#gukvory

[vankoya]

Extra Cheese, Please!

✽ Read the indecorous follow-up piece, Less Cheese, More Please!

Genre | Best Friends to Lovers / Housemates AU.

Pairing | Jeon Jeongguk / Feminine Reader.

Words | 9,524 words.

Conspectus | Jeongguk dislikes three things: 1. Having his Overwatch marathon nights interrupted, 2. Dealing with drunk people while he is sober, and 3. Cheesy ramyeon. His best friend slash housemate slash insufferable crush is the drunk girl with an incessant craving for super cheesy ramyeon who interrupts his Overwatch marathon night, and ultimately proves that the aforementioned meal looks just as gross coming up than it does when it is first in the bowl. 

Luckily, there is always a silver lining. Even in the worst of situations.

Warnings | Swearing. Alcohol. Vomiting as a result of being overly drunk. Sexual innuendos. Fondling. Jeongguk cannot deal with cleavage.

Jeongguk guesses that it is nearing one in the morning when his phone buzzes four times in succession. The vibrations occur no more than a few seconds apart against his balls, which is where the device has slipped down to nestle over the course of the past eight minutes.

He knows he should probably reach between his thighs and retrieve it to check the slew of texts that tickle his dick through a pair of grey sweatpants. He is also ninety-nine percent positive that he knows precisely who the sender is. But the military bomb payload is that fucking close to being at the Deadlock Gang’s cave hideout, just having passed Checkpoint B, and Jeongguk is quite possibly playing his best Escort game since he planted his sweet ass on the living room couch. The four instant ramyeon packets that he inhaled at eight o’clock are still burning off in his system. Well-needed fuel for a long, uninterrupted night of Overwatch.

Well, the chances of that peaceful gaming occurring were narrowed to considerably slim once a certain someone had slipped out of her bedroom and announced she was going out for cocktails. She had managed to breeze through the front door before Jeongguk could really have enough of an opportunity to stare at her magnificent ass in those jeans. But if his calculations were correct, he has made it through a solid five hours of tranquility so far.

When he sees the attacking team’s Lucio put up a sound barrier, Jeongguk cannot help but blast a grin of victory. He unleashes his McCree’s deadeye, obliterating the entire team. There is a triumphant shout that is echoed amongst his own teammates, and he nearly throws his goddamn PS4 controller at the television when he fist-pumps the air out of excitement. Through the headset, Yugyeom makes a comment amongst his hooting along the lines of: “McCree, that OP motherfucker!” while Jeongguk spams McCree’s: “I’m the quick, you’re the dead,” voice line over and over in the final seconds that the payload reaches its destination and the game comes to a close.

Earning play of the game was expected after the shit he pulled last minute. Though Jeongguk finds himself surprised when he gets ten votes out of the twelve players, considering the opposing team is currently shouting a stream of insults. Because yeah, McCree is overpowered as fuck. But the sheer laziness in him cannot bear the thought of having to train up on a different hero, at this stage.

“I’m out,” Jeongguk announces to Yugyeom as he reaches down to grab his phone, beginning to vibrate against his balls again due to his lack of response. Yugyeom laughs, the connection slightly static.

“Gotta get your girlfriend, huh?“

“Fuck you, not my girlfriend,” Jeongguk barks before exiting the main screen, albeit with a tiny smile, and then shifts his headset to sit around his neck. When he clicks the home button of his phone, he is greeted by a screen lit up with eight notifications, confirming two things.

It is definitely past one in the morning, and it is definitely who he was expecting to be.

Jeongguk gets his heart stuck in his throat, bites his tongue and stupidly grins at the last text that was sent, chest tight at the thought of her missing him. He can picture that dumbass drunk smile of her’s so clearly; a sight that he has seen enough times to have it burned into the very cells of his brain. It is the one thing that is beyond fucking adorable when paired with her glassy eyes, staring roundly at him while she perches that amazing ass on his lap. Right on the zipper of his jeans so that the jagged metal presses right against his dick and– Fuck, too far.

He chances a glance at his sweatpants and yeah, shit, he is a little bit hard now. Jeongguk slaps himself, firm enough to properly wake up from his unexpectedly lascivious daze, and then he quickly punches in his passcode.

He sputters and incredulously shakes his head, running a hand through his hair because hell yeah, she is a twelve alright. More than that even, a hundred in his books, if numbers had to define her. Maybe Jeongguk should not think such thoughts about his best friend of seven years slash university flatmate of two. But then again, her attractiveness is common knowledge amongst their friends and all those alike who encounter her. As clear as the sky is blue and the grass is green. Simply, Jeongguk is just confirming the obvious and nothing more than that.

Yeah, definitely nothing more than that. Totally still not semi-hard over the thought of her drunk smile, of all the boner-inducing things about her.

Before he can text her back, the theme song to Legend of Zelda is filtering through the living room and the ugliest photo he has of her is appearing blown up on the screen. The image is one that is zoomed right in on her face from where she breaches the ocean, pixelated by the added effect of it being a screenshot. The fast motion of her coming up after a wave had crushed her makes it appear as though her face is being dragged down by gravity; mouth parted in a gasp; completely wet hair plastered to her scalp, and presented at such an angle that she looks bald. 

It is fucking hideous. Jeongguk had laughed so hard that he peed himself a little the first time he noticed it in one of the snapshots that he had taken on his DLSR at the beach that day, and he never let her live it down. But they did come to a mutual agreement to not allow such a monstrosity to be released to the general public on an unfortunate Facebook birthday post, or as a tactic for revenge. Otherwise, Jeongguk would similarly be having a picture of himself exposed as far as the eye can see. The one where he is slumped backwards over their coffee table, blacked out and wearing nothing but a pair of her pretty pink panties, the tip of his sad and soft dick poking out the leg hole.

Jeongguk stares at the caller ID photo a moment longer, eyes watering with hilarity before he swipes his finger across the screen to answer with, “Well, well, if it isn’t–“

“Th–The sexiest motherfucker you know?” slurs through the other end of the line, nearly drowned out by the commotion she most likely sits cross-eyed within. “Who s’about to be joined by a much less sexy motherfucker, hmm?”

“Let me guess,” Jeongguk runs his tongue over his teeth, unhooking the headset from his neck and placing it on the coffee table, “I’m the less sexy motherfucker?” he says as he reaches for the remote to turn off the television.

“Ding ding, ten points to Gryffindor,” she whoops and giggles, and god, Jeongguk melts a little as he stands up but definitely not because he thinks her intoxicated laughter sounds fucking adorable. No way. “Y’gonna come collect the goods?”

He stuffs his feet into a battered pair of Vans and reaches for his black parka, looking like a damn slob and all with nothing but a dark shirt and his grey sweats underneath. He has no plans to stay longer than absolutely necessary at the bar, anyway. “I can’t think of any goods I need to collect,” Jeongguk sighs, swiping his house keys and wallet from the dish atop the entry cabinet and making way towards the front door. “A drunken mess that unfortunately so happens to be my best friend sounds more accurate.”

“At leas’ she’s got a great ass!” she defends herself, Jeongguk mentally agrees, then literally has to slap himself across the face again for focusing too long on the mental image of it, which he has copied in high-definition into his memory. Her voice becomes distant from the speaker, shouts out, “No you may not touch it, fuckin’ perv! Go piss in yo’ girly fuckin’ Cosmopolitan, yeah?!”

“Please don’t get yourself killed before I get there,” Jeongguk raises his voice a little in hopes of her hearing over the music. A smidgen of the tension that is suddenly squeezing at his chest is released when he hears her indignant huff right against the speaker. “I’m gonna be pissed if I walk all that way just to find you’re dead.”

“It’s like, one kilometre tops, pussy,” she retorts, the eye roll practically audible as Jeongguk locks the front door and then heads down the hallway to the elevator. “A light jog’ll get you here in what, five minutes. So start runnin’, boy.”

“Fuck no. I’m hanging up. Stay alive.” He mutters, punching repeatedly at the elevator button as if it will make the doors open faster. 

Distantly, he wonders why he is in such a goddamn rush. He narrows it down to just wanting to get back home again as soon as humanly possible; to return to his disturbed Overwatch marathon. Yeah, of course that is why.

“Thanks babe, you th’ best!” she sings, hangs up before he can, and Jeongguk jams his finger against the button with a greater ferocity until the elevator dings open after what feels to be centuries of waiting. (It was not even thirty seconds.)

He ends up speedily jogging the entire way to the bar to build up his blood circulation because it is cold as tits outside, of course. Definitely not because it means he will get to see her sooner, make sure she is safe and sound and not being leered at by some drunken, creepy lecher.

Nope. No way at all.

They say that there is always a silver lining to every unfortunate and downright dreadful situation. Jeongguk is currently wondering where the fuck such lining happens to be once he finally finds a particular girl that he was forced and threatened to brave the cold in order to collect, only to be met by the pout that she knows gets him all pliable and willing. He does not know it yet, but the silver lining is still coming. Slowly, gradually, but it will.

Even if, right now, that shit seems as likely as getting a blow job from Beyonce.

“How much?” he shouts to be heard over the pounding music, repeats for the second time because he refuses to believe the sum that the bartender first announced. 

At Jeongguk’s hip slouches the self-proclaimed goods. The treacherous best friend, who keeps having to be hiked up by his arm curled tightly around her waist since her bones liquefied by liquor are failing to keep her standing. She has that goofy smile pulling at her plush lips, and Jeongguk is torn between wanting to slap from her face, or to kiss it away instead.

The bartender checks the amount again, then leans towards Jeongguk with a somewhat empathetic expression to call back, “Rounded to one hundred and eighty-four dollars.”

On the inside, Jeongguk might be crying a little. Funny how the reason behind his internal agony is also the same thing that is keeping him slightly sane through his mental calculations of how much money he has left in his bank account. Pressed against his side with an intoxicated, unfocused gaze that stares up at him too endearingly for him to be one hundred percent angry. He is at ninety-nine point nine-nine percent. Okay, maybe on the cusp of no less than ninety percent. Goddamn.

“I’m letting you go for a second,” Jeongguk warns her and begins to slowly recede his arm, giving her enough time to support herself on the bar. Rather than doing this, she wraps her own arms around his waist and nestles under his armpit.

In any other situation than the apparent one, where he has to aid his best friend’s spontaneous cocktail night with his own miserable funds, Jeongguk would be fighting to tame the glee. The kind that would be demanding to tuck her closer, and perhaps press his nose to the crown of her head so he can breathe in the soft scent of her vanilla shampoo. Unfortunately, no matter how much he wills himself to be dreaming that his weekly budget is about to be kicked repeatedly in the balls and that maybe, instead, they are just at home on the couch and it is one of those movie nights where she gets extra cuddly for no apparent reason, Jeongguk is still stuck in the apparent situation.

He glares at his tormenter, who continues to latch like a lock around his body, and barely manages to keep his tears from falling as he retrieves his wallet and flips it open, fingers shaky. An extra tug is required from the bartender to loosen the measly grip Jeongguk’s fingertips have on his debit card when he hands it over.

“Girlfriend?” The bartender politely chips in as he swipes the card through the eftpos machine and then faces the keypad towards Jeongguk. As Jeongguk punches in the pin number, the bartender darts his gaze up to him with a raised eyebrow. “Ex-girlfriend?”

“Neither, and I don’t know if that makes it better or worse,” Jeongguk smiles, the kind that conveys his immense internal suffering. The bartender gives a sympathetic nod and hands back Jeongguk’s card before rushing off to continue serving drinks.

The latest, monstrous attachment on Jeongguk’s side squeezes him with her feeble, jelly-drunk arms. Albeit the situation, something softens inside of him when he grabs her chin so that she will properly face him. She blinks languidly like an overtired kitten, mascara smudged beneath her eyes, lipstick smeared a little on her chin. Not in the way that suggests somebody else had their mouth on her own. It is definitely the familiar mark caused by the back of her hand rubbing against her lips after taking a shot. Jeongguk is still weighing up whether he prefers the latter to the former.

“‘m tired, Jeonggukie,” she whines, slumps closer to him, and he wraps his arm around her waist again, hoisting her up with a displeased sound.

“All that talk about wanting me to have a drink with you, and now you’re making me pay the bill and run?” Jeongguk teasingly chides, and she unabashedly nods against his right pectoral. Alarm bells start ringing in his head when her weight against his side grows a tad too close to the ‘falling unconscious’ side of the spectrum. “Woah, hey– No. Don’t you dare fall asleep on me, ___. You still have to walk home.”

She hooks her chin on his shoulder and conjures that goofy, heart-melting grin that has Jeongguk crying a little on the inside, because he is such an absolute sucker for her. In that moment, her pout becomes the bane of his existence as she says, “Jus’ carry me, yeah?”

“Hell fucking no.”

Jeongguk carries her on his back the entire damn way.

By the time they reach the front door of their apartment, Jeongguk’s knees are weakly trembling and he feels utterly winded. Maybe it is a sign that he needs to get back into the gym on the weekends instead of indulging Yugyeom with Overwatch marathons. Or, more favourably, he needs to find a new best friend who will not 1. have him pay for her expensive, alcoholic ways, and then 2. make him piggyback her through the bitter cold night while she is practically deadweight against his shoulders in her partially asleep state.

“For someone who was calling me a pussy because I couldn’t be bothered walking to the bar, you’re awfully hypocritical in riding my back the whole way home,” Jeongguk says, gasping a little, jiggling the key in the lock and bustling them both inside once the latch clicks.

She clambers off his back, staggers slightly, and then catches herself on the back of the couch. Miraculously, she appears minutely more sober than she was twenty minutes ago. “Could’ve got an Uber.”

Jeongguk kicks off his shoes. “What, and paid him with the moths flying out of my wallet?”

She shrugs. “It would’ve cos’ like, three dollars.”

“That three dollars is lasting us until next Thursday, thanks to a certain someone who just made me blow my pay that I only got four days ago,” he hisses, sliding out of his jacket and hanging it over one of the dining table chairs.

And there it is again. That silly little grin tugging softly at her lips as she wiggles her hips against the couch. Strategically, Jeongguk briskly turns on his heel and strides into the kitchen before she can get her nails in him. Moulding him like the pathetic putty that he is. He can practically hear her pout when he ignores her blatant attempt at melting down his cold facade. Then, her heels unsteadily click across the vinyl flooring to watch him pull out a saucepan and fill it halfway with water, positioning it on the largest hotplate.

Jeongguk does not cast his eyes her way, even if every inch of his body, particularly his dick, is demanding that he do so. Because holy eight-pound six-ounce sweet baby Jesus in his cradle of hay, he did not notice in the dim lighting of the bar, but she is wearing a black v-cut sweater that exposes her shoulders and collarbones and a barely there shadow of cleavage. That, in itself, is saying something since her tits are a size that would fit neatly in his palms without any overflow. Just a nice, small and cute handful. God, he has never seen her with even a hint of cleavage like this before. This is unchartered territory that he has no idea of how to face, especially when he can barely cope with the sight of her amazing ass in any kind of legwear.

Jeongguk, staring blankly at the packet ramyeon in his hands, mentally forces himself not to get fucking hard like a teenage boy in the middle of their goddamn kitchen.

“What’cha doin’, good lookin’?” she hums, now perched on a breakfast bar stool with the side of her face mashed into the heel of her palm, elbow propped up on the kitchen counter. In his periphery, those small, adorable breasts spill from the v-neck onto the white laminate as a result of her slouched over position. Every single one of his nerve-endings is aflame.

Jeongguk releases the air trapped tightly in his lungs and then proceeds to make way towards the slowly simmering pot of water. He dares not a single glance at her, for the fabric of his sweatpants leaves little to the imagination, and she has definitely recognised a semi in them before.

“I’m making you something to eat since you always get hungry after drinking. Also, because I’m the greatest best friend that this world could’ve ever graced you with.” Jeongguk’s eyes are glued to his hands as he begins tearing into the packets. He dumps the dehydrated noodles and seasonings into the water, and desperately tries not to think about how sweet her tits would look in his hands. Praying that she takes the bait, he adds on as an afterthought, “Why don’t you get changed into something comfortable, and the food will be ready when you are?”

There is a pause, a moment where Jeongguk’s tongue pulses like a heart in his mouth, and he tries not to break into a nervous sweat. He can practically hear his own words clicking into place in her mind; connecting, disconnecting, reconnecting; fumbling through the drunken haze that still lays thick on her thought process. Twenty seconds pass, and he ends up so on edge that when she slaps her open palm against the countertop, he startles so abruptly that he rips open a seasoning packet with the ferocity of a gorilla. Beef flavouring bursts over his shirt and the stovetop in a cloud of brown dust.

“I shall go do that,” she announces. Jeongguk, going from nearly hyperventilating out of surprise to having a coughing fit from inhaling seasoning particles, sees her slither like a lizard off the stool out of his watering periphery. Except drunk, and with a goddamn, freshly fucking harvested cleavage.

He only lets a tear roll down his cheek once she has staggered down the hallway. This is Jeon Jeongguk, at the ripe age of twenty-three, accepting that he may die tonight.

Despite this possibility, he goes about cleaning up the spilled beef flavouring, saving as much of it as he can and depositing it in the simmering pot. The ramyeon-making itself goes rather smoothly. He manages to not spill the boiling water all over himself, nor accidentally rub his eyes after touching the chilli sauce like he did that one, hellish time that rendered him blind for just under three hours. He stirs the noodle broth and listens to her clomp around her bedroom, the occasional grunt and groan emitting when she cracks her hip against her desk, or whacks her shoulder against the frame of her walk-in closet.

She remerges in an acceptably less boner-inducing outfit. Consisting of one of his black hoodies that nearly reaches her knees, and assumedly (he prays, at least) a pair of unseeable boyshorts underneath. Jeongguk starts straining the ramyeon into a bowl.

“That’s mine,” he says about the hoodie while she clambers back onto the stool, looking soft and cuddly in her bundle of cotton and fleece. Her attire may not be as threatening to his vulnerable dick, but it is definitely as murderous to his weakened heart.

“Finders keepers, losers are weepers,” she immediately fires back, settling into her previous palm-smushed-against-face position, waiting for him to finish plating up the ramyeon. “Dun’ forget the cheese, either.”

At that, his whole body shudders with repulsion. For the first time since the growth of her cleavage was made apparent, Jeongguk faces her directly and hopes that the sheer suffering she puts him through is perfectly translated through his withered expression when he says, “You are disgusting,” before opening the fridge anyway and retrieving the container of pre-sliced easy-melt. “I will never understand how you can perform such sacrilege against the two holiest foods by combining them into the edible-equivalent of Hell.”

“Excuse you, cheesy ramyeon is the best gift this world has given us.” She frowns at the ceiling, thinks this over for a moment, and then corrects herself with, “Has given me, since I’m the best gift this world has ever given you.”

Jeongguk merely chuckles, does not deny it, because one may call him a deadset liar if he were to do so. Instead, he peels two slices of cheese out of the container and places them atop the bowl of steaming ramyeon, pressing them down with a fork so that they melt faster. 

She makes an iffy little sound, somewhat of a whine, and says, “Extra cheese, please!”

“You’ll make yourself feel sick,” he warns, yet all she does is glare adorably at him until he caves like the weak man that he is and adds an extra two squares. A thought itches at the back of his mind, informing him that he is most likely going to regret this, and he brushes it away just as quickly as it forms. Under that beguiling gaze of hers, she could ask Jeongguk to stick chopsticks up his ass and impersonate a popsicle and he would.

An over-exaggeration, but you get the point.

“Alright, one extra cheesy ramyeon for the drunk girl with disgusting taste in food,” Jeongguk declares, reaching across the counter to place the dairy-laden bowl in front of her before grabbing her hand, putting the fork in her open palm and forcibly curling her fingers around it with his own. He holds her hand a moment longer than necessary between his own, grinning tightly, remaining to ignore the voice that is now screeching in his head that feeding her this is a very, very bad idea. “Bon appétit,” he finalises, and the deal is done.

She smiles up at him, eyes shining and all of her teeth on display. Jeongguk wonders what wars he must have ended in his past life to be rewarded with this girl of starlight and vanilla and honey who winds around him, softens him into warm and easy. Before he can further dwell on such a tender thought, she shovels a grotesque forkful of cheesy ramyeon into her mouth.

“Tfhanksh Jeonguffie,” she says around the stickiness, and Jeongguk, now the perfect picture of nonchalance, wordlessly turns on his heel and begins to clean up the dishes. Anything, really, to distract himself from projecting the small amount of vomit that has lurched up to the back of his throat at the horrendous meal making contact with those lips that deserve so much better.

Minutes slowly go by, stretching past two in the morning and beginning to progress towards quarter-past. Besides the sickening slurps that she makes behind him, and the clattering of the saucepan with a handful of dirty dishes from his own dinner being washed in the sink, no conversation is made, and it is comfortable. These moments are precisely why Jeongguk has not risked it yet; asking her the big question; the determiner as to whether their best friendship will advance into something more. If she were to deny him, he believes he would be able to handle it, but he knows well that such knowledge would be on her mind every time she looks his way. The awkward tension would ensue, she would overanalyse his every move, and he would become distant because he does not want her to get the wrong idea. They would anticipate the day that the lease on their apartment runs out so they can go their separate ways as soon as possible.

So, he keeps quiet and basks in the contentment that they have created together in their little home. At the end of the day, she is his best friend, and he could not imagine a future without her in it. No matter if they were romantically involved, or purely platonic. Sure, he would love to kiss her collarbones and put his hands on her hips and maybe – just maybe – tell her that he loves her in the morning glow of a lazy Sunday, whispered across the pillowcases. But he can live without that. He can be a big boy about it and move on.

He keeps telling himself this, at least. Soon, he will genuinely be convinced that he can do it.

“Jeongguk.”

“Mmm,” he hums in response, turning around when her follow-up is delayed, and he instantly notices how her expression has suddenly transformed.

Honestly, Usain Bolt could not even compare to how fast his ass moves. Jeongguk skirts around the kitchen counter, pulls her off the stool, and hastily guides her towards the sink while cursing under his breath.

“I feel…” she mumbles as Jeongguk takes out the plug and then gathers her hair up as well as he can manage, holding it in a loose bun at the crown of her head and cringing when her torso slightly convulses. “Like I’m gonna– Ugh–“

“Oh my god.”

Jeongguk swears he did not make her that much cheesy ramyeon. But dear fucking lord, the sheer amount that comes up and splashes into the sink is simply horrifying. The noodles must have expanded in her stomach for such an extensive volume to now be regurgitated in disgusting, yellow chunks that make his own stomach turn with wooziness. He cannot believe he thought cheesy ramyeon looked bad in the bowl, because it is appearing to be at least ten times worse in the form of barf.

“You owe me– Ugh, christ– So big after tonight, you little shit,” Jeongguk grunts at her between clenched teeth and gags when he gets a whiff of the stench. Like over-fermented dairy left out in the sun for weeks, doused in a hefty helping of vodka.

The sound she makes is awful when the next heave is unleashed onto the stainless steel, and she reaches one hand back from where it is braced on the counter to weakly pat his stomach. When she shakily murmurs, “I’ll give you the best blow of your life as thanks,” Jeongguk has to bite the wet, fleshy inner of his cheek to stop the visualisation of her words from drowning his mind until it is all he can think about.

“Don’t talk about sucking my dick while you’re vomiting,” he groans with a small tilt to the corners of his lips despite himself, collecting a loose strand of hair that is falling dangerously close to her mouth. She halfheartedly laughs before another surge of cheesy ramyeon makes its departure from her body, and Jeongguk dry-heaves in perfect synchronisation.

By the time the contents of her belly have been completely and utterly expelled, Jeongguk is admittedly feeling much weaker in the stomach than he was before her bout of throwing up. Especially after having to wash it down the drain. Once there is not an inch of cheesy noodles in sight, he gingerly carries her bridal-style into their shared bathroom and props her up on the sink, one hand on her waist to keep her steady and the other reaching for her toothbrush. 

Jeongguk bites his lip to hide his smile when she leans forward and rests her forehead on his chest while he squeezes out a line of toothpaste. He wets the brush a little under the tap, and then takes her chin like he had back in the club, lifting it up so that he can see her sleepy, downright adorable face. Seriously, who looks this cute after vomiting up their breakfast, lunch, dinner, and all of the vodka sloshed in between?

“Open your mouth,” Jeongguk says, moving his fingers so they can squeeze her cheeks and make her lips pout like a fish. His heart weeps like the pathetic thing that it is at the sight.

She waggles her eyebrows to the best of her ability in her sobering, exhausted state. “What’re you going to put in there?”

“Not my dick, unfortunately for you,” Jeongguk chuckles, holding up the toothbrush, and she sighs loudly with faux disappointment. Well, he thinks she is joking. Surely she is.

Obediently, she opens her mouth. Jeongguk abruptly shoves the toothbrush in there and starts scrubbing at her pearly whites before he can think of the way she looks with her lipstick-smudged lips parted so obscenely like that.

His brain is the epitome of a keyboard smash.

It only glitches all the more when Jeongguk gradually comes to realise the entire position that they are both in; taking him over like a virus. His non-brushing hand still cups her small jaw. Glitch. Her bare thighs brush against his hips as she lightly swings her feet. Glitch. She blatantly stares at him, eyes half-lidded and looking like melted butter. Error: Jeon Jeongguk is no longer computing.

At least he can thank all of the deities that she is no longer wearing the Cleavage Sweater of Jeongguk’s Absolute Demise. Otherwise, he would have a bird’s eye view of the goods in question, and he, undoubtedly, would be a dead man.

Before he can linger on the dangerous thought of her small breasts while he is at this high-risk proximity, she makes a distressed gurgling sound. A sliver of Jeongguk’s sanity returns to him and he realises that toothpaste is spilling out of her mouth and onto his hand. With a panicked yelp, he yanks the toothbrush out of her mouth and she hurries to swivel around and spit out the accumulated mass of minty foam into the sink.

“Jesus H. Christ, Jeon,” she rasps, coughing once and wiping her mouth on the back of her hand. Her glare is watery and suspicious. “Were you trying to drown me? Imagine that. Death by toothpaste.”

He sputters, swallowing down laughter. “Shit, sorry, I was just– Uh, thinking about something,” he mutters, sheepishly smiling and reaching around her to rinse off the toothbrush.

“‘bout what?” she hums, dipping her head down so she can cutely shove her face in his own. Jeongguk grunts and cranes his neck away, but she grins wider and follows him, accidentally bumping her nose against his jaw. “What’cha thinking about, huh?”

“Ugh, hey– Stop!” He lets the toothbrush clatter into the sink and smooshes her cheeks between his large palms, holding her still, approximately an inch away from his nose. Cautiously, Jeongguk leans back, redeems the blush that is steadily heating his own cheeks by saying, “I was just thinking about all the ways I’m going to make you repay me for making me deal with your drunk ass.”

She half-heartedly waggles her eyebrows. “Care to elaborate?”

“Oh, you know,” he says as he drops his hands to her knees, but he does not fucking know at all since he was thinking about her tits again. His barely functioning, overtired and exhausted brain manages to conjure a handful of weak options. “I could make you do the dishes for a whole month. Or maybe, I could get you to buy the groceries for the next two fortnights. That’ll wipe your cocktail debt, at least.”

“You’re too soft on me, Jeongguk. Even when I can make your life a living hell,” she sighs, sleepily blinking at him. Unexpectedly, she knots her hands into the front of his shirt and pulls him close, successfully bringing his face back to the proximity that it was only a moment ago; nearly nose to nose. He can very suddenly feel his pulse practically vibrating in his throat. “‘m really sorry. You deserve something better than just some silly chores. I’ll pay you back the money of course, but– … Hey, what does my breath smell like?”

Before Jeongguk can even question her, she is forcefully exhaling onto his face. A gust of peppermint fills his nostrils, powerful enough to make him flinch. “Minty fresh. Why?”

Her lips stretch into a gentle curve, and beneath the fluorescent lighting of the bathroom, it almost appears nervous. “Good, ‘cos here goes nothing.”

Jeongguk is about to frown, about to speak, about to something. He cannot recall. Not now that she has closed the short gap between them and is accurately planting her mouth upon his own.

For a moment, Jeongguk thinks he might well and truly be dreaming. That tonight was some ridiculously real, torturous fantasy that his imagination managed to conjure in his unconscious state. But then her soft, damp lips part ever so slightly. Warm with the heat of her mouth, yet cool from the toothpaste. She opens up to him, her hands sliding up his chest to lock around his nape, the tip of her tongue skimming along the rosy flesh of his lower lip, and he knows.

This is very, very real.

Holy shit.

It takes a second for him to comprehend that he should kiss her back instead of standing there like a startled creature. And so, he slides his hands up from her knees to the middle of her thighs, the soft flesh warm beneath his palms when he gently grips them, and he tilts his head slightly to the side to deepen it. At this, she makes the most pleasant, lovely little sound. The edges of her nails lightly graze against the hair on the back of his neck, and elicit gooseflesh that tingles along his arms. 

Jeongguk parts his lips, lets her in, groans quietly when her tongue brushes against the underside of his own and then recedes. He chases after it, tasting warmth and cool peppermint as he carefully sinks his teeth into her lower lip, nibbling at the plush flesh and releasing it. A thin string of saliva connects their mouths as they separate for the most infinitesimal of moments before they dive back in. They are abstrusely drawn to each other. Like a black hole has formed between their bodies and they are radiant stars, pulled to the centre by gravity, colliding and becoming one.

Jeongguk cannot think straight. His mind has become an unrecognisable labyrinth that he cannot navigate; sent into turmoil by the taste of her, the feeling of her underneath the weight of his hands. He searches higher up her thighs, skimming beneath the hem of the hoodie and over her boyshorts, finding her waist and anchoring his fingers there, pulling her closer. Now, with her torso melding against his own, she loops her arms over his shoulders and her legs around his hips, locking her ankles and hands so that the embrace cannot be broken. Jeongguk melts completely, and he prays that this is not just some measly, intoxicated repayment. That what he feels in the slow movements of her lips and the press of her tongue is what he thinks it is. 

What he has been hoping for all this time.

As if she reads his mind, she suddenly jolts away like she has been electrocuted. Jeongguk, startled and with his lips still parted, stares at her with awed, lovestruck eyes. She gazes back as though she is very, very unsure.

Oh no.

“Woah,” she breathes, then she is untwining her limbs from his broad figure and clasping her blushing face with something akin to embarrassment. Jeongguk would think it looks utterly adorable if the fear was not currently spiking his adrenaline. “Wow– That was– Oh. Geez. I’m so sorry–“

“Why are you apologising?” Jeongguk barely whispers, and he almost does not want to know the answer for the fear of her words shattering his feeble heart like a hammer taking to glass.

“I’m– What? I’m apologising because that– That was something I shouldn’t have done,” she stammers, then sighs, letting her hands fall into her lap and staring down at them. Jeongguk is frozen, his own palms still firm against her waist underneath the bunched up fleece. “It was out of line. We’re best friends. I mean, I could blame it on being drunk if I wanted to and we could forget all about it. But in all seriousness, I’ve wanted to do that for a while. It was a very sober decision–“

Jeongguk exhales, and it shudders reluctantly out of his lungs. “You’re not making sense.”

“Okay, fine, fuck it!” she suddenly shouts, and it makes him jump. Her voice echoes around the bathroom, and she looks up at him again, eyes overflowing with frightening determination.  “Jeongguk. I like you, okay? There. I said it. I like you so much, and I get that saying this might fuck up our entire friendship but I really like you–“

He cuts her off with his mouth on her own and thinks: How were we this blind for so long?

This time, the kiss is brief, yet urgent. A sense of desperation hides in the corners of their mouths. Not searching for an answer, but out of the sheer desire touch one another, breathe one another after being oblivious for so long. Jeongguk begins to laugh, soft chuckles against her mouth that draw mystified, hopeful giggles from her own chest. The kissing becomes quite pointless, for they are simply smiling so wide out of the absolute ridiculousness that they could have been doing this for months, maybe even years, at this stage. 

They were just too foolish and scared of losing the other. Yet none of that matters now.

“Is this you confessing back to me?” she mumbles, and there is so much delight dancing like starlight in her eyes that Jeongguk’s heart races. He pecks at her mouth once, twice, then moves to her cheeks, her nose, her forehead and her chin until she is laughing all over again and holy shit, Jeongguk is quite possibly too in love for somebody who was so firmly denying it no less than two hours ago.

“Something like that,” he hums, squeezing at her sides before slipping his hands out from underneath the hoodie so he can reach up and cup her face. There is something radiant bursting through his ribs. Most likely, his elated heart. “I think I love you. At this stage, for me at least, I feel like I love you. I thought I just loved you as a best friend, but it’s definitely more than that.”

“Oh thank god,” she grins, and he feels it against his palms. “I was going to say I love you instead of I like you, but I thought it might be too sudden and scare you away. So yeah, I love you too, asshole. Also, I’m still a bit tipsy.”

Jeongguk’s face feels as though it is going to split in half from smiling so hard. He tucks her hair behind her ears, dies a little on the inside at the fact that he can do that, and so much more, now that they have laid their cards on the table. Brushing his thumbs over her faintly blushing cheeks, he kisses her, and then says, “Really? Wanna go to bed?”

“Yes,” she sleepily nods, latching her limbs around him again like a starfish. “Onwards to my bed, O’ Noble Steed!”

“God. You’re ridiculous.”

“Ridiculously in love, bitch.”

“Wow, there’s the best friend that I know. Thought I lost you.”

“Nope. You fell in love with this, so you’re stuck with this.”

Grin still plastered to his face, Jeongguk hooks his hands underneath her thighs and lifts her up, delighting in the way she giggles with glee in his ear. In navigating out of the bathroom and to her bedroom, he carries her towards all the light switches so she can flick them off. He kisses her cheek with every single one. 

When they enter her bedroom, the overwhelming fragrance of her hits him like a shockwave. Even more so as he carefully lays her down on the bed and then tucks in behind her; the gentle, vanilla aroma lifting from the pillowcase. She rolls over to face him in the dark, and Jeongguk loops his arms around her waist so casually that anyone would think they have been doing this for years.

“Hey,” she whispers.

“Hi,” he murmurs back, pressing his lips to the centre of her brow. At this rate, he believes he may never stop kissing her now that he has started.

Languidly, she blinks, and then mumbles, “This is real, right? I didn’t black out on cocktails, did I? I’m not just having some crazy, amazing dream?”

“Definitely real,” Jeongguk chuckles, pulling her closer. She cranes her neck, angling upwards to catch his mouth against her own, still tasting faintly of mint and pure, unadulterated joy. He licks at her bottom lip, and she groans, pulling away.

“Don’t do that. You’ll make me more horny.”

Jeongguk’s dick, in an act of betrayal, begins to stand to attention for the nth time that night.

“Y-You’re horny right now?” He clears his throat, swallows saliva down his suddenly very parched windpipe.

“Yeah, ’cos I’m still a little drunk,” she whines cutely, but it is nearly lost on Jeongguk. Because now all he can imagine is peeling her out of his hoodie and the boyshorts, seeing her lovely and bare, and then making her cry out his name with every fluid thrust inside of her.

“Fuck, now I’m kinda horny,” he mutters, and she cackles evilly.

“Are you hard?”

“Half,” Jeongguk admits, and she shifts so that she is propped up on her side by her elbow.

“Can I touch you? I’m too tired to jack you off but– I just want to, y’know, feel it,” she is smirking through the shadows and Jeongguk cannot roll the yes off his tongue fast enough.

Then, her small hand is on his dick, almost immediately causing it to swell to its full, erect size.

Jeongguk releases a tight exhalation that whistles between his teeth, draws soothing patterns on her back with his fingertips to try calm himself from potentially blowing his load right here and now. He cannot believe that he has dreamed of this more times than he can physically count on both hands, and now it is actually happening. Out of fear of disturbing the moment, he keeps his muscles locked. She stays rather silent as she feels around him through his sweatpants; gently squeezing his shaft, his balls, her thumb gliding smoothly over the head. 

Then, she nods to herself. Her hand recedes, and Jeongguk feels the loss like a blade driving through his gut.

“I always thought it would be big after seeing your semi that one time, but this is quite impressive,” she very casually states while she lays back down, and Jeongguk’s heart stutters. He cannot decide whether it is torture or euphoria that he is experiencing right now. A concoction of the two, most likely, because 1. she thinks that he has a big dick, and yet 2. he refuses to drill it into her while she is still a few steps away from sober. He wants her head completely clear for that.

Instead, Jeongguk latches onto two of the words that she speaks, smirking himself as he says, “Always thought, huh?”

“Oh come on, you can’t say that you haven’t thought about my body, too!” she accuses good-naturedly, wriggling closer to him so that all of her curves and slopes press against him. His painfully hard dick nestles into her thigh. The desire to roll it against her spreads through him like wildfire. “I might’ve been drunker earlier, but don’t think I didn’t notice the way you were staring at my cleavage like a man deprived. That shirt is a godsend for my tiny titties, right?”

“God, you have no fucking idea,” Jeongguk shamelessly admits, burying his face into her neck and softly biting the flesh there, shivering when she squirms. She is better than he could have ever imagined in all of her reactions to his touches, the sounds that she creates. So real. “That’s why I told you to get changed. I thought I was going to die.”

She threads her fingers through his hair, softly stroking the dark locks. “I’ll make sure to wear it more often then.”

“Well, here’s your cautionary warning that I probably won’t be able to hold myself back when you do. I don’t care where we are or who sees.”

“That’s hot,” she laughs, and then yawns. Jeongguk untucks himself from the nook of her shoulder, licks his lips, and presses a firm kiss to her mouth. When she moves her thigh to wrap around his own, it brushes against the head of his hard cock and he has to swallow down a needy moan.

“Sleep. We’ll talk more tomorrow, okay?” He murmurs. “And we’ll fix this horniness problem. Also, side note: can I hold your ass?”

“Yup, go for it,” she hums, closing her eyes and resting her forehead against his own. Jeongguk smooths his palms down her spine and then over the supple flesh of her ass, and lord, it honestly feels as fantastic as he had expected. He gingerly gives it a squeeze, and she makes a soft, appreciative sound that has all the blood rushing out of his head, leaving him lightheaded and so fucking in love that it hurts. Well, hurts his dick, for the most part.

The room fills with placid silence, yet his heart thrums loudly in his ears, keeping him awake. He focuses on the way her breathing begins to even out, and tries to match his own to her pace. Slowly; in through the nose, out through the mouth. The minutes pass, and Jeongguk feels his body become heavier, heavier, until he closes in on the soothing edge of unconsciousness.

She stirs.

“Jeonggukie.”

“Mmm.”

“I think I’m going to vomit again.”

Jeongguk has been woken up in numerous unusual ways. Being punched in the face is a first, and is quite possibly one of the more painful methods. Even if it was an accident as a result of somebody flailing too close for comfort.

“Ow– Jesus!” He squawks, immediately rolling onto his back and cupping his nose where the fist had made sharp contact.

When he opens his watering eyes, he notices that his best friend is looming over him with a very confused and very concerned expression. The sight of her as the first thing he sees when he awakes is not abnormal, for she has proven to be a much more efficient alarm than his own cell phone on numerous occasions. Even if her method this time around was unnecessarily more painful.

But it is the fact that her bedroom surrounds the both of them that throws him off. Because that must mean he is sleeping in her bed. And why on Earth–

Oh.

That’s right. They confessed. They kissed. Jeongguk fell asleep with his hands on her beautiful ass after holding her hair back while she threw up a second time.

He pushes himself up on his elbows, a sleepy half-smile beginning to tilt his lips.

That is, until she very bluntly says, “What are you doing in my bed?”

The smile immediately vacates his expression, and he suddenly feels as though he has fallen off a cliff face and is plummeting through the air. Jeongguk’s voice trembles in the back of his throat as he quietly says, “What do you mean?”

“Why are you in my bed?” she questions him again, and Jeongguk thinks he is literally about to be sick. “Oh! That’s right. You came to the bar, didn’t you? Jesus. Did we get that drunk again that we ended up crashing in my bed together?” She shakes her head. “I bet it was like last time when we passed out in your bed after that frat party. You remember the one, right? Where we had a full-blown argument over pineapple on pizza–“

Jeongguk swiftly scrambles upright and out of the bed, his chest feeling tight in the worst possible way. Did he genuinely dream everything that occurred last night? Did none of it actually happen? Or was she drunker than he initially thought and she has completely forgotten everything that occurred?

“Don’t you remember, ___?” He whispers, and his voice cracks.

She tilts her head to the side. The sunlight filters through the bedroom window, casting her in a sheen of gold, and she looks so unbelievably, heart-wrenchingly gorgeous that Jeongguk feels something in his chest begin to splinter.

“Remember what?” she says, utterly clueless, and Jeongguk casts his eyes to the ground, confused and hurt beyond belief.

“Don’t worry,” he murmurs, starting towards the door. He cannot completely comprehend what is happening right now, but he knows that something is definitely off because he swears on his heart that it was not a dream. She was real. Her warm mouth shaped against his own was real. Her voice wrapping around the words ‘I love you’ was very, very real; he knows that he could never imagine such a confession so vividly–

Behind him, she bursts into a fit of laughter.

“Oh my god. Jeongguk, you’re more gullible than a dog running to fetch the ball that its owner pretended to throw!”

He whips his head around, eyes as wide as Jupiter. “W-What?”

“I remember what happened, dumbass. Everything. I kissed you in the bathroom, we confessed our undying feelings for one another, I touched your dick, yadda yadda.” She crawls across the bed until she is kneeling before him, carefully reaching up to clasp his face between her palms and Jeongguk is torn between wanting to beat her with a pillow or kiss her senseless. Huh, he supposes this is what angry sex must be all about. “Was I really that convincing?”

He closes his eyes, furrows his brow. His mind is still suffering from the sudden whiplash, and is now doused in liquid fury. “I’m honestly going to fucking kill you.”

“I love you too,” she placates him, rising up to tentatively kiss him. He cuttingly stares at her half-lidded gaze as she dusts tiny pecks to his unmoving lips until he finally caves through the simmering anger and gives in to her, flicking his tongue out to meet her own. Carefully, as if she is unsure whether he will tear her head off or not at the slightest misjudgement, she begins to travel her mouth down his jaw, mumbling, “I’m sorry, that was mean of me.”

“I genuinely thought for a moment there that I must’ve had the wildest lucid dream,” he mutters, settling his hands on her ribs and angling his head to the side so that she has easier access. “But I feel like I could’ve never imagined the sight, nor stench of regurgitated cheesy ramyeon with such disgustingly intense clarity.”

She chuckles, quietly apologising again, and the exhalation of it on his skin raises the hairs on his nape. She reaches the under of his jawline, plush lips coming into contact with an especially sensitive spot on his neck, and an involuntary moan escapes him when the light suck of her teeth sends shivers down his spine.

Jeongguk can feel the curve of her languid, wicked grin instantly forming against his skin.

“Instead of fucking killing me, how about you fuck me to my grave?” she suggests, and her tone is too saccharine around such filthy words. Unbearable enough to bolster his morning wood to its full capacity, even when the flame of rage from her awful joke is still dying out.

“You’re insane,” Jeongguk chuckles despite himself, and she leans back, divine smile still intact.

“Insanely horny after keeping my sexual frustrations for you locked up in my body for roughly a year now? Yes,” she confirms with finger guns and a wink. He shakes his head out of incredulity. “And, I do believe I have a dick to blow to say thank you for last night. And also to say sorry for scaring you just now.”

“Baby, I don’t think you realise this yet but if we’re really a thing now, then you’re going to be sucking my dick for a whole month to pay me back for the past twelve hours.” Jeongguk sighs, running his hand through his hair and then down his face. His heart soars from the way her expression meekly transforms at the sudden nickname. “I’m going to have to start a fucking tally.”

“Well,” she hums, slips her fingers into the waistband of his sweatpants, and Jeongguk becomes lightheaded, “consider this strike number one, baby.”

The way she says it melts him down like candle wax, and he cannot help but tackle her onto the bed, grinning at her surprised squeal that is soon suffocated by his lips. Jeongguk knows that they have all morning for this. That he can take his time to explore her body in all of its magnificence until he can perfectly map it out in his mind, can understand the raw shape of her, what glorious noises she makes when he touches her, and what specific places on her being elicit them. He mouths his way down her throat, catches the blissful sigh as it releases from her lungs into the early morning, and then detaches so he can sit back and look at her, straddled beneath him.

Jeongguk entwines her hands with his own and slowly draws them above her head. She simpers, her half-lidded, glassy eyes flooded with unadulterated desire, cast in golden sunlight that makes her appear unbelievably ethereal. He slides his palms to her wrists, leans down so that his lips hover just above her own, gazes right at her and thanks his lucky stars for gracing him with an embodiment of themselves in the form of a girl so radiant that she blinded him; enough, that he could not recognise the love cooped up in her eyes until she spoke it.

He murmurs, “___, I’ve loved you for as long as I can remember. Even if you destroy my savings account and eat the most repulsive meal known to humankind. You’re my best friend, and I want to escalate our best friendship to ‘best-friends-who-fuck-each-other-and-are-ridiculously-in-love’. What do you think?”

“Well, I love you too,” she smiles, her eyes flicking between his own, a glint of mischief hiding underneath the flutter of her eyelashes. “And I completely approve of such an upgrade. Partly because I cannot even express how long I’ve wanted to hold your hand and tell the world that you’re my boyfriend, and partly because I really want to blow you while you play video games.”

There, the realisation drives straight through Jeongguk’s heart. And his dick.

Ah, silver lining.

Note | I just wanted to write about Jeongguk’s phone vibrating against his balls. That is all. I have also never played Overwatch, so if any of the references are incorrect, I apologise. Thank you all for reading, liking, and reblogging this fun and silly little piece. I would love to hear your thoughts on it! ♡

All Rights Reserved © Vankoya. No translations, reposting and/or modifying of the material is allowed without my direct permission.

#jungkook fluff #jungkook smut #jungkook x reader #bts fluff #bts smut #jungkook fanfics #bts fan fiction #jeon jungkook #extra cheese please #ecp #/ vomit #/ alcohol #vankoya #gukvory

[winetae]

@gukvory replied to your post: is there even a point to tessellate? the series is...

lmaoooooo why are ppl like this I didn’t realise our appreciation for certain members is explicitly represented by who we write fics about

i don’t understand this either :( some members just fit certain characters more/ are easier to write than others LOL but i think this was just a troll so i’m not going to start a debate

#also there was no way in hell i was going to give hobi a dragon dick #the disrespect #hobi deserves better than what i write #gukvory

[floralseokjin]

gukvory replied to your post

“i literally told you i can't wait for you to upload off limits because...”

this anon needs to take the stick out of their ass and then reread what they just sent you. what the actual fuck. 

1. jordan is one of THE NICEST people I have ever met on this website, and 2. she is a real human being with a life outside of this blog. she is not a machine that can churn out fics with the push of a button. she's allowed to update whenever the heck she wants and rude ass anons like this need to start accepting that!!!

waahhh, thank you ivory !! <3333

#gukvory #replies

[btspositivity]

@gukvory hope you've smiled a lot today, thank you so much for sharing your incredible talent 🌹❤

#bts positivity #gukvory

[lotuslate]

gukvory replied to your photo “Yoonseok + Sunflowers �� Requested by @hobih ✧ / Find it in my shop”

JEssSSs THIS IS SO CUTE

KJDSSKD THANK YOU SO MUCH M’LOV!!! 💖💗

#gukvory #replied

[94-hun]

gukvory

@gukvory

Do they follow me: Yes | No

Do I follow them: Yes | No | Now

What I think about their blog:

This is another one that I’d never heard of before but she’s also a very good writer for the BTS fandom. Definitely worth checking out!!

Send me a URL anonymously and I’ll tell you

#replies #anon #gukvory

[peachjeon]

jeon recommendations two

just a list of some jungkook fanfics (n-z) that i personally enjoyed reading and recommend others to read too :)

☁ : fluff , ⚆ : angst , ❝ : mature

no decency by btsjeonjazz ❝

no love by jinxkook ❝ ⚆

noise by jjkfire ❝ ☁

not so honest by wonhopes ❝ ☁

notice me by 0sakii ☁

of you? honestly by zephyoongist ❝

only six months by k-popscenxrios ☁ ⚆

overdue by kookiesbadhabits ❝

overtime by workofteaguk ❝ ☁

painting the meadow’s void by jungblue ☁

paper hearts by taechubs ☁ ⚆

perseverance by freehoseoksdick ☁

philophobia by minsvga ❝ ⚆

pit-a-pat by jae-wonandonly ❝

playing with fire by lindzfrienzxo ❝ ☁ ⚆

prompt by sunshyngal ❝ ⚆

proposals by pjxmin ❝ ☁ ⚆

protege by baeseoul ❝ ⚆

quick release by causekpop ❝

radio rebel by summertae ☁ ⚆

rain by fuilovetaelsvet ❝

rebound by gukblush ☁

red skies by jungk0oksthighs ⚆

redemption by dest-writes ☁ ⚆

relapse by headingplaces ❝ ⚆

resistivity by chimdeer ☁

room for dessert by avveh ❝

room for two by noir0neko ❝

roommate by minsvga ❝ ☁ ⚆

roommates by minniesugakookies ❝ ☁

roommates by tayegi ❝

rumor has it by bangtan-spells ☁

save me by jungk0oksthighs ☁ ⚆

scratch by sweatae ❝ 

second time’s the charm by gukyi ☁

selfish by chinesesuga ❝ ☁ ⚆

shy!jungkook by 1honeypot ❝ ☁

shy alibi by kittae ❝

silk under his suit by diorbangtan ❝

skinny love by pancakpop ❝ ☁ ⚆

skulls and roses by kcriture ☁

something in the water by gukvory ❝ ☁

strawberry villiage by jiminicriket ❝ ⚆

strictly business by btschronicles ❝

sugar daddy by dom-joonie ❝

sutures and stitches by hayjeon ❝ ☁ ⚆

sweet saccharine by jjkfire ☁

sweeter than sugar by jungkxook ❝ ☁

telecom high by kpop-reads ☁ ⚆

temptation by aichan11 ❝

terms and conditions by sugadaddykook ❝

that really happened by lolethlovesbangtan ❝

the best thing he never had by earlygreytae ☁ ⚆

the fuckboy scheme by remembeo ❝

the intern by btsinspirationtakesme ☁

the millionaire and his lover by gukyi ❝ ☁ ⚆

the secret by jinswings ❝ ⚆

the view by fireheart-namjoon ❝

the wedding planners by gukyi ❝ ☁ ⚆

this must be my dream by mint-tape ☁ ⚆

tomorrow by jungk0oksthighs ❝ ☁ ⚆

undercover love by nochunae ❝ ☁ ⚆

undo by moonnightyoongi ❝ ⚆

unexpectedly you by bangtan-spells ☁

wait for it by workofteaguk ❝ ☁

watch me by taecup ❝ ☁

watch me babygirl by lunarimagines ❝

why people fall in love by zephyoongist ☁

wicked games by eureka-its-zico ❝

without you by lolitasletters ⚆

word for word by dreamscript ❝

xenodochial by jiminsmrs ☁

you again by chimchurro ☁ ⚆

you are mine by deathbyyoongi ❝

you’ll never walk alone by jungk0oksthighs ❝ ☁ ⚆

list of jeon recommendations (a-m) here

#bc i literally have no life this list will be continuously updated along the way as i read more #jungkook scenarios #jungkook angst #jungkook fluff #jungkook smut #recs

[yoonia]

@gukvory replied to your audio post

BABE I LOV YOUR VOICE SO MUCH!!!!

@roseok replied to your audio post

You're so cute Dia x

omg you guys stop!!! I’m blushing /run and hide/

#replied #gukvory #roseok

[tayegi]

I AM GONNA HURT YOU FOR MAKING ME FEEL THIS WAY!!!! FUCK. WHAT ON EARTH. I LIVE FOR EVERyTHING THAT THE SECOND PART STANDS FOR. WOW!!!! I LOVE YOU.

WHY ARE YOU LIKE THIS???? I WILL BLOCK U TOO. PLEASE DO NOT DEFILE URSELF W/ THIS TRASH. ALSJDKFLDJSFKLJLK BUT ILY AND THANK YOU

#lake of fire #gukvory #lu answers

[trbld-writer]

➺ sweet ardor (m)

Pairing: Min Yoongi x female Reader

Genre: some sort of fluff, smut; sugar daddy!au

Warnings: mentions of alcohol, language, public teasing, dom/sub themes, powerplay, dom!Yoongi, rough sex, choking, face fucking, hair pulling, orgasm denial, light bondage and the biggest kink: aftercare

Word count: 7,766 words

Synopsis: You like dicks and you like money. To your luck, Min Yoongi has both.

Note: I always wanted to write a sugar daddy fic, especially after reading @floralseokjin‘s sugar daddy!Hoseok so here it is! A big thank you to @gukvory for giving me the starting and ending sentence, to @kittae, @icedrice, @godsavemefrombts and @probabilitae for being lovely betas, and to all of my friends for hyping me up. I hope you enjoy! As always, feedback is appreciated. 

[masterlist]

Min Yoongi’s dick may be big…

You looked at the hand traveling up your thigh under the table, under the slit of the midnight blue and horrifically expensive dress, and tapping his fingers against the sensitive flesh of your inner thigh. It remained there for a while, tracing patterns and gently squeezing your thighs. He retreated it when the food arrived but as soon as you finished your dessert, it slipped back to its former place, all the while he was conversing with the other guests right across the table. You leaned back against the backrest of the chair, parting your legs to grant him even further access and you licked your lips with a small smile when you saw him smirk as his hand slowly inched higher and higher. Breaths hitching when his finger slowly caressed the front of your delicate lace that barely covered your core.

You tensed, crossing your legs while heat shot up to your cheeks and you hoped that you could blame your flushed skin on the three glasses of wine you had consumed. The corners of his lips quirked up as he looked at you with dark, playful eyes and it was then when you finally shot out of your daze and diverted your attention to the conversation taking place.

You tried to answer the middle aged lady’s questions as well as you could, being mistaken for his very young wife because of the shining ring on your finger.

“Oh no, we’re not married. She’s my girlfriend.”

Actually, you weren’t even his friend. He paid for your company. Your dress, jewelry, your shoes.

Min Yoongi. One of Seoul’s top lawyers and your sugar daddy.

Money was never a big problem in your family. You weren’t rich, but your family supported you as much as they could and with your job as a bartender at one of the fanciest hotels, you could pay your rent, pay off part of your college tuition, and have a nice meal three days a week. You couldn’t complain about finances.

However, one thing you could complain about was the lack of sex and friendly company you had in your life. You weren’t one to sleep around much but you surely had some former friends (with benefits) who you’d call up when you’re really desperate. But you wanted something new, exciting, something you’ve never done before.

So in a matter of minutes, you had signed up for a sugar daddy website and were now scrolling through the possible candidates, opting for the younger range of rich men. After a while it got repetitive, the young company heirs or CEO's not really catching your interest in your sleep deprived state.

You’d forgotten about the website after some days, ignoring the messages of sleazy men who definitely were not interested in just some friendly company. But when you got a message at work from someone called Min Yoongi, who introduced himself friendly and politely, your interest was peaked.

Arriving home, the first thing you did was look at his profile. Luckily, he had a picture on it and you bit your lip. His dyed dark blond hair was falling into his face, the glasses adorning his button nose complimenting his face. His facial structure was defined, cheekbones and jawline sharp, dark, intense eyes and lips stretched into a small smile. Directing your attention away from his looks, you studied his profile further. He was one of Seoul’s top corporate lawyers at the tender age of 32. Right up your alley. His message to you was not long but elaborate enough to give you an idea of what you could expect.

Min Yoongi: Good evening, my name is Min Yoongi. I’ve stumbled upon your profile and besides you being very beautiful, you have peaked my interest. Like you, I wanted to try out something new so here I am. I am not one for relationships nor for the friends with benefits. I would love to have some pleasant company to talk to, to spend time with, in any way you’d like. I would love to get to know you further if you are interested. If that is not the case, I wish you a good day.

Your heart thumped in your chest at his demeanor. He was respectful, rich, good-looking and just as bored and lonely as you are. What more could you want?

You: Good evening, Mr. Min. I apologize for the nightly bother. My name is Y/N Y/L/N and after looking at your profile, I am interested in getting to know you further just as much. I am not short on money, however, so I am not only interested in that. I just want to try this out and I am looking forward to seeing how it will work out as I’m quite new to this whole ordeal.

You looked over the message multiple times, not wanting to come off as rude before you hit send. Stifling a yawn, you now felt sleep tugging at your limbs as you turned off your laptop and slowly walked to the bathroom to take off your makeup and fall into a deep slumber.

You had messaged back and forth for a week, exchanging mutual interests and personal information, when he suggested meeting up. You were sure that he would be the perfect sugar daddy for you. Silently giggling at the name, you thought about how you would look just like any other couple having a date since he wasn’t that much older than you, nor did he look much older.

He had told you a date, time and place to meet up to which you could only agree since it was your day, or night, off.

You had dressed up in the nicest dress you could find. The burgundy colored fabric swept over your chest and shoulders, not showing much cleavage and ending above your knees. Then again, the back was low cut, showing off your smooth skin. He’d insisted on getting a cab for you so after you finished touching up your makeup and your hair before you grabbed your clutch, put on your heels and took a thin scarf with you to wait for the car.

When you arrived and told the waitress your name, her already dazzling smile widened and she guided you to a secluded table where your date had already been waiting for you. Your breath hitched when he stood up, buttoning up his blazer as he thanked the waitress and diverted his gaze back to you. He smiled and took your hand, lifting it up to his plush lips before pressing down a gentle kiss to it. When he straightened up again and opened his mouth, you felt your cheeks and your lower abdomen heat up.

“I’m glad you could come, Y/N,” he murmured, loud enough for you to hear and send shivers down your spine. You regained your composure and smiled, thanking him for the invitation. His smile widened and he walked around you to pull out the chair and push it closer to the table when you were seated.

“I certainly didn’t think that it could be possible for you to be even more stunning, but I was wrong. You look amazing.” You felt heat rush to your cheeks at the compliment and thanked him while looking down on your lap.

“I can only say the same. You look like you just jumped out of a magazine,” you chuckled and licked your lips.

He really did. While he looked different from his profile picture, he still looked incredibly handsome. His gray hair was pushed back, revealing his forehead and he opted for a light blue button up, two buttons undone, along with a black suit jacket that accentuated his shoulders. His skin was glowing as if he had submerged his face into a pot of hot gold. His eyes were adorned with some light eyeshadow and his strong brows quirked as he noticed your wandering gaze.

“Enjoying the view?”

You inhaled sharply, the heat on your cheeks not subsiding as he smirked and leaned back in his chair. His head was tilted and his lips were slightly parted as he took your figure in. Your dress hugged your body, revealing just the right amount of skin. His gaze wandered over your neck to your face, framed by your hair. Your makeup was not too much, not too little. Your eyes were sparkling in the dim lights of the restaurant and he found himself more infatuated with you already.

You studied the menu the waitress had brought and your eyes nearly bulged out at the prices, even of the simpler meals. ‘Must be some fancy ingredient,’ you thought and pursed your lips in thought.

“Don’t worry about the price.” His gravelly voice sent chills through your body and you nodded, ordering a filet mignon with roasted vegetables on the side.

Yoongi had already ordered a bottle of Dom Perignon which was placed in a silver bucket filled with ice next to your table. You took a sip, feeling the liquid run down your throat pleasantly as you licked your lips again. Nervous fingers were tapping against the surface of the table, fleeting gazes and soft voices were exchanged.

An hour later, you had finished your food and the bottle of champagne and settled on more informal speech. Yoongi was holding your hand, thumb stroking over your skin as he spoke about what he likes to do in his little spare time. His cheeks were slightly flushed and you smiled as you listened intently to his preferences in music, food, art. His eyes were glazed over with slight adoration when you started talking about your personal life, your job, your taste in music and art.

The date had ended too quickly for both you and him but the night was bound to end when he called the waitress to bring the bill, not letting you see.

“Money is my part to take care of. Don’t worry about it.”

When he called a cab for you, he reached into his jacket to take out a small envelope.

“Thank you for tonight. In here, there are 400 dollars and my phone number. Text me when you get home safely and I’ll see you next time. Have a good night, Y/N,” he mumbled and kissed your hand again as the cab arrives. He was quick to open the door for you to get inside as he leaned forward to tell the driver to “get this lovely young lady home safely”, to which he only laughed and reassured him that he would.

“Thank you, Yoongi. I had a wonderful time.” You shot him a bright smile as you got into the cab, adjusting your dress and closing the door while giving your address to the cab driver. Driving off, you looked back to see him standing on the sidewalk with a small smile playing on his lips as he turned around to what you assumed was his car and drove off as well.

When you got to your place that night, having shrugged off your shoes and taken off your dress, you lounged around in your lingerie, punching Yoongi’s number into your phone. Checking the money to realize that there were indeed 400 bucks in your hand, you quickly texted him to assure him of your safety before hopping into the shower.

In the following weeks, you’d texted back and forth, meeting up whenever both your schedules would allow it. One night, he and his friends and work partners decided to celebrate a successful month at the bar you worked at, taking you by surprise. Yoongi was usually quite reserved and polite in your presence and seeing him loosening up and ordering rounds of shots had your insides warming. You could tell he could hold his liquor quite well, the only hint being his glossy, blown out eyes and the blush adorning his soft cheeks.

He sat on one of the bar stools, leaning a little over the counter as he took in your figure. He’d ditched the glasses for the night, letting your attention shift more to his eyes than usual. They had a unique shape, dark, sparkling irises as if there were stars trapped inside them as he looked at you fondly.

“What can I get you? More shots or are you done for the night?” You chuckled and waved your hand in front of his face. He shook his head and ordered an old-fashioned, keeping his gaze on you as he took sip after sip.

“You look amazing.”

You blushed a little, glad about the dim lights. “Yoongi, I’ve been wearing my work clothes for hours. I feel like death itself. And you’re tipsy.”

He propped his elbow on the counter, letting his head rest heavily on his hand as he smiled at you. His eyes were glazed over, glossy from the alcohol and his cheeks were flushed in a beautiful shade of crimson.

“I don’t care what you’re wearing. You always look beautiful,” he mumbled and rubbed his eyes slowly after taking a look at the Rolex around his slim wrist. It was then you paid attention to his hands. His fingers were long, not too thin or thick and the visible veins stretching over the back of his hand continued on his forearm, disappearing in the rolled up sleeve of his black button up.

“When does your shift end, lovely?”

Your breath hitched in your throat at the term of endearment and you stammered out, “I-in 20 minutes.”

“Alright. I’ll wait and have you driven home.”

“Yoongi, you don’t-“

“No complaints. I wanna make sure you get home safely. I know you’d be walking home alone and I don’t want anything to happen to you, especially when those sleazy brats over there notice you leaving,” he said authoritatively and you looked across the room to see three young men watching you with wide smirks that were plastered on their face, clearly having consumed some liquid confidence to stare at you so bluntly. You heaved out a sigh and directed your gaze back to Yoongi.

“Fine.”

“Good girl.”

It then became a regular habit for him to visit you at work after he finished, just to check up on you and get you home, maybe have a drink prepared by your skilled hands. He would sit at the counter with his sleeves rolled up and his hair disheveled, the bags under his eyes an indication of rough days as he looked at you while drinking his old-fashioned. He would leave a horrendously high tip, telling you to keep it as a payment for keeping him company on those lonely nights.

Your ‘dates’ with Yoongi had started quite tame, going to cafés and restaurants, sometimes even a little walk in the park on his lunch break. He was timid, careful, only reaching out to let his hand rest at the small of your back when someone walked by and he didn’t want you to bump into them or gently pulling you back by your wrist when you went shopping and didn’t look both sides before crossing the street. Soon enough, he got a little more confident the more you got to know each other. He would hold your hand when walking from his office to a nearby place to get lunch or place a gentle kiss on your cheek when you were dropped off at your apartment after your last shift of the week.

Usually, it wasn’t him driving but today, when your shift ended, he took your hand and guided you outside to his car. He opened the door for you to get in and smiled when you started touching the soft seats and looked around the interior.

“Do you like it?” He started the engine and started driving off. You could only nod, now feeling sleep wash over you as you let out a yawn. Yoongi’s gaze softened when he saw your eyes closed, your head leaning against the window, and your lips slightly parted. It was a rough night. Deep in thought, he forgot about dropping you off at your apartment because hell, you looked adorable even when sleeping, and he really didn’t want to wake you up.

When you opened your eyes, you were met with soft silky sheets, the soft sound of rain, and a shirt that wasn’t yours on your body. For a split second, you thought you had been so drunk that you couldn’t remember going home with somebody but then it came back to you. Yoongi had been driving you home after work but you fell asleep and now you were here. You rolled around the king sized bed, taking in the simple interior and the familiar smell of Yoongi’s cologne when it hit you that you were in his bedroom.

Getting out of the incredibly comfortable bed, you stretched and let out a small yawn when you heard footsteps approaching. Yoongi appeared and smiled at you. He was dressed in black sweats and a white t-shirt, similar to the one you were wearing. His hair was messy and his eyes were still glazed over with sleepiness.

“Good morning. I hope you aren’t too shocked to be here. You were sleeping so peacefully last night, I didn’t want to wake you up. I hope you don’t mind,” he mumbled and his voice was even raspier than usual, sending electricity through you. Your mind was still a little hazy and you could only think about the shirt you were wearing, its smell so familiar and rich.

“It’s fine, thank you. I-Is this your shirt?” you stammered and blushed lightly, tugging on the hem and you then realized that this shirt barely covered your butt. Yoongi chuckled and rubbed the back of his neck.

“Yeah. But don’t worry, I didn’t have any ulterior motives while undressing you. You just seemed very uncomfortable in your work clothes so…” His voice trailed off and when you looked up, you could see a light shade of cherry on his cheeks as he looked to the side. Your heart warmed and you silently thanked him for being so attentive and caring. Your head tilted to the side curiously.

“Shouldn’t you be at work right now? What about your clients?” you asked, fiddling with the hem of the shirt.

“Today is one of my few days off. I figured that we could go out to get some breakfast if you’d like? There’s a really nice café right across the street, they serve the softest pancakes you’ve ever eaten.”

That’s how it went for weeks. Yoongi coming by to pick you up from work and taking you to his or your place. Growing more comfortable around each other, you’d often sit on his lap with his arm wrapped around his waist while watching a movie. He’d occasionally even kiss your shoulder or your knuckles, making you blush. Or he’d have his head on your lap with you massaging his scalp to take his thoughts off a stressful day. Or he’d visit you at work and stare at you in awe when there was a full house and you’d have to slide from side to side to prepare drinks for various customers. Your bank account was filled with more money over the course of two months than what you’d made in the past year.

Occasionally, he’d send you gifts in the form of jewelry, clothes, or books he thought you’d like and you couldn’t say you didn’t. Even if you knew that he was only paying you for keeping him company and going out with him, you felt comfortable around him and would even consider him as a friend. He’d given you advice on lots of personal things and you’d be lying if you said you weren’t thankful for having someone older and more experienced in life as a friend.

However, the sexual tension between you has increased rapidly. On occasion, his hand would go from your waist to lightly grip your ass whenever you would go out. Hell, he’d even do it when you were on the couch while watching some shitty rom-com. And even if it wasn’t necessarily part of your relationship to him to have sex, you’d already discussed your do’s and don’t’s. Just in case. You were surprised about how much you and Yoongi had in common not only in terms of art and music but also about what riled you up. You had even gotten tested together. Your anticipation for the time you’d have sex with him rose with every passing day.

Snapping back to reality, you let out a shaky sigh when his middle finger started rubbing slow circles on your clit and you felt yourself getting wetter and wetter. You were sure he’d feel it too. Yoongi leaned over to you and his hot breath fanned over your ear, sending goosebumps all over your skin. He kissed the spot right below your ear and smirked when you shuddered visibly.

“I’m sorry for keeping you here so long. We’ll get home soon so let’s have a little fun until then. What do you think, princess?”

You could only nod, not trusting your voice as he scooted a little closer to you and put a little more pressure on your clit. You willingly opened your legs a little more and bit your lip. Good thing the tablecloth was long enough to cover your legs and what Yoongi was doing between them. He carried on with the conversation across the table as if nothing happened while you sucked in a deep breath when he pushed your flimsy panties (that he also bought for you, by the way) aside. Air hit your exposed core just for a few seconds before he slowly pushed a finger inside you. You sat up straight in your chair, suddenly having all eyes on you.

You smiled and excused yourself from the table, heading to the restrooms, pretending to not feel well. You knew Yoongi would follow you so you swayed your hips a little more than usual.

Touching up your lipstick, you heard someone come into the room. You saw him in the reflection of the mirror and you turned around, only to be picked up and set on the counter, your ass just mere centimeters away from the sink. Yoongi got between your legs and looked into your eyes, blown out with lust before he leaned forward to kiss you feverishly. You grabbed his shoulders, one hand sliding up to grip his hair.

“Do you know how long I wanted to do this?” he panted. He leaned his forehead against yours and one corner of his lips quirked upwards before he pecked your lips again.

“What have you been waiting for?” you whimpered as he slid his hands under your dress again, bunching up the soft fabric at your hips. He shrugged and placed gentle kisses on your neck and shoulder.

“I don’t know. I guess I didn’t want to rush anything. And I still don’t want to.”

His fingers hooked into your panties and he slowly slid the fabric down your thighs, stuffing it into his pocket so no one could see it. He then bent down, parting your legs even further and tracing a finger along your already glistening slit. You scooted forward a little to give him better access and he let out a chuckle at your neediness, slowly inching his fingers along your thighs.

“You’re so ready for me, aren’t you?”

He looked up to your flushed face and you nodded. Yoongi smirked and kissed your skin, starting from your knees, up to your hipbone as he relished in your shaky whimpers. Your skin heated up even more and you whined when he didn’t put his plush lips where you wanted. He kept teasing you, switching to your other leg while slowly rubbing your clit.

“Y-Yoongi, please,” you mewled and tilted your head back, closing your eyes as he slowly pushed one of his long fingers inside you.

“Will you be a good girl for me?” he mumbled against your inner thigh before sucking a small hickey. His finger slowly moved in and out of you, coating it with your arousal.

“Yes, S-Sir.” You deemed the name to be appropriate and it flowed naturally from your lips. He hummed and slowly pushed another finger in, curling them against your walls to find the spot that made your vision go white for a split second. One of your hands grasped the gray strands of his soft hair and when you let out a loud whine against the hand you’d clasped on your mouth to prevent anyone from hearing, his smirk widened in victory as he abused the spot. Your brows pulled together and your hips started moving on their own accord against his godsent fingers.

Your walls began to tighten around his fingers when he started lapping his tongue at your clit leisurely, slowly but surely pushing you towards the edge. But right when your moans increased in volume and pitch, he pulled away, leaving you high and dry. You let out a soft whine, trying to pull him close by his hair but he wouldn’t have it. He got up and quickly pecked your pouty lips.

“I’ll reward you when we get home, princess.” His deep voice made you shiver, along with the promise. He held his finger up to your lips and you made quick work of lapping at them, wrapping your lips around the digits as you moaned at the taste of your arousal. His mouth quirked and he pulled his fingers away to replace them with his lips, not caring about having lipstick all over them. His tongue swiped over your bottom lip and you whimpered as you parted your lips. His tongue moved over yours lightly, circling around it and you tried to clench your thighs but Yoongi was between them, smirking.

He parted from you, panting softly. His eyes were hazy with lust and he gave you one last, slow kiss. Stepping back, he held out his hand to help you get down.

“Yoongi, can you give me my-“

“Nope.”

“I’m serious, I’ll stain my dre-“

“So what? I’ll buy you a new one. Please, for me. Do you feel uncomfortable?” He tilted his head, eyes full of understanding. You shakily got down from the counter and fixed your dress, checking for any stains and smoothing down the slight wrinkles.

“N-No, not really. But I don’t want to ruin this dress, it’s so pretty and I’m scared someone’s gonna see..”

“You won’t, I promise. We won’t be here for too long because I really, really need you,” he mumbled and you shot a quick look to his crotch, where his cock strained against the dress pants. He let out a hiss when you slowly palmed him, feeling him throb slightly while you let out a sigh.

“Fine, don’t make me wait too long.”

“I won’t. Let’s go. Don’t forget to keep up your act,” he chuckled and quickly washed away the lipstick from his face and fingers before taking your hand and kissing your cheek.

You walked out of the bathroom, earning a few looks but you both smiled as you arrived at your table, soon bidding farewell and excusing yourself again for not feeling well. The elderly couple chuckled in understanding and you shook their hands with an apologetic smile before you left the fancy dinner.

The ride home was filled with anticipation, the hand on your inner thigh having you painfully alert of the heat pooling between your legs as Yoongi calmly drove to his apartment. His hand only left your body when he got out of the car to open the door for you. His smile gave you a wave of security and comfort as you shakily stepped out, taking his hand again.

As soon as you stepped into the apartment, his gravelly voice reached your ears with the command to go to his bedroom, strip down to the lingerie he’d bought you and wait on your knees on the floor. You squeaked out a “Yes, Sir” before quickly walking off to his bedroom, your hips swaying more than usual. Yoongi walked into the kitchen, getting a glass of water and a straw before he got into the bathroom, taking out one of his bathbombs and setting it on the edge of the bathtub.

When he walked into the room, a smirk played on his lips at the sight of you, in the beautiful light pink lacy bra he’d bought you a few weeks ago, your dress draped over the chair at his desk. He leaned against the doorframe after setting down the glass of water on the nightstand, humming contently at you being so submissive, not even daring to look at him. He spoke as he crossed his arms in front of his chest.

“Look at me, princess. Let me see that pretty face.”

You hesitantly raised your gaze to look at his dark eyes, irises almost disappearing with his pupils blown out like that. You bit your lip to keep yourself from whimpering and he certainly noticed, walking in long strides towards you. He gently pulled on your bottom lip to release it.

“Don’t ever hold back your sounds, do you understand? I wanna hear you at all times.”

“Yes, Sir.”

“Safeword?”

“Ginger, Sir.”

Yoongi hummed and tilted his head, taking in your already flushed face, down to your neck and chest before his gaze went down to your crotch. His smirk widened as he saw your thighs glistening with your slick and he reached between your legs, parting them a little more. You let out a quiet whimper when he cupped your mound and found his fingertips coated with a glistening layer of arousal. He made quick work of your bra, unclasping it expertly before throwing it over his shoulder.

“Lay on the bed and put your hands up.” He undid his tie and opened two buttons of his dress shirt to let his collarbones appear. You obeyed, letting Yoongi lean over you as his hand quickly tied your wrists together while his lips were busy kissing along your jaw.

You let out mewls when he started gripping your waist and sucking hickeys along your neck, leaving you marked in pretty hues of purple and red. His hands slid down your sides to your hips. His thumbs massaged your hipbones while he kissed you, tongues circling around each other. The small noises that left your lips were swallowed by his own and he parted from you. Yoongi watched you with hazy eyes and bit his lip when you spread your legs, showing your glossy arousal. Begging silently.

“You’re already so needy while I haven’t even started yet, princess.”

You didn’t think it was possible for his voice to go an octave lower and you whined, wanting him closer. He stepped back to watch you writhe under his dark gaze. Adrenaline rushed through his veins at the thought of finally having you. Pleasuring you. Ravishing you. Yoongi bit his lip and hovered over you, leaving open mouthed kisses along your neck and collarbone. When his lips reached your chest, one of his hands reached up to massage your breast in slow, steady movements while his tongue flicked against your sensitive nipple, teeth grazing it to gently tug on it.

Time wasn’t a concept with Yoongi, it has never been. You don’t know how long it’s been since he’s settled himself between your legs that were covered in hickeys, with your hands grasping the soft strands of his hair. You don’t know how many orgasms he’s denied, leaving your core throbbing and swollen. The only thing you knew was that you were covered in sweat, whining and trashing in his hold, begging for him to give you that sweet, sweet release. The lower half of his face and his fingers, along with the sheets underneath you were covered in your juices as he parts from you. He licked his digits clean and wiped his lips, smirking at your whimpers.

“You look so pretty like this. You did so well, I’m proud of you. I think it’s time for your reward.”

You tried to sit up, forcing your wobbling limbs to move. You watched him taking off his jacket, putting it on the chair over your dress. His long fingers then started working on the buttons of his shirt. A needy whine left your lips at the sight.

“Yes, princess?” he asked, one perfectly shaped eyebrow raised. You gulped, trying to find your voice as you spoke quietly.

“M-May I he-help with that, S-Sir?”

He smirked and motioned for you to get on the edge of the bed to help him. You reached up with shaky hands, undoing button by button and unveiling smooth soft skin. Your mouth watered and you licked your lips as he shrugged off the fabric and threw it next to the bed. He closed his eyes with a small sigh as your tied hands ran over his hot skin. Leaving a trail of goosebumps all over his torso, you slightly scraped your nails against the dips of his abdomen and chest. A hand snaked its way into your hair and gently tugged on it.

“Enough of that. Take off those pants for me.”

“Yes, Sir.”

You made quick work of the button and zipper, both of you too impatient to take it slow. He stepped out of them and nodded when you slowly hooked your fingers into the waistband of his boxers, eyes hazing over in anticipation. He’d been hard since the dinner, a small wet patch in the front visible. His erection sprung out, the tip leaking precum. You pulled the boxers down and after he stepped out of them as well, his grip on your hair tightened to tilt your head back.

You stuck out your tongue, leaving kitten lips along the tip and lapping up the precum that’s gathered there. His sharp eyes watched your every move as your sinful lips wrapped around his girth and slowly moved along his cock. He slowly guided them down his length and you let out a slight gagging sound as the tip hit the back of your throat but he held you there, your nose brushing against his pelvic bone. After a few more excruciating seconds, he pulled you off, watching you gasp for air, chest heaving. He repeated the motion a few more times before gently grasping your jaw to hold it open as he started thrusting into your mouth harshly and relishing in the sounds you made. Spit was slowly running down your chin while you concentrated on breathing through your nose. Hot tears made their way down your cheeks.

Looking up through your lashes that were decorated with tears, the pain you felt in your throat was worth the sight. Yoongi’s brows were furrowed as he struggled to keep his eyes trained on you, sweat rolling down his neck and chest. His lips were slightly parted to let out the lowest groans and whines. You felt the waves of arousal wash over your body, your pussy throbbing at how his head lolled back, exposing the thick vein on his neck as it took all of his self-control to pull your lips off his cock and not cum all over your innocent looking face.

“You did so well, princess.” He reached his hand out to gently wipe away the spit on your chin, your head leaning into his touch and skin flushing at the praise.

“Get on the bed, on your hands and knees. I wanna see how much you want my cock inside you.”

You scrambled onto the silken sheets, getting on all fours as well as you could with your tied hands when you felt the bed dip behind you. Yoongi settled himself on his knees behind you and spread your ass cheeks, only to be greeted with your arousal slowly dripping down on the sheets and making your thighs glimmer. His lips quirked up into a wide smirk as he slipped two fingers inside you, emitting a lewd squelch when he moved them slowly. He bit his lip to hide the giddy grin, even if you couldn’t see it. He was the reason why you were pushing back onto his fingers, little whimpers leaving your lips.

He snapped out of his daze and retreated his fingers. Getting a condom, he quickly ripped open the package and rolled the rubber on his length with a sucked in breath before he settled behind you again and rubbing his cock along your soaked folds. You pushed back against him, desperate for any attention your pussy could get but you squeaked when his palm hit your buttock, the sound ringing throughout the room. He kept rubbing himself against you to lube himself up, occasionally pushing between your butt cheeks.

After keeping the teasing up for a while, he grabbed your ass with one hand while the other grabbed his cock, slowly pushing into you and savoring the tight heat that was your walls. Your head rolled forward as you closed your eyes and let out a drawn out moan that ended in a whimper when he bottomed out. A hand was sneaking along your back to get a tight grip on your hair, making your back arch almost painfully as you adjusted to his size.

The pain was worth it as he started moving, the tip of his cock grazing your g-spot just right as he angled his thrusts. Your lips were parted, groans leaving them as he picked up his pace. Soon enough, his hips were smacking against your ass bruisingly and he leaned over you to slowly put his hand on your throat. You gasped, the pleasure getting overwhelming as you grew slightly lightheaded from his grip around your throat and his sharp thrusts that had you clenching around him, your orgasm getting closer and closer. You could taste the high on your tongue but Yoongi abruptly stopped thrusting.

"Don't cum, princess. Not yet," he panted and caressed your back as he leaned back up. You let out a loud whine of incoherent words, not being able to think straight as you felt tears brimming in your eyes of being so close to your climax but have it denied again. He leaned forward again, pressing assuring kisses along your spine and muttering praises that had you keening under his lips. You wanted to drink in all of them and get drunk off them, feeling the adrenaline rush through your veins as he gripped your hair tighter and pulled you up, flush against his chest.

His hand left your hair to wrap around your throat again, squeezing lightly while the other one snaked down your body, between your trembling legs to rub slow circles onto your swollen clit that was aching to be touched. He ground up against you so deliciously that you felt like passing out, tears streaming down your face as you felt your high approaching again.

"Sir, p-please, I n-need to-o cu-um," you whined, voice breaking at the last syllable and to your luck, Yoongi showed mercy as he nudged your legs apart further and lifted his hand to start spanking your engorged clit lightly.

"Cum for me, princess. You deserve it. Cum on my cock," he murmured into your ear, the encouraging tone of his raspy voice sending you over the edge. You choked out a sob as your orgasm washed over you, pleasure running through your veins and if it wasn't for Yoongi's hold around your waist, you would've doubled over onto your restrained hands.

Your eyes were closed tightly and your hands shot up to wrap around his wrist as your vision went blank and your lips parted in a moan that probably could've been heard by all of his neighbors but you couldn't care less as you trembled in his hold. He kept thrusting harshly, riding out your high while chasing his own.

It took him a few more thrusts into your throbbing, clenching pussy before his hips stuttered and he groaned into the crook of your neck as he released into the condom, slowing down to ride out his high but not wanting to overstimulate you too much. His hand released your throat and tightly gripped your restrained ones as he slowly laid you down on the bed while pressing his lips on your shoulder and neck, murmuring worships into your ear that you took in with a hazy smile. After a few seconds of calming down, he pulled out of you with a small sigh. You whined at the empty feeling while he quickly discarded the condom before walking back to the bed and smiling at your blissed out state.

Yoongi climbed back on the bed, gently turning you onto your back and making quick work of the tie around your wrists, the fabric now drenched in your sweat. He kissed your wrists and caressed them with his fingers to make sure you weren't hurt.

"Can you talk, princess?" His gruff voice reached your ears and you opened your eyes to look at his disheveled appearance. The ends of his hair were soaked in sweat, some of it even dripping down before he quickly pushed it up. His lips were swollen and red from biting them so much and his skin was flushed in a subtle shade of red while his dark eyes locked with yours, worry more than evident.

You croaked out your response, eyes widening while he chuckled and gently pulled you closer to lean against his shoulder in a more upright position.

He handed you the glass of water from the nightstand, putting a straw in it before holding it in front of your face. You opened your mouth and let out a pleased moan, along with closing your eyes when you felt the cool liquid run down your used throat, cooling down your body as a whole. Yoongi smoothed his hand over your hair, kissing your forehead lovingly as he watched you down almost the whole glass. You released the straw with a hum and smiled sleepily at him.

"Better now?"

"Y-Yes. Much better. Though I still sound like an 80-year old lady who smoked too many cigarettes," you mumbled and grinned at the hearty laugh that left Yoongi.

"That'll settle soon. Now, how about I run a nice warm bath for you and get you cleaned up?"

The spark in your eyes and the vigorous nod was enough for him to tell you to be a good girl and wait while he almost sprinted into the bathroom, letting in the warm water and dumping the bathbomb into it. While it dissolved, he went back to pick you up bridal style and set you down at the edge of the bathtub carefully, chuckling as you whimpered at the feeling of your still sensitive core against the cold tub. When Yoongi decided that the water has cooled down enough, he grabbed your hand and slowly guided you into the tub, careful not to let you slip before stepping inside as well and settling behind you. With your back against his chest, he slowly leaned back a little, letting you relax at the feeling of his hands caressing your skin. He gave your shoulders a quick massage and started getting you cleaned up.

After he tenderly rubbed you down with a nice smelling body wash and massaged your scalp with some shampoo, Yoongi had taken off your makeup and lotioned you up, taking his time and paying special attention to your butt, throat, and wrists. He put moisturizer on your face that was dry from the tears you’d cried during intercourse, lightly massaging your jaw and put some on your neck as well. His caring nature didn’t change at all and it had your chest buzzing pleasantly as he kissed your nose and told you to wait on the bed while he quickly put on boxers and a shirt. He walked over to the closet to get panties and one of his shirts for you. He slipped them on your body quickly, smiling warmly as you made yourself comfortable under the blanket.

“Do you want anything to eat? Tea? More water?”

“I’m good, thank you. I just want to sleep right now,” you murmured, your speech already slurred with fatigue and he chuckled, slipping under the covers to join you. His arm wrapped around your waist and he pulled you closer. Your hand slipped over his and in your sleepy state, you interlaced your fingers as his lips found your marked up neck again, pressing a soft kiss on the skin.

“Good night, Y/N.”

“Good night, Yoongi, and thanks for tonight.”

“You’re welcome, princess. Anytime.”

His last words were drowned out as you were already drifting off into the deepest sleep you’d had in the last months.

When you woke up, you felt a dull ache clouding your whole body that was quickly replaced by a flush of heat as you remembered the last night’s activities and you looked down at your legs to see them covered in love bites. You smiled and looked over to your side, only to find it empty as the sun shone through the window, illuminating Yoongi’s already heavenly bedroom even more. Your gaze shifted to the nightstand where a sleek envelope was placed with a bright yellow sticky note and Yoongi’s small handwriting.

‘Last night was incredible, thank you. I’m sorry that I had to leave you alone in my apartment but I’ll be back soon, so let’s get some breakfast if you’d like?’

You smiled at his thoughtfulness and allowed yourself to peek into the envelope, only to find 4,000 dollars in cash. A gasp escaped your lips and you double, triple checked to make sure that you really had this sum in your hands. You knew that this amount probably was close to nothing for Yoongi since this was approximately the total of what you’d made in the last three months. It felt weird getting paid this much for one night. But that’s how your relationship went. Even if it had grown into a friendship with certain perks. One of them was spending quality time with one of Seoul’s top lawyers. But there was one thing that was always etched into the back of your mind.

Min Yoongi’s dick may be big, but his paycheck was definitely bigger.

all rights reserved.

#kreativewritersnet #kkreationsnet #boy group writers net #kwriterskollection #bts smut #suga smut #yoongi smut #bts fanfic #yoongi x reader #suga x reader #mine #fic: sweet ardor #trbld writings #luna:writes #1500

[inktae]

gukvory replied to your post “.”

ooh make sure you quickly write down some notes on it if you can, just so you don't forget it!! enjoy your trip, love ��❣️

(and I can one hundred and ten percent confirm that your writing is most definitely not getting worse in the slightest. it is amazing, and so are you!!)

YOU’RE TOO NICE TO ME IVORY thank you, I’ll definitely try and write down some notes before going to sleep, since I’ll get some alone time then (my friends pass out at 10pm, so that will be easy). and you’re the amazing one ;v;

#gukvory

[vankoya]

Fight Blood with Blood.

Genre | Witch Hunter AU.

Pairing | Jeon Jeongguk / Feminine Reader.

Words | 6,611 words.

Conspectus | Amid the white of the snow, the pitch black of the night, the small witch besmears the calm scenery as a speck of crimson. Marring Jeongguk’s every thought like the death of him.

Warnings | Blood. Vague gore. Character and animal death. Also note that the ‘reader’ is referred to as small and tiny. This is not necessarily what her figure is, it is just how Jeongguk visualises her in comparison to his own size, which is comparably much bigger than the size of real life Jeon Jeongguk.

“This is the truest of crimes, you know.”

The air is bone cold. Ice crackles and pops beneath the two wooden wheels of the cart. Breath steams in puffs of white at his lips. 

But she is vibrant. Blood against the white backdrop of snow that sticks to the soil, tucks between the frostbitten bark, and drips from icicles clinging to dead branches like daggers threatening to fall. Thick scarlet flows in the cotton of her red riding hood coat. Jeongguk pales beside her frame that nestles into his hulking side, a black mass of fur trim that tickles the cut of his jaw; wraps in grimy leather boots around his calves; shimmers in the onyx metal of the shotgun resting against his thigh.

Often, it is difficult to remember who is the monster. The cardinal or the crow.

“What is?” Jeongguk hums, tries to act indifferent but he knows she sees right through that facade now. Like mist clinging to the glass of a windowpane, her warm palms had effortlessly wiped the condensation away weeks ago, and he just as easily allowed her to. It is almost as though he wanted it, for her to peer in and take a look, to see that his insides are just as black as his plumage.

The handcuffs jingle when she lifts her wrists into view, leans into him. She feels warm against his arm, tempting. “These little darlings. Enchanted with a binding spell that I knew how to perform by the age of ten. You claim to hunt my kind, yet you need us to do so in the first place.”

“Touché.”

It is true, the hunters need them, those malevolent, selfish witches with their wicked fingers and tongues, as evil to their own kind as they are to all but themselves. Anything to have the upper hand, the benefit, the promise of another hundred years to crease the skin of their knuckles with lines of the cast; the making, the destroying. Fight blood with blood, they say. But she, the little bird that Jeongguk found whistling a sweet tune between evergreen trees, chasing a sickly rabbit to have in a stew, to ground the bones for later magic, never fit into that mould. Not an inkling suggested that her voice has ever crafted an incantation that’s seared villages down to the ashes, pulled a human apart limb for limb and eaten their heart from the inside out, poisoned a lake that supplies fresh water for the three towns within a fifty mile radius.

He still does not know, after all, what she did to land here beside him on this winding, snowy road in the middle of here and there. Handcuffed, wrists raw from the biting metal, trembling around her soft voice that chirps every now and then to the man that will claim the bounty on her head. A couple ten thousand. Not the biggest that the hunter circle has known, yet the largest sum he will ever stuff into his own, dirtied pockets.

“It’s getting dark, will we make it?” Her lips pout, brow daintily pinching. A pretty little thing, she is. Probably a murderer, too. All the ones that look like sugar and cream have thick tar running through their veins, pumping out of their heart.

But Jeongguk bets she tastes as sweet as cherry pie and has thought such a thing since five weeks ago when she willingly offered her hands to the jaws of the cuffs. All the way up until this very day.

“No, we’ll have to set up camp in the woods,” Jeongguk mutters with blatant distaste, eyeing the withered horses that seem to stride slower as the sun descends at a steady pace behind the thick blanket of overcast. The present threat of the darkening evening lugs at their hooves, weighs down at the tips of his own lashes in an unwelcome lethargy that has him pulling their reigns, guiding them off the path; neither too near to the tracks where a wandering by crook can steal his loot, nor too far that they completely lose the way.

She shrinks closer to his body now, looking absolutely unsure with her wide, fawn-like eyes, nervous as the horses tiredly wind them through the stark naked trees. Her teeth cling to her swollen lower lip again, and Jeongguk wants to hold her rubescent cheekbones between his grubby fingertips and kiss her silly. A dangerous, dangerous thought.

“Is the big bad witch afraid of the wilderness?” Jeongguk hums instead, admittedly satisfied at the way she tucks her stocking-covered knees into the side of his thigh, melding ever so near, handcuffs tinkling like fairy music; a sharp reminder ringing through his hearing of who she is, why she is here.

“I just–“ And she shivers, the kind that ripples from your toes to your nose and rattles your teeth in its trek– “Hate, hate, hate the cold.”

“We’ll build a fire,” Jeongguk chuckles, knows of at least three other ways he can keep her warm though retains those thoughts, tightly sealed underneath his tongue, “or we’ll try, at least. Might be too wet.”

She grumbles under her breath while Jeongguk pulls tight on the reins, the horses snorting and huffing white mist as they come to a standstill in a small clearing of white space, surrounded by the stark silhouettes of tree trunks. Effortlessly, he swings off the cart like a swooping crow and tends to the two black beauties, unhinging the pole between them, numb fingers fiddling over the buckles and leather straps of the breast collars, traces, and bridles; soothing them under his breath all the while, palms gentle on their smooth, midnight coats. The air is colder on his lips by the time he is releasing them from the weight of the cart, carefully lowering the front onto the snow-covered ground. Though his hands slip at the last fifteen or so centimetres and it suddenly thumps down. His ears perk up at the tinkling of chains, the panicked shriek and scuffled scramble as the witch struggles to keep upright on the seat.

“You’re still up there?” Jeongguk frowns, to which she lifts up her shackled wrists and stares levelly at him, encouraging him to roll his eyes. “You could’ve jumped down.”

“I’m cold, weak, and bound,” she huffs, gaze trained on him as he strides around to her side of the cart, “so it didn’t seem like that fantastic of an idea to test out. I don’t want a face full of snow.”

“No, we most certainly don’t want the imprisoned witch to suffer,” and although the sarcasm is laced lethally through his tone, Jeongguk stretches his long arms out to her anyway. Dark, strong muscles that look like reaching shadows amongst all the white. “Come here.”

Wetly sniffing, she shuffles close until his hands can wrap around her red waist, thumbs pressing into her bottommost ribs and thinking how simply he could crush them when he lifts her up and out of the cart. Once her laced boots are touching the ground, she stumbles a little and Jeongguk balances her with a hand on her shoulder, staring at her pinched and pretty features until she looks up at him, curiosity piqued, and only then does he break away. Jeongguk crosses the open space to near the looming trees and misses her murmured “thank you” when it drifts quietly after him.

Beneath his palms, the bark of each tree is soggy and sodden with melted snow. Jeongguk lolls his head back with a tired groan, and the sky is truly dark now, some of the brighter stars managing to dimly flicker through the sheet of grey clouds.

“No luck?” She calls, and Jeongguk tilts his body just so, enough that he can see her wearily eyeing the horses that hang their heads low, nudging one another.

“Completely saturated.”

“Well, I have an idea, but I don’t think you’ll like it.”

Jeongguk stiffens at that, something terrible striking through his heart and he struggles to keep his face composed, biting down on the twisted hope that tries to leak into his voice, “What might that be?”

She lifts up her wrists as she had done so in the cart no more than a few moments ago, exhibiting that same, level stare that manages to pierce through him, even when they are metres apart. “I can make a fire if you unchain me.”

The laughter that barks out of his throat is sharp, piercing; disbelief and disappointment mixed tightly together into the harsh, grating sound. Of course, of course. How could he think it would be anything other than that? A fool, Jeongguk, a complete and utter fool. Still, he watches her, the way her features remain unchanging, deadly serious and stoic, not giving anything away. Just like that, he falters, considers.

It takes seven steps to reach her, to loom above that tiny frame like the shadows that slink and play around the clearing. Even so, she is more dangerous than he ever could be. The crow may be the predator, but the cardinal is just as cunning.

“Can I trust you?” Jeongguk narrows his eyes, scrutinising her, though she upkeeps her calm play.

“No, of course not,” she’s honest at least, unusual for a witch, “but the risk is up to you. We either freeze over and die just like that, or you can have a little faith and let me build us a fire.”

The ideas circle through his mind again, the other ways to keep warm. He wonders what her skin feels like, if it is soft and plump, hot to the touch. But it seems to be a concept that will be fruitless to tease out of her, witches never being too easy to tempt. And so, for the sake of another day to survive, he rifles around his coat pocket until he pulls out the silver key.

Her eyes do not even zone in on the metal, the means of her release, remaining to keep on Jeongguk’s face and such a matter convinces him all the more that perhaps, it will be okay.

Jeongguk takes her left wrist, bringing it up so that he can fit the key into the cuff there, jostling the binds about until the teeth snag on the latch and the shackles unhook, gape open enough for her hands to easily slip out. His gaze does not leave her own as he stuffs the handcuffs and the key back into his coat pocket, proceeding to fold his arms and raise a thick eyebrow, hoping she is convinced by the brave facade that he stretches and moulds around the thin anxiety clinging to his form.

She sighs. He startles.

“Can you please take some bark from the trees? Just a few handfuls, doesn’t matter if they’re wet,” the witch skirts around him, gingerly rubbing her raw wrists, gaze flicking across the snow that she steps through. Her boot prints are dainty compared to the stomps of his own that press deeper into the white. When she notices that Jeongguk has not moved, nor said a thing, she looks back over her shoulder. A bloodstain beautifully marring the gradient of black to white. “Please?”

“Oh,” he shakes his head, thinks about the sleek onyx of his shotgun, shakes his head again, “yeah, I’ll do that.”

They both work in silence, with Jeongguk peeling and the witch still observing the ground that she treads. He has one armful by the time that she is crouched down, eyeing a spot at the centre of the small clearing, the fingertips of her right hand intermittently clawing at the snow in between shaking the ice from her nails, hissing and cursing under her breath because of the cold. Jeongguk keeps a distance of three feet from her small, hunched form, watching her dig and dig until she reaches the frozen dirt underneath, to which she elicits a pleased sound.

“May I borrow your knife?” She speaks without looking at him, a tiny palm splayed out just beside his boot where the hilt of the blade barely juts out. He wonders if she has noticed it nestled there since the day he chained her up, if maybe she plotted using it against him like this.

“As long as you don’t gut me,” Jeongguk says lightly, but the joke is no joke, and they both know it as he reaches down and pulls it from the strap, carefully twisting the blade in his hand and offering her the hilt.

It is only then that she finally flits her gaze up to him, doe eyes watching widely with amusement, swallowing him whole.

“If I had wanted to kill you, I would’ve done so the moment you unchained me. No, even before that, I would’ve snapped these shackles myself,” and he looks so alarmed that she laughs, a song caught in the still, chilly air. “Like I said, I’ve known this spell since I was ten. Sure, magic is harder to undo than it is to create, though it’s not impossible. Besides, if I really wanted to use that knife against you, then instead of asking you, I would’ve casted an incantation that charms you into handing it over to me without you even realising. You would only notice once the hilt is sticking out of your heart.”

She takes the knife from him then and, instead of driving it into his calf like he thought she might, she starts hacking it into the snow, breaking the frost apart to reach the soil underneath.

The cardinal is an enigma. Jeongguk, scared relatively shitless, knows that one fact for certain.

“Why aren’t you trying to escape? Nor attempting to kill me?” He cannot help but ask, a mountain of questions piled high in his throat, demanding to be spoken while she continues to scrape away the snow.

Her grin is tiny, soft and wicked, like the fact that he says “attempting” is hilariously sweet, to think that he even has a chance against the likes of her. “I’m not escaping because I deserve this awful end. I’ve lived a handful many decades, and I’ve done terrible things that merit a dismal way out. My time to die has come. Maybe a little earlier than I expected, though it happens to the best of us.”

Jeongguk wants to ask more, wishes to pick apart her bones and search the marrow for the answers, more truths, to learn of the genuine honesty about herself and who she is. But whatever he wishes to say becomes lodged in his mouth when he watches her bring the blade to her palm and cut a clean slice through the flesh. Crimson that looks like liquid black beneath the moonless sky instantly bubbles to the surface and spills into the clear patch of dirt that the very same knife carved out.

“W-What are you doing?!” He panics, which the witch has found among her years is a common reaction to the sight of blood, the very essence of mortality. She finds it rather ironic how blood is considered bad because the only way it can come into visual perception is through injury; meaning harm and danger and death. Thus, it is only safe and okay when it is trickling through veins and arteries, out of sight and mind.

The witch stays quiet and calm, dropping the now tarnished blade to the snow and dipping her fingertips into the sticky, red mess accumulating in her other palm. They come away dripping, soaked in the colour of her very own coat, and Jeongguk observes with his lips parted, shoulders rigid while she draws nonsensical script into the frozen surface of the dirt she has cleared. Witch language, looking twisted and evil, like it is going to reach out and bite him if he dares to look away.

“Blood magic,” Jeongguk finally whispers, completely baffled.

Her laugh is melodic, soft, accompanied by the frost that forms on her breath as she continues to write. “Did you think all of this red was simply for show?”

The corners of his lips would quirk towards the darkened sky if he were still not so surprised. “I thought it may have just been your favourite colour. It suits you.”

“So does your smile. It makes you less intimidating.”

Jeongguk cannot tell whether she might be joking, for she is quite possibly the most frightening thing that this forest will ever see. His threatening presence is infinitesimal in comparison to her own.

The inscription is seemingly complete when she lifts her hand away from the intricate cursive, looking back up to Jeongguk with a beckon of her dirt-and-blood-caked hand, following with a point of her forefinger to the exposed soil.

“Drop those on here,” she requests of him, and albeit slightly hesitant, Jeongguk gradually closes the distance and kneels down beside her, the cold seeping through his thick pants as he arranges the bark into a misshapen pile over the nearly invisible crimson marks. She beams at him, a curve of white that sparkles between her lips and causes his heart to race before she faces the beginnings of a fire and squeezes the rest of the blood from her wounded palm atop the already damp pieces of tree.

Jeongguk watches her press the gash against the snow, wiping away the remnants of crimson, and only a moment later does he realise she is whispering rapidly beneath her breath. A spell that loops and winds through the quiet clearing, frosts white at her lips until suddenly, with a cracking sound like a snapping branch, the bark ignites in a burst of well-needed warmth. Candescent orange licks along the dead bits of tree, sizzling when the tongues of flame venture too near to their snowy confines.

“There, we won’t be dying by the hands of the cold tonight,” she says, though Jeongguk hardly notices her soft voice in the clearing with his eyes peeled on the sight of the gash on her palm slowly healing itself. A sinister sense of danger thrums heavy in his chest, fingers itching to reach for the icy metal of the shotgun and level the barrel at her heart, yet he snaps his gaze towards the kneeling witch when her lips part a second time. The smile she wears is too tender; cast with warmth by the flames.

“Pull the rear of the cart to the edge of the fire and we can use the bed as a seat instead of the snow. That way, our coats won’t get wet and we’ll stay warm.”

Jeongguk wordlessly, ludicrously, abides by the word of his prisoner. He lugs the cart away from the horses and turns it so that its bed faces the fire and the witch, albeit with a fight from the snow getting caught in the old wheels. The flames reside close to the edge of the bedding, though, with the cold wetness that has seeped into the wood of the cart’s structure, there is hardly a single chance that it would catch alight. Obviously pleased with this turn of events, of having a flickering fire and a relatively dry space to lay, the witch claps her hands rather sweetly, wincing a little and pouting over the sharp sting at the impact made with her wound.

Jeongguk carefully skirts around the cart so he can sit on the edge of the bed; a bundle of darkness huddling into itself. He inclines his chin towards her hand and says, “Isn’t it painful cutting yourself to perform magic?”

“Not anymore, though it hurt like hell when I was just a kid,” the witch inspects her palm, the puckered gash that no longer bleeds. “But back then, I only did magic that required a small amount, only pinpricks to fingertips. I can control how much blood comes out, so I could’ve made the inscription for the fire with just a slice the size of a paper cut, but it would’ve taken much longer. The bigger the wound, the faster the magic.” She presses a handful of snow to the freshly sealed cut, holding it tight between her palms, cocking her head as she looks up at Jeongguk. “Also, didn’t you know I was a blood witch?”

“Not a clue,” Jeongguk looks away as the confession slips from his lips, sheepishly rubbing a hand at the nape of his neck. Out of the corner of his eye, her expression appears genuinely baffled, staring at him with saucer-wide eyes before returning her focus to the fire.

“Isn’t all of that information already provided to you before you hunt? So you know what you’re facing?”

Jeongguk scowls at the way in which she adjusts the alight bark, her fingers dipping into the fire without a care, coming out unscathed, a black ash that dusts her knuckles being the only evidence of the contact. “No. Your papers were untouched, save for the sum of your bounty. There was not even a smudge of ink to suggest what your abilities were, what you had done to earn such a penalty. That’s why I took you on when nobody else would. There’s always a fear when it comes to chasing the unknown.”

She ceases toying with the fire and swoops to her feet with airy elegance. “But you’re not afraid?”

“Everyone’s afraid, that’s natural human instinct,” Jeongguk says with a shrug, making space for her on the edge of the cart. The witch sidles up to him much like she had before sundown, packed into the heat of his side, and Jeongguk oddly, suddenly, feels warmer all over. “But the unknown tends to be the worst of them all. If everyone is too frightened to face it, then it will come for them just as quick.”

“You have a brave heart,” she smiles, teeth like pearls, “if I was worse off, I’d eat it.”

The itch to leap for his shotgun on the front seat of the cart nags at him once more. He is unsure whether it is the fact that he knows he will not reach it in time before she retaliates, or if he truly feels no impending desire to use the weapon against her, but instead, he says, “And being executed isn’t something you consider as ‘worse off’?”

The whites of her teeth slip away, hiding behind the firm line of her soft lips. “No. In this world, it’s quite possibly one of the better ways to die. Dishonourable for a witch, of course, since we take pride in letting our own magic do the bidding.” She picks at a fingernail, swings her small, booted feet. “I’ll burn at the stake, won’t I? I hope they scatter my ashes deep in the forest. It would be nice to rule there.”

“To rule?”

“They always take the ashes far from the town they burn the witches in, don’t they?” She asks, looking up at him once more for confirmation. Jeongguk nods at the tiny bloodstain that she is. “That’s because even when we are burned, our magic still thrives, albeit in a weaker state than when we die naturally by our own magic. You see, our bodies are merely vessels for the magic, and our souls are integrated with it. Once our magic and soul is without a body, they will accommodate the particular vicinity that the body last existed. The range of this vicinity depends upon the strength of the witch and how greatly she fostered her magic throughout her lifetime. So, if they were to leave the greater portion of the witches’ ashes within the town, the magic and the souls would combine and inhabit it, and it would be safe to say that the townsfolk would be absolutely doomed with all the magical beings and monsters that would spring up there.

“Also, different terrains host different types of magical beings. Imps and old demons dwell within forests inhabited by magic, though my magic would be strong enough to birth a talking tree and a dragon to protect the forest, too,” she says as casually as one would when figuring out what they are going to purchase from the market. Jeongguk feels rather stunned into silence, wide eyes blinking at her, absorbing all of the information that she speaks like water on parchment paper. Her sweet smile returns as she says, “That is why I hope to be scattered within a forest. It would be nice to rule one, don’t you think?”

He nods dumbly, brow knitted at the centre, and then asks, “It’s true then? The stories of the forest in the far East homing an albino two-headed dragon?”

“Yes, and it is an exceptionally powerful one, at that. The witch, Aenwyn, died by her own magic there. That is perhaps why it is more favourable for the humankind to burn us down to ash and decimate a great intensity of our magic with it, since the vicinities in which a witch’s magic inhabits when she dies is much, much stronger if she dies the way that we are supposed to. Aenwyn was over five-hundred years old, and she had lived within that forest for at least three-hundred of those years. A witch can tell when her time is up, so Aenwyn grew a tree around her body and let the magic eat her up, then the magic spread through the tree’s roots, which extend to all ends of that forest.”

The little witch traces her palm where the gash was buried. The skin is no longer raw and scarred; pearly smooth like it was before she had taken to it with the blade. She looks up at Jeongguk again, hooking her chin on his shoulder and looping her crimson arm around the midnight black of his own.

A foreign heat simmers underneath his skin, burning the frostbitten skin of his nose and cheeks all the brighter, especially when she softly says, “Not even fire could burn that forest down. Nothing other than a witch that is beyond stronger than Aenwyn would be able to eradicate it, and even then, that witch would die and the land that the forest stood upon would become a cursed site for demons to rule with the extreme levels of magic living in its soil. Luckily, Aenwyn was a kind witch, so there is no need for her forest to be destroyed, even if the humankind believe otherwise because of the two-headed dragon. They can be kind too, you know.”

At that, Jeongguk cracks, a breathy chuckle escaping him and she curiously watches him all the while. He notices her small hand resting upon his wrist and, without thinking, he takes it between both of his own, running a thumb over the bony knuckles. Beside him, her expression transforms, teeth sunk into the still swollen flesh of her lower lip. Jeongguk knows this is terribly wrong, touching her like this, feeling something come alive within his chest at the thought of having the witch he is sentencing to death for his own financial benefit tucked closer against him. A small furnace of warmth.

She tilts her head slightly to the side and asks, “What’s so funny?”

“Dragons and witches being kind, that’s the complete opposite of what I’ve been taught my entire life,” Jeongguk hums, staring at her hand clasped within his own. He sighs deeply, white mist gathering at his lips and dissipating almost immediately, and then settles his eyes upon her, watching the lambency melt into her skin. “Are you cold? Would you like to lay down? There’s sheepskin in the trunk.”

“Please,” she urges, teeth beginning to chatter now that she is no longer caught up in her own ramblings of forests and curses and the ashes that she is soon to become.

The cart creaks and wheezes as Jeongguk shifts so that he can reach the trunk strapped on the opposite end. He notices with an irritated groan that the locks are frozen over, so he grabs the shotgun from where it sits on the bench and busts the ice by slamming the stock against the metal, effectively shattering them. The sheer sight of the grey sheepskin inside warms him, and he gleefully pulls out the two rugs, each of which are certainly big enough to cover at least three people. The little witch must notice this, her soft voice piping up from behind him.

“Let’s lay one on the cart and then use the other as a blanket.”

Jeongguk, looking over his shoulder at her, hopes that the flush sitting high in his cheeks will be mistaken as the biting cold. “Are you sure? You don’t want one to yourself?”

She shrugs, and the dark may be hanging low in the clearing, unassisted by the fire that backlights her frame and melds her expression into a shadow. But Jeongguk swears that she is acting coy when she says, “We’ll be warmer if we lay together, anyway.”

“Are you trying to seduce me so that I won’t see it coming when you kill me?”

The witch laughs, tinkling sweetly in the air, and she crawls up the cart so that she is sat beside him. Here, he can see her pretty smile; glimmering something absolutely wicked. Jeongguk finds that he hardly cares. Jeongguk has somewhat always wanted to know if poison tastes like sugar.

“That’s a secret!” She giggles, and then helps him lay the grey mass onto the damp wood. Her voice is light when she winks and says, “Don’t worry, I’ll make it painless.”

He should take those words as a threat; loaded like the shotgun resting atop the closed trunk. Each word a bullet that’s just waiting to be driven through his heart. Instead, he lays on his side and wraps one half of the remaining sheepskin around his bulking frame and then watches silently, wide-eyed, as the witch begins to unhook the large buttons of her blood-red coat. The red riding hood image peels slowly from her figure, inch by inch.

The cardinal sheds. Revealing that, underneath, she was a crow all along. Just like him.

Jeongguk takes in her attire. Pitch black and skintight. Thick thermals that stretch from her throat to her wrists, all the way down to her booted feet; thighs and biceps and waist banded with belts and straps inscribed by witch language. Outlining the curves and dips of her figure like a dream. The orange light of the flames dances against her right side, melting into the onyx fabric, and Jeongguk only realises she is staring at him expectantly when she clears her throat.

“A-Aren’t you going to be cold?” Jeongguk stutters, trying to tame the thoughts that skip wildly through his mind. Nonetheless, he lifts up the sheepskin with his arm, welcoming the witch inside.

“I’ll be fine, you’ll keep me warm,” she hums nonchalantly, sliding between the rugs. Jeongguk can feel his pulse in the back of his throat as those words fill the air, expand in the clearing, and envelope him whole as she melds her small body to his own. Frozen, dumbfounded, all he can do is stare at her until she huffs and yanks his still hovering arm down so that the sheepskin embraces them and, similarly, he embraces her.

“See? Warm,” she grins up from where she is tucked into his chest, and Jeongguk, a man who is supposed to be a ferocious witch hunter with blood money wedged in his pockets, cannot help but soften into a dangerous, vulnerable state and smile back at her. When she notices the curve of his cracked pink lips, she snuggles in closer, the heat of her breath lingering on his chin when she whispers, “I wasn’t lying when I said your smile suits you. It’s like daylight breaching the horizon at dawn.”

Jeongguk shudders, neither a sensation of discomfort or pleasure. His body, under her insistent gaze, just cannot help but quake. “I’d stop there, if I were you. You’re making it hard for me to resist a prisoner.”

“That’s good,” she giggles, and Jeongguk, curling both of his arms tightly around her, feels the gentle vibrations of her bird-like ribs; humming a delicate song. Her hands that are crushed between their bodies emerge, the fingertips resting gently against his throat. “You can kiss me, if you like. It’ll pass the–“

If Jeongguk were asked to describe it, he would say he was incapable of doing so. Two opposite poles colliding; a wave crashing onto the shoreline; the sky passionately meeting the distant horizon. Perhaps, a deathly dehydrated man finding water for the first time in weeks; plunging himself into the cool mass, inhaling it into his stomach and lungs until his deprivation is satiated. Kissing her feels this way, like a force smashing into chaotic harmony with another. Satisfying a yearning that’s magnitude is only completely understood in all of its fantastic intensity when Jeongguk slices the tongue of her sentence and instead, presses his own to the soft seam of her lips.

She is pleasant; unbearably so. He elicits the tiniest, almost imperceptible sounds from her, like plucking a harp. Slanting his mouth slightly to the right, and she whimpers. Tracing the plush flesh of her lips with the tip of his tongue, and she sighs. Pushing it past her teeth to meet with her own, simmering when they touch, and she gasps. The witch coils around him, locking their legs together, urging him closer with her hands snaking around to his nape, and Jeongguk untucks her long-sleeve from the belt, slips his calloused, cold hands underneath the thick black fabric and slides them from the small of her back up to her shoulder blades. Her entire figure trembles, starting from her toes and climbing northward. Jeongguk no longer strums a harp; he holds an earthquake that splits down the centre, spilling open.

Unexpectedly, she pulls away. Jeongguk opens his eyes, hazy at first, blinking until her bright face comes into view and he can see the saliva glistening on her swollen lips. She seems to be about to speak, though Jeongguk cannot help but kiss her again; brief, enough to taste the chilly air already settling in the spit. The witch smiles when he draws back and brushes their cold, reddened noses against one another.

“I don’t know your name,” she mumbles, sounding almost embarrassed. Jeongguk presses his lips to her own in a swift peck, scattering more to her cheeks where the winter draws chilly patterns on her skin.

“Jeongguk,” he murmurs at the centre of her brow, gliding his mouth down the slope of her nose, then to her lips again; a magnetic pull that he cannot resist. Jeongguk smiles there, pearly whites curving against the damp pink, and she places a kiss on his teeth. “And you?”

“___,” the witch grins, her abdomen bowing delightfully into his groin as she fits herself closer. “I like your name. Jeongguk. Je-on-gguk. It’s nice.”

“It’s nice when you say it,” he agrees, drawing his hands still underneath the fabric of her shirt to settle on her small waist, massaging there. “So is yours. ___. Pretty, like you.”

“It’s pretty when you say it,” she mimics around a mouthful of laughter. Jeongguk, deciding that poison tastes like cherries and blood, catches her lips with his own once more, taking the lower between his teeth and sucking the sweetness from it.

“Tell me what you did, ___,” he suddenly murmurs into the corner of her mouth. The touch of her fingertips leaves his neck and instead comes up to his face, searing against his cheek; burning through to the bone. “I want to know. No, I need to know why I’m sending you to your death.”

The midnight dances across her eyes, almost appearing sinister if not for the way her lips are tilted in the stretch of a small, sad smile. One that, although faint, holds the weight of a past cast in thick shadows; jagged claws hiding between the floorboards; monsters looming in the corners, waiting to strike.

“No, we witches are too selfish, I cannot tell you,” she whispers, and the words are razors that slice as they fall upon his lips. But Jeongguk still licks the wounds with care, watches as her gaze washes over with a placid calm. “But it’s bad enough to be burned at the stake. You would be strung up beside me too if they knew about this.”

But all Jeongguk can do is grin, the hard exterior cracking completely. Always for her; the monster disguised. He tucks her head underneath his chin, holding her close, so near. The warmth of her breath is a gentle constant against his throat.

Jeon Jeongguk probably deserves death for living in such sin, and he is a fool to believe that he will have anything else coming for him.

“Sometimes, I think that might not be so bad,” he whispers, eyes closing and at long last giving in to the lethargy that has wound tight through his muscles since midday. Tucked in the nook of his shoulder, her smile is one of glass.

The witch of scarlet with a pitch black past burns silently at the stake within four days of the cold, cold night at the centre of the forest, tightlipped with her eyes closed as the flames blister and lick her skin black and burn her bones into charcoal. She is so hauntingly quiet that nothing but the crackling of the fire fills the town square, sounding like breaking bones; dying magic; the carcasses of promises.

The bounty is never collected.

It takes them a while, most especially since they had such little information on the blood witch other than her potential whereabouts. But they do find him eventually when they are deep in the neighbouring forest to scatter her ashes. The hounds sniffing through the fresh layers of snow are the ones to discover the hunter first; looking an absolutely disgraceful sight, frozen over and drenched head to toe in blood, wrapped in mottled sheepskin. Not a speck of it is his own, and rather, it belongs to the two headless horses collapsed either side of his body. 

It was the heart failure that got him.

If she was still here to enunciate the tale, she would confess that it was pity. That the heart attack was so easy to twist out of him, suggesting nothing more than the fact that he was not going to live any longer than a month, anyway. Make that pity and selfishness. Pity, that he fell so in love with such a witch as blood to bone evil as her. Selfishness, that she did not wish for him to watch her die in the fire, nor did she wish to escape with him to a place far away, building something together, only to bear witness to his heart crumbling like cracked ice within a matter of weeks.

As the witch was swallowed by the rich, fiery tongues of vibrant orange and red, she could not help but find comfort in their blazing warmth as they twisted about her strung up figure. She imagined they were Jeongguk’s arms wound tightly around her on their final, frosty night together. Keeping her close, even after he had drifted asleep for the final time, even when she had never planned to succumb to such unconsciousness because she was too occupied with contemplating just how she was going to do it. That was, if she could do it.

So maybe the cardinal did quite love the crow after all.

Note | LET’S GET SPOOOOOOOOOOPPYYYYYY.

I have had this in the works since the middle of last year and it feels so good to finally have it polished off! This was originally going to be a part of my ATM drabble series, but I suppose it became long enough to deserve its own little post instead. Anyway, hooray for my first post since June and hooray for witches and Halloween!

All Rights Reserved © Vankoya. No translations, reposting and/or modifying of the material is allowed without my direct permission.

#jungkook x reader #jungkook fluff #bts scenarios #bts x reader #jungkook angst #bts angst #jeon jungkook #gukvory #/ blood #/ death #/ mcd

[btraysuga]

BTS Fics Recommendation 💝

Hi munchkin!👯 I’m Jeanie and this is my fics recommendation from those fics that I have read for the past few month and I’m absolutely like it. This is my first time sharing what I have been loving from tumblr which is reading fics. This is so good and I want to share with everyone. Do visit each writers. They are so approachable and so welcoming😍😍 Don’t forgets to give a lots of loves and support to them cause they and their work are one of a kind👍💖💞

Min Yoongi

Mr Min @ellieljade

The Equation of Love @kookingtae

Suga @taegonia

Suga Daddy @drquinzelharleen

Boss @wang-banana

Wordly Love @jcmguk

Wildest Moments @rapmonluv

To Take @evangelene

Crossfire @yoongiisii

Tatoos Are Forever @solarhobi

All To Well @workofteaguk

Park Jimin

30-Day Challenge : How to be a Good Kisser @gujoonim

Handyman @drquinzelharleen

Caught in A Lie @pjxmin

Princess and The Pauper @summertae

The Librarian @jcmguk

Touch @evilpjm

Kim Taehyung

Hold Me Tight @workofteaguk

Metanoia @infiressi

Unconcealed @drquinzelharleen

Side Effects @summertae

Colours of Autumn @jamsandcarrots

Heptagon @freehoseoksdick

Notorious @cutaepatootie

Jeon Jungkook

Laggard @pinkeukook

The Lost Memories @gujoonim

Angel in the Darkness @mochijamz

I Won’t Stop You @imsarabum

Signed To Kill @infiressi

Watched Me Baby Girl @lunarimagines

Comfort Inn Ending @rapmonluv

His @please-baby-calm-down

The Soldier and The Surgeon @taeinmycup

Purpose @workofteaguk

Blue Orchids @inktae

☝Besides that, I do have a lot of great writer to be recommended to you guys. Their work are magnificent and such a masterpiece. Do checks their master list cause they have a lots of masterpieces that would make you to fall in love with them more and more.👏💖💕💞🌸💐

@houseofdemi @kthsdrug @xforeverweareyoungx @oppamansae @suga-coat-it @kpopangst @jiminelli @plumblackjeon @jungkxook @jheartseok @jungblue @gukvory @traplordjeon @avveh @baxngtan @gguked @lthyl @slaypjm @seasidetae @kreatingkpop @blutastic @icrystars @kthyunngg @midnightbts @smilecake @war-of-hormoan @floralseokjin @vintaege @jimlingss @thelillzmonster @lushguk @beansuga @earlygreytae @btssmutgalore @pjimims @dailydoseofdia @taechubs

That’s all from me. I will do the hyung line recs soon. Do give a lot of loves to these writers because they really deserve it😘👍👍 and their works!!! Even words couldn’t describe how great and awesome it is💖💜💙

#fic recs #bts #bts fanfic #bts scenarios #bts angst #suga #jungkook #jimin #taehyung

[hoeseok]

project support bts creators is go! if you get this message it's because someone thinks you make beautiful content. tag some of your favorite bts gif/gfx/edit/icon/fic/art makers below and pass it on. spread the love 💕

this is so sweet! whoever sent this in, thank you! i can’t stop smiling

i combined two categories together and added in a moodboard section just because. a lot of these ppl make multiple things, but i ended up putting them in only one category tho

gif: @eatkookiie // @seokjinstae // @jiminddeok // @yoongiski // @angtanboys // @miozuru // @hohbi // @jeonjiah // @dimpole // @junqkookied // @jungkooknoises // @jinandtonics // @kc-junghsk // @petitmin // @sweaterpawsjimin // @yoonngi // @cinnamonsuga // @cuteseokjin // @jeonjeongguke // @taestykth // @hi-xtape // @13jimins // @jungkook-e // @yoongsb // @deletaed // @myjaebutt // @jjeonguk // @mochiminii // @hobies // @sugaswagdaddy // @bangtan-damntan // @comfyeol // @jcnghope // @mochifairyjimin // @hypetae // @rapnamu

gfx: @jeonbegins // @omfgbts // @175pjm // @taesflower // @je0n 

edit/icon: @blameblamebts // @agustdia // @bwis // @pbandj-hope // @cinnawon

fic: @aichan11 // @taepott // @angustdtt // @floralseokjin // @rosykook // @freehoseoksdick // @btssmutgalore // @jnghobi // @btsmutimagines // @jeonjagiya // @lycanhaejin // @rielleria // @hobismorning // @ellieljade // @jiminsmrs // @hobbitoh // @drquinzelharleen // @avveh // @bangtaninspired // @jungkxook // @jheartseok // @lilyjhs // @boyscoutstyle // @dailydoseofdia // @jeonjiah // @versigny // @gukvory // @ricepot-jisung // @jungblue

art: @honeysugah // @hoseoklov

moodboard: @protectaetae // @velvethoseok // @baebae-goodnight

#i love you all #rachel answers #anonymous

[tayegi]

I cannot believe all the misogyny that is infesting your blog right now, especially since I am absolutely positive all of the disgusting messages that are being sent are from women? Istg these people must not be reading the story properly if they are so quick to jump the gun and say that the OC is a "manipulative bitch" who "deserves to be punched" and all these other terrible things, when it has been so fucking obvious from the start that Jeongguk is precisely the same, if not worse than–

gukvory said:– the OC in terms of being selfish or manipulative. It is amazing how quick they are to glaze over the fact that Jeongguk, their beloved ‘oppa’, has been behaving this way nearly the entire time and clearly has an ulterior motive with the proposition of the three-way relationship that involves being deceiving to reach his goal. But as soon as the OC “plays up” by being a dominant, self-respecting woman who stands for herself, she is instantly a “bitch"– I can’t get over that fucked up logic.

Exactly! It is never fucking okay to ever call a woman a bitch like that! It’s an offensive word that is bringing women down in society. Yes, I understand the movement to claim it for our own use and remove the stigma by using it jokingly. But these crazy anons meant it seriously? This. Is. Not. Fucking. Okay.

And also, when all three of them are doing the same horrible shit to each other, how can you only fucking blame the woman??? Typical for you to think that your precious oppas can’t do no wrong. 🙄

I like to think that these anons are just victims. They’ve grown up in disgusting, misogynistic societies that perpetrate the inferiority of women. Women are just animals that have to be “punched” or “fucked into their place.” We have to be submissive to the man. Any attempt to leave this gross hierarchy leads to this misplaced anger and aggression.

But I can’t let this slide anymore in front of my readers who are probably 99% young women and need to know that this is not okay. 

Men are not superior to you. You do not deserve to be blamed when the men around you are doing the exact same fucking thing. It is never okay to call another woman a bitch. Men already do that enough to us. Why do you gotta fucking propagate that? 

Women need to work together to rise above the men who constantly try to tear us down. Don’t be another blind victim. Think before you fucking speak. 

#gukvory #lu answers #THANK YOU SO MUCH IVORY FOR THIS BEAUTIFUL MESSAGE #IM SEETHING RIGHT NOW #I CAN BARELY BREATHE

[readershewrites]

I Have Listened To Every Lie : Chapter 3

Special update as a present for all the love I’ve received since @gukvory‘s recommendation

Previously: Chapter 2

There is nothing more soothing to Nara than the sound of water. Any form of water; from the crashing waves of the ocean and the deep bellow of a waterfall to the gentle percussion of rain and tinkle of a thin stream. Nara loves it all, but the one sound that rises above the rest is the hollow clopping of disturbed bathwater.

For as long as she can remember, Nara has always been a bath person. In times of great joy and drowning sadness she has always found solace in shutting herself into her bathroom, filling her tub with hot water, adding a few drops of oil and steaming the sorrows out of her body. There has always been something about watching roiling steam dissipate and listening to the loud echoes of water and nothing that somehow always brings Nara back to herself.

The event of bathing always instils a sense of self-worth and self-importance in Nara. Knowing that with a shift of her legs or a wiggle of her toes she is the instigator of sound, movement and a new wave of aroma comforts her. Far from being egotistic, it reminds her that there is at least something in her life that she can control, something that relies on her. She gets so little of that kind of assurance these days.

But today is different. Today her bath marks four months since she started her new life as a university student, a number, a figure, an unknown. She is happy, and has chosen her essential oil accordingly; grapefruit, tangy and sweet with spicy cloves and anise, rounded off with nutmeg and vanilla bean to soothe the citrus sting.

Nara opens her eyes. Her bathroom is full of steam and for a moment she is tricked into seeing her old bathroom; thick slabs of marble gilded by gold, but when she blinks the moisture out of her eyes she is greeted by the simpler, now-welcome sight of caesarstone and sterling silver.

She smiles a little and submerges her feet back into the water. Though the apartment is not at all modest - still a penthouse suite -, two months ago when she moved in it was still hard not to feel like she was downgrading to something lesser. Privately she admits to having a twinge of apprehension and perhaps disdain at the thought of having to share a sauna with her roommate, though now she enjoys coming home to such a place as she is not smothered by extravagance of the Min family name.

Her head falls back onto the folded towel behind her neck, and Nara breaks into a full grin. If this is what happiness is, such meagre mediocrity, then she would happily bask in it forever.

When Nara finishes her bath, it’s almost ten o’clock. By the time she finishes her nightly skin routine, it’s almost eleven fifty. Since it’s only a Saturday night and she’s in a good mood, Nara thinks she’ll have a nightcap before she goes to bed. She places her toothbrush back in its crystal cup and idly wonders if her Micha will join her.

Her roommate, obviously on the same train of thought as her is already in the kitchen, clad in a pair of soft cotton pyjamas and scrolling on her phone whilst sipping a glass of scotch. An empty glass sits beside the semi-full bottle and her thoughtfulness keeps Nara’s mood sickeningly buoyant.

“Is this for me?” She asks, very much knowing the answer.

Micha nods, looking back to her phone for one more second before putting it face down and giving Nara her full attention.

“I thought you’d like some, since you seem to be in such a good mood.”

Nara grins and laughs. “Am I really that transparent?”

“Yep”, Micha replies, popping the ‘p’ soundly. The swiftness of her answer bothers Nara somewhat, but she brushes it off.

She fills her chilled glass halfway, takes a deep drink and sets it back down. The liquor warms the part of her soul that the bath didn’t quite reach, and as she gazes into the amber liquid she feels utterly complete.

“So I take it class has been going well for you?” Micha offers.

“Yep”, Nara chirps, popping her ‘p’ (and earning her a sarcastic har har from Micha). “It feels like eons since I’ve been a student, though it’s really only been a few years.”

She taps her nails on the countertop while she ponders. “I have to say I was insanely nervous about the first few weeks, but I’ve realised that when you’re actually in class no one cares who you are.”

She looks down and a tiny, incredulous laugh leaves her.

“I spent the entirety of my first lecture wondering what an appropriate introduction would be if anyone were to introduce themselves to me.” Nara looks up at Micha with a sour twitch of her nose. “How one-percent of me, right?”

She continues with a dreamy sigh. “I mean, I love it. English literature has always been a favourite of mine, but with Yoongi and the wedding…” Suddenly she doesn’t have the courage to look her friend in the eye.

“It’s just - I’d forgotten how much words moved me. So that has been really great, but at the same time because I’ve done nothing literature related since high school, a lot of my classmates are not only much younger than me, but the information is still fresh in their minds. It took me ten minutes to remember the name of Hamlet’s sister the other day, ten whole minutes!”

“And that bothers you because?...” The sudden sound of Micha’s gravelly voice makes Nara flinch; she’d almost forgotten she was there.

Nara flicks a glance up at her friend. Micha, patient and knowing like always, has her fingers wrapped around her glass and waits for her answer.

“Well,” Nara looks back down to her hands and sombreness falls over her, “Well I just thought that I’d have no problem assimilating into being a student, but when I look at my classmates - some of them are seventeen. Seventeen, are you serious? - I just feel so ancient.”

She shakes her head. “It sounds like I’m just moaning, but I caught a girl staring at my wedding ring the other day, and it just suddenly hit me that oh my god these people are so young! And then after that it hit me that what the hell I’m only a few years older than them but I’m married and was headed for divorce? I feel like I’ve lived decades longer than they have, not just a couple of years!”

Realising the volume of her voice, Nara flushes and pulls the glass closer to her chest. When she glances at Micha, her friend’s face hasn’t changed and Nara is almost glad for that; she kind of doesn’t want to know what her friend is thinking.

“I just…” she sighs, “I feel so old. I feel different and singular and even though this is what I wanted, I kind of thought that being normal in itself made you different, you know?”

The scotch is bitter in her mouth. “But I guess being normal isn’t different unless you’re the one-percent. I guess I fetishized being ordinary a little more than I had let on.”

Silence rings in the kitchen, and when Nara finally looks up at her friend for something, anything, she’s surprised to find that an almost tender expression has overtaken Micha’s countenance.

“What?” she demands. A wave of irritation overcomes her because the expression is so like her mother in law’s typically dismissive one that she grips, “Oh don’t say I’m being childish. I know it already.”

Micha’s eyebrows shoot up and she gently says, “Actually I was going to say just the opposite; I think you’ve changed a lot in the last four months”

“Oh really?” Now it’s Nara’s turn to be surprised, but very quickly a bright smile overtakes her face. “I thought for a moment yo-”

The bright ding of an incoming call interrupts her and Nara starts, mutters a quick sorry gotta take this to Micha and pattering off to her room.

Micha’s pensive gaze follows her.

In the last four months, Min Nara had frustrated, bemused and bewildered Jung Micha to depths previously unexperienced by humankind. Micha was the typical single child that yearned for a sibling, and because of her closeness in age with Nara (just under two years) she took the younger under her wing with much enthusiasm. It was a decision that proved exasperating at the best of times.

She had originally welcomed Nara into her home for purely income purposes; unlike Nara’s family (who came from old money and prestige), Micha’s family had just come into their wealth. The apartment was a present from her father for excelling her university entry exams, but Micha was very well aware that it was still a significant investment of her parents’ hard-earned money.

From what she had heard, Nara was - ostensibly - the perfect girl; well mannered, beautiful, intelligent but not subversive, selective but not picky. Micha assumed that would make her the perfect roommate, and of course in many respects she was; she was neat, diligent and very respectful of private space. However in a matter of days, Micha realised that Nara was not at all the refined young woman she let on, but really a terribly fearful and lost little girl in desperate need of assurance and company.

First of all, Nara was incredibly spoilt. In the first two weeks of their living together Micha had to teach her ludicrously simple things such as how to hand wash dishes, how to connect a printer, how to catch public transport. For Micha, it was utterly amazing that Nara - a girl who at the snap of a finger could engage you in conversation about the intricacies of ginseng tea - was inept at so many basic things. But, on the other hand it made sense; why should Micha know how to hand wash dishes when the dishes were always loaded for her into the dishwasher? Why would she know how to catch public transport when even the family dog had its own chauffeur? Micha was at a loss.

In addition to this, Nara was unendingly moody. Some days she would be flighty and distracted, asking questions more stupid and simple than was usual for her, but Micha indulged her patiently just like a good older sister would. But then some days Nara could turn around and purposefully pick petty fights, throw tantrums and yell and scream and stamp her feet over things as small as the wrong scented soap or bath lotion. These outbursts often disappeared as quickly as they began, and Micha swore she got whiplash every single time.

Then came the disappearances. After a week of living together Micha noticed that every other night Nara didn’t come home but returned around midday without any sort of explanation. But, between grappling with Nara’s mood swings and her own busy life, she just never found the right time to ask. Naturally she expected that this secrecy would continue and so, slightly disappointed that her supposed “sister” was so reticent, was wholly surprised when Nara sat her down one night and not only explained her absence but confessed the true nature of her relationship with Min Yoongi as it stood.

From what Micha could digest, Nara and Yoongi had basically fucked their way to matrimony and regretted it. When Micha had tentatively asked why did you say yes to waiting on the divorce? Nara confessed that she lived in fear of her mother-in-law, and even more so what would happen if she found out that not only had Nara moved out of home but that she was studying instead of looking pretty and popping out baby after baby.

That night for Micha was life-changing. She thought she had people all figured out, and that though everyone was different the general population still behaved a certain way, but the incredible vulnerability Nara showed in telling her these things was bolstered by the strength and courage of youth and naivete. So yes, in many ways Nara still demonstrated incredibly coddled and sheltered behaviour, but from that night Micha knew that it was not only a front for her rather fragile self, but that it actually took bravery to be able to put on that facade in a time of such emotional and mental stress.

Amazingly, Min Nara was schooling Micha on the fluidity of human nature.

Fucking incredible, Micha thinks, and downs the last of her drink. No wonder she feels old. The poor girl is a medieval princess having an existential crisis.

As she places her glass in the sink and screws the cap back on the whisky, she finds herself being moved by a sudden wash of affection for the younger girl. Today, hearing her anxiety about her age versus her experience again reiterated to Micha just how worthy of kindness and sympathy Nara was.

She nods to herself and walks to her bedroom, flipping off the light and closing the door. As she brushes her teeth, slips on her nightdress and gathers the remnants of her thoughts, Micha finally understands why Nara asks dense questions, cries over having to make her own bed and makes a scene when there’s no yoghurt in the fridge.

It is because it is in a child’s nature to lean on those around them in times of distress, fear and need; to throw all they have in the hands to the floor and lay down and weep endlessly. Getting to university and attempting to live a relatively normal student life took all of the nerve and strength that Nara had and she hadn’t the forethought to think what next?, so now she was tired and afraid and so of course to a degree she would regress to old behaviour; instilled in her through years of butlers and maids being at her beck and call.

The next day Nara is in class, sitting at the back row just as she has every class. Her blazer is folded delicately on the seat beside her and her dark rimmed, large framed shades placed neatly on top. The course she’s taking is a capstone class for all literature majors, and this week’s work is Macbeth - one of her favourite Shakespearean plays.

Just as she is losing herself in the husky vocals of Michael Fassbender and mouthing the words “Out, out, brief candle! Life’s but a walking shadow, a poor player that struts and frets his hour upon the stage and then is heard no more”, a soft voice interrupts her.

“Hey. Do you have a pen I can borrow?”

It’s halfway through the lecture, what is this person doing asking for one now? Her eyes snap open in annoyance and she turns to the right. The owner of the voice is a boy her age, tired-looking but quite earnestly handsome. His hand is bridging the distance between them, outstretched and expectant. They’re beautiful fingers, Nara notes. Inwardly rolling her eyes at herself she picks up a pen from her lilac pencil case and delicately places it in his hand, then turns back to the screen and closes her eyes.

When the lecture draws to a close, Nara quietly but efficiently packs up (the way all her classmates do) and is about to walk out when she remembers her pen. Is it polite to ask someone for a pen back? She wonders, and hesitates. She wasn’t taught this in etiquette class.

But, she decides that in the spirit of taking back her own life she has to ask for her pen back and so she approaches the boy from behind, just in time to see the kid’s boldly drawn caricatures of their lecture. Beside the images are short, sarcastic scribbles and quotes from the play and without meaning to she laughs.

The sound makes him turn around and Nara is embarrassed at the slip of decorum. She presses her lips together, folds her hands and is in the middle of chastising herself when the boy dips his head, catches her eye and says, “Were you laughing at me?”

She nods with a bashful grin. “Yes. Your images were very amusing.”

The boy grins. “Why thanks.” A moment of silence, and then he turns to the table, grabs her pen and offers it to her. “You have a beautiful smile.”

The compliment surprises her immensely, because Nara can’t remember the last time she received one without other intentions. She studies the boy carefully and upon detecting no ulterior motive, she nods her head and pockets her pen.

She turns to leave and walks rather quickly, wanting to avoid any sort of alien situation with a stranger, but the boy catches up to her.

“Hey! I was wondering if we could have lunch together? My name is Taehyung.” He grins, outstretches his hand for a shake and with a sigh Nara looks at his beautiful palm. Despite her hesitance, somehow Taehyung has already begun chattering away and suddenly Nara is walking to lunch, buying lunch and then sitting down for lunch with a person that she has never met.

Despite her misgivings, Nara is having a great time. She learns that Kim Taehyung is an acting major with a minor in music production. Literature is just an elective, mainly to satisfy his grandmother, who was an author, and his father, an English teacher (“English also happens to be my worst subject” he says with smile just a little too smug). He talks quite incessantly, but that’s mostly because Nara doesn’t answer any of the personal questions he asks her. She can tell that the conversation is slowing down because of this and the dread rises in her, knowing that at some point if she ever wants to make a friend, she’ll have to tell him who she is.

“Nara?”

She starts. Oh damn, she grimaces. With all her brooding she must have missed a question. Great job Nara, secretive and an airhead, way to go!

Taehyung seems to take her no-answer as a refusal and sighs. Nara knits her brows together at her patheticness.

“Sorry if I’m coming off too enthusiastically. I’m actually really just nervous; the only reason I asked you to lunch was because none of my friends go to university here and while everyone seems to know each other, you and I are the only ones that sit alone.”

He flicks a glance at her and sighs again. “Look, I’ll leave you alone if that’s what you want. Sorry I bothered you.”

Nara is utterly moved. How could she have mistaken his quirky nervousness as flirtatiousness? She realises that he is just a lonely boy and her heart goes out to him. Before he can move, she places her hand on his and says, “No, I’m sorry. Sit down. I didn’t mean to be unfriendly.”

If Taehyung is surprised by her sudden change in mood he doesn’t show it - save for the huge grin that doesn’t leave his face -, and for the first time in a long while Nara can laugh all the way to her eyes.

Next: Chapter 4

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