zone difference between you. But life went on. You focused on your studies, trying to figure out what your post-college life would look like now that you were merely two years from graduating. He devoted himself to his new program, embracing the opportunities he didn’t have before. The messages back and forth slowed until they stopped completely.

Every now and then, something would remind you. A song playing in a bar, conjuring up memories of a frat party and his arms holding you tight. The scent of peaches wafting from a bakery, calling to mind the couch on the roof and his joyful laughter.

Usually, it was a post shared by someone you knew on social media, bragging about how their ‘famous friend’ Hoseok was performing with a well-known dance troupe or traveling the world choreographing. You didn’t follow his career closely, but from what you caught here and there, it seemed like he was successful. Transferring to that other school was clearly the right decision. No matter how much it hurt.

And now here he is, smiling fondly at you as you juggle an armful of cheap wine and chocolates in a grocery store parking lot, bringing all those old thoughts, all those old emotions rushing right back like they never left.

“Long time’s a bit of an understatement,” you finally respond.

“Yeah, I guess it’s… fuck, how many years now?” He eyes the packages threatening to slip out of your hands again.

“What are you doing here?” you blurt abruptly, skipping the pleasant small talk, needing to know what summoned him to this very place at this very moment. “I mean, last I heard, you were on tour. Are you in town for a show?”

“Actually, I’m living here. Temporarily. I’m running a workshop at the university - it’s a collaboration between the anthropology and dance departments, a series of lectures and performances.”

Your eyebrows shoot up. “Like an adjunct lecturer? That’s fantastic!”

Hobi laughs, rubbing his neck. “An adjunct professor, actually. On account of my PhD.” He grins, and your heart swells a little, whether from learning that he’s had more achievements than you’d thought, or simply at the sight of your old friend beaming with pride, you’re not sure.

“Wow, okay, I think I may have missed a few things.”

“I’m sure we have a lot to catch up on,” he agrees. “Maybe we could reconnect while I’m here? I’d love to know what you’ve been up to all these years.”

“I’m sure it’s nowhere near as interesting as the stories you can tell!” you scoff. “But yeah. I’d love to get together sometime.”

“Well… do you have plans tonight?” He glances at the Valentine’s Day paraphernalia in your hands and bites his lip. “Stupid question, you’re clearly on your way to meet someone.”

“Ha, yeah, no, this is… this is all for me,” you admit sheepishly. “I can’t resist a good deal.”

Hobi cracks up, and you hadn’t realized how much you’d missed that boisterous laugh of his until right now. “Fair. Okay. Do you want to have dinner with me, then? I’m running a dance practice in a few hours but I’ll be free after that.”

Absolutely, you do. But….

“Sure. Might be hard to find somewhere to eat without a reservation, though…” you trail off.

“Oh damn, Valentine’s day, right,” he replies. “Kinda forget it’s a thing when you’re single.”

True, you’d rather forget about this holiday, the loot currently in your hands excepted.

“Okay, how about this - you grab us some takeout from somewhere and meet me at the studio? We can have dinner there, or anywhere on campus. It’ll be just like old times.”

Phone numbers are exchanged and Hobi promises to text you the details for the dance studio. You watch him walk into the grocery store, still slightly in shock. Hobi is really here. He’s in your city, and you’re having dinner with him. Tonight.

Banner shopping day for you - cheap wine, decadent chocolates, and a date with the one that got away.

**********

Is it a date?

The question smacks you on your way home from the grocery store, bringing you back down to earth. You’d automatically inferred that it was, but just because Hobi asked you to have dinner with him doesn’t mean he has any intentions other than hanging out.

It’s hard to believe that Hobi is single after all these years. He was rarely solo while you were at school together. Then again, maybe he’s enjoying the perks of being unfettered while traveling the world for dancing or lecturing or whatever combination of the two he’s currently doing.

After debating for a while, you officially decide you shouldn’t make any assumptions about tonight. But you still doll yourself up a little, pulling one of your favorite dresses out of your closet, taking the time to do your makeup, making sure you don’t have a hair out of place. Even if tonight’s just a chance for two old friends to catch up and nothing more, there’s no reason not to look good for it.

And if you also took the time to shave your legs, well, that’s between your deity of choice and you.

Despite the looming spring, there’s still a bit of a chill to the air. Throwing a cardigan on, you head out to pick up dinner. Hobi left the menu up to you, so you chose a few dishes from your favorite noodle shop, figuring it couldn’t go wrong.

Walking across campus with bags of takeout in hand gives you a wicked sense of déjà vu, even if the campus in question isn’t your alma mater. Doesn’t matter. There’s still that familiar awed hush to the buildings as you wander through them on your way to the arts hall.

Unsure how long it would take you to find the place, you’d left a little early, and now find yourself arriving at the practice room while practice was still occurring. Hesitating at the door, you don’t have to ponder for long what to do, because Hobi waves you in.

The dancers are standing in groups, working on some choreography. A few curiously eye you as you enter. Hobi grabs the takeout bags from you and leads you to a chair in the corner of the room.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to interrupt!” you apologize as Hobi motions for you to sit.

“Nah, it’s fine. We’re just wrapping up. You can just relax here and watch me dance like old times.” He grins. “Let me know if I’ve gotten rusty.”

He resumes his place, turning to face the mirrors. Dressed in a brown t-shirt and baggy white sweats, headband holding his raven black locks back, he stands at the front of the pack and claps his hands to get everyone’s attention. The dancers slip back into formation.

The room is warm, windows fogging from the dancers’ body heat. You peel your cardigan off and drape it over the back of your chair.

“All right, let’s run through it one more time,” Hobi commands. Someone cues up the music, and with a wave of his arm he counts them in.

It’s like a switch has been thrown. Your friend immediately flips into dance mode, his entire demeanor shifting. Gone is the easygoing vibe, the relaxed smile, replaced by that focus that you remember so vividly from school. That awe-inspiring intensity.

As a hip-hop track thumps through the speakers, Hobi leads the dancers through a series of intricate steps that you couldn’t in a million years attempt, even if you had Hobi himself pulling your limbs like a marionette.

It’s like you’re back in college, sitting in a practice room as your friend dances. He even looks like his old self in that outfit. Only the presence of the other dancers keeps you from believing you’ve gone through a time warp.

He hasn’t lost any of his fluidity, flowing through the choreography effortlessly. If anything, he’s gotten even better, his movements cleaner, his transitions so smooth that you find yourself literally shaking your head in astonishment. His talent still mesmerizes you.

Hobi rolls his body, chest and hips undulating, and his shirt rides up a little, giving you a glimpse of his v-line peeking out above the waistband of his sweats. Enraptured, your jaw goes slack.

Catching you staring openly, completely lost in the way he moves, he grins, the tip of his tongue sliding between his teeth as he winks at you. It’s playful. It’s teasing.

It’s hot as fuck and you involuntarily whimper. Thank god the track is loud.

It does occur to you that you’re in a room full of strangers, though, so you quickly close your mouth and sit up, scanning the other dancers. They’re all watching Hobi, thankfully.

They hit their final marks and several of them whoop as someone cuts the music. Hobi claps his hands again. “All right, you’ve got it down. Go enjoy your Valentine’s Day. I’ll see you next week.” Grabbing a towel from his duffel bag, he dabs his face as the others slowly drift out of the room, stopping to say a word or two as they pass.

Eventually, it’s just the two of you left. He saunters over, towel hanging from his neck, a soft smile on his lips. “Well?”

You sigh. “Good thing you have that PhD to fall back on.”

With a laugh, he takes your hands, pulling you to your feet. “Do you know what I was thinking about today, after running into you?”

He leads you over to where his phone is hooked up to the sound system. With a few swipes, he cues up another song. An R&B track, something much older than what he and the others were dancing to.

“I was thinking about all those parties we used to go to. Do you remember?”

He wraps an arm around your waist as you nod, and grabs your other hand, threading your fingers together. Slowly, he spins you around in front of the mirrors.

“I thought we were going to have dinner?” you giggle.

“We will, we will. But I couldn’t stop thinking about it. Will you just humor me and let me have another dance with you?” He smiles sweetly, eyes crinkling. “Just one song?”

As if you could say no. “I have to warn you, I haven’t danced in years.”

“Good thing you have me, then. Just follow my lead.” Hobi pulls you closer, and you rest your head on his shoulder as you fall silent, listening to the music.

The two of you could talk right now. You could tell him about your life, your career, what those last two years of school were like without him. Ask him to explain how he ended up here after all that time traveling the world. But you don’t, and he doesn’t say a word, either. It doesn’t seem to matter. With his arms around you now, it feels like no time has passed at all. It’s just you and Hobi, dancing again. Only….

“You know, this isn’t quite how I remember it.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah.” Lifting your head, you grin. “Wasn’t a lot of slow dancing at those parties.”

Hobi’s eyebrows wiggle. “Oh, I see. You want something different?” He fiddles with his phone for a moment and the song changes to something more uptempo. “More like this?”

You nod, and he twirls you around before pressing his chest to your back, resting his hands on your hips. As he steps to the beat, the two of you begin to dance.

Again, neither of you speak, losing yourselves in the music as one song becomes two. His arms slip around you, hugging you to him.

Déjà vu hits hard for the second time this evening. The pulsating bass, the warmth of him against you, the earthy scent of his sweat-flecked shirt mixing with his cologne - your eyes slip shut for a moment, and it’s so easy to believe that when you reopen them, you’ll find yourself back in some crowded dorm room, surrounded by drunken classmates partying the night away.

But instead you find yourself here, in this practice space, staring up into Hobi’s handsome face as he gazes back at you in the mirror.

He’s watching you with that fierce concentration normally reserved for when he’s performing. The intense look in his eyes flusters you and you lose your rhythm, hips bouncing off of his awkwardly. Embarrassed, you turn away. “Shit, sorry. Told you I’m out of practice.”

Hobi chuckles quietly. “It’s all right. Just gotta get you back on the beat.”

Taking your hands, he wraps one of your arms around his shoulders and urges you to place the other on his back. Then he slots one of his legs between yours. Placing his hands on your hips, the two of you begin to groove again.

“There. Just like that,” he encourages you as you roll your body into his. “You’ve got it now.”

The rhythm returns. You move in tandem, bodies flowing together as one. Like old times, but more relaxed. Before, you always held yourself back a little, not wanting to enjoy too much, since one or both of you was always promised to someone else.

But there’s no reason to hold back tonight.

His arms slide around your waist. “Trust me?”

You’re not sure why he’s asking, but you do, so you nod.

“Hobi!” you exclaim as he suddenly dips you extremely low, bending you so far that you’re practically upside-down. He pulls you up into his arms, and you giggle, a little giddy from the rush.

He’s laughing, too, beaming. “You know, for someone who claims she’s not a dancer, you sure move like one. Always did.”

“That’s all you. I’m like… clay in your hands. If I look like a dancer, it’s because you’ve shaped me into one.”

“Really?” His eyebrows lift. “That was kinda poetic. You sound like a writer.”

“Funny that,” you smirk, “I am a writer. Published, even.” His eyes go wide, and you laugh again. “We still have so much to talk about, don’t we?”

“I guess we do.” He glances at the takeout bags. “We can stop for dinner, if you want. Are you hungry?”

You are. Not for dinner. You want his hands to stay on you. You crave more of him, his touch, his attention.

“I’m good. Unless you want to stop?”

Hobi shakes his head. He hums a low note as you roll into him again, and your arm tightens around his shoulders, bringing him a tiny bit closer to you.

His

Another song. Then two. Again, there’s no talking, just the melody drifting through the air as you continue to move as one. The tempo picks up again. Hobi’s fingers dig into your hips a little as he guides them down on his thigh more, letting you grind against him, and you gasp as the friction hits you just right.

“That’s it. Keep moving just like that.”

The deep timbre of his voice surprises you as much as the way his hands grip you, pressing you into his leg. You glance at where you meet, struggling to suppress a moan as he glides you down his thigh again. Does he know what he’s doing to you right now?

“Don’t… ah… remember this step,” you finally manage to say. You’re so wet, you’re seeping through your panties. If he keeps this up, his leg will soon show the effect he’s having on you.

“Never got to this one. Timing was always off.”

That word. Your head snaps up at it, remembering. He remembers, too - you can see it in his face as clearly as you hear it in his tone.

“I think maybe tonight, we’re in sync?” he asks, dark eyes staring intently into yours.

“Yeah.” You slide your hand around Hobi’s side to lightly rest on his chest. “I think… ah… we are.”

“Thank god,” he sighs as he captures your lips in a fervent kiss.

How many times have you recalled that last night on the roof? Thought about that goodbye kiss, replayed it in your head over and over? Maybe you owe Hobi an apology, because none of those reimaginings came anywhere near capturing just how electric it feels. Your entire body thrums as he tilts his head, licking at your lips until they part to let his tongue slip inside.

Your back hits the mirrored wall as Hobi pins you with his mouth, his hands, his legs. Touching every inch of skin available to him, fingers and lips trailing all over you. He whispers against your neck, “You taste sweeter than I remembered, Cinnamon.”

You’d say the same, if you weren’t too wrapped up in him to speak.

He lets go of you long enough to pull the blind on the door and then lock it. “Don’t want anyone wandering in here.”

Back in his embrace, your hands roam over his chest and shoulders as you grip at him, his thigh settling between yours again. He kisses you like he’s desperate to make up for all that lost time. Swept away with desire, you kiss him back just as impatiently.

He’s hard against you, sweats doing little to hide the massive bulge rubbing your leg. His hands drop under your dress to discover how slick you are.

“Oh, baby,” he breathes, and you nearly purr with satisfaction at the pet name, “you’re gonna get me all wet, aren’t you? You’re soaking.” He tenses his thigh muscle underneath you and you keen, grasping at his shirt. “You wanna make a mess on me?”

Fuck, you’re ridiculously worked up, the delicious tension inside you already close to snapping. All those years of longing have you wound so tightly, it won’t be long before you pop.

“H-Hobi, please…”

“Come on, baby. Let me feel you.”

If someone had told you this morning that you would be spending your Valentine’s Day evening on a college campus humping your old best friend’s leg, you would’ve asked them whether they were going to use a hot tub or a DeLorean to take you back in time. But here you are, sliding away shamelessly, movement never ceasing as you seek your end on his thigh.

Hobi grabs your ass, rocking you against him, and as he slips his tongue into your ear, urging you to let go, you mewl loudly, body rigid as your orgasm sweeps over you. He holds you, whispering you through it, until you go completely limp in his arms, head falling to his shoulder.

You mumble something into his chest.

“What was that?”

“I said, Happy Valentine’s Day!”

His laughter drowns out the music. Then he shifts, and suddenly the only thing on your mind is the stiffness pressing into your thigh.

“Hobi,” you murmur, brushing your mouth against his briefly, “you’ve been on your feet all night. Do you want to take a seat?” You gently walk him backwards towards the chair, kissing him the entire way. As he sits, you drop to your knees in front of him.

“Baby,” he husks as you run your hands up his legs, “what are you doing?”

“Writing a novel, Hobi, what does it look like I’m doing,” you retort with a smirk. “You sounded so nice whispering in my ear when you were getting me off. I wanna know what you sound like when you’re cumming down my throat.”

“Fuck, Cinnamon, you can’t say things like that.” His hips lift so you can tug his pants to the ground. His dick springs free, hard shaft velvety under your hand as you wrap your fingers around him.

“I can’t? But I think I just did.” Before he can respond, you swirl your tongue over the head of his cock. He groans, arching up into your touch. As you continue to lave, you dip lower and lower, wetting more of him before finally taking him in your mouth.

“Fuuuuuck,” he sighs as you start to bob. His cock is thick enough that your jaw is going to be sore tomorrow, but you don’t care. You suck, hollowing your cheeks, and he gasps your name.

Sitting back on your heels as you lick the sensitive skin around the head, gazing at him the entire time, you bat your lashes as you ask, “You good?”

“Fucking amazing,” he sighs blissfully. You stroke him a few more times before taking him in again, and quickly match the tempo of the music, working your mouth and hands together to the beat.

Fingers cup the back of your head and you moan around his cock, enjoying the way he urges you down in response to the vibrations. Your mouth floods with more saliva as you suck him off, and you swallow around him, earning another gentle push.

“Baby,” he hisses, and you hum, not stopping, which makes him hiss even louder. “Baby, I’m gonna cum if you keep that up, holy shit.”

You pull off him with a pop. “Yeah, that’s the idea, Hobi.”

“Another time,” he rasps, but before you can think to ask what that means, he launches himself from the chair, pushing you onto your back as he hovers over you. “Please, I wanna be inside you now.” You wrap your arms around his neck and pull him down for a sloppy kiss as he ruts against you.

“You wanna fuck me?” you ask and Hobi moans in anguish, flinging his headband to the ground before peeling his shirt off.

“Damn it, stop saying these things!”

“Okay,” you grin, laughing as Hobi drops his head to your breasts, kissing you through your dress. “You can fuck me if you want, Hobi. I want you to.”

He kisses you roughly, teeth nipping at your bottom lip, and you whimper in delighted surprise. “What did I just say about that?”

“So it’s okay for you to say dirty things, but not me?”

“Yes!” he huffs petulantly, and you giggle at the wounded look on his face. “I’ve been dreaming for years about the things I’d say to you, the way I’d touch you, if I only had the chance. You’re ruining it with that filthy mouth of yours!” His lips collide with yours as his hands snatch quickly at the hem of your dress, yanking it up your body. He practically rips the rest of your clothing off too, so eager to see all of you.

“Didn’t seem like my filthy mouth was ruining things when I was sucking yoahhhhh,” you moan as Hobi immediately tongues one nipple in a frenzied hurry as his fingers pinch the other. “You know, I’ve dreamt of this, too!”

He nuzzles his face between your breasts, kissing along the valley there. “Oh yeah?”

“God yes, so many times. Especially after parties. When we’d say goodnight. I’d go back to my room and make myself cum imagining you were there touching me instead,” you confess. “I always wanted to know if you’d fuck like you dance.”

Hobi goes completely still, face buried in the crook of your neck. “Do you have protection?” he asks, voice so low it’s practically a rumble.

“No, but I have an IUD and I’m clean. If you’re… ?”

“Clean,” he answers. He crushes his mouth to yours, and his cock rubs through the wetness between your legs before he pulls away. “On your knees, baby.”

Not what you were expecting, but okay. You roll over and push yourself onto your hands and knees. Glancing over your shoulder, you watch him line himself up, coating the head of his cock in the wetness gathered between your legs. He moves slowly, reveling in the feeling, and you whine loudly, needing him inside you.

“I can’t believe this is finally happening,” he tells you as he thrusts shallowly, head just slipping between your folds. “Fuck. Wanted you for so long, baby. Always thought I’d take my time with you, if I had the chance. But I don’t think I can go slow right now.” He pushes in a little more, and you drop your head as you feel him beginning to stretch you. “What do you want, baby?”

You want it all. But given the choice right this moment… “Fast and hard, please.”

You feel him laugh at your courteousness as he finally bottoms out. He presses against your back as you adjust to the sensation of him deep inside you and drops a kiss to the nape of your neck.

“Fast and hard it is,” he whispers.

The music is lost in the mix as Hobi fucks you, hips slapping against your ass with every quick thrust. Panting, you struggle to hold yourself up as Hobi sets a relentless pace.

“Holy ah ah fuck ah Hobi!”

Fuck, he feels so good. Every thrust fills you like you’ve never been filled before. You toss your head back as he finds the perfect angle, his long fingers gripping your hips tightly, and you catch sight of yourself in the mirror.

An absolute wreck stares back. Sweat rolls down your face in the humid air, breasts bounce wildly, mouth hangs open as Hobi rails you. His breakneck tempo never falters. Your gaze travels to the man behind you.

Golden skin shimmers under the fluorescent lights. His hair, slick with sweat, is pushed back from his handsome face. The muscles in his torso flex enticingly and his hips roll as if he’s dancing as he snaps into you.

And the look in his eye, fuck. It leaves you gasping as much as the thick cock stroking your inner walls. That intense, focused expression again. Sharp. But there’s something else, too. Passion and desire, blazing bright.

Just like you always suspected. Always dreamed. He’s a fucking sex god.

Hobi catches you watching him. He smirks. “You enjoying the show, baby?”

His tongue snakes out again. You’re so distracted by the lewdness of that long pink wetness that you don’t even realize one of his hands is winding towards your clit until you feel it caress the sensitive nub.

Reeling, you slam your hips back onto him. “God, Hobi!”

“Did you dream about this, too? Me fucking you in a practice room? Hmm?” Hobi’s hand continues to fondle you as he speaks. “Making that ass bounce while you watched us in the mirror? Was it just like this?”

“Yes, ah ah ah fuck, like this!” As his lithe fingers stroke the swollen spot between your legs, you feel the familiar stirrings of your coming climax, faster than before.

“I wanna make all those fantasies come true,” he moans, and his hips start to stutter. “Fuck, I wanna fuck you every way you’ve ever wanted to be fucked, ah, shit, I’m, fuck,” he sputters, and as you start to clench around him, his tempo falters. “Fuck!”

Your orgasm rolls over you so hard, it knocks your scream from you. Dropping onto your forearms, you make no sound at all, eyes slipping shut as you savor the euphoria spreading through you. Hobi thrusts erratically a few more times, finally losing his rhythm as he comes undone, brokenly choking out your name.

You stay like that, half-collapsed and panting, Hobi lying on your back, for a few moments. Eventually, he pulls away. You’d love to lie down, but you’re suddenly acutely aware that you’ve just fucked on the floor of a busy college practice room. So you grab his towel and sit on it instead.

Out of the corner of your eye, you see the takeout bags.

“Fuck. Bet dinner’s cold now.”

Hobi blurt laughs. “I forgot all about it.” He tugs on your towel, bringing you closer to him so he can wrap his arms around you. “Did I mention I’m subletting a place on the edge of campus? Why don’t we take dinner there?” His lips brush your cheek. “We can eat and finally catch up.”

There’s no hesitation in your answer. “Let’s go.” You dress quickly, starving again. For food this time.

Hobi adjusts his headband in the mirror as you check your reflection to make sure you’re decent enough for another walk across campus. He catches your eye and grins.

“What?”

“Nothing. Just admiring.” He slips his arms around your waist again. He doesn’t seem to want to let you go.

Like you mind.

“Admire me as we walk, I’m hungry.” But you make no move to leave, and he doesn’t either. Your gazes meet in the mirror again, and his smile is shockingly shy for someone just got you off twice.

“You gonna hang out with me while I’m here?” he asks softly, resting his chin on your shoulder. “After tonight?”

The delicate note of hope in his voice cracks your heart open. Something blooms.

“Try to keep me away,” you challenge, and he spins you in his arms to face him. “Besides, I know you have more moves to teach me.”

His low laugh hums through you as he kisses you. “Oh, I promise you I do.”

#fic: cheap wine & second chances #thank you 💜#lovely moots #hoseokhasmyheartxx #reader reactions

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hamsterclaw · 1 year ago

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Fic Library: Hoseok

Hoseok is the rapline sunshine sweetheart of my dreams and the only member I've previously created a fic rec list for which you can find here.

Updates since then:

Keeping the cadence by @kiestrokes features sexy drill assistant Hoseok and a gn reader. Sexy, hot and packs a punch.

Adjustment by @yminie features sexy chiropractor Hoseok and patient! reader and is hilarious, kinky and smutty.

As always, for us by @hoseokhasmyheartxx features Hoseok and a gn reader and is themed around Hobi leaving for military service. Soft, fluffy and Hobi is so so endearing in this.

The promises we keep by @vyduan is a single mum AU where reader comes to Hoseok's family laundromat. Adorable, sweet, and will melt your heart.

Liar, liar by @eoieopda features a very relatable reader and a hilariously horny, arbitrarily rule setting Hoseok. Smutty, funny perfection by one of the strongest writers in the game.

Booby traps by @jimilter features a fatally hot, authoritative Hobi with weird phobias who also rides a bike in a mafioso AU. I love all of Ash's writing, and this is no exception.

#fic rec: hoseok #these authors are amazing #fic rec library: hoseok

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xjoonchildx · 2 years ago

Note

It's award season (unconfirmed)! Give some of your mutuals silly little awards.

AHHH anon i love this. let me see if i can spread a little love:

@hobi-gif : best fanfic plausibility evaluator

we don't call her realistic hibo for nothing. hopie has the ability to read a story and in the most straightforward way tell you that you are absolutely smoking crack with your plans for plot/dialogue. not kidding when i say i could not live without her.

@thatlongspringnight & @hobivore: best content collectors

these two are ahead of literally everyone else when it comes to finding the best content on tiktok, twitter, the gram. thirsty edits, sweet translations, amazing photoshoots -- i really don't even have to keep up with any of it because these two deliver better than UPS.

@untaemedqueen: the queen of consistency (and impreg)

MAN what i would give to be like d. i've always been in awe of her ability to write fast and well. you could set a clock by her updates and she always always delivers what people want. also i feel as though the impreg note is pretty self-explanatory?

@jihopesjoint & @eoieopda: best mood lifters on the dash

these two always crack me up, either with their interactions with one another or with their individual posts. wit, wit, WIT in spades.

@miscelunaaa: most imaginative

em blows me away sometimes with her stories. i wish my brain worked the way hers does, with these vivid plot ideas and imagery and dialogue. also she's incredibly patient, considering i'll wake up at 3:00 AM and ask her a question about regency-era pantyhose

@kithtaehyung: best all-rounder

i'm gagged every time i talk to ryen because there's like ... nothing she's bad at? she writes incredible fics and she posts incredible art and she runs a shop and she does music production? and then i sit on my couch in pajama pants with one paw full of skinnypop like well damn where does she find the time?

@hoseokhasmyheartxx: best reblogger

i mean, we're both hoseok biases, right? i find that i am always hitting that reblog button almost as soon as steph has and it's almost always some devastating GIF set of the man we both love lmao

i'm sure i'm going to think of like 20 more as soon as i post this but here we are!

#anagrams 💕

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orchidyoonkook · 1 year ago

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(The tagged post was super long so I'm just gunna make a new one, I hope that's okay!)

Thank you for the tag @loki-wants-an-army!! I'm super excited for this!!

Last song: Ptaha Fred by The Unsleeping

Favorite color: Yellow and purple!!

Currently watching: Chicago Med, House, and The King's Affection

Last movie: Fully watched??? uhm...either Zombieland Double Tap or Elemental

Currently reading: I have three books I've started in the last year and have been trying to finish, but life. And one more I'm rereading because the sequel comes out in a couple days.

So: Midnight Sun by Stephanie Meyer, Crescent City: House of Sky and Breath by Sarah J Maas (fav author) and Renegades by Marissa Meyer.

Then: Fourth Wing by Rebecca Yaros (READ THIS PLEASE ITS SO GOOD)

Sweet/spicy/savory: YES. No. Yes.

Current obsession: orange pekoe tea, gouache painting, frogs, and yellow furniture

Last thing I googled: fear of long words

Currently working on: TWWWBAATTA 6, ideas for other members, finishing moving into my house, finishing my crochet sweater project, finishing my commissioned crochet blanket project, and job hunting.

tagging: the lovely @violetsiren90 @katykatmeow @leohatter @here4kpopfics @petasse02 @remmykinsff @heroinanne and @hoseokhasmyheartxx plus anyone who wants to join, of course with no pressure

#tag game with yoon #THIS WAS SO FUN THANK YOU LOKI #and i searched the fear of long words cuz i can never remember how to spell out the long ass word that is the phobia #hippopotomonstrosisquippidaliophobia????? maybe????? idk dude

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here2bbtstrash · 2 years ago

Note

LOLLLLLL rest in pieces to you 🙈 pls pls this is so nice i can't take it!!! i really just squeezed every nasty piece of me into this one, idk what happened i kinda blacked out and went full feral for min yoongi. as you do. but i'm so glad you enjoyed it!!! 🥰 ty for reading!! 💜

Yoongi fingering u till u squirrttttttt

my god, anon. i don't know what to tell you. this was supposed to be a short lil drabble like the rest and then..... that that live yoongi happened and i. uh. my brain short-circuited. the thirst for this man overtook me. i think i just wrote the nastiest porn of my whole career lmao.

so anyway uhhhhhh - HOPE YOU ENJOY 🤪

pairing: yoongi x reader wordcount: 4.8k DO NOT FUCKING @ ME contains: my first ever OT7 scene :') ft. an incredibly dumb conversation abt squirting, best friend's friend to lovers (? idk what else to call it lmao), squirt god min yoongi (yes that's a warning), yoongi is in his that that live outfit bc i'm a menace to society, a lil bit of edging, multiple orgasms, overstimulation, and obv. a whoooole lot of tongue and finger fucking and SQUIRTING 💦💦💦

“Remember that girl I took home last night?”

You just know Taehyung is about to say something gross by the look in his eye, the way he bites down on the edge of his red solo cup as he glances around the circle of his friends.

Well, his friends and you. There’s a clear distinction.

A few heads nod, shoulders shrug. You brace yourself.

“Fucking geyser, I’m serious. Soaked my whole bed. I had to sleep on the couch.”

Hoseok’s loud cackle rings in your ears, and he has to cling to Jimin’s arm to stay upright, clearly already well past tipsy. “I was wondering why you were washing your sheets! That’s typically a once-a-year activity for you, Taehyung-ah!”

You make sure Seokjin doesn’t miss the death glare that you aim in his direction. He dragged you to this stupid party, said otherwise he’d spend the whole time in the corner reading webtoons on his phone. And now you have to tolerate the absolute fuckery of his nasty friends.

He grimaces a silent apology back at you, bringing one hand up to smack Tae firmly on the back of the head.

“She peed?!” Jungkook’s eyes are wide as he pauses with his own drink halfway to his mouth.

Everyone reacts at once: Hoseok quite literally doubles over, Taehyung fights to keep the corners of his mouth from turning up, Jimin gives an aggressive side-eye, Seokjin covers his face with his hand. Even Yoongi reacts, smiling a rare wide smile, shoulders shaking a little with laughter.

Namjoon takes the educational opportunity, clapping a hand firmly to Jungkook’s back. “Do you know what squirting is?”

You watch as Jungkook’s eyes flit across the circle. “I thought it was pee,” he admits, voice a little quieter this time.

“You are so fucking dumb,” Jimin says, shooting Jungkook a look of utter disgust. Hoseok is literally on the floor at this point.

“It’s, uh…” Namjoon makes a face as he searches for the right words. “Female ejaculate.”

“Girl cum?” Jungkook translates.

“I don’t care if it was piss, it was fucking hot,” Taehyung says as he downs the last of his drink.

“You’re disgusting,” Seokjin says with a shake of his head as he offers a hand to help Hoseok to his feet. Taehyung sticks his tongue out, waggling it side-to-side, which just sends Hoseok right back down again with another peal of laughter.

“I’ve never hooked up with a squirter,” Jungkook says softly, like he’s a little disappointed.

You open your mouth to speak up, as the only person with a vagina currently partaking in the conversation, but Yoongi beats you to it. “You just don’t know what you’re doing.”

His words surprise you for a second, but you shake it off and continue. “Not every girl can squirt. Most can’t.” You shrug slightly.

“That’s not true,” Yoongi counters, and you whip your head to look at him.

“What the fuck do you know, Min Yoongi?” The words leave your mouth before you can stop them. You don’t know why Seokjin thought it was a good idea to bring you around his friends, when he knows you have no filter.

Yoongi raises a hand, as if to signal that he’s not trying to fight. “I’m just saying. Once you learn what to do, anyone can get there. Just takes some patience. And a lot of foreplay. But I’ve never not made a girl squirt.”

You roll your eyes. “Well, I’ve never squirted.”

It takes a moment for you to realize what you’ve set yourself up for, and you have to fight the urge to clap a hand over your mouth. The same response ripples through the group a millisecond later: eyes widening, lips pursing in silent expressions of shock.

“I think I need another drink– should we all go?” Namjoon asks, extremely unsubtle.

Before you can scramble to even think, let alone say anything, he’s got his arms around Taehyung and Jungkook’s shoulders and is shoving them towards the kitchen. Seokjin and Jimin work together to peel Hoseok off the floor and quickly follow.

Which just leaves you, Yoongi, and a very interesting proposition.

“So, are we doing this?” You ask bluntly.

Yoongi shrugs. “Only if you want to.”

You shoot him a look. “Don’t act all shy now, squirt god!” He exhales a soft laugh, and you gesture to the stairs. “Lead the way.”

It’s only once you’re perched on the end of his bed, eyes roving over the minimal, clean space of his room, that your nerves start to betray you. Yoongi sets his drink on the dresser next to yours, then drops down beside you.

You stare at the floor, unsure of what to do next, vaguely aware of his bent knees poking out of the large holes in his light wash jeans. He gently rests a hand on your thigh, and you’re wound up enough that you flinch at his touch.

“We seriously don’t have to do this.”

“Why do you keep saying that?” You ask, feigning ignorance and trying to keep your voice from shaking.

“Might have something to do with the fact that this is the first one-on-one conversation we’ve ever had.”

You meet his gaze, a little surprised by the open expression on his face. You’ve always seen him as so reserved. “You don’t exactly say much.”

Yoongi shrugs like he can’t disagree. “Hard to get a word in with those guys sometimes.” He pauses, like he’s debating whether or not to keep talking, then continues. “And I figured Jin was playing some long game with you, so I was trying to be respectful.”

You make a face of sheer disbelief. “What?! Seokjin is my best friend, Yoongi. Period, end of sentence. It’s not like that and never has been.”

“Huh.”

He’s quiet for a moment, and you can’t read the expression on his face. You turn towards Yoongi, pulling one bent leg up on the bed to fully face him. “What was that noise supposed to mean?”

“That’s just… interesting.”

“Stop being cagey.” You drive a finger into his side and he squirms a little. “What’s interesting?” Does he know something about Seokjin that he’s keeping from you?

“Well, I was clearly operating under false pretenses. Otherwise I probably would’ve acted differently around you.”

“Differently how?” You quickly chase his vague statement, pushing him, trying to understand. Yoongi doesn’t respond immediately, but the bed shifts as he mirrors your position, turning to open himself up to you. “What would you have done, Yoongi?” You try again, getting frustrated.

A shiver runs down your spine as he brings a hand to gently cup your jaw, his touch feather-light. His thumb strokes over your cheek and you swear your heartbeat falters.

“This,” he says simply, his voice deeper than you’ve ever heard it. And then he brings his mouth to yours.

His lips are soft and warm as they brush over yours, if a little tentative, like he expects you to pull away at any second. But the heat of his mouth ignites a spark in your belly that you’re suddenly desperate for more of.

You move your mouth against his, chasing the feeling as you bring a hand to the nape of his neck. Your fingers wind through his dark hair– you’d noticed when he walked in the door tonight how long it’s gotten, had thought absent-mindedly to yourself that it looked good on him.

Your head spins. Min fucking Yoongi. How is this real life? You’d honestly never thought twice about him– just lumped him in with the rest of Seokjin’s dumb friends. It’s starting to occur to you that maybe overlooking him was a mistake.

That suspicion is confirmed when he slips his tongue into your mouth to slide expertly over yours.

You run your other hand up his chest, fingers tracing the buttons of his overshirt, then the smooth cotton of the tank top beneath it. The wet heat of his mouth is already making you dizzy.

Yoongi brings a hand to the small of your back, moving the other from your jaw down to meet it. He shifts a little, but he doesn’t break away from you, and you gasp softly into his mouth when both hands drop to your ass to pull you into his lap in one smooth motion. Your knees press into the mattress on either side of him, your hips settling on top of his.

He kisses you for a second longer, tongue stroking over yours deftly enough that you can barely suppress the whimper it works out of you. Then he finally pulls back to glance up at you. His lips are full and pink, his chest heaving with shallow breaths. The unbuttoned linen shirt he’s wearing has slipped off one shoulder, exposing smooth skin and solid muscle.

There’s a look on his face, mouth dropped open slightly, like he can’t quite believe this is really happening. You can relate.

“Still want to do this?” Yoongi asks quietly, voice still low and a little hoarse now. His hands are pressed to your hips, thumbs tracing light patterns over the fabric of your jeans.

You can hardly find your voice to speak– when the word comes out, it’s a whisper, and one you can’t say emphatically enough. “Yes.”

He tilts his head up towards you and your lips find his, needier this time. There’s an undeniable ache in your core now, desire spreading through you like a licking flame. Yoongi’s hands start to move over your back, dragging the hem of your shirt up, and you break away from him only for as long as it takes to peel it over your head. You press your mouth to his again before the fabric has even hit his bedroom floor.

Yoongi’s kisses are sloppier now, tongue tasting yours with added urgency, momentarily rendering you breathless. You follow his lead, hands grasping to push his overshirt down his arms, then reaching to tug at his tank top. It’s like you can’t move fast enough– you’re shaking a little as he leans back, raising his arms to allow you to pull it off. You feel the heat of his touch at the center of your spine, and then he’s slipping your bra off, too, everything tossed off the edge of the bed to join your shirt.

The brush of his hands over your bare skin, running up the curve from your hip to your waist, is enough to make you shiver under his palms, nipples tightening.

Yoongi licks his lips as his eyes roam appreciatively over your body, but then his gaze meets yours again, and in a way this moment of anticipation feels more intimate than anything you’ve done tonight. You in his lap, both of you naked from the waist up, faces flushed with heat and want. Hovering at the precipice of something you don’t have words for.

“Lay down for me,” he says quietly. The darkness of his voice thrums through you.

You do as he says, thighs shaking slightly as you slide off of him and move to settle against the soft pillows with a slow inhale. You can only watch, dazed, as Yoongi gets to his feet– you swallow hard at the sound of his belt hitting the floor. He slips out of his ripped jeans, down to just his black boxer-briefs.

When he crawls up the bed to join you, you’re transfixed by the way his silver necklaces dangle, catching the dim lamplight. He kneels to one side of you, hands coming to unbutton the fly of your jeans and push them down your thighs. You do the rest, peeling them all the way off and tossing them to the floor.

His hands slide up your thighs, one encouraging your legs apart while the other rubs gently back and forth, his touch sending sparks through you. You can feel your heartbeat at the center of your ribcage, swear you can see it in the rise and fall of your chest as you glance up at him looking down over you.

“Stop me if you’re going to come, okay?”

You nod your understanding, but he must be able to read the confusion painted on your face. He shifts up the bed to lean over you, his breath ghosting along the shell of your ear.

“Save it for me, and I’ll show you what that pussy can do.”

Yoongi chases the words with a languid stripe licked up your neck, and it’s enough to make your brain short-circuit.

Never in your life has a man preemptively warned you to not come. Most of them have struggled to make it happen at all. You can’t help but wonder if you really did underestimate Yoongi’s abilities.

It certainly feels that way as he continues to press hot, open-mouthed kisses down your neck and chest, bringing one hand to gently cup and massage your breast as he goes, the pad of his thumb circling your nipple. His mouth catches up to his touch, and he sucks in the bud of that breast while his hand moves to work the other just the same.

“Fuck, Yoongi,” you breathe.

Everything he’s doing is intoxicating, enough that there’s now a steady pulse emanating from between your legs. When he shifts to pull your other breast into his mouth, tongue swirling over your nipple in a way that makes you whimper and arch into him, he drops one of his legs down onto the mattress between your thighs.

You take advantage of the opportunity presented to you, thighs squeezing and hips canting up to drag your core over the smooth muscle of his leg, desperate for contact, for friction. Yoongi releases your nipple from between his teeth, giving a self-satisfied hum that you can feel buzz in his throat against your skin.

“Getting worked up already?” His words are punctuated by the kisses he trails down the valley between your breasts. “Keep going,” he urges.

Your mind is swimming with arousal, and each pass of your cunt over his thigh is enough to further dampen your now soaked-through panties. You’re not sure how much more worked up you could get. But Yoongi is clearly determined to find your limit.

When he shifts to move his mouth further down your body, he quickly replaces the thigh you’ve been grinding into with his hand, cupping over your center, his whole palm rubbing circles into the lace of your panties that make your clit twitch. You writhe under him as he sucks a mark into your hip bone, pulling sounds out of you: a mixture of heady groans at the welcome friction and soft whines at how indirect the pressure still is. You need more, more– you lift up to press your hips into his touch in search of relief.

All too quickly, the motion of his palm stills, and you can’t help the strangled noise that escapes you. Both of his hands slip down your body, coming to rest at your hips, and his thumbs hook under your panties to push them down your thighs.

You fumble for a second, lifting your knees up to your chest to finish pulling your underwear over your ankles. As you fling your last article of clothing off the side of the bed and attempt to lower your legs down, you’re surprised to feel Yoongi’s hands pressing firmly into the backs of your thighs.

“Stay just like that,” he instructs, and you listen, crossing your ankles and following the encouragement of his touch to keep your legs pulled up, your bare cunt fully exposed for him.

You don’t know what to expect next– his fingers, maybe his tongue– but it’s certainly not what he does, which is look up at you and calmly ask, “How do you feel?”

Your answer is not a word in any language; it’s somewhere between a moan and a noise of pure frustration. Folded in half for him like this, you swear you can feel arousal starting to drip out of your pussy.

“That’s pretty good,” Yoongi remarks, lazily bringing one hand up to encircle your ankle in his grasp, enjoying his free rein over your body as it’s offered up to him. Even that gentle touch is enough to make your cunt clench around nothing. “But I think we can do better.”

You nod your head in a silent request as you watch him lean down onto the mattress, lowering himself to be eye-level with your pussy. “Haven’t even tasted you yet.”

“Please, Yoongi,” you gasp, and you can feel his breath over you, the heat and anticipation sending a bolt of electricity straight to your core.

“Just remember to stop me,” he warns, and then he leans forward to lick a thick stripe up your cunt. You cry out at the sensation, the wetness and warmth of his tongue sliding through your folds, and your head kicks back against the pillow as you feel his fingers gently part your inner lips for better access.

He pulls away for a fraction of a second, just long enough to hum softly and murmur “so fucking wet” under his breath. Your hands grip the bedsheets as he dives back in with even more enthusiasm, spreading you wide open.

The heat he’s been building up in you all night is coiling devastatingly tight in your core now– your head is spinning, your nipples so stiff that they ache. The thought of asking him to stop, and probably soon, from how deliberately he’s eating you out, feels nearly impossible.

Yoongi seems to settle in as he falls into a pattern with his movements: lazily circling your entrance a few times before delving in and fucking you all-too-briefly with his talented tongue, enough to make your walls squeeze greedily around him. After a few more thrusts he withdraws, using a long lick to drag your collected wetness up, his tongue pressing flat and heavy. When he reaches your clit he flicks gently over the sensitive bud a few times, eventually pulling it into his mouth to suck, eliciting a loud moan from you.

“Oh fuck, fuck, Yoongi–”

You swear you can feel him smiling smugly as he returns to your entrance to start again, somehow both sloppy and precise, humming a little in a way that sends a devastating wave of vibrations through you.

He keeps everything so slow it’s nearly torture, building up the tightening pressure inside of you a little more with each pass, but purposefully never staying so consistent that you tip over the edge– just leaving you wet enough to drown in. You can’t stop the moans and whimpers he pulls out of you now, the way your hips jerk under his mouth.

He’s fucking good at this.

You lose track of how many times he goes through the process, until you’re wound so tight with arousal you think you might burst.

“Yoongi,” you whine, and he must be able to hear the change in your voice.

Yoongi’s mouth freezes, lips still wrapped around your clit. His hands move to your thighs, gently ushering your feet to return to the mattress on either side of his head, your legs still spread wide, so he can see you. He hums around you as if to ask a question, and your hips shudder beneath him.

That must be a good enough answer, because he pulls off of you, reaching up to wipe an errant strand of slick from his bottom lip. Everything about him in this moment makes your pussy throb: his mouth, nose and chin are all coated in your juices, the results of his efforts, and his pupils are blown black with lust and something that looks like determination.

You have no idea how long it’s been since you disappeared up the stairs together. Hours, maybe days. Yoongi certainly looks like he could do this forever.

“Gonna come?” He murmurs, nuzzling his cheek absent-mindedly against your inner thigh as he holds your gaze.

“I–” He hasn’t let you get that close yet, but you feel so fucking full, like your core isn’t capable of holding onto any more pleasure. “I can’t take any more,” you say, and the desperation in your own voice sounds so ridiculous to you that you let out a crazed laugh. “I’m gonna fucking die, Yoongi.”

“Yeah?” There’s a glint in his eyes, like he’s not going to let you tap out that easily. “What if I do this?”

His tongue returns to your clit, but this time he’s no longer teasing. His rhythm is consistent now, lapping against you in short, deliberate strokes, over and over. You can feel every muscle in your core tensing as he works you relentlessly towards your peak.

When your back starts to arch, it takes everything in you to say his name. “Yoongi,” you gasp, and he knows you’re about to come, must be able to tell by the way you start to shake underneath him. You cry out a sound that’s nearly a sob when he pulls back quickly and everything comes to a screeching halt. It’s like you can feel your orgasm being ripped out from under you.

“Oh my god,” you whine, hips grinding down into the mattress, desperate for any possible friction. “I’m so fucking close, Yoongi, please.”

His eyes linger hungrily over your pussy, the mess he’s made of you. Keeping his touch light, he gently traces a finger over your inner lips, clearly admiring the way it makes you tremble.

“Seems like you’re ready.”

You’d almost forgotten the point of all of this, the initial conversation in the kitchen, the fact that the man now lazily running a finger through your dripping folds is supposedly capable of making anyone squirt and that you are putting him to the test. You already believe it wholeheartedly– you’re just not sure you’ll survive long enough to see it.

Yoongi sits up, shifting to kneel to one side of you, hands encouraging your legs to spread even wider. When he starts to speak, you try as best you can to focus on his words, dizzy as you are with overwhelming need.

“I’m gonna press pretty hard, okay? When it feels like you have to pee, push it out instead of trying to hold it in. I promise, it’s not pee.” He pauses, laughing softly to himself, then adds, “And if it is, honestly, I don’t give a fuck.”

You look up at him, your mind reeling, and you’re not expecting it when he ducks down to kiss you. You taste yourself on his lips and tongue.

“Don’t be nervous,” he murmurs as he pulls back. “Just relax and let go. I’ll go until you tell me to stop.” Your heart flutters a little behind your ribs at the softness in his voice, and you nod.

Your breath hitches as you feel Yoongi’s hand return to your center, two fingers moving down slowly to tease at your entrance. The fire in your belly ignites at the soft squelching noise he makes as he circles, just shy of entering you, dampening his digits with your juices.

Relief washes through you as he presses in, and you tip your head back on the pillow with a soft groan. Your lashes flutter as you fight to keep your eyes open, heavy-lidded with lust, to watch him at work.

“Shit,” you hiss as he curls his fingers up to press against your front wall, finding your g-spot like someone who knows exactly what he’s doing. He pushes harder, falling into a steady rhythm, and the pleasure feels like a heavy weight in your gut now. A tingling sensation starts to hum through your limbs.

You’re panting, nearly gasping for breath as he rubs against you, each thrust of his hand accompanied by the slick sounds of your cunt. Your abdomen tightens as the pressure in your core builds, and you really do feel like you’re going to burst, overflow completely.

“Yoongi,” you breathe, “I–I’m– I’m gonna–”

“Push,” he reminds you, and you do just that as the wave crashes over you. A release like nothing you’ve ever felt before rips through you, and you’re so overcome by the feeling that it takes you a few seconds to remember to look down. Shakily tilting your head up, you see clear fluid gushing out of you each time Yoongi pulls back.

When he sees you’re watching, he withdraws entirely, bringing four soaked fingers to your clit to rub fast circles that make you moan loudly as your muscles spasm again. Without his hand there to block it, you watch as an unbroken stream of fluid rushes out of you, spraying over the sheets of his bed.

“Oh my god,” you whine, and you have to tilt your head back and squeeze your eyes shut for a moment just to focus on the feeling alone. “Oh my god.”

Yoongi makes a little noise of appreciation, fingers returning to your entrance, the wet sounds of your cunt now obscene as he pushes in again. “Fuck yeah. So fucking sexy.”

You arch up into his touch as he resumes the firm stroking of his fingers, pounding into your g-spot, hard enough to make your legs shake. When another wave of pleasure rolls through you, you don’t even have to think about it this time. Your body instinctively remembers Yoongi’s instructions, bursts of arousal shooting out of you as you moan softly with each pump of his hand.

“Fuck fuck fuck fuck,” you gasp in time with his movements.

“Holy shit,” Yoongi rasps as he draws his fingers out again, and you hear him groan when he returns to your clit and easily works even more wetness out of you. “You just keep fucking coming. Gonna soak my fucking sheets.”

You can barely process what he’s saying. “M-more, Yoongi, please.”

“Yeah,” he breathes, “I’ll give you more.” He adds another finger, driving the thrust of his hand deliberately into the weight at the center of your core, and the stretch only makes you come that much faster. Your pussy starts to quiver as he fucks you through it.

“Yoongiiiii,” you groan, dragging out his name as you squirt again and again. He keeps alternating, fingers slipping into you and working up more, then pulling out to press his hand flat against your whole pussy, rubbing indirectly over your clit. Wetness splashes out of you in endless spurts, soaking your cunt, his hand, the bed. It feels like you're coming for hours.

“No more, no more,” you finally gasp, and when you bring your hand to close over his wrist, Yoongi takes the cue and withdraws.

Your pussy, thighs, even the muscles in your ass are all trembling from overstimulation. As your knees drop in towards each other, you take a moment to let your eyes close, your pulse still racing. You feel absolutely spent.

You can’t believe you just did that. You had no idea your body was capable of such a thing. And before you can even think to stop it, you start to laugh, bringing both hands up to cover your face.

“Oh my god,” you manage to choke out between giggles, your voice muffled in your palms.

You’re vaguely aware of the mattress shifting beside you, and when you pull your hands away, Yoongi is seated next to you, running one hand gently over your arm. “Jesus, are you okay?” When you nod, he seems to relax a little.

“Yeah, but holy shit,” you gasp. “I should’ve taken you more seriously.” Your limbs feel like jello, your mind absolutely gone– you’ve officially been fingerfucked into oblivion. “I nearly died.”

“That was fucking insane,” Yoongi admits, looking mildly dazed himself. You follow his gaze across the bedspread, and your eyes go wide.

“Oh fuck, Yoongi,” you press a hand to your mouth, attempting to hold back more laughter, as you take in the extent of the damage. “Your sheets!”

A sizable wet spot has bloomed under your ass, right in the center of the bed and extending nearly half a foot down towards the end, clear as day against his gray-blue sheets.

“Why didn’t you stop me?!”

“Are you kidding?” He practically growls, free hand palming at the bulge in his briefs. “I’ll take watching you gush like that any day. I can sleep on the couch, I don’t give a fuck.”

It takes all the strength you can muster, given that your limbs still feel like they’re made of lead, but you manage to roll over onto your side to face him. You catch his working hand by the wrist with yours. “There’s always… my bed.”

“Yeah?” A smile plays at the corner of his mouth. “Think your pussy can recover on the ride over?”

You laugh softly, glancing down at the mess he’s made of you, the lingering sheen from his mouth and your own fluids. “I’m honestly not sure. She might be out of commission.” You do your best to feign innocence when you meet his gaze again with a coy smile. “But my throat is very available.”

Yoongi is already reaching for his jeans. “Let’s get the fuck out of here.”

#hoseokhasmyheartxx #fic review #freaky drabbles #queue what you want ㄱ -ㅅ-ㄱ

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