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joezworld · 4 years ago

Note

📁

Specifically, any headcanons of the Sodor Engines interacting with the internet, or the internet in general?

For some reason, I’d imagine that podcasts and the like are popular among vehicles in general.

That is a question that I've been working on for some time - because I'm workshopping my own Tornado headcanon (and boy oh boy does she use the internet a lot) - but I have some ideas for the Sodor engines as well:

Henry is probably the most "plugged in" engine on the island, weirdly enough. One of his drivers gave him an iPod back in the early 2000s, and kindly preloaded it with a bunch of torrented music.

BTW, that works because all the engines are now equipped with automatic train warning systems, and the little on-board computer has a USB port - as a nice side effect it allows music players to work with the engines in the same way as bone-conducting headphones do. The computer also acts as some kind of computer interface, which I am not going to explain how that works because Jesus Christ I don’t know how it does either.

Henry has managed to upgrade his iPod a few times since thanks to hand-me-down units from NWR staff, so he eventually got his buffers on a wifi-enabled iPod Touch and now downloads new music from the station wifi. He does listen to podcasts, but as every other engine will tell you, you could show Henry ten thousand new and exciting songs from the best artists in the world, and his top ten played songs are still going to be Genesis, Phil Collins, and Yes. Bear considers it a win that he managed to convince Henry to regularly listen to Rush after a mere twenty years of convincing.

Mavis and Daisy listen to a very interesting program called The News, because as stated elsewhere, they invest a shitload of money and need to be on top of things. Thomas and Percy wish that Daisy would use headphones or something similar to that, instead of listening to Bloomberg TV at loud volumes in the middle of the night. Toby frankly doesn’t mind, as it’s very nice to be kept up-to-date on the outside world.

In a move that surprises no-one, Bill and Ben have a podcast where they talk about whatever they think about at that moment - usually horse-racing, investing, and clay mining. As such, they have a wide audience, almost none of whom know that they’re that Bill and Ben, as their podcast is audio-only.

In an also unsurprising move, Edward and BoCo have been made very much aware that Bill and Ben have a podcast, but are still unsure as to what the hell a podcast is, despite being frequent guests on it.

Of the main line diesels, only Bear has shown any real interest in the internet, and was immediately put in charge of the Amazon Alexa when a unit was installed in the diesel shed. He also has an iPod that he got for Christmas a few years back. (The NWR has a very good personal electronics recycling program called give it to Henry, he’ll make use it.)

Bear does listen to podcasts as well as music, but his choices are so insufferably boring that even Henry refuses to listen to them. (I don’t really listen to podcasts - despite making one - so insert the most boring podcast you can think of here.)

As for other internet uses...

Gordon is very up-to-date on the newest social media trends - somehow - but only really cares when he is involved. He won’t admit it, but he’s been trying to figure out how to work a camera/selfie stick for some time so he can start up his own Instagram account. So far he has been unsuccessful, but one day he will manage it.

James has had an ongoing feud with his own Wikipedia page for about a decade now. The article sourced most of its information about his construction off of some out-of-print book about the L&Y. The book in question is accurate about James’ class, but not James himself - as he was a prototype engine. There’s no other primary sources available, so the very dedicated Wikipedia mod who created the page won’t change it - no matter how much James complains that he was there! He knows what happened!

Every now and again a TTTE fan blog/tumblr will make a post about hypothetical “ships” of the Sodor engines. Most of the time it’s shipping the core characters like Gordon and Henry, much to Gordon’s bafflement and Henry’s amusement!

Only one blog (a ttte fan tumblr by the curious name of @mean-scarlet-deceiver ) has gotten it right. Henry actually reached out to congratulate this blogger, but was unfortunately mistaken for a very dedicated roleplay account.

James is very annoyed by these blogs, as they have never once correctly guessed who he is “shipped” with! He has tried several times to be seen in public with Delta, but these events have never gone as planned - the “best” instance is when Edward rolled by at exactly the wrong moment, leading to months of speculation that JamesxEdward was the ship to look out for!

Thomas, being a generally oblivious sort of engine, was totally unaware of the online fan community around the TV show until he started getting actively harassed by vloggers and Instagrammers in the early 2010s. He’s fine with it now, but it was a deeply unusual experience for most of 2012.

Toby has developed an unexpectedly popular following on social media following his collab with Stormzy. His official twitter is huge now, with over a million followers, even if he has no idea what to do with it. He posts rarely, but usually manages to make an incredible post when he does.

No-one is sure who told Oliver what a “fan-production” is, but if you manage to get ahold of him for any period of time and ask him nicely, he will lend his voice to your TTTE fan-project, so long as it isn’t about [INSERT TERRIBLE SOCIAL/POLITICAL VIEW(S) HERE]. This means that he has 100% voiced dramatic readings of NSFW Fanfics before, which is always an absolute riot to spring on people unannounced.

There is a series of slice-of-life TTTE fanfics on Ao3 that have been written with such accuracy and innate railway knowledge that people are sure it was written by a Sodor engine, but nobody knows which one.

The Culdee Fell Railway has very active Instagram, Twitter and YouTube accounts, with all of the engines and coaches showing up regularly. It’s about the closest any of the railways on Sodor have come to what those outside the UK would call “normal locomotive social media”.

The Skarloey Railway has social media accounts too, but they don’t really feature the engines in any meaningful way, instead being used as a normal service announcements page.

The SR is a real working railway that doesn’t rely on tourism money as much as the others do, so they get a bit of a pass here.

The Arlesdale Railway has Twitter and YouTube, which didn’t usually get a lot of hits until 2020, when Ivan and Amanda Farrier started badgering the staff to make some videos just to alleviate some boredom. So far the most popular videos on the channel are a front-mounted camera video of the entire line slow-tv style, Bert explaining how steam engines work, and a video of Mike complaining about Justin Bieber for a solid half-hour.

That’s about it as far as Sodor goes, but before we’re done, I want to take a moment to talk about Tornado, because I have some fun ideas for her...

First of all, we need to establish that Tornado is very young. Her construction only started in late 90′s, and she was steamed to life in 2000, putting her firmly into the “Zoomer” category. Add in the fact that she was built by a bunch of old men who didn’t really know how to treat a new engine, and she was raised much more like a human than a locomotive - I’ll get to this much more in the proper Tornado Headcanon post, but what this means here is that when social media started being a thing in the mid-to-late 2000′s, the people at the A1 Trust decided that they needed a young person to run things like Twitter, Facebook, and Myspace... and, well, Tornado was the youngest person in the trust by a large margin.

I should state here that in the rest of the world, locomotives are on the internet at roughly the same level as humans are, so there’s plenty of equipment to connect a phone/computer/camera to an engine - being English, the A1 Trust didn’t know how common it was, but they managed to get it up and running just the same.

So Tornado has very quickly become attuned to the internet, just like any other teenager would. (yes, let’s let that settle into our minds for a moment - Tornado is barely old enough to drink in the US!) Quite naturally that means that she knows social media inside and out, and is actually quite a proficient social media manager for the trust, managing all of their social pages. More than one person who has complained about the trust on twitter has unknowingly been complaining to Tornado herself!

“On the internet, nobody knows that you’re a dog Engine”.

Tornado has her own personal social media accounts too, but most/all of the time she gets mistaken for a very dedicated role-player, as the general perception of British Locomotives is that they don’t tweet. This has resulted in some amazing reactions from podcast hosts (because, as you might expect, Tornado is very knowledgeable about steam traction in the 21st century, and tweets about it often, so train podcasts want to talk to her) when she gets invited onto video calls, turns on her webcam, and is met with screams from people who suddenly realize that her profile picture is accurate.

By far the best instance of this is when she was invited onto a video call with a railfan podcast. She was at the NRM at the time and managed to convince them to let her use their Skype setup. A wide-angle lens was needed because she was on the turntable in the Great Hall, so that podcast quickly got sidetracked when her webcam was turned on and revealed Tornado, with Mallard, Evening Star, City of Truro, and Green Arrow visible behind her. Whatever the original topic was quickly got thrown out in favor of a 2-hour Q&A with some of the most famous engines in the UK.

#ask response #the internet #ttte thomas #ttte toby #ttte bill and ben #ttte gordon #ttte daisy #ttte mavis #ttte henry #ttte bear #ttte oliver #tornado #nrm #trains using the internet #ttte #sodor #sodor shenangians #the formatting on this one is super fucked up and i can't figure out how to fix it - sorry

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bbrandy2002 · 4 years ago

Text

Fool’s Rush In

Part 10

I’m participating in @wackydrabbles prompt 71 “Dont be stubborn. Try it.”

Word Count: 1890

Pairing: Liam and Riley

Thanks @burnsoslow for beta reading and pretty much having to drag me across the finish line, as well as all the weeks and weeks of listening to me whine and pity myself. And @emkay512 for pre-reading and your encouraging words late Monday that made my whole night.

a/n: this is crack, plain and simple. I haven’t written since mid-october; just been paralyzed with fear over my own writing and this is my practice run and basically the best I could come up with. I’m going to try so so hard to finish this series

The new royal couple, fresh off their Vegas flight, stepped up to a makeshift podium the press had created on the tarmac. It was packed tightly with news station microphones crammed in every nook and cranny, one on top of the other. Voice recorders were spread across its surface, and the crown's private jet served as the backdrop. A bevy of frenzied reporters -- domestic and international -- pushed and elbowed their way into one another in hopes of getting the closest shot of the newlyweds and a chance to have their questions answered first.

“King Liam! Is the marriage binding?”

“How long have you known, Miss Brooks?”

“Were you trying to make a political statement by having a hooker at the ceremony?”

“Your Majesty! Will the monkey be joining your court soon?”

So many questions, most followed by laughter and snickers directed at the King and his bride.

Liam frowned as his eyes dashed side to side in a diligent effort to understand the literally thousands of questions that were lobbed at him all at once. He blinked rapidly as one flash of a camera after the next blinded and bleached his vision. Just as it would return to normal, another successive set of flashes would set him back again.

He had been a part of news conferences since he was a child, when he would watch his late father speak from different parts of the world, near and far, about this policy or that deal. Yet this was different. This was not only the biggest breaking story in Cordonia -- or even Europe -- but one that had swept the world.

His drunken actions two nights ago, no doubt, would have created a stir; however, it was Maxwell's post on Instagram of the ceremony that now made him tabloid fodder. Everyone knew about the king who was married by his own brother and an Elvis impersonator, the leg-humping monkey that served as a ring bearer, and the chain-smoking, tube-top-wearing prostitute who was the maid of honor. As confident as Liam had been that he could handle this, as he'd dealt with so many other stories of intrigue regarding the monarchy, he couldn't dispel the twisting feeling that burrowed deep into the pit of his stomach.

Maybe Madeleine was right: he had become a laughingstock. A failure. Just one big fuck up.

As much as he hated to hear the things said about him, he could deal with it. In the morning, he would call Prince Harry to swap stories, survival tips, and perhaps share a good laugh about it.

It was just ...

Liam felt Riley's tiny hand grip his a little tighter. He wouldn't blame her one bit if his little pussycat turned around and headed back up the steps to the jet and returned to Las Vegas. The only thing Liam wanted to do was keep her shielded from the hurtful comments and insensitive questions. But to his astonishment, she stood there with all the feigned confidence in the world, flashing a big, beaming smile that lit his heart on fire, while staring back at him affectionately. She was handling the situation better than she was before they stepped off the plane. He knew she was doing it for him. God, she just makes everything better.

Feeling a little more grounded and in control, Liam returned her smile. A touch of radiance sparkled between his eyes and hers, as if it were some sort of unspoken conversation only they understood. Riley knew exactly what he needed at that moment to rise above this scandal they were both being raked over the coals for: He needed her to be okay.

Raising his free hand to calm the crowd so that he might address their concerns, he noticed the press' attention and cameras suddenly shift away from him and into the distance. Murmurs and chatter soon erupted. Naturally, Liam's gaze followed suit -- towards a group of heavily-armed soldiers heading their way. They wore white hazmat uniforms and had self-contained breathing apparatus and personal protective equipment. Leading the charge was a well-dressed gentleman in a three-piece suit with a shiny bald head that glistened with heavy perspiration.

He walked like he hadn't shit in weeks.

Liam squinted and lifted a hand to shield his eyes from the bright sunlight. “The hell is that?”

Riley inched closer to Liam and clasped his suit jacket. "What's happening right now? Who are all those people, Liam?"

Liam's forehead creased in puzzlement; he didn't know. Wrapping his arms protectively around Riley, he pulled her even closer but never answered the question. It wasn't until the uniformed men stopped briefly and pointed to Drake, who was standing with his arms crossed at the bottom of the stairs, that it suddenly became clear who they were looking for.

Reporters and onlookers had been so focused on Liam’s return with the American woman, they hadn’t noticed that the brooding Walker had exited the jet last among their posse. Just as everyone had watched replays and snippets of Maxwell’s Instagram video, they were also fully aware the King’s best friend wasn’t exactly returning to Cordonia … healthy … thanks to Maxwell’s Tik Tok sing-along.

A video Drake Walker had no clue existed.

The crowd began to disperse in fear and panic. If men in hazmat suits were needed, they could only assume this went well beyond your casual, run-of-the-mill STD.

Still in no mood to play around, Drake started yelling obscenities and gradually backing away from the hazmat brigade that was closing in on him like a cheetah at a water buffalo hole.

"Mr. Walker," a heavily echoed voice called out, sounding oddly reminiscent of Darth Vader through their breathing contraption, "we need you to come with us."

"The fuck I do." Drake shook his head emphatically while continuing to slide away from them. "I'll beat the shit out of all of ya if you so much as touch me."

"Now, Mr. Walker, don't be stubborn. Try it, and you'll find yourself with a nice little tranquilizer to the ass. Are you going to come with us willingly, or do we have to make this more difficult than it needs to be?"

Drake stood motionless in disbelief. "I don't even know what you guys want or what you think I did," he squawked with a hint of desperation in his tone.

"Tough titties. SEIZE HIM!"

With that order, Drake twisted on the heels of his boots and took off, dodging and weaving away from a bunch of men he had no clue why were even after him.

He had a pretty good hunch, though, who set this chain of events in motion.

The bald guy in a three-piece suit walked up to Liam and flipped his badge open. "Your Majesty?"

Liam nodded, not bothering to acknowledge the man's credentials. "I am. What is the meaning of all this? What the hell are you doing with Drake?"

"Sir, if you will, it has come to our attention that Mr. Walker is a public health risk and highly contagious. We will have to secure him into our custody at once."

Liam scrunched up his face in utter confusion and stared back at the official before responding, “He just has case of crabs, syphilis, herpes, genital warts, gonorrhea, and chlamydia. You’re treating him like he’s about to start some damn worldwide pandemic. Without sexual contact and with heavy doses of medications and creams, Drake should be able to live a normal life like anyone else. So, as the ruler of this country, I am ordering your men to stand down at once.”

“My apologies, King Liam, but my orders come from the World Health Organization and the United Nations. You'll need to take this up with them. Dr. Wolfschitz was clear on the protocol."

"Dr. Wolfschitz?" Liam questioned as realization quickly set in. He twisted around to face Leo, who had this enormous shit-eating grin, the likes he'd never seen on him before. "You? You did this?"

“Walker messed with the wrong bull, little bro.” Leo stuck up his pointer fingers on both sides of his head with a menacing scowl and smugness in his tone. “Now he gets the horns.”

Liam swatted away one of Leo's finger horns. “This is serious, Leo. Not everything is a joke! You're going to fix this, NOW!"

Leo placed a comforting hand on his younger brother’s shoulder, patting it a few times before speaking softly to him. “Look, I know you’re upset right now. You two were very close. But the Drakester is going to a far better place. There’s a big open field and everything where he can run and play all day with others just like him. And all the meaty bones he can eat too … lucky bastard.”

Riley had to bury her face in Liam’s chest to prevent the laugh that threatened to escape, but the bobbing of her shoulders was something she couldn’t hide.

“NOW, Leo!”

Leo tried to hold his ground but was too weak to resist the impatient glare Liam was burning into his soul. After a brief moment, he rolled his eyes and let out a heavy sigh. "Why ya gotta be such a dillhole, Liam? Do you realize you get rattled faster than a two-tit turtle on a tightrope? It's really not your best quality, little brother, but we can work on that." Annoyed, Liam rubbed a hand over his eyes and groaned as his brother continued, "Either way, Father always said, ‘if you can't help your fellow man out, you might as well become one of the Walkers.’ Truer words were never spoken so eloquently.” Leo raised his eyes to the heavens thoughtfully before thinking better of it and lowered them toward the ground. "May you rest in peace, Father," he shouted.

As Leo trotted off to speak with Bald Dude to confess his false claim, Bastien helped guide Liam and Riley through the rambunctious swarm of reporters and spectators. Once they reached the limo, Liam helped Riley inside as Maxwell rounded the vehicle and climbed in on the other side. Pausing for a moment before sliding in, the King placed his hands on top of the open door of the limo and turned one last time to check on his friend. He swallowed hard over the guilt of leaving him behind. As His Majesty watched in horror, Drake took a tranquilizer dart to the back of the thigh and Bastien insisted the area was a security threat, shoving him inside. They would send another car to transport Drake and Leo back to the palace.

Bastien stomped on the gas pedal and sped off, kicking up dirt and smoke as the tires peeled and squealed against the fiery Cordonian asphalt.

When they passed through the airport's security gate, a small motorcade following closely behind, Liam finally lifted his head, his eyes growing wide when he realized what just happened: Bastien's shove had sent Liam flying across the seat to land face-first into a lap — her lap.

He stayed frozen in place, unable to look anywhere but the two slender, bronzed legs peeking out below the hem of his new wife's dress.

Riley lifted an eyebrow, a slight grin dangling from her plush pink lips. "Something you wanna say, Your Majesty?"

Everything that had just happened in the 15 minutes since they landed was long forgotten. Drake who? Liam glanced up with a devilish smirk. "Welcome to Cordonia, Pussycat."

@burnsoslow @dcbbw @ao719 @hopefulmoonobject @texaskitten30 @janezillow @merridithsmiscellany-blog @mskaneko @loveellamae @queenjilian @sirbeepsalot @drakexwillow @caroldxnvxrs @jovialyouthmusic @forthebrokenheartedthings @bebepac @kingliam2019 @lovablegranny @cordoniaqueensworld @amandablink

@liamxs-world @choiceskatie @iaminlovewithtrr @hopelessromanticmonie @charlotteg234 @annekebbphotography

@txemrn @ofpixelsandscribbles @alyssalauren @cordonianroyalty @monsoonblooms12 @mom2000aggie @theroyalheirshadowhunter @princessleac1 @kimmiedoo5 @graceful-leah @iam-the-kind-and-thoughtful @thegreentwin @gkittylove99 @cinnamonspongecake @lifeaskim @neotericthemis @pink-diamond13 @walker7519 @natureblooms24 @yourmajesty09

Liam x MC only: Cordonia-gothqueen

Anything with Drake: @tinkie1973

FRI Series Tags: @sanchita012 @narrytheworld @queenwalton @gabesmommie1130 @cordonianprincess @liamandneca @emkay512 @waywardromancefantasygirl @nomadics-stuff @queendianaofcordonia @zaffrenotes @zilch3 @kat-tia801 @drrookie @sfb123

#fools rush in #liam x riley #the royal romance #liam x mc #trr #drake walker #king liam #bbrandy2002 #liam x oc

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eutaerpe · 5 years ago

Text

the escapades (m)

pairing — jimin x reader

genre/warnings— smut (oral, fingering, orgasm denial) & college!au, fratboy!jimin, brief e2l, brief ewb, acr universe

summary — the one where there’s a lot of unresolved sexual tension, until there isn’t.

notes — 8.3k words of the happiness before the storm i couldn’t write. i realised halfway through this there’s a slight plotwise change in comparison to what i wrote in acr so. yeah. sorry. kudos to you if you find it lol

The first time it happens, you’re pretending to be someone you’re not.

You’re sitting near the end of the table, crossing your legs and playing with the hem of your dress, your lips twisted into a frown. The real reason lying behind the simple decision of having a single, almost infinite table of guests doesn’t, in the slightest, cross your mind; why your idiotic brother would see this as a delightful idea really is above you, but you suppose the valuable genes in the family runs all in your DNA.

You’re playing with the table decorations while waiting for the guests to come, and it’s so fucking boring you regret telling Seulgi no, babe, what the fuck - you even shook your head and decided to sound extra mad at the idea - I won’t sneak in weed.

Too bad for you, she had answered, a cute pout on her lips, I’ll give you an hour before you’re bored out of your mind.

The truth hangs above your head, with a sheepish grin: you just needed ten minutes to be absolutely, drastically bored.

In hindsight, sneaking in weed wouldn’t have been the worst idea: your mother is talking to the in laws, gesticulating excitedly at the idea of kids right after marriage. What the fuck, you text Seulgi, at home trying to get out of bed, my brother has been married for an hour and there’s already baby talk going on at the table.

Seulgi

[12.49]

With the baby talk comes the dick talk

You

[12.49]

Oh no the dick talk

Seulgi

[12.50]

man how can you survive your relatives talking about nonexistent boyfriends without my weed, damn???

You

[12.50]

option a: I’ll tell them I’m dating you

Seulgi

[12.50]

we kissed ONE time

You

[12.50]

option b: I’ll tell them I’m in a relationship with Jeon jungkook

Seulgi

[12.50]

bitch we both know you’re not in a relationship with the hottest guy on campus. he has dimples and long hair and piercings. my sources can even confirm he has a big dick. what do U Have

You

[12.51]

i was talking about my vibrator but go off lmao

anyway I’ve had that D ;)

Seulgi

[12.51]

you’re officially cancelled

when did this happen? I can’t believe you’re telling me over text!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

You

[12.51]

last semester!!!!! why do you think I’ve named my vib after him!!!!!!

Seulgi

[12.52]

because you’re lusting after him like the rest of us mortals!!!!!!!!!!

You

[12.52]

I’ve upgraded since then. I’ve leveled up. I’ve seen things People Can’t Even Imagine

Seulgi

[12.52]

just say he got u off and go

You

[12.52]

anyway option c: I scare them away by saying controversial things. Id est: I don’t believe in love. I am choosing my partner solely judging their abilities to finger me under a table when people are around. I am secretly lusting after my brother’s wife. I am trying to get impregnated like in The Sims 2 aka I am waiting for that alien dick.

Seulgi

[12.52]

hate to break it to you babe but that’s literally who you are

You

[12.52]

I literally compliment joohyun’s boobs once and this is the treatment I get

Seulgi

[12.52]

are we not gonna talk about your alien dick kink

You

[12.52]

no kink shaming in this house lady

option d: I listen to their complaints and run

Seulgi

[12.53]

option dick

man sorry I meant option d

You

[12.53]

you didn’t

Seulgi

[12.54]

ur right I didn’t

Option e, also known as I’ll entertain the other guests so I don’t have to talk to you, presents itself in the form of one very hot, very ripped young man sporting the most expensive shirt in the room. You’re only human when you admit to yourself, mental sigh, that he ticked all the let’s get y/n horny requirements in less than fifteen seconds.

You can’t believe Joohyun has kept him hidden for so long from you. Such betrayal ends when your brother, Kim fucking Seokjin, hugs him tight and brushes with utter affection the nape of his neck, gracing him with a warm smile and a heartfelt laugh.

You can’t believe Seokjin has kept him hidden for so long from you.

Well. Scratch that. You can.

Suddenly, the ticked requirements disappear and a giant neon sentence with a very cheap background music impose themselves in your head. WHAT A TURN OFF! they read, the neon red words mocking you; you steal a glance at your brother’s acquaintance one more time - one last time - before slipping your phone in your hands and dedicating yourself one more time at your Instagram feed, scrolling through the most recent pics.

(You stumble upon an extremely rare Jungkook selfie, and you hate to admit you spend the following thirty seconds admiring him before tapping twice on the quality content you’ve signed up for when you joined the social)

You suppose that, even though your brother’s friends with fuckboy tendencies are signed off your let’s get to know each other better ;) list, it doesn’t mean the same goes for them.

So, when the dark-haired young man with a jawline sharper than Seulgi’s retorts after her third beer sits next to you, you reckon you shouldn’t be that surprised.

He acts all casual, you notice while discreetly looking at him; he’s busy taking off his jacket and flexing his muscles, all of this while pretending not to notice you, and you find it immensely cute.

Ah, fuckboys.

“Fuck,” he rasps, lips twisted in a crooked smile, “I didn’t think it would be this hot today.”

“Yeah, sorry, the heat is on me.”

He chuckles in disbelief at your words, eyes turning into crescents.

“Right, there’s always the girl stealing the bride’s spotlight at weddings.”

“Oh! That’s me,” you nod enthusiastically, “That’s one hundred percent me.”

“Groom or bride?” He asks, pointing at the couple with his chin.

“What do you think?”

He looks at you funny, pressing his back on the seat, pondering in silence. Cute.

“Bride. One of Bae’s sorority sisters, maybe? You seem too young to be her age, though.”

“Damn,” you exhale, crossing your arms under your chest, “I can’t believe you got it all wrong. The expectations were low, but I’m still disappointed.”

He ducks his head, still smiling. “Then it’s the groom. How do you know Seokjin?”

Your eyes twinkle with excitement at your next words, but honestly, who can blame you? You’re having fun with this lost, cute chick.

“What’s your take, officer?”

He erupts into a laugh, and you drink in his handsome features; fuck you, Seokjin, for being friends with fuckboys only.

“Alright,” he punches the bridge of his nose, scanning the room, which is slowly filling with other guests. “I’m his friend, and I know all of his friends, which can only mean one thing: option a, you’re one of his ex-girlfriends; option b, you’re one of his secret hook-ups; option c, you’re an old friend from high school.”

“Oooh,” you beam, unrealistically intrigued, “You really suck at guessing, don’t you?”

He laughs, passing a hand through his dark locks, messing his perfectly styled hair. “Ok, fair. Which one was the closest, then?”

“Option d, of course.” You nod, relaxing your features into a sheepish grin, “I’m his much more beautiful and smarter sister.”

You exam his face, now twisting into some sort of what the fuck, such betrayal look, and you take in, for the last time – really the last, this time – his attractive, sculptured face, his full lips, the smoothness of his skin. It’s awful and unfair knowing you two won’t cross paths ever again in your lives, but at least you had some fun messing with him before things could worsen.

“I’ll be sitting in the middle of the table, with my family, if you want to avoid me.”

You wink at him for good measure, and you swear to god he blushes.

Half a wine bottle and two flutes of prosecco down, you realise you underestimated your resident fuckboy.

It happens when you’re grabbing your napkin and channelling your dreamy, happy looks towards the newlyweds, dancing in the middle of the room, their eyes gravitating only towards the love of their lives.

You sigh, pouting for the smallest of fractions, when you feel someone sitting at your side.

“You know,” Fuckboy begins, and you picture him licking his lips as he pauses, “Now I get why he never told us anything more than: I’m not an only child.”

“I know,” you exhale, turning to face him, “Seokwon is the real catch of our family. We’re really protective of him.”

“He’s married. With kids.”

“I was there when the twins opened their eyes, thank you.”

“We thought you were either a small kid or a forty years old woman.”

“Wait,” you tilt your head, “How did you know about us then? And who’s we?”

“We dug into his stuff and he caved in, admitting he had a brother and a sister.” Fuckboy looks at you, eyes dark but reflecting the dim lights of the function room, “Us. The frat guys.”

“Right, the fuckboys.”

He looks taken aback by your statement, bewildered, and you take advantage of his reaction to stand up and head away from him. It’s his words that stop you from doing so, though.

“You don’t know us—”

“—except I do know your pledges and your brothers.”

“But you don’t know me.”

“Maybe,” you shrug, “I prefer to steer away from my brother’s friends, though.”

“Right,” he says, tightening his lips in a hard line, almost hurt, “So, who am I to interfere with your judgmental thinking?” He clicks his tongue, then, a resolute exhale slipping past his lips, smothered by his own tingling despair.

The words hurt.

You don’t know what exactly pinched your senses hard, if the tone or the wallowing sadness swimming in his expression, but, as he stands up and leaves, you’re left facing the cold, hard truth.

The words hurt, you hurt, and you feel guilty.

You say nothing, glancing in the direction of the first alcoholic beverage around, and you fill yourself a glass.

Had it been someone else – had it been another sentence, another less sickening scenario, you would’ve felt proud, righteous. You’re, instead, on the other side of the feelings spectrum, all filled with crippling guilt and a nauseous, pervasive feeling you can’t quite name and pin down.

The guests are dancing around you, moving hand in hand to the rhythm of the pop love song now playing; the ballroom is packed when you let your impulsive side make a choice, eyes following the guy’s composed figure. You can drastically feel the sweat, and the heat the people are radiating, when you stand up and move towards him, the only smiling boy passing his glass from a hand to the other.

You’re close enough to tap his wrist and brush your fingers, which you do; it elicits a gasp from him, all soft, not scathing around the edges yet able to bite you, anyway. It’s the guilt, you remind yourself, looking for a sign of some sort of inclination to accept your apologies between the crease of his brows and tight jaw, and everywhere in between.

It’s sickening—this boy didn’t exist four fucking hours ago. It didn’t even cross your wildest dreams, someone like him. His shape – his silhouette – has left a print in your mind, and no matter how hard you try focusing on something else, someone else, your mind keeps going back to the shape itself.

But you’re a coward, so, while he lets you intertwine your fingers, you admit, voice loud: “I wanna dance.”

He handles you properly, kindly, before pushing you in the crowd and brushing your hips with his hands, all rings and jewellery adorning them.

He blinks twice, biting the insides of his mouth, but he manages,

“Who says I wanna dance?”

Which is a bit stupid, or hypocritic if you might, because he’s swaying you to the rhythm of a ballad the pop love song turned into. You break into the smallest of smiles.

“I want to apologize.”

He scoffs. “I don’t know you,” he says, funnily enough, “But that seems almost unlikely, coming from you.”

“Yeah, you got me there, officer. I was, uhm,” you stare blatantly at his neck, and you suppress the desire to stroke your fingers’ pads on his soft skin, “I was out of line. I’m sorry. You were right, I don’t know you. I do know your frat brothers, my own brother, but that doesn’t mean I know you.”

He hums, moving for a small fraction of instants his thumbs on your hips and it’s enough for your breath to catch into your own throat. He nods, which could mean anything, from I accept your apology to go fuck yourself, this is bullshit. You prefer the former option, if you’re being honest, which is the answer you settle for in your head, hazed and absolutely hazed and madly hazed because of his small physical contact.

To put this into the simplest terms, Seulgi’s words, you don’t like this.

“I like dancing,” his eyes tower you and gaze at the other people dancing; you wonder if he’s thinking about them, who they are to you, what role they played in Seokjin’s life, if they’ll show up to your wedding, too. These thoughts popped into your mind unannounced, before, at the table, before the not-really-fuckboy sat next to you and made you feel guilty. Such absurdity; yet here you are, in his arms. Oh god, what would Seulgi think of you if she saw you?

“Good to know, I’m awful at shoulder-hips coordination.”

“Shoulder-hips coordination?” he inquiries, lips parted.

“Uh, body rolls?”

“Oh,” he chuckles, “I see, you mean classy grinding.”

“I don’t do classy grinding, sorry,” you retort, head tilted to a side.

His smile his amused. “Too bad, shoulder-hips coordination is a nice trait to exhibit sometimes.”

“I prefer hips coordination. Well, hips rotation.”

“Hips rotation?”

“Riding? Is the term somehow unfamiliar to you?”

He flushes, biting back a grin and fixing his gaze somewhere in the crowd. How cute.

“Not at all, it’s nice to meet a hips rotation enthusiast here, though.”

“Statistics say at least a member in each family is a riding enthusiast, did you know?”

“Shit, talk dirty to me,” he licks his lips, pointing at Jin with his chin, “Didn’t peg him for a rider, though. Not at all.”

“I’m starting to think you’re not a STEM major, are you? You’re lacking basic intuition, my friend.”

“Is this your attempt of discovering my major?” – he eyes you, a flick of amusement burning in his orbs – “You’re not very smooth, you know?”

“I have my moments.”

He snorts, placing both hands on the small of your back. You’re at height level with the base of his neck, and it’s fun how your mind betrays you in such moments, providing mental images of your nose brushing against his skin, and you nuzzling in the crook of his neck. Such taunting, invasive pictures. Fuck off, you reprimand your own mind, fuck off.

“I’m Jimin.”

“Jimin,” you taste the name on your tongue, hitting the back of your front teeth. “Jin never talked about you. I’m Y/N.”

“Jin never talked about you either.”

“Of course he never did, I’m prettier than he is.”

His little dimples make an appearance. “You know, you could really steal the bride’s spotlight.”

“That was my ultimate goal all along, even though I prefer the dark side.”

“I,” he licks his lips, and you don’t know why you’re following the gesture, “I meant to say you’re beautiful.”

“Oh my god,” you whisper, eyebrows raising, “Are you a charmer?”

“I mean,” he begins, sheepish smile on display, “I never kiss and tell.”

“Touching.” He smirks. “How sweet of you.”

“You know what else is sweet?”

“Please,” you beg, meeting his eyes, “Don’t say my pussy.”

“Please,” he repeats, same mocking tone, “The possibilities are endless. Your mouth,” he scoots closer, words whispered on the shell of your ear, “Your mouth around my dick,” he almost nibbles your ear, “Your mouth screaming my name.”

“My pussy,” you add, trying not to lose your mind.

“I would never call sweet something I’ve not tasted.”

He raises a brow.

“Are you offering? You’re not very smooth, you know?”

He ignores the last question, tightening his grip. “In the middle of your brother’s wedding? Seokjin’s wedding? I’m not a dick, even though you sitting on my face would be a sight to see.”

“Right?” your voice doesn’t falter for a second, “That’s what I always say”

“Nice to see how we’ve got much in common. But I was thinking of something else, actually—” His face is once again inches away from yours, ear to mouth, hot breath fanning over you bare neck. “I wanna finger you.”

Oh.

“Under the table. Right behind you. Wanna make you whimper.”

It’s almost like being tongue-tied, fumbling for words, body flushing, but you gather somewhere the strength to form an actual sentence, which makes him smirk devilishly.

“I can be very quiet.”

He pokes his tongue into his cheek. “Bet you can’t keep your pretty mouth shut.”

“When I win,” you say, lying your words on an unrealistically high vote of confidence, even for yourself, “What do I get?”

He licks his lips, slow, savouring the moment. “You get to ride my face.”

“Not your dick?”

“I’m not a fuckboy, baby.”

A comeback of some kind is already on your tongue, but – there’s a kiss somewhere in the following seconds, all wet and tingling and perhaps filled with too many lip bites, but he can’t really blame you when you’ve been brushing your thighs together for the past minute, heat pooling down your belly. It’s enough for you to silently pledge for more, and for him to tease, because he takes a step back, smirk in place and lips reddened, and guides you towards his seat at the end of the table with a hand on the small of your back.

Downhill begins as soon as you sit down, legs barely parted, a minimum space not fitting for his plans, apparently, because the crease between Jimin’s eyebrows grows when he nudges them apart with his hand, the cold metal of his rings cooling down your flushed state. You want to gasp at the sudden intrusion, but the sound is swallowed entirely by his hot mouth on yours, distracting once again, incredibly soft and alluring. This kiss is slow, this time, like he’s taking his time tasting you and learning about the hums he draws out of you, the shyness of your previously biting tongue, and how fast you get lost in the kiss itself. You press a chaste kiss on his mouth, before creaking a space between you.

“I’m starting to think you’re all bark and no bite”

He doesn’t answer, but stares into your eyes with his hooded gaze, and he manages to sneak a hand furtively under your dress not breaking the contact. His skin is warm, but you’re warmer, and his destination is even hotter. He cocks his head, fingers brushing against the soaked, sticking material you used to call panties up until fifteen minutes ago, and he must notice—his eyes grow wider, his jaw tightens and his hand gains courage.

Fuck. This should be embarrassing, getting worked up over dirty innuendos and a kiss or two, but you’re instead feeling flushed and more. More sensitive. More open to the idea of him ruining you, even though that’s not what he’s offering. Or— is he?

The question lies unanswered when his digits rub with a sparkled intensity over both your clothed sex and your inner thighs. It’s a continuous, mellifluous melody, his fingers dancing between the two until he settles on your panties only, and that’s when you almost let out a soft moan; you don’t, he raises his brow, challenging, but you don’t, and instead glance around to notice if someone has his eyes on the both of you, sitting in the furthest region of the fucking smart, endless table.

He raises the stake, flushed: Jimin pushes your panties on one side, petting with his index your exposed self, and you suck in a breath. He continues to do so, face still, closing the distance between you two.

You don’t question the sudden kiss, instead you angle your face and close your eyes and let him press his lips on you. This feels like being drunk, or high, stretching underneath a sky dripping with stars. You cup his face with your hands, his lips so terribly soft and inviting, the smallest of smiles meeting your own chapped and curved upwards lips.

It’s when you’re merely inches away from him that he thumbs at your clit, sensitive and tingling, circling with utmost peace and no speed whatsoever. You pout at little, you realize, which makes him melt either cause of your cute frown -oh, how the tables have turned- or simply because he’s the devil himself, pressing a finger against your entrance and delving it into your heat.

“Cute,” he purrs, kissing you, “Is this okay?”

The crude, hot, nerve-wracking fingering has begun, which makes you, quickly enough, putty in his hands and ablaze with ardour for this man whose rasping voice could kill you.

“Yeah,” you breathe on his mouth, eyelids drooping closed, “Yeah, all good.”

You hum to yourself as he starts pressing kisses on your jaw and your neck, a trail of treacherous flames lighting up your skin, and you have the audacity to sigh under his ministrations, a tiny, strained sound not quite a mewl.

If he hears, he doesn’t show it. You’re biting your own lip when he enters a second finger, filling your searing emptiness.

“Want three?” he asks, voice husky and as desperate as you are under his touch. He adds it when you nod, the squelch louder than before, and you moan, rocking your hips against his fingers.

“Shh, baby,” he coos, placing his other hand on your hips, slowing your movements, “Be a good girl.”

He fucks you deep, fast, fingers clashing against the silky dress you’re wearing and sweat sparkling on his forehead. He swallows another moans of yours, sucking your bottom lip and tugging it between his teeth. You’re close. You’re so close, and it’s only been a couple minutes. You can’t hear anything that isn’t your wet pussy clenching around his fingers, his rhythm ruthless and burning.

“Too bad you’re not coming on my fingers, today,” he says before kissing your neck and emptying your dripping pussy, then proceeding to taste and lick his own fingers in his mouth. He lets them out with a small pop, and it’s the most terrifying sight you’ve ever had in front of your almost watering eyes. “I’m sorry I won the bet, though, your pussy is the sweetest I’ve ever tasted.”

That’s the high and dry story of how you first met Jimin.

The second time it happens, it’s under completely different circumstances, and, substantially, against your every predictions, it really happens. It takes place, like a once in a lifetime event: there’s an orgasm involved, not due to the very charming and never disappointing Jeon jungkook the robotic version, and instead it involves a rather attractive asshole with a persistent smirk plastered on his face.

Except it’s a lot more complicated than what it sounds, and most of it is Seulgi’s fault.

Your roommate had pouted all evening, because that’s what semi adults do when they’re denied a companion for the night.

“I just wanna get wasted. It’s been one hell of a month, and you know how I get when I’m stressed.”

“I can suggest you a vibrator and a bottle of vodka. Do you settle for that, your honor?”

“The more you talk like this,” all self-absorbed and assertive and cautiously, like when talking to a kid, she begins, hands in her long, mahogany hair, “the more I just wanna push you up against the wall.”

“Sounds to me you just wanna get laid.”

“Maybe I do,” she huffs, hands on her hips, the light of your abat-jour highlighting her golden skin. “Maybe I don’t. What I know is that I wanna get wasted. Come with me, pretty please?”

“Look,” you raise your eyes from the book you’ve been holding, stretching a leg onto the unmade bed of yours, “I just wanna get this fucking paper done. I need,” you grip the phone on the bed table, checking for the white, large numbers on your lock screen, “an hour. An hour and half to edit it and I’m all yours.”

“This paper is due on Thursday, though.”

“Yeah, but I have a reputation to uphold in the family. Have to be the most beautiful and successful.”

“You’re full of shit,” are her last words, muttered with a smile as she grabs her jacket.

“Hey,” you call, stretching your neck towards her, “I don’t care if it’s two am and you’re already wasted. Call me and I’ll come to you with a whole bottle of vodka to make it up to you. Hell, I’ll even kiss you goodnight.”

“I don’t wanna make out with you, you freak.”

“You didn’t say that last time, baby!”

Seulgi

[2.13]

wassup bitch

make out with meeeeeeeeeeeeee

[location shared]

com n get me littl nuggrt

Not Sober Seulgi is probably the worst Seulgi you have ever dealt with. You let out a sigh, eyeing the frat dorm all lit up and vibrating to the trashy trap music the insiders are jamming to.

Of course, when it comes to Not Sober Seulgi, there’s boys involved. Frat boys involved. At first, you don’t pay attention to the details, the signs, surrounding you like blinding traffic lights signalling stop stop stop, all red and striking. The thought doesn’t cross your mind, the dots connecting in some hidden part of your brain not making your insides short circuit—instead you’re knocking on the door, then banging on the very wooden entrance until a face shows up; the dorm is dimly lit, and the face is partially lightened by a soft, hued red and, that, too, Future You pinpoints, should have been a sign.

It’s useless, anyway, because you hear the insider talk and you’re burning instantly, like after touching a steaming, hot cup of coffee, except that bitter coffee is still good coffee. Smug Jimin plus bitter you isn’t really sweet, nor a match made in heaven. It’s chaotic, a caustic explosion, and you both know it, judging from the sharp smile he offers you, after blinking lazily at your figure.

“This is a mixer party only,” his soothing voice welcomes you, “Do you have an invite?”

You press your tongue on your teeth, mouth carefully closed.

“Yeah, from Hell, I’ve come to take a fallen angel.”

“Sorry to break it to you, oh-kind-lady, but we didn’t give any invite to poor, damned souls.”

“Too bad I don’t give a fuck about your policies, then,” you move towards the small space between the door and Jimin’s body, but he interferes, placing himself right between the two. “Look, I don’t give a single fuck about this party.”

“Yeah, it sure looks like it.”

You roll your eyes. “My friend is here. She’s most certainly not sober and I’ve come to pick her up. That’s it. Do you think I want to be here, among these drunk, perverted jocks?”

He turns around, stretching his neck, his eyes darting through the crowd, inhibited by alcohol, smelling like cheap beer and weed. The moment his eyes bore into yours, though, it’s terrifying; it’s a rustled reminder of Seokjin’s wedding Jimin, and you don’t like it. You loathe it. You dread it.

“Maybe only some of us.”

He tips his head, lips curving into a timid, small smile, and you tear your gaze from his lips in a heartbeat.

“Yeah, keep dreaming of it. I just want my friend back.” You point your chin towards the amalgam of drunk party animals, “I’ll leave you to your immensely interesting activities, then.”

“What if,” he begins, “You don’t. Or—even better scenario, you leave with me.”

“Best case scenario, I leave with my friend. You stay here.”

“What’s the worst-case scenario, then?”

You cock a brow at him, crossing your arms on your chest. “I leave with my friend, you stay here. Sometime before me leaving, you’re punched. Or kicked. I don’t know. There’s a high chance I’ll throw a drink on you.”

“That implies you’ll be here long enough to grab a drink, doesn’t it? And you don’t have to ruin my shirt to get me naked, babe. Just ask nicely.”

You huff, and you’re mildly tempted to shove him against a wall. Or ruin him. Not in the funny way. More like the high and dry way, the one he knows so well. “I changed my mind, I’ll kick you.”

“Ask nicely?” His teasing tone makes your cheeks flush, and you hope the shitplace with subdued lightening can cover it. His expression shifts into an arrogant one, full smirk and little dimples out, so your cute guess is that he can see. He sees his effect on you, albeit completely unwanted and full of hatred from your side, and he enjoys it. Actually lulls in it, letting out a small laugh which, in turn, makes his eyes turn into crescents, all warm and cute—all things he’s not. All things you know he’s not.

“Ask nicely,” you repeat, rolling the words on your tongue, “Okay, babe. Let’s do this, babe. What do you want from me, babe?”

“Has it ever crossed your mind that maybe the answer is you?”

“Yes, actually,” you sigh, fingers brushing his neck, face comically close to his perfect, chiselled one, “That’s exactly what I thought when you stopped fingering me.”

“Right,” Jimin has the audacity to smile, craning his neck as if to close the distance between you in order to meet you for a kiss, “I’m a man of word, thought. You should be impressed.”

“I’m pretty sure the only thing that’s impressed is your face under the orgasm denial definition. Google it, babe, I guarantee you the meaning comes with your name and a brilliant review of one star.”

“Unlike you.” He licks his lips, eyes on your pretty pink ones, smeared with venom, “You’re not coming.” He explains, to further ignite your rage.

“And whose fault is that, babe?”

Jimin nuzzles into your neck, cupping your other cheek with his rough palm, and his thumb stills on your throat, right where your breath is stuck. He adds pressure on it, lips fondling your burning skin, his usual smirk plastered on them.

“Let me make it up to you.”

“You’re not fucking me,” you spit back, mouth now millimetres away from his, gently inviting you to kiss it, and cherish it, and biting it until you’re satisfied with the hot result.

“I’ll eat you out? Until you come.” He hums. “You’ll come.”

His voice is a mere strangled sound, wanting and dripping with need, and you snap out of it with a small smile.

“Nice offer,” your smile is wicked as you scrape his nape with a feathery touch, the slow movement rousing a flutter in your lower belly. “But get in line, babe.”

His shell-shocked face is the last thing you see before you fulfil the let’s rescue Seulgi! party.

(“Why do you smell like softener?” Seulgi sniffs you, arms looped loosely around your neck, eyes completely shut down. It’s a nice sight, all things considered. You’re no angel, no saint, no perfect person, but you’re a nice friend, and that’s probably the most Seokjin trait you recognize in yourself. It’s your shared apartment, and it’s past 3 am and you’re the one good friend who keeps her promises. “It’s strawberry vodka, you heathen.”)

The line turns out to be a real line, queue line, let’s get this coffee line, which, well. How can one word it, how can one phrase it fully catching the irony of it all, the distinctive je ne sais quoi of life without—

“Nice to see you here.”

It’s the perfect set for a rom-com, you notice, taking in the warm scenery around you. What else can one dream of, right? The campus coffee shop, the campus hot not-really-but-also-kinda fuckboy Jimin, partial jock to give him credit, full time attractive idiot with a tendency for orgasm denial. Really.

“What are the chances?” You exhale, voice devoid of emotions. For the sake of your parents’ integrity, you suppose, because they raised no impolite woman, of course, you turn around to face the angel-like human being, black hair partially covering his forehead, little dimples on full display. That’s—that is lack of integrity, or indecency or au-fucking-dacity. It might as well be a mix of the above-mentioned possibilities, all fitting and nurturing you because he’s gorgeous. He’s handsome. Jimin’s the most attractive human being you’ve ever seen in your life, and it’s not fair.

(Beside the fact that you’ve lived with Kim Seokjin, for fuck’s sake)

He pokes his own cheek, and you bask into the otherworldly scenario that takes place right in front of your caffeine deprived eyes. It’s a sight for sore, soft eyes, and it’s the end of the world as you know it, because it’s morning, too early to properly function like a normal human being, but there he is. There he is, Jimin, channelling his inner boyfriend material aura, oozing off boyfriend smell, nice, fresh, aftershave smell, rocking a stupid sweater and the messiest black mop of hair.

It’s honestly a tragedy, and you won’t stand for it. You will make a move—

“You’re squinting your eyes, like, real tight. Are you alright?”

Just ogling you, your drowsy mind offers, the fucking cheater.

“Yeah,” you reply, swallowing a lump in your dry throat, “Just need coffee. A latte. Anything.”

You move forward in the queue, and as you blink you realize it’s your turn, until it’s not anymore. Jimin carefully and gently moves you out of the way, brushing with the softest touch your side.

“A latte and an iced americano, please.”

The sweetened order for two turns into a hushed thank you, a tipped smile, a flutter of you heart. It’s drinks still half full, his curious gaze darting on your lips, your defences down. It’s unfair, because in a hot second all this pent-up tension shifts into a light, chaste kiss, your back pressed against the coffee shop’s restroom; your chest heaves under his tantalizing make-out session with your neck, followed by his frantic lips pressing on yours, his tongue licking lazily into your mouth, a gasp easing its way out of your warm and eager mouth. It’s a hot-blooded supercut, each frame announced by a starving moan, a content sigh, and, before you realise it, you’re on your bed, Jimin hovering on top of you.

It’s Saturday morning, you hum to yourself, fingers sliding into his hair, all’s in check. There’s a warm body slumped on yours, his tongue swerving on your lower lip and his hips shyly bucking between your open legs. Your panties are drenched, you can feel his hard on through the jeans and, really, all’s in check.

He nudges your nose with his. “Lemme eat you out.”

The answer lies sitting on the tip of your tongue, right next to an obnoxious remark that you hope will rile him up enough for him to rip your underwear, which you definitely won’t complain about. However, the words don’t come out, they slur in your craving mouth the second he gets up and shoves you toward the end of your unmade bed, spreading your naked legs open with his calloused palms.

“Nice skirt,” he comments, voice a rasp, eyeing the drenched, lilac underwear, skirt at this point gone up to cover your stomach. “I just want…”

He shuffles closer, enough for you to feel his hot breath on your core, and that’s when Jimin pulls the panties on a side, teasing you with little licks to your entrance. You’re responsive, too eager for anything to quench your thirst that you sigh happily at the barest of actions, gripping strands of his hair. Jimin chuckles, engulfing the throbbing clit in his mouth in one go and drawing desperate moans out of your cute, devilish mouth.

“Fuckboy move,” you emit, voice cracking at the pressure of his warm mouth, “Oh, oh. Fuck…”

He replies flattening his tongue on your core, then licking and lapping against your dripping folds. Jimin positively glows at the cries you let out, face slobbering with your arousal while driving you insane, fucking with his tongue like his life depended on it. It’s almost a spiritual experience, a crescendo of wails and sobs, his face drown in your pussy and his tongue paying reverence to your approaching orgasm. He can feel it in the way you writhe, in his hand splaying over your stomach, keeping you still while he eats you religiously, forehead beaded with sweat.

You come with a trembling hand in his hair, the other flicking your bare nipple, back slightly arched and a lewd mewl; Jimin takes in the way your body trembles, your breath all staggered because of him, and the sight alone is enough for him to cum in his pants with a grunt, completely untouched.

The second time it happens is, coincidentally, the first time Jimin knows there’s no turning back from this.

Complicated is a big word when it comes to relationship, you reckon, emitting something akin to a gasp, truly soap operas worthy material, but, for the first time in your life, you decide to name it this way.

Being with Jimin is… complicated, for starters. Especially because you’re not with Jimin, in the strict, relationship-wise meaning. He knows your favourite colour (“Why the fuck you only own purple underwear?” “It’s lilac, dick, watch your mouth.” “Watch your own mouth, babe. You’re the one on your knees.”), your favourite food (“But you like having your mouth stuffed with my cock, honey.” You sigh, blushing. “First of all, I’m talking about real food. That amazing steak kind of food—“

“I’ll show you real meat, babe.”

“Gross. Gross. How can I cancel the last five seconds of my life?”

“Come here, Jared, nineteen,” he half smiles, tilting his head, “I’ll get us fries.”), your favourite movie (“We can’t get each other off every time your ugly paper cap fits—oh,” you suck in a breath, Jimin flicking his tongue on your turgid nipple, “oh, god, don’t stop.”), your best friend’s name (“I condone you dicking her so good she sometimes cries, you know, I just don’t when I’m in the room next to hers and all I can hear is my best friend trying to formulate a single coherent word but failing because you’re pounding her mercilessly into the mattress.” Jimin chuckles, grabbing his jacket before holding the doorknob. “She begged, Seulgi.”)—so what? It’s not like you sat down and decided not to ask each other dumb questions, so that you could find out in the funny, kinky way. For fuck’s sake, you didn’t even decide on anything, didn’t even talk about talking, because the relationship related shit didn’t even cross your mind.

It’s even quite fucking hard for it to cross it, because half the time you’re together you’re either both naked – except for the time he pleaded for the tartan mini to stay – or stuffing your mouth with food—because, if there’s something you’ve learned after one too many hook-ups with him is that this kind of sex requires strength. Like, actual, physical strength, if we’re not talking about the this test is draining me please fuck me until I can’t walk sex. Which, yeah, 10/10 would recommend. That was the day Seulgi decided to invest in ear plugs while muttering capitalism, here I come.

You also came.

Funnily enough, guess who also came. Not in the funny, kinky way. Think about the grossest thing, imagine the beyond the bounds of possibility, sprinkle it with Jimin earnestly shoving his dick down your throat, stir it with a poor Taehyung brushing his teeth next to the both of you, a step away from the shower, and serve it on the most expensive plate in the kitchen, a recipe not approved by Kim Seokjin.

Yeah, you mentally roll your eyes, licking your lips clean, at eye-level with your sorta enemy with benefits’ pretty dick: the married brother of yours, former fratboy, taller than your current will to live.

In hindsight, maybe it is Seokjin’s fault. Once you’re married, you’re supposed to be committed to the cause, and sometimes, an angry little crumb in you finds the audacity to speak, the cause is made up of your four walls: ergo home, ergo your married life, miles away from the absurdity that once filled his university days. You’re being hypocritical, you realize, skin wet, body trembling. In the simplest, most hedonistic terms, you’re done with the chaos in this fraternity and just wished that hooking up was easier. It’s more than a stolen orgasm, a random spur of pleasure and free de-stresser; it’s also something not quite like art but just as peculiar. Sex with Jimin is more than nice, more than a fast rummage of clothes on the floor and panties teared, or condoms stuffed in every single pocket of his jacket.

It should also be noticed that it’s been one hell of a stressful week, okay, which means that it’s one of those times you seek for naked intimacy, in its least literal meaning. You’re looking for something sure, something silent, something earnest. Jimin gives you that in the simplest of forms, in the easiest of ways. It’s not fair for your brother to come unannounced and burst into the house with his adorable laugh and love for his own brothers. Way to ruin the moment, bro.

Jimin blinks attentively when Taehyung laughs, clapping his hands all happy and following the elder’s voice outside the bathroom.

“I’m getting you my clothes.”

“Wait, what?”

His lips part just enough for his tongue to wet them, and your eyes follow in silence the gesture.

“I mean,” he starts, grabbing a towel, “You either come out with me from this bathroom or you don’t.”

He’s concise, yet harsh, words uttered with those soft lips yet are just as hot as a slap in your face. He’s telling the truth, but you soon find out you don’t really like it.

There’s something abrupt and severe in those chosen words, so well picked out because they’re not meant to hurt, but at the same time they’re so worrying. So terrible, practically as hard as a punch in your guts.

You either come out of the bathroom with him — you had been blowing minutes before, hadn’t you? Quite the intimacy, huh? — or you don’t. You stay behind. Different rooms, a whole door to separate you while he’s out with the people he cares about.

Seems legit, but. It’s unfair. You know Jimin isn’t choosing for you, but it’s obvious he’s inclined towards an option between the two, and you’re terrified to discover whether it’s his own desire pushing or what he thinks you want.

You, instead, push the thought aside when you nod, taking the towel from his hands and covering your body from this terrific half hook-up.

Because that’s what it is—that’s what you are.

It dawns upon you like a cold breeze hitting your face in full December, suddenly, and that’s when you realize winter is near. In your mind, this hooking up scenario seemed nicer. Sounded softer, a cute bubble moving slowly in the air.

But now—well, now the bubble has burst, and it feels wrong, and this unexpected wrong doesn’t feel right in your chest, and that’s the story of how you leave the house escaping from his window, in his clothes, with vision blurred by hot, stupid, idiotic tears.

Seulgi is the first one to notice, and, obviously, the first one to speak.

“Something’s been bothering you,” she says, head tilted in a way that’s supposed to be emphatic and worried but comes off as stiff and terrified. “Care to share?”

It’s just a wholesome amount of terrifying stuff, isn’t it? First the shower incident, now Seulgi’s ways not working around you anymore. What’s next? Avoiding Jimin for a whole week? Blocking his number? Losing the smart and beautiful title to your obnoxious brother?

You wouldn’t be surprised, really. Shit like this always happens at the same fucking time.

“It’s nothing. A stressful couple days, maybe? Or maybe I’m getting sick. There’s a guy always coughing during Physics. Maybe it’s his fault, who knows.”

Seulgi unlocks her phone, an unreadable gaze studying you. She gives up a second later, though, her weak maybe reaching your ears when you’ve already looked down on your book.

One simply cannot be annoyed because of a half hook up. Christ. You deserve better than that. You have some dignity left, tainted by everything that��s not Jimin and his harsh, stupid words.

So, your mind offers, while you squint your eyes, I suppose there’s nothing else you could do about it.

Nothing else besides acknowledging it and moving on.

Sounds like a plan. A fireproof plan, an escape plan, something detailed and precise. Planned to work out smoothly; planned to be executed without pain or mistakes.

It’s seven sharp when he knocks, takeout in his left hand, eyes bulging because it’s fucking freezing outside.

“It’s fucking freezing, what the fuck.” He says out loud, indeed. What he receives as an answer is the sound of your tongue clicking, the biggest amount of interest you’ve shown towards him the whole week. He would finally exhale, weren’t it for the fact that this is still pretty traumatic, because if there’s something he’s learned while orbiting around you, is that you’re constantly awake and aware of your surroundings. Your body language says that you pay attention to him, or Seulgi, or whoever you’re talking to. You follow the guy with your eyes, and you listen and nod in all the right places during a conversation, and you search for his dark gaze when he’s fucking you in the dimly lit bedroom, the bed creaking under your sweaty sex making. He’s not admitting it, he never will, and he’ll pretty much deny this to everyone who will ask but: there’s something hot about it. Something burning with the way your body reacts to him, when your eyes follow his actions, while your voice falters when he fucks you right, and it somehow pushes him to the edge every time. It’s the equivalent of Jungkook getting a boner in the gym while catching girls and boys drooling at him, except he’s talking about you and your crazy moans, your magic aura.

And yes, okay, fucking blame him, the realization alone made him jerk off in his room like a teen, twice, yesterday. That’s a fact. That’s barely a fact, alright? This is a truth; a statement soon forgot by the knowers. Obviously.

You look spent, he thinks, if he had to choose a word, dared by some arrogant deity to define the current mess you were. He glances at your barely done ponytail, at the tiredness written all over your face. He takes in your baggy sweater, your quiet beauty, knowing this is gonna be one of those nights you take a step back.

He doesn’t say anything though, instead he brushes the hair on your forehead, not even making contact with your skin.

You grab the bag from his hands, shivering instantly and hoping he doesn’t read the signs. They’re—they’re there, you know, you’re collecting them slowly, one after another, grabbing one and looking cautiously for the following one, hoping it’s not there. Hoping it doesn’t exist.

You exhale a sigh, disguising it as cough, a noise, something distracting Jimin from his silent staring, which is, funnily enough, loud and cacophonic.

“Hungry,” you state, the single word weighting more because of the soft pout on your lips. Jimin hates that he knows what it means, that it’s gonna be just the two of you this time, no chill whatsoever, no bodies touching and melting against each-other. He’s not complaining, what the fuck, he’s not an idiot. He’s not even mad, he’s just—accepting, on a level. This is the point of no return, he guesses, following you on the couch and admiring the laptop’s screen reflected on your face.

He doesn’t say anything when you search for Brooklyn 99 on Netflix, because he’d say everything, otherwise. He’d mumble something along the lines of this feels real, we could do this all the time, or, worst of all: I like this. I like you.

So, in order: he tugs at your sleeves and scoots you closer to him, and you say absolutely nothing at the gesture. He’s ecstatic on the inside, partially terrified, mostly delusional. He pretends he’s something more when you lean on him, the slightest pressure of your head on his shoulder. He cares zero fucks about the show when he’s breathing your scent in and feels how warm you are and shuts his eyelids down when he pictures you adoring him. Liking him. Liking him a whole lot more—

He’s fucked, he realises, hours later, when you doze off and he has to carry you to bed, something you claim of loathing, which—what on earth. It’s an unfathomable absurdity, that’s what it is.

“You can stay.”

His voice falters. “What?”

You cough, eyes closed as you speak sinful words: “The night, I mean. It’s fucking freezing outside.”

His lips form a small o, and it’s hot all of a sudden. “Alright,” he manages, staring at you on your bed, hands fidgety and heartbeat accelerated for some reason, “Make space for me. Hey, fucker. I’m serious. Let me in.”

You do.

(to be continued. ily)

#BTS jimin #bts #bts fic #bts fluff #bts fanfic #bts scenarios #bts scenario #bts smut #bts social media au #bts imagine #bts imagines #jimin imagine #jimin #jimin smut #jimin bts #jimin x reader

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kooks3uphoria · 5 years ago

Text

A/N: I’m gonna be honest and say that it’s been a hard week and I wrote this for the sake of putting something out for you guys. I don’t really have a title for it. The plot is kinda non-existent and I don’t really know where I was going with this. I have a list of ideas that i want to write about but I’m not really getting any feedback which obviously isn’t required or anything but I just don’t know if you guys are enjoying what I put out and it’s kinda making me lose the want to write.

Anyways, Jungkook is kinda shy in this? Gets a little bold at the end but goes back to being a soft baby. I don’t really have a description cause I don’t know how to summarize whats going on. This wont be going on my masterlist until i figure out what to call it but I hope you enjoy!

You weren’t necessarily someone who looked for trouble but it always managed to find you. Whether it’s in the form of a fight or just sticking up for the people you care for, you were always the winner in those scenarios. This led to the label of “bad girl” being slapped on your forehead and is now what you’re known as in college. Almost everyone at your college knew about you and were warned not to get on your bad side. All the stories circling around campus along with your resting bitch face made it easy to believe. Only a selected few knew about what happened the night you were officially deemed a certified bad bitch but everyone else knew from past or more recent stories.

Out of all of the stories you and your friends have heard, the most popular one by far was the one where you snatched a girls weave off during a fight and proceeded to bash her bare head in outside a club. the problem with that is that it was the only part of the story that everyone talked about. If people knew what happened prior to you beating her ass into a bloody pulp, they would’ve thought it was standing in your friend’s defence which turned physical. It wasn’t your fault she was basically trying to sexually assault one of your best friends.

The night started off fine. You went out to drink with a couple of friends. You, Lisa, Rosé, Wendy, Hoseok and Jimin were all seated at the bar. You were all laughing and chatting until this girl came up to Hoseok. She got really touchy with him while they started talking. Hoseok was too nice for his own good and couldn’t outright tell her to stop when he started feeling uncomfortable. He was trying to subtly push her hands away but this girl just couldn’t take the hint. It was when her hands dipped down and rested on top of his crotch that he started looking around desperately. Luckily for him, you were watching the whole time, not getting a good vibe from this girl the moment she walked over. When he looked over at you, you were already looking at him and the panic that shined in his eyes was your cue to step in.

Things got physical fast and the whole beating her head thing occurred after the two of you shared a couple of colourful words. Both Jimin and Hoseok managed to pull you off of her before you all left her. Videos were recorded and shared but other than that nothing happened since it was considered another catfight.

While most of the other stories were tamer than this one, it didn’t stop you from getting scared looks from the girls and heart eyes from the guys. To put it simply, the girls were scared of you and the guys wanted a bad bitch on their arms to flaunt. You couldn’t care less about them. You were just trying to get to your 8 am class without actually giving in to the idea of dropping out. Not that you were a bad student or anything but these professors started getting on your nerves.

You walked through the door and took a seat closer to the back of the lecture hall. You were sipping your coffee with your eyes closed when you felt someone sit down beside you. You opened one of your eyes to see that Jimin was the person who occupied the seat next to you.

“Are you coming to the game with us tonight?” Jimin asked, motioning toward Lisa and Wendy.

“I mean like, I guess I’ll go. Hoseok already asked me to go to the last couple of games he had and I didn’t show cause I was binging Greys Anatomy so I guess I have to go,” you said, throwing your head back at the thought of having to go out tonight.

“Well, Yoongi is the captain of the team so I have to go to support and these two want to go just to look at the other guys on the team so,” Jimin said, trailing off at the end. You let out a little scoff.

“Wow, when did you start dating again? Like last week? And already going to his games? Jimin’s whipped!” you said loudly so that others around you could hear. This earned you a smack on the arm by Jimin, a couple of eyes looking over to the two of you and chuckles from both Lisa and Wendy. Just as Jimin was about to retaliate, the professor walked in and the sound of her painfully monotoned voice reverberated through the room.

It was currently 5:30 pm and the game starts at six. You were definitely going to be late but better late than never. You put on an oversized hoodie and a pair of black skinny jeans before throwing some slides on and walking out the door with your phone and keys in your hand. If you took the bus, you could get there in 15 minutes but just like any other college student, you were broke and walked to save a couple of dollars for your next meal. You got there a little after six and found your friends quickly since they were the loudest ones there and were seated in the very front.

You took a seat next to Rosé and took your phone out. You were going to start scrolling through your Instagram feed but the crowd suddenly went crazy. You looked up and saw Hoseok hanging off the rim of the net. Your eyes widened at the realization of what just happened. Putting your phone back into your pocket, you stood up and joined your friends cheering. You felt a pair of eyes on you and your eyes scanned the bleachers before scanning the court. You eventually locked eyes with the point guard, who shyly looked away after getting caught. You don’t know why but you felt a little tingle of sorts in your stomach and couldn’t figure out what it was.

Once the game was over, you and your friends waited by their locker rooms for them to come out. For some reason, the whole team came out at the same time. Usually, they would trickle out one by one so you were surprised when all 14 of them walked out the door. When hoseok walked out the door, his eyes lit up when he saw you. You made your way through the people and threw your hands up for a hug.

“Who knew little Hobi could be so good at ball? You’ve gotten better since the last time I saw you play,” you cooed, pinching his cheek. He scoffed and pushed your hand away.

“Yea, that’s because the last time you saw me play was like the first game of the season,” you shrugged at his words as the others came over to congratulate Hoseok.

You separated yourself from the group and pulled out your phone. Before you could turn it on, you felt someone’s presence nearing you. You looked up to find the little doe-eyed point guard making his way towards you. The tingles in your stomach returned and a smile made its way on your face. You barely even know this kid so why is he able to make you feel this way? From the brief stories Hoseok told you, occasionally seeing him on campus and in some of your classes, you knew of him but never spoke.

“Hey,” he greeted you. Even though he was on the basketball team he didn’t carry the same cocky attitude some of the other players sported.

“Hey,” You said, tucking some of your hair behind your ear.

“It’s really nice that you came out to support Hoseok hyung today. He played a lot better today, probably cause his girlfriend came,” He said chuckling. Your eyes widened at his words.

“He’s not my boyfriend!” You said way faster and louder than you wanted to. This earned you a couple of weird looks from your friends and some of the members of the team.

“Oh. Sorry, I didn’t mean to assume but the hug you gave him when he came out and you pinching his cheek like that, it...it just kinda made me think that you were together since-,” you chuckled at his rambling. You could see the panic in his eyes.

“You don’t have to explain. He’s one of my closest friends but we aren’t like that. I just tease him like that,” you cut him off. Jungkook was about to say something but was cut off once again, this time by Hoseok who threw his arm over his shoulder.

“Jungkook, I see you’ve met (Y/N). She’s kind of stupid so I wouldn’t recommend hanging out with her for long periods of time just in case she kills your brain cells-” Hoseok rambling was cut short by a smack at the side of his head, courtesy of you. You were now in a glaring match with Hoseok. Your attention was quickly drawn away from said man when you heard the most heavenly sound. Your eyes softened at the sight of Jungkook letting out little giggles at you two.

“Well anyways, me and (Y/N) have to go since she promised me ice cream after the game,”

“I never promised you shi-”

“Jungkook, would you like to come,” well, that shut you up. You both looked at said man, waiting for an answer. Jungkook smiled softly at you before answering.

“I would love to,” you felt your lips curling up in a smile.

“But my grandmother is actually in the hospital right now and I promised I would visit her today,” your smile dropped at the fact that he couldn’t come with you but your heart warmed at how sweet he was.

“Oh, sorry to hear that. Is she alright?” you asked. As bad as it sounds, if it was anyone else, you wouldn’t care enough to ask.

“She’s fine. She had a minor surgery earlier this week but she isn’t allowed to leave until a couple of days from now,” Jungkook said scratching the back of his neck. Usually, you were very good at keeping your emotions to yourself and keeping your poker face on at all times but right now, anyone could clearly see how soft you were turning for this boy.

“Hope she has a smooth recovery dude, but we should get going,” Hoseok said, now throwing his arm over your shoulder.

“Oh yeah, of course. Sorry again for not being able to join you guys,”

“Don’t worry about it. Next time, yeah?” You said to which he nodded back. You all said your goodbyes and went your separate ways. You friends left together and Jimin left with his new boyfriend, which left you and Hoseok to go and get ice cream by yourselves.

“Jungkookie huh?” Hoseok said, smirk on his face, not even looking at you. You scoffed.

“What about him?” you said, down at the flavours on display.

“Come on (Y/N), we’ve been friends for how long? I think I know when my best friend likes someone,”

“How could I possibly like him? This was the first time I’ve talked to him,” you don’t know why you’re getting so defensive all of a sudden but the idea of Jungkook made your stomach churn.

“A lot can happen when you first talk to someone. Don’t deny it. There’s no use. I see right through you,” before you could say anything, the worker behind the counter asked for your orders.

You couldn’t sleep well that night. Hoseok’s words ringing through your head.

~~~~

The next day, you woke up with a pounding headache. Was it the fact that you only got 3 hours of sleep? Possibly. Was it the fact that you went to sleep with wet hair? Doubt it but whatever. You rolled out of bed and got ready for your 10 am lecture. You walked into Starbucks for your regular order of overpriced caffeine. What you weren’t expecting this morning was to run into Jungkook. He saw you walk in and your eyes went from barely opened to wide and alert. There was a person between the two of you in line but Jungkook let him cut in front of him so he would stand beside you.

“Hey! How are you?” he asked sweetly. You returned his smile.

“Could be better. My head is pounding,” you said, letting your eyes fall closed for a second. When your eyes reopened it was met with a concerned-looking Jungkook.

“Do you want some medicine? I think I have some Advil in my bag,” he said. Not waiting for a reply, he swung his bag over to his front and began looking through it. He pulled out a small bottle of pills and handed it to you.

“Thank you Jungkook, but I don’t have any water or anything,” you said letting out a little chuckle, scratching the back of your head. He nodded before rummaging through his bag again, this time pulling out a plastic water bottle, opening it and then handing it too you. You smiled at him and quickly downed two pills. Once you were done, it was your turn to order. Jungkook ordered an iced caramel macchiato while you ordered an iced vanilla latte. Jungkook looked through his bag for his wallet to pay but you beat him to it, paying with the card you connected to your phone. The girl handed you a receipt and you grabbed Jungkooks arm, pulling him out of the way.

“You didn’t have to pay for me,” he said with a little pout on his lips since you wasted your money on him.

“Don’t worry about it. Think of it as a thank you for the Advil,” you said smiling at him. He seemed reluctant at first but said his thanks anyways. You got your drinks and began walking towards the lecture hall. The both of you talked the whole journey there and you were a little sad when he walked in the other direction towards the rooms his lecture was in. You sighed but walked into your lecture.

Halfway through your lecture, your phone vibrated against your thigh. You took it out of your pocket and saw it was an unknown number.

647-***-****

Hey

It’s Jungkook

I asked Hobi hyung for your number

I hope you don’t mind

You quickly saved his contact and texted him for the remainder of the lesson. Rosé tried looking over your shoulder a couple of times but you always leaned away when she did. It’s not like you were doing anything wrong by texting him. You just didn’t need your friends in your business right now. Once they know, the teasing would never stop.

~~~~

You and Jungkook ended up hanging out a lot throughout the month. By the end of the first week, you guys made it a habit to meet at Starbucks and walk together.

It was currently Saturday and you and Jungkook decided to meet at the Starbucks and get some work done down there. You were sitting at opposite sides of the table sipping your coffee and finishing some work when Jungkook decided to speak.

“You know, you’re nothing like how they describe you,” You roll your eyes at his statement.

“What did you think I was going to be like?” you asked, shutting your laptop.

“Well, after everything I’ve heard, I thought you were going to be cold. I was honestly reluctant to speak to you the day of the game,” he said chuckling.

“Everything they say about me is taken out of context. They never know what happens before or after the situation. They only care that I’ve gotten into some pretty nasty fights,” he proceeded to name some of the stories that he’s heard, which you cleared up, explaining what led to them.

“How about the time you got into it with Sana?” You laughed at the memory.

“That one doesn’t have a story. To be honest, she just really annoyed me and something she said that day ticked me off,” Jungkook chuckled at your honesty. You really didn’t want to listen to Hoseok but maybe you did like Jungkook. Gosh, it’s barely been a month and you think you like this guy. What has happened to you? You literally haven’t taken interest in anyone after your sophomore year in high school.

Eventually, you and Jungkook parted ways and you made your way back to your apartment. When you unlocked the door, you weren’t that surprised to see Hoseok lounging on your couch with a bowl of popcorn in his lap. He looked at you when he heard the door opening and waved you over. You sat down beside him and grabbed some popcorn, looking over at the T.V to see what he was watching. I

“Where were you?” he asked, pausing the movie.

“I was at Starbucks with Jungkook,” he smirked at you, wiggling his eyebrows in a suggestive way. You gave him a little shove as your cheeks flushed with pink.

“I might actually like him Hoseok. What do I do?” you groaned out. Hoseok looks at you with wide eyes. He teased you for liking him but he didn’t think you would actually admit it. After what happened to you during your sophomore year, he really didn’t think that you would ever date again. You spent a whole 2 weeks crying to him after that breakup. You’ve sworn off boys ever since. It was a scary topic for you. You were hurt so badly by what happened. It felt like someone ripped your heart out of your chest and stomped on it.

The more you thought about your feelings, the more anxious you got. Eventually, you felt like you couldn’t breathe. You felt tears prickling at your eyes, threatening to fall. Hoseok saw and set the popcorn on the table before wrapping his arms around you. His cheek rested on the top of your head as you cried.

“Look, I know Jungkook alright. Even though he hasn’t said anything, I know he likes you. I see the way he looks at you when you briefly visit us during our practices. He wouldn’t do what that dumbass did to you all those years back. Don’t cry, baby. You’ll be fine. I’ll be with you through everything and if he does anything, I’ll rip his balls off myself,” his words calmed you. You couldn’t help but chuckle at his empty threat. What would you do without Hoseok?

~~~~

You found yourself sitting across from Jungkook once again today. You guys made it a weekly thing now. A couple of months have passed and although you don’t know if Jungkook feels the same, you’ve been falling deeper and deeper into this hole of feelings for the guy. Hoseok always said it was obvious how much he likes you but you didn’t want to get your hopes up too high.

You were writing down some notes when you felt a pair of eyes on you. You looked up and saw that Jungkook was staring at you. On normal days, he would immediately look away, but today, he kept eye contact with you. Before he could stop himself, the words fell from his lips.

“How are you so beautiful?” when he processed what he said, his eyes went wide and he looked away. You felt your cheeks heating up at his words and your hand came up to your face to try and cool it down. You didn’t look back up yet but you heard Jungkook mutter out a little ‘fuck it’.

“(Y/N),” you looked up as he called your name. He hesitated for a second before saying,

“I know we haven’t known each other for long but I really like you,” he said in one breathe. Your breath hitched. You sat there staring at him for a while. The silence he was met with was killing him. He did it. He ruined your blossoming friendship. He started frantically packing his things, trying to save himself the humiliation when you finally grew some balls and spoke.

“I really like you to Jungkook,” you said, giving him a small smile. His movements halted and he looked at you with wide eyes.

“Please let me take you out on a proper date,”

“I would love that,” you honestly don’t think you’ve ever smiled so big in your life.

~~~~~

All that could be heard through the apartment was squealing, mostly coming from Hoseok and Lisa. Jimin rosé and Wendy were silently jumping up and down at your news.

“So where are you guys going? What’s the vibe we’re going for? Sluty or casual? Are we trying to seduce him or?” Wendy asked. She was about to continue but was cut off by rosé.

“She’s going on a date, not to a club you idiot. She has to look nice but not like she put in hours of work into herself. We have to wait until at least the third date to seduce him,” the three girls dragged you to your room.

While rosé was picking out what you were going to wear for the night, Wendy worked on your makeup and Lisa was figuring out what to do with your hair.

You walked out of your room about an hour later and saw jimin and hoseok laid out on your couch, phones in hand. Lisa coughed from behind you and both their heads shot up.

“Wow, who’s this gorgeous little lady?” Jimin said, getting up to grab your hand and spinning you.

You were wearing some skinny jeans with a black tube top and Lisa’s jean jacket you stole from her a couple of months ago. It wasn’t anything special but you also didn’t sport your usual bum look. Your hair was slightly curled and you had very natural makeup on. Hoseok didn’t have time to compliment you as you heard a knock on the door. Hoseok walked you to the door while the others hid in your living room. You opened the door as Hoseok stood behind you.

The door swung open and there jungkook stood in all his glory. He was wearing black jeans, a white shirt with a leather jacket on top. It was simple but he looked so good. The both of you stood there for a while just looking at each other before Hoseok broke the silence.

“Have her back by 10:30. No later or I will hunt you down Jeon. Have fun sweets,” with his final words, hoseok shoves you out the door and slammed the door in your face.

“You look great,” he said shyly.

“You do too,” offering him a smile, you held out your hand. He quickly grabbed hold of it and laced your fingers together.

He ended up bringing you to the movies. He bought tickets to the newest marvel movie that came out. You didn’t have a problem with it since you wanted to see it too. You tried paying for the snacks since he paid for the tickets but he didn’t let you. Saying and I quote, “Can’t let the lady pay on the first date. That’s rude and I’m a gentleman” you rolled your eyes at his statement but just went with it. The movie was good. You and Jungkook share little whispers and giggles throughout the movie. You were honestly surprised you guys didn’t get shushed.

When you came out, the both of you flinched at the light coming from the street lamps. Your hands never left each other’s for long. Jungkook insisted on walking you back home and on your way, you guys passed an ice cream shop. You ended up dragging him in with you. You managed to convince him to let you pay for it and you guys walked out hand in hand and cones in the other. You ended up going for a stroll in the local park.

“You wanna try some of mine?” You asked, seeing him eye your cone. His eyes brightened and he nodded enthusiastically. Chuckling, you brought your cone up to his mouth and he slurped obnoxiously at the ice cream. You rolled your eyes before bringing it back and licking it to fix the now deformed part of the ice cream. Finishing your ice cream, you somehow ended up in a game of tag with Jungkook. The both of you running around the open space like children. You were running at full speed, not looking back but jungkook was right on your tail. Grabbing a hold of your waist he pulled you back, towards him. You lost your footing and felt yourself falling. You closed your eyes preparing for the impact but it never came. You opened your eyes and saw jungkook looking down at you with his little bunny smile on his face. Your arms made their way up his chest and around his neck as he pulled you up, his hands remaining on your waist.

“Can I kiss you?” He asked, looking right into your eyes. Not being able to form words, you nodded and before you knew it, his lips were on yours. His lips were soft and sweet with the remaining flavour of his ice cream. You pulled him closer, before pulling away for air. Looking into his eyes made you nervous so you rested your forehead on his chest. You felt the vibrations in his chest as he chuckled. He wrapped his arms around you and the two of you stayed like that for a while, just basking in each other’s company.

You walked back to your apartment hand in hand, with the biggest smiles on both your faces. When you made it to your apartment complex, the two of you stopped outside the lobby.

“Thank you jungkook. For everything. I had a lot of fun,” you said, standing in front of him. His hands slid out of yours and settled on the dip of your waist, pulling you in for a hug.

“Is this a bad time to ask if you want to be my girlfriend?” You blush at his words, shaking your head against his chest. He pulled away from you and grabbed both of your hands in his.

“Give me the pleasure of calling you mine?” The blush never left your cheeks as you nodded. Jungkook walked you up to your unit and before you could even pull out your keys, your door swung open all of your friends standing in the doorway.

“You’re very late,” Hoseok said.

“We were worried sick!” Jimin called from behind the crowd. You pulled out your phone and looked at the time.

“It’s 10:37 you pieces of shit,”

“Still! I said 10:30!” You were going to smack Hoseok.

“Sorry hyung. It was my fault,” jungkook said even though he did nothing wrong and your friends were just stupid.

“Damn right it’s your fault. I was about to call the police!” Lisa called out. You rolled your eyes. You felt yourself getting spun around and were face to face with jungkook again.

“Sorry I got you home late babe. I’m gonna go before Hoseok hyung actually beats me up,” he said chuckling, leaning down to peck your lips before waving to your friends and turning on his heel, walking towards the elevator. You waited for him to walk into the elevator before turning around. All your friends stood there, jaw dropped.

“Go inside you idiots,” you said, pushing them all inside. You spent the night telling them all the details of your date. Squeals were bouncing off your walls all night, you were surprised you didn’t get any complaints. They all left your place around 3 in the morning giving you time to wash up and go to bed.

The next day, you got up and got ready for your 10 am lecture. You walked out of your apartment with sweats and a sweater on. Your hair was in a messy bun and your bag slung over your shoulder. You were rubbing your eyes as you walked out the lobby.

“Wow (Y/N), is this how you treat your boyfriend?” You stopped in your tracks. Your head whipped around and you were met with jungkook staring back at you with amusement in his eyes. He walked up to your shocked form and grabbed your hand.

“Come on babe, we don’t want to be late,” he said, dragging you out the door. You and Jungkook walked together all the time but this was the first time you walked in hand in hand. You got looks from everyone. Some looked at the two of you in jealousy and others in shock. Jungkook gave you a little peck before you parted ways.

~~~~~

“My game is tomorrow night. You’re coming right?” Jungkook said, looking down at you as the two of you cuddled on your couch.

“Of course. I’ll be right at the front so you better do good,” you said, poking his cheek. He gave you a little chuckle before you two focused back on the movie that was playing on the T.V.

You looked up at jungkook, admiring his profile. You don’t remember the last time you were so happy with someone. Jungkook made you feel like yourself. He made you feel like you were floating on a cloud. You have been dating for a little over a week and it has been the best week you’ve had in a while. You don’t need any more time to know that you’re utterly in love with this man.

~~~~

It was the night of the game and you actually got there early. You walked through the big gym doors and saw the boys practicing. They waved as they saw you. Jungkook ran over to give you a quick peck before going back to practice. Hoseok looked at you in bewilderment since you were one of the first people to get there. Your eyes followed Jungkook as he ran around, doing drills to prepare for the game for a while before you pulled out your phone. The rest of your friends eventually made their way into the gym and sat in the seats you saved for them.

“Look who’s here early. What did you say the other day about someone being whipped?” Jimin teased to which you rolled your eyes. You would retaliate but there was nothing to deny. You were whipped for this guy and you couldn’t say anything about it.

The game went smoothly and your boys won. You all decided to go out for dinner as a celebration for winning. You were sat in between jungkook and jimin at the Korean BBQ place you guys went to. Even though you were fully capable of grilling your own meat, jungkook insisted he do it and he ended up piling towers of meat onto your plate. You all had a great time but you were beginning to get annoyed at these girls sitting a couple of tables down from you. They were loud and obnoxious but the reason they were really beginning to piss you off was because one of the girls sitting there was eyeing up your boyfriend. You were going to get up and say something but Both Jungkook and Jimin told you to just ignore it.

Once all of you were done, you paid and left. The bunch of you were talking and joking around in front of the Korean BBQ place when the group of girls that annoyed you walked out. You were to busy laughing at something Hoseok said you didn’t realize the girl that had been eyeing Jungkook the whole night made her way over to him. Your laugh died down at the sight of this bitch sliding her hand down the length of Jungkook's arm. You stood there for a second, the anger building as Jungkokk did nothing to stop her. When you saw her place her hand on his chest, giggling at something he said, your body moved on it’s own and you walked over there, placing yourself in between the two.

“Someone should really teach you how to keep your hands to yourself and off my boyfriend” you said, grabbing her wrist and throwing her hand off your man.

“You’re his girlfriend? Pft. He could do better,” you couldn’t even describe how close you were to swinging at her.

“Call me when you’re ready for a good time sweets,” she said, using her hand to signal a phone. She gave him a wink before turning around. Your body moved fast and before you could stop yourself, your hand was gripping her hair and yanking down, making her fall to the ground. People around you have stopped to watch the scene play out. She was sat on the floor, hands grabbing at the hand that still securely held on to her hair.

“Say that shit again bitch. See what happens,” your grip only tightened as she screamed out in pain.

“Let go you crazy bitch!” This would’ve been bashing a bitches head in 2.0 if it weren’t for Jungkook snaking his arm around your waist, calming you down. You eventually let go and her friends helped her up before they all ran off. You let out a sigh and blew your hair out of your face. Jungkook turned you around so you were now face to face with him. He was sporting a little smirk on his face.

“Damn, was my baby girl jealous?” You scoffed at him.

“Wouldn’t need to be if you didn’t let her feel you up like that,” you were honestly over it and pushed yourself out of his grip, proceeding to walk back to your apartment. So much for having a good night.

~~~

You didn’t go to class the next day. You didn’t want to see him. You know it was childish. Skipping classes to avoid a boy but you felt a little bit of your heart crumble last night. Especially when he didn’t bother coming after you.

You were chilling in your room the whole day, only coming out to get food. It was about 5 pm when you heard a knock at the door. You didn’t invite anyone over and you didn’t order any food so who was it? You tiptoed to the door in case it was jungkook. If it was then you could just tiptoe back to your room and act as if you weren’t home. At the sight of his face through the peephole, you were about to do just that but looking down at the flowers in his hands made your heart melt. Even though you felt soft at how cute he was, you willed yourself to put on a mad face as you open the door. You were easy to crack though. His little smile as he held out the flowers for you to take broke you.

“I’m sorry baby. I’m sorry I let her do that. I should’ve shoved her off right when she started. I’m terrible and I feel gross letting her touch me like that. Will you forgive me?” His smile dropped as a look of disappointment appeared in his face. You hate how this man is able to break down your walls so easily. You were supposed to be mad! How did he make you feel bad about this? His expression made your heart hurt.

You walked out and slid your arms around his torso, resting your head on his chest. He let out a sigh before you felt him wrap his arms around you and his head rest against yours.

“I guess I’ll forgive you. But you have to cuddle me tonight. All night. That’s your punishment,” he chuckled at your words.

“Jokes on your babe. I was planning to do that anyways,”

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