#btsbingo2022

[magicshopaholic]

Industry Baby (Namjoon x OC)

Summary: In an unexpected turn of events involving your economics class and a magazine article, you find out just how talented your boyfriend is.

Pairing: Namjoon x OC

Genre: Smut, fluff

Word count: 8.6 K

Rating: 18+

Warnings: language, teasing, dirty talk, making out, breast play, blowjobs, restraints, mild dominance, edging, unprotected sex

A/N: Not me reading a Reddit thread about the best rappers in the Korean music industry and coming up with a whole fic by the time I get to the end of it :')

A huge huge thank you to @jeoniius for being a stellar beta as usual, reading the whole thing, giving me tips and telling me how hot it was at the end :') Couldn't have done it without you, Tannie <3

This is also part of my submission towards the Bangtan Bingo Spring Event by @bangtanwritingbingo, using my square "oral sex".

Listen to: "i wanna be yours" by arctic monkeys

namjoon masterlist | main masterlist

Click, click, click.

You don’t realise you’re clicking your pen until the person in front of you turns around to frown at you. You immediately stop and mouth an apology, sinking down further in your seat as your cheeks burn and you continue counting down the minutes until you get home.

Not just home, though. To your boyfriend. There’s a warmth that flows through you at the thought. For once, when you go back to your studio apartment, you won’t need to look forward to simply receiving texts from him or maybe catching him on the phone during a common free half hour. No, if everything goes well and you’re able to get out of here at a decent hour, Namjoon will be right there, in the flesh, tall frame and dimpled smile welcoming you.

“Diversification bias!”

You almost jump out of your seat as your professor barks a term at the class, quite possibly the reaction he was hoping for. You realise that you’ve missed the last ten minutes of the lecture entirely, most unlike you. You love what you do, what you study. You like this professor: a thin, lanky gentleman with kind eyes and thinning hair who speaks with an exasperation that suggests he’s seen war - or numerous batches of post graduate students, which is pretty much the same. You even like this particular topic - Practical Case Studies on Neuromarketing and Their Uses in the Modern World - which is why as a Ph.D student who doesn’t mandatorily need to be here, you’ve still shown up to an advanced post graduate class.

You’re surprised, therefore, at how distracted you’re getting. You glance down at the notebook before you, to see one and a half pages of written notes and feel slightly better; your boyfriend’s presence here doesn’t seem to have rid you of all your focus, at least. You don’t know why it should; it’s not like it’s the first time he’s visited you here in Amsterdam. It’s the first time he’s been here in months, it’s true, and for some reason you’ve missed him more than ever while he’s been working on promotions for his new album. Soon, he and his band will be on tour and you’ll be lucky if you can get even a minute of his time in between your classes, his concerts and the multiple timezones.

“That’s correct!”

Fuck. You’ve never been this low on concentration before. You sit up straighter in your seat as the professor nods approvingly at someone a couple of rows behind you, determined to focus for the rest of the lecture. You squint at the slides he’s presenting, sighing quietly in relief when you pick up the gist of what he’s talking about. The graphs are ones you’ve worked on yourself for your research and the insights are logical enough for you to catch up.

“Why would we be talking about Herd Behaviour in this context, though, hm?” The professor prowls about the dias in front of the class, peering at the forty twenty-somethings in the room. “Why -” He turns with a flourish to the other side of the class “- would the perception of a choice affect the decision of a consumer when those around them would perceive the choice to be something else?”

Everyone looks at him blankly for a few moments as they process this before the murmurs break out and the guesses start coming in. You don’t raise your hand; were you a student of this class, you would have. As a doctoral candidate, you and the professor both know it would be unfair for you to answer, even if you’re the same age as half the class.

“Exactly,” declares the professor when a girl in the front row makes an educated guess. “Can you think of a practical example where an industry not only employs this, but thrives on perception marketing to influence a consumer’s decision?”

Film, sports, music, pharmaceuticals… You sigh, suddenly remembering why you’d zoned out. Still, you wait patiently as the answers come in slowly from different students and the professor nods in approval.

“Quite right. All correct - except that, Janssen. Sports? Think again.” He claps his hands, making everyone jump again. “Let’s talk about a popular case study here, alright? This one’s for the kids.” The slide behind him changes and your heart stops. Right there, in the middle of your classroom, eight feet tall, is an image of your boyfriend.

You hear the lazy whoops and claps from corners of the class and the professor grins at the reaction, everyone suddenly a bit more awake at a pop culture case study.

“Does anyone know who this is?” The professor asks, almost jokingly, pointing at the picture on screen.

“BTS!” Several voices crow, the classroom erupting into laughter. They’re right, of course, for while your eyes had naturally gone straight to Namjoon, you now notice his six bandmates around him, all dressed similarly in suits, posing for the camera with perfect make-up and styled hair.

“And who knows who this is?” To your horror, the professor trains his pointer straight to Namjoon so the red dot hovers somewhere between his chest and his shoulder.

The voices are fewer this time but, if possible, louder. “Rap Monster!” a couple of people call, while some go “RM!” and one girl goes “Kim Namjoon!”, the loudest of all of them.

“So you all are capable of such energy in class. Imagine that,” quips the professor as everyone laughs, and the girl goes red in the face but continues smiling, eyes trained on the picture. “Well - yes, in answer. Rap Monster, RM, what have you. Leader of BTS. Can anyone tell me why he’s the leader of this world famous band? No, not you, Karina, we’ll have to wait for you to calm down…”

Your heart is still thudding, unable to reconcile the image of Namjoon, your Namjoon, here in your Economics classroom. As the answers pop up, you find yourself surprised at how many people know him and the detail in which they do. You’re not daft; you know BTS is world famous. Just because you had no idea who they were when you met Namjoon, aside from the band’s name in a vague sort of way, doesn’t mean other people in your campus aren’t aware of them. You’ve just never been faced with it this blatantly.

From behind you, you hear a guy speak in a low voice. “Mate, who’s the bloke with the blue hair and why is he looking into my soul?”

Another male voice answers. “Dunno. The only one I recognise is Rap Monster.”

From next to you, a girl whips around to look at them. “Wait, Bill, what the hell? You listen to k-pop?”

“Nah, not really,” the second voice, Bill, answers lazily. “But I know Rap Monster, though. Aoki posted a picture with him so I checked him out. He can rap, by the way.”

“He goes by RM now.” You don’t realise you’ve spoken until the girl next to you snaps her head down to look at you, blue eyes wide. “I think,” you add hastily.

“Are you army?” she practically squeals.

“I - uh, not exactly,” you stutter, already regretting saying anything. While Namjoon doesn’t get recognised too much in Europe, compared to back in Seoul at least, you want to limit any potential connection between you and him, especially while he’s here. He’s warned you before about getting photographed together, more for your safety than anything else, and you intend to defer to his judgment here at least. “My cousin’s a huge fan. She’s Korean,” you add, nodding when the girl sighs in understanding and you thank your stars for Jae-Lin, your favourite cousin and the perfect cover for your bouts of random BTS knowledge.

Somehow, like something out of a dream, the class progresses, proceeding to break down the entire economics behind the formation and positioning of one of fastest emerging bands in the world. The professor switches the slide and this time it’s thankfully not just a huge picture of the band but a couple of graphs, pie charts, article screenshots and pictures of about fifteen different bands in a messy collage of sorts. 

Some of them are k-pop - thanks to Jae-Lin, you recognise who you think is EXO and Got7, and whom you know is Blackpink. Apart from them, you recognise One Direction, NSYNC and some western girl group that looks incredibly familiar but you can’t place for the life of you. However, the picture of BTS, this time in baggy clothes and headbands as they glare into the camera, still remains bigger than the rest of the collage put together.

“Why -” The professor’s voice booms around the class even in the absence of a mic “- is the concept of a centre so important in the k-pop industry? What is the perception they’re working with, when -” He trains his pointer straight to Namjoon again “- the band was actually created around a different member altogether?”

For the first time this entire lecture, you’re paying full attention. The professor continues, with factual inputs from a few students here and there, to explain how Namjoon was the first member, former underground rapper, leader, producer and whatnot. “Where does the revenue for a label come from?” he asks dramatically. “Come on,” he prods, a bit impatiently, when no one answers for a few seconds, “how would a label make money?”

“Production.” It’s the only thing you’ve said in the class so far and you intend to keep it that way, even when the professor catches your eye and nods, looking slightly gratefully.

“That’s right!” He turns with a flourish to point the red dot at the western bands now. “Historically, usually, the labels are the producers. Why is k-pop different? Why is -” He turns towards the class this time “- BTS different? Take a wild guess as to who produces half their music!”

There’s a smattering of answers as people guess the answer to this rather leading question. Somehow - and you have no idea how - the class has turned into an RM worship session, and most surprisingly, a large number of people seem to be participating in it. You don’t speak again for the rest of the class, simply listening in awe at how much people seem to know about your boyfriend. 

In the eight odd months that you’ve been dating - and the few months preceding it where you both danced around the topic for longer than required - you’ve discovered his love for modern art, his favourite artists, how he likes his eggs in the morning, which t-shirts he likes to sleep in, the fact that he greatly prefers wine to beer, that he’d read the entire Iliad in English when he was sixteen years old, that his favourite mode of foreplay is to palm you over your underwear until you’re begging for his fingers. Somehow, amidst all this information, and the fact that he’s somewhat of a legend in the k-pop industry has escaped you.

Of course, sixteen year old Jae-Lin has done everything in her power since the day you’d met him to convince you of his greatness, but given the fact that she’s also called Jimin “a real life angel” and declared Taehyung her future husband, you’ve been forced to take everything she says with a rather large pinch of salt.

You’re shaken out of your reverie when there’s a collective gasp of acknowledgement from the class, usually reserved for when a professor presents the class with a logic that’s been staring them in the face this whole time. As seems to be the theme for today, you’ve missed the explanation, but you watch as the slide switches to the conclusion of this case with - you guessed it - a full screen picture of BTS, this time at some sort of interview where all the members are sitting on high revolving chairs.

Your eyes, predictably, go straight to Namjoon, who’s sitting in the middle with a mic in his hand and a small smile on his face. It’s incredible how much you miss him in that moment, even though you know you’ll see him in a couple of hours. As the professor takes doubts from the class, your gaze lingers on the t-shirt he’s wearing, how the thin material stretches across his shoulders and around his lean biceps. You’d left fingernail marks on those last night, you remember, biting your lip.

The summer heat suddenly feels stronger, and you reach for your bottle of water to cool down whatever it is you’re feeling. It’s pride, for sure, and a lot of surprise - but a pleasant kind of surprise. But there’s also something else, something that makes you feel just the tiniest bit uneasy, only because its elusivity makes your reaction completely unpredictable. Just a few more hours, you think as you take a sip. Next to you, the girl leans over.

“Which one are you looking at?”

Your heart skips a beat. “Um… no one in particular.”

She rolls her eyes and gives you a knowing look, as though letting you know your secret is safe with her. “Let me guess. It’s Jungkook, isn’t it?”

You almost choke on your water. “Oh, God, no,” you mutter, automatically thinking back to the first time you’d ever met the kid, his shocked and reddening face, inopportune timing, and the cold showers you and Namjoon had had to take after that. Realising how that must sound, though, you immediately backtrack. “I mean, he’s - he’s sweet, but… I was looking at… at Jimin, actually. I like his jacket,” you add lamely, for the first time noting the colourful and sparkly cardigan he has on.

She seems to accept your answer as the professor dismisses the class, thanking them for their unexpected participation. As you stand up and begin gathering your things, it takes you a moment to realise that while the case study might be over, the topic of BTS certainly isn’t.

“... documentary on how Eminem rose to fame,” Bill, one of the guys behind you, says as he zips up his bag. “Dre said it, too, that the best rappers have flow, beats and wordplay. RM has all of those. At least in k-pop, he’s one of the best,” he declares.

“The rest of them are really good, too,” the girl next to you pipes up, letting her blond hair out of its ponytail. “Suga and J-Hope. Best rap line in k-pop,” she corrects Bill.

“Wait, hang on, Ana,” says the guy next to Bill, turning to his friend. “What d’you mean wordplay? You don’t even speak Korean!”

They continue bickering, the two guys and Ana trailing behind them next to you. As the class exits, a few more people join them and it doesn’t take you long to realise that it’s everyone in the class who has any kind of opinion on k-pop. It’s incredibly strange; your heart skips a beat every time you hear anyone refer to Namjoon, especially when they’re giving him a compliment, but everything after that feels like brand new information. You hover around the same group as everyone mills outside before going their separate ways. There aren’t too many post graduate students you’re familiar with apart from the ones you studied with last year, but suddenly you’re glad you chose to attend this lecture.

BTS RM Tops Spotify Charts with Mixtape in Twenty-Four Hours… You scroll through the article on your laptop an hour later, feet up on your coffee table and a glass of red wine next to you. They’ve used a recent picture of Namjoon, dyed blond hair and winning smile taking up your whole screen before the article begins. You remember when the mixtape came out; you’d been together for three months at the most, and all he’d said about it was that it was different from the stuff BTS usually put out so he wasn’t sure if fans would like it. 

You knew it had done well, though; Namjoon’s relief and happiness hadn’t been a secret but it had coincided with you getting your research methodology approved and his reaction when you’d told him had been to “celebrate both wins together”. Now, you can’t quite believe he’d thought they were the same thing.

You continue going through headlines with a little trepidation. Even after Jae-Lin had revealed that the guy you’d bumped into and flirted with over a year ago was the leader of BTS, you’d been hesitant to look him up online, part of you wanting to follow your instincts and research, but another part forcing you to restrain yourself because you honestly had no idea what you’d find. Once you’d met him and gone on a couple of dates, you’d been able to form your own opinion of him - which, by all standards, was a fantastic one, and you’d no longer needed to read anything else.

The front door opens and you immediately close the browser window, looking up to see Namjoon enter. He takes off his earphones the moment he sees you and smiles easily, dimples popping. “Hey, beautiful,” he murmurs, walking up to you and tilting his head to kiss you on the mouth. “Sorry I’m late,” he says, straightening up and taking off the baseball cap. He runs a hand through his hair and takes a seat next to you. “How was your day?”

“It was okay,” you reply, leaning into him a bit when he puts an arm around your shoulders. “Good lecture.”

“Yeah? What was it about?” He sounds genuinely interested, just like he had on your first date when you’d told him what you do. 

“Neuromarketing.” You bite your lip, not elaborating further. It’s suddenly odd to see him back here after everything you’ve seen and heard in your class today. You note how different he looks, too; every picture on the slides had him and the band looking flawless, in designer clothes and with smooth skin and perfect hair. But right now, in chinos and Chuck Taylors, with his hair slightly messy and face bare, he looks like a dream. 

He’s still frowning curiously, though, so you shake your head. “I’ll tell you about it later.”

“Okay.” Namjoon sighs and ruffles his hair again. “I’m going to take a shower. It was a hot day,” he adds, and you nod in agreement. “We’ll watch the documentary when I’m back?”

“Yeah, sure.”

Smiling and patting your bare leg affectionately, he kisses your cheek and stands up. “Oh, by the way,” he says, moving to hang the cap on the line of hooks you have on the wall next to your TV, currently occupied by your bag and a few stoles, “I passed by the gallery today while they were setting up for tomorrow’s exhibit. It looks like it’s going to be huge.”

You raise your eyebrows. “Do you think you'll be recognised? We can skip it if you want.”

“What? No,” he says immediately. “I know how hard it must have been to get these tickets - I definitely want to go.”

“Are you sure?”

“A hundred percent,” he confirms, taking your hand and kissing your knuckles before heading inside. He emerges fifteen minutes later, in a white t-shirt and black cotton shorts, drying his wet hair with a towel. The image makes something stir inside you and the warmth you feel coursing through you makes you wonder if the second glass of wine was a bad idea. You’d tried, while he was gone, to try and put your finger on why you were suddenly looking at him a bit differently, hoping that seeing him in the flesh might do the trick. But he seems more than ever like the same person you’ve known since June last year - except for that one thing.

“I just remembered, I have to send an email,” he mutters, going to his bag which he’d left under the row of hooks and retrieving a small, sleek laptop.

“Now?” you ask, keeping your own laptop aside and standing up before making your way over to him.

“Yeah, it needs to get to the management before they wake up in the morning, which is…” He checks his watch “... in about an hour.” He props the laptop open on your small dining table and begins typing away on the Korean keyboard, still standing. 

You stop right behind him and place your hands lightly on his hip bones, pressing a kiss to his shoulder. He smells of your shower gel but there’s an additional scent there, something you only get to experience when he’s around and miss like hell when he isn’t.

Namjoon lets out a content sigh and pauses typing when he feels your touch. “I’m sorry, baby,” he says softly, “but this will just take a minute, I promise.”

“It’s okay, take your time,” you murmur, wrapping your arms around his waist when he resumes typing. Your nose is at level with the top of his shoulder; you rest your forehead against it and inhale, content to just be with him, his large and comforting frame back in your life and in your apartment.

“Babe?” You tighten your arms around him slightly and wait for him to murmur in acknowledgement. “Who’s Runch Randa?”

The typing stops abruptly. “What?”

You lift your head to rest your chin against his shoulder blade so he can hear you more clearly. “Runch Randa?” you repeat.

“Where, uh, where did you hear that name?”

“In my Economics class today.”

“You heard Runch Randa in your Economics class?”

“M-hm,” you nod, mostly telling the truth. The girl sitting next to you - Anabelle, you'd discovered later - had mentioned the name to the group in a deliberate attempt to be nonchalant and looked extremely proud when no one else seemed to recognise it, before she finally explained it on her own. “Apparently, he’s a pretty big deal.”

“Kaya?”

“Yeah?”

“You’re going to have to explain, babe, just a little bit.”

You snicker against his shoulder. “You were a case study in my class today. Or, BTS was,” you amend.

“Seriously?” Namjoon turns around slightly. “Wow. Why?”

“It was actually a pretty good example of perception marketing,” you allow, “and it included other k-pop acts, too. But,” you add, coming back to the point, “apparently you’re, like… a really huge deal. Top of the industry and stuff?”

“Oh, that’s… that’s not true.”

“Really?”

“M-hm.”

“So BTS isn’t platinum in, like, forty countries with the highest album sales of any k-pop group ever?”

He pauses. “I mean… okay, yeah, but -”

“And you aren’t the leader of the group? And apparently the best rapper in the industry, neck and neck with Zico?”

Namjoon pauses, turning around a bit more. “Someone said I’m as good as Zico?” he asks, eyes wide. “Wait - how do you know who Zico is?”

You haven’t the faintest idea who Zico is, but it was one of the two names being thrown around while the group from your class debated on who the best rapper in the Korean industry was. But this isn’t about your k-pop knowledge - or lack thereof. “And your mixtape didn’t top Spotify charts in, like, a day?”

There’s silence for a moment before Namjoon sighs and turns around fully, and you drop your arms from around him. “Where did you hear that?”

“I read it online, like a normal person. Although a normal person would probably hear about it from her boyfriend, considering it was his album,” you tell him, unable to keep a note of annoyance out of your voice.

He leans back against the table and frowns slightly. “Are you mad?”

You sigh heavily, reaching out to tug at the bottom of his t-shirt. “No, of course not. I just… it’s a really huge deal. And even the other stuff…” You bite your lip, trying to get to the bottom of it. “You don’t talk about your work a lot,” you finish eventually.

He shrugs, eyes softening. “Yeah, because I don’t get to see you that often,” he says, pulling you closer by the waist. “Why would I want to talk about work when I do get to see you?”

“I’m not saying you need to talk about it all the time, but I want to know,” you say in a small voice. “The good stuff and the bad. I tell you everything about my work,” you point out.

Namjoon raises an eyebrow. “You tell me everything?”

“Pretty much. Minus the boring stuff.”

“You didn’t tell me you walk back home alone from campus after midnight. I found that out when I got here and saw it for myself.” You don’t miss the disapproving note in his tone, so you give him a look until he sighs again. “Look, I know you weren’t really into k-pop before we met. I don’t want to force it on you.”

“You weren’t into behavioural economics research when we met either, but I still tell you all about it.” When he doesn’t answer, you drop your gaze. “Congratulations. On the Spotify thing.” You feel yourself getting pulled closer to him and his arms encircling your waist.

“Thank you,” he mutters, pressing his lips to the side of your neck before coming back up to your lips and kissing you. You automatically kiss him back, reaching up to wrap your arms around his neck as you melt into him, like you always do. His mouth opens against yours and you sigh softly, having thought about nothing but this all day. 

Namjoon slides one hand slightly lower down the curve of your hip. “Sexy t-shirt,” he murmurs against your mouth.

You smile into the kiss. “It should be. It’s yours.”

He lowers his hand even further so it skims the hem of the t-shirt and lifts it up, making a low sound of approval. “Damn, I thought you were wearing shorts under this.”

“M-m, it’s too hot for shorts,” you reply, feeling the familiar warmth between your legs and nipping at his lip. “Is that a problem?”

He chuckles, low and deep. “Not at all.” He squeezes your arse and the heat increases. “It’s encouraged, in fact.”

You know if you keep going, you’re bound to forget everything you were talking about before this so you pull away regretfully and push him back slightly, ignoring his quiet groan. “Okay, no, but back to you and how you’re some kind of legend in the industry.”

Namjoon groans, an embarrassed hint of a smile on his face. “I’m not. Really. There’s seven of us who’ve made all that happen.”

“No, I know,” you say immediately, resisting the urge to roll your eyes. “I’m not trying to take anything away from them, but… okay, aren’t you the leader? The first member of the group? Had the opportunity to go solo but didn’t take it? Underground rapper with a name and a brand already?”

His smile widens and the dimple appears, even as he drops his face into his hand before looking back at you. “Okay, yes, all that is… technically true. But it sounds a lot fancier than it is.”

“Ugh, you’re so sexy when you’re being modest,” you groan teasingly, your stomach flipping when he laughs as you push him back by the chest until he’s sitting in your recliner. It’s your most expensive purchase, one you’d made after you’d finished a gruelling research job for one of the university’s faculty members, and you’d sprung for a good version, with a soft leather lining and the cup holders on either arm. 

Namjoon sits back without protest, the top of his head just an inch above the back of the chair. You straddle him, finally having his full attention. His expression is somewhere between exasperated and indulgent and you have to ignore the jolt in your heart as his hands come up to rest comfortably on your hips. “Alright, what’s going on?”

“Nothing is going on.” You aren’t sure how to put this into words and it frustrates you. You’re normally quite articulate, especially when it comes to self-awareness, but this time you just can’t identify it. You hold his gaze; despite sitting on his lap, his height ensures that you’re still at eye level with each other. “I just want to know what’s going on with my brilliant boyfriend, that’s all.”

“Your brilliant boyfriend needs to finish writing an email,” he says, matter-of-fact.

You deflate. “Fine, I can take a hint,” you mutter, moving to get off but immediately feeling yourself being pulled back.

“No, come here, I’m sorry,” he says, smiling and sounding apologetic. “I’m… I’m just not very good at taking compliments.”

“Even from me?”

“Especially from you. My brilliant Ph.D girlfriend,” he adds, pulling you even closer and kissing you on the cheek.

“I’m not a Ph.D yet,” you remind him, your cheeks warm. You shift your gaze, suddenly feeling shy. You finger a strand of his hair; it was initially a warm, golden blond but with his natural brown seeping in, it’s a dark, caramel colour, longer than it had been when you first met. “It felt nice,” you say finally, “to hear all that stuff about you. Of course, a little weird because a room full of strangers knew more about you than I did…” You lower your hand and your eyes. “But I felt proud and…” You trail off.

“And?”

You shrug and shake your head. “Nothing. Just proud.”

"Thank you," he says after a moment, and his voice sounds deeper. When you simply nod and look up, he frowns slightly. "What?"

"... What?"

"Kaya." His voice is deep and soothing, like warm honey, and he looks more curious than anything else, tilting his head. "What is it?"

You straighten your face, wondering what exactly it is that he's seeing on it. "Nothing," you repeat, mostly because you don't know either. His torso, large and lean, is inches away from yours. You feel your toes curl of their own accord when you notice how his gaze continually falls and lingers on you.

Namjoon doesn't say anything else. He’s seen this look before - he just can’t place it exactly. You’re playing with the ends of your hair, falling dark and wavy down your shoulders and stopping just above your breasts. The leaf green t-shirt looks like spring against your olive skin and, without thinking, he brushes a strand of hair off your neck. As you shift slightly in his lap, he feels the elastic of your underwear against his thumb and immediately wonders if you’re wearing black - and he feels himself stir at the thought.

He can’t tell if you’ve felt it. It suddenly occurs to him where he’s seen this look and at the same moment, something seems to click in your mind. Leaning forward, you tilt your head slightly and kiss him. 

He seems surprised for a fraction of a second but responds passionately, sliding his hands slowly up your back as you bring your hand to rest behind his head, fingers running through his hair. All intellectual brilliance aside, Kim Namjoon is the best goddamn kisser you’ve ever come across in your life. You open your mouth against his, sighing when you feel his tongue press sensually against yours and pull at his hair slightly, and this time you definitely feel him stir under you.

“Fuck, I’ve missed you,” he murmurs, moving down to trail kisses down your jaw and to your neck as his hands disappear under your t-shirt. His large hands envelope almost your entire torso, warm and familiar on your skin before reaching your breasts, pushing them up and squeezing them. Your soft groan makes him twitch and he feels for your nipple, moving the hem of your bra aside and running his thumb over it.

“Oh, god…” You moan even louder, rolling your hips into his. “Shit, you’re really good at everything, aren’t you?” His low snicker against your neck makes your abdomen clench, and you feel him squeeze your breasts again. “World famous music producer and everything?”

Aside from the conversation you were just having, you’ve just referred to an inside joke, possibly the oldest one you both have. His chest flutters at the memory of your face looking up at him in the sunshine, juxtaposed with the reality of you on his lap right now, expression full of desire. “You know I am, baby,” he murmurs, snaking a hand down to your arse and pulling you closer. “A pretty damn good music producer…”

Your eyes snap open as he begins sucking softly at the spot above your collarbone. There it is, you think, except you don’t yet know what it is but you can tell it’s right in front of you, dangling just within reach. You run your hand through his hair again, your fingernails scraping against his scalp. He groans softly against your skin and your heart starts beating faster.

“Tell me you’re the best rapper the industry’s ever seen,” you whisper, eyes fluttering shut as he squeezes your breasts again. He chuckles again, soft and low, but you’re done with jokes. Pulling away slightly, you push him backwards by the shoulder and kiss him, ignoring his momentary surprise. By the time you separate, he’s panting, his eyes narrow and heavily lidded. You suddenly realise how you’ve both shifted, and you’re finally able to look down at him. “Tell me,” you repeat softly.

Namjoon bites his lower lip, as though just realising he’s looking up at you, too. “I’m the best fucking rapper the industry’s ever seen,” he says quietly. Your heart jolts and you feel a warm wetness between your legs as you reach forward and your mouths meet again, messier and wetter than before. Even his grip is stronger now, holding your pelvis to his as he slides one hand beyond the hem of your underwear and squeezes the flesh.

“Joon,” you murmur, pulling away, breathless, and holding his gaze. “I want to tie you up.”

His eyes flicker for a moment, running over your dishevelled hair, swollen lips and glowing skin. Then, he nods. “Okay.”

Your heart thuds and for a moment you don’t move. You think you know what this is about, but you don’t want to overthink it. Clambering off his lap, you walk towards the row of hooks and grab the two thinnest stoles you can find before sauntering back over to Namjoon. His eyes don’t leave you and as you near him, he places his arms on the armrests of the chair, his erection now fully visible. 

“Sure you’re okay with this?” you ask, pausing where you’re kneeling down, a dark blue stole ready to be used. When he nods again, the corner of his mouth curving upwards slightly almost like he’s looking forward to it, you smirk up at him. His heart jolts in his chest at the sight of your smile, his favourite thing in the world, and he sits back as you secure both his wrists to the cup holders of the chair before standing up again.

“Fuck, you’re so sexy,” he mutters, visibly checking you out and letting his gaze linger on where the t-shirt rides up to the tops of your thighs as you run your hands through your hair. You notice where his attention is and raise your hands even higher, allowing the black of your underwear to peek through and Namjoon lets out a choked sigh before looking back up at you.

You love it when he talks dirty - which is often. He knows he has the voice for it and he uses it all the time, telling you how gorgeous you look or what he wants to do to you. It usually works differently because while neither of you occupy the role of the dominant one, Namjoon usually leads, worshipping your body and driving you crazy in equal measure. This time, though… you straddle him again, slowly, taking your time because now, the best fucking rapper in the industry has all his attention on you.

Hesitating just so you can see his reaction, you lean forward and kiss him again, slower this time. You tease him, swiping your tongue across his lower lip and biting on it lightly until he groans into your mouth. His erection twitches again and you feel it more clearly this time. Still kissing him, you reach down between you and palm him through his shorts, feeling yourself get wetter when you realise how hard he is.

“Fuck,” he breathes, pulling away and resting his head on the back of the chair. “God, I want your mouth on me…”

“I know you do, baby,” you murmur, slowly letting him go and sitting back so you can lift his t-shirt. You watch his expression as you run your hands up his torso, loving how he’s forcing himself to meet your gaze. You make sure to graze your fingernails against his skin until you reach his pecs and lift the shirt up further. The way his breath hitches tells you that he knows what’s coming - something you’ve only done once before.

Shifting further back on his lap, you lower yourself so you can press your lips to his sternum. The scent of your lime shower gel that he's used hits you again and you move up further, feeling his chest tighten under your light touch. “Something wrong, baby?” you ask softly, trailing your mouth higher up. When you reach the spot below his nipple, you feel his erection strain against his shorts.

“Kaya,” he mutters, sounding like he’s gritting his teeth. “Come on, don’t tease me, baby...”

“You tease me all the time,” you remind him, unable to resist pointing that out. “Being a big deal in the music business can’t get you everything, baby.” Lifting his shirt up further, you reach out to lightly brush your tongue against his nipple.

“Fuck!”

You look up from your position to see his head thrown back as he bites down on his lip. You continue, more confident now that you’re getting the reaction you wanted. You lick his nipple again, this time grazing it lightly with your teeth when he groans again when you feel a warm wetness against your thigh. Reaching for his erection, you brush your thumb over his covered tip, confirming the pre cum that’s leaked out.

Straightening up, you reach for his face, bringing it down to look at you. “Fuck, you’re so hard for me, baby,” you murmur, only partly in wonder. Slipping a hand under the waistband of his shorts, you grip his length through his boxers, your own clit pulsing at the feel of it. Namjoon’s eyes flutter shut when he feels your touch and you kiss his jaw, making your way down to his neck and biting lightly on his earlobe. 

“How many artists said they wanted to work with you this year, hm?” you ask calmly, your lips touching the helix of this ear and your thumb brushing the tip of his cock. “When you were in the States last month?”

“Not -” He breaks off, biting his lip as you continue stroking him. You sit up to look at him properly, waiting for him to pay attention to you. “I…” He swallows, and you feel him pulsate in your hand. “Ten… maybe fifteen,” he says at last.

You nod, knowing you’re soaked through your underwear by now. “I’m so proud,” you tell him softly, lowering your head to kiss him again. He kisses you back hungrily and you run your free hand across his shoulders and down his chest, your stomach leaping at how tight and tense he is.

“I want you…” Namjoon whines, lips moving off yours and pressing an open-mouthed kiss to your jaw, “... please, babygirl.”

At the last word, you let him go and slide off of him, getting your first good look at how far you’ve been able to push him till now. Wrists tied, cock hard and expression both aroused and frustrated, you can finally reconcile what you’ve been feeling this whole time. RM, leader, rapper, producer and Big Hit’s main man is yours. 

Kneeling down between his spread knees, you hear him sigh and see his hands clench into fists on either side of your head, bound by a green and blue stole each. You snake one hand up his thigh, continuing even after it disappears into his shorts until you feel him again, big and hard. You palm him, trying to ignore how much you want him right now, how badly you want him to fill you up… Namjoon groans again, tilting his head back and closing his eyes.

“Kaya…” He sounds so incredible, his deep voice reverberating in your small apartment, his huge frame in your favourite chair, all the while at your mercy. 

"Yeah, babe?"

“Please…”

You retrieve your hand and reach forward to bring his shorts and boxers down together, freeing his cock, hard and already dripping pre cum. You need to bite your lip to keep from audibly moaning at the sight; it’s never ceased to amaze you just how well-endowed your boyfriend is, especially because he doesn’t act overconfident or super proud of it. 

Getting on all fours so you can crawl back between his legs, you sit back on your heels and look up at him, willing him to beg again. His pleading gaze is enough, though; when you reach out gently grasp him, he lets out a guttural groan and drops his head back against the chair. 

“God, you’re so hard, baby,” you repeat in a wondrous murmur, stroking him once. Next to you, his fists clench again and his hard length pulses in your hand. You brush his tip with your thumb so the pre cum leaks out, your core aching when he groans in pleasure. Standing up but retaining your hold on him, you gently bring his face to meet yours. You kiss him, softly. “Tell me what you want, baby.”

Namjoon’s eyes flutter open unevenly to look at you, the desire and desperation clear on his face. You feel a jerk, and when you see his gaze abruptly move to his hands, you realise it’s the first time he’s forgotten that he’s tied up. Licking his lips and swallowing, he meets your gaze again. “Suck me…” he sighs, closing his eyes and finally giving in. 

BTS’s RM essentially, you could say, was responsible for an entire quarter’s increase in revenue for the parent company - so why are we glossing over this rather important fact? The question that was posed to the class runs through your mind as you lower yourself, as does the response, wherein while everybody else struggled to put forward a few well-informed guesses, you’d felt a flutter in your stomach at the sheer power your boyfriend clearly held… except for now.

You stroke him a few more times, smoothly and consistently, using the pre cum to lubricate him well. Namjoon’s sighs tell you it’s working, so without making him wait any longer, you reach forward and take him in your mouth. The moment your lips touch his cock, he lets out a groan and you automatically grip him a little harder. Slowly, you take him in further until you establish a cadence, running your tongue along his length and swirling it around his head.

“Fuck, Kaya, you feel so good…” He groans, and you can tell he’s struggling to keep his hips from buckling. His deep voice, capable of making you feel so much even in a non-sexual setting, makes your heart race and your clit throb with desire. From your periphery, you see him look down at you. “You look so pretty with your mouth around my cock, fuck…”

You can’t help it; you moan at his words and hunch further over him, taking him in as deep as you can, feeling his tip touch the back of your throat. You lift your hips off your heels to get into a better position and feel his oversized t-shirt drop down your back. You don’t realise until you hear the chair creak and see his hands strain against the bonds that your underwear is visible and by his reaction, you were right about it being black.

“God, baby, I want to come in your mouth,” he murmurs, groaning loudly when you cup his balls with your other hand. “I don’t think I can - I think I’m going to -”

Just as he breaks off, you let him go with a pop and stand up, feeling close to the edge yourself when he groans in frustration. You don’t wait for him to glare at you or beg any further; you’ve teased him enough - and ironically, you’ve made yourself a hot mess for him, too. Brushing the rogue strands of hair off your face and wiping your mouth, you reach up under the t-shirt and tug your underwear down, stepping out of it and straddling him.

“Shit, yes…” The relief in Namjoon’s face is more than evident when you climb onto his lap. Kissing him, you raise your hips and slide down onto his cock, both of you moaning in unison. Pulling away from his mouth, you sigh in pleasure as you shift into position, feeling his length and girth inside you and feeling so full, so complete that you whisper his name without thinking.

He grunts in response, moving his hips so he hits your g-spot just right. “Fucking hell… Kaya, take off your t-shirt, baby.”

Instinctively, you’re about to listen before you stop and take a long, hard look at your boyfriend. He’s gritting his teeth, already on edge, his muscles tense and his eyes narrow and boring into you like he’s already undressed you mentally.

Can’t have that. Grabbing the back of his head, you roll your hips into his, not taking your eyes off him as he groans again. You kiss him, your tongues meeting immediately, both your moans being swallowed as you fuck him into the chair, your hands sliding up his t-shirt and feeling his taut chest. His shoulders tense further and you feel the chair move as he tugs on the restraints.

“Kaya…”

You shiver when you hear his voice, because he’s no longer pleading. His mouth moves to wherever it can reach, down your jaw and to the side of your neck before you manoeuvre him to look at you again.

“Tell me you’re it,” you murmur, using all your strength to keep your voice steady while he stays inside you, “tell me you’re the industry, baby.”

Namjoon meets your gaze, looking like he’s holding onto the last shred of resistance he has in him. Still not breaking eye contact, you reach down and take your shirt off, keeping just enough distance from him for him to screw his eyes shut in frustration and tug at the restraints again. “I’m the goddamn fucking industry,” he mutters, his gaze falling to your mouth.

You don’t keep him waiting any longer and roll your hips into his again, your breasts pressing against his chest as you kiss him roughly, pulling his hair and biting his lip to tell him everything - how proud you are of him, how much you love him, how ridiculously lucky you feel sometimes. He tugs at the bonds again and this time you feel the chair move.

“Fucking hell, Kaya, please let me touch you, baby!” Namjoon pulls away and blurts, sounding more frustrated than ever. He tugs at the restraints one more time but you don’t make him wait any longer, simply reaching back and untying both scarves one by one. His hands come up to you at lightning speed, flat on your skin, reaching everywhere. 

You frantically tug at the bottom of his t-shirt and unhook your bra as he takes it off, mouths meeting again in a fit of passion and desperation. You can feel every bit of his skin, as warm and clammy as yours, as he holds you to him as close as possible.

“You’re so fucking sexy,” he mutters against your mouth, hands pushing your breasts together and squeezing them. He takes one of your nipples, rock hard between his fingers and twists it. You moan and pull away, fucking him faster now, your whimpers and his grunts in harmony. 

“Oh, God, Joon, I’m so close,” you gasp, clutching his shoulders. His hands snake down to your arse and he grabs the flesh, and you can feel his warm breath on your face, telling you he’s close as well.

“Mm, cum all over my cock, baby,” he murmurs tightly, pressing another kiss to your jaw. He squeezes your arse again before landing a light spank on your cheek - and you do exactly as he asked. You shudder in his arms as you feel wave after wave of your orgasm crash onto you. “Fuck, I love you so much,” you hear him say against your neck before grabbing your hips again and coaxing you to move.

Using him for support, you begin moving again, feeling his hips thrust upwards as well. “I’m almost there, babygirl,” he mutters, reaching up to kiss you again.

You kiss him back hungrily, feeling your wetness coat his cock further. “Come on, fill me up, baby,” you whine against his mouth, feeling his hips buckle upwards before he groans and drops his head backwards. You close your eyes as you feel the warm spurts inside you as he pants, his bare chest heaving as he tries to catch his breath.

You lean into him, dropping your head onto his shoulder, exhausted. Pressing a kiss to the slightly sweaty skin of his neck, you close your eyes again. “Love you, too,” you whisper, feeling his arms come around you as he softens inside you. This, arguably, is one of your favourite things about sex with Namjoon. While neither of you are too cuddly or tactile in general, the few moments after sex are so intimate and private that he holds you in silence anyway, gentle and protective no matter how urgent or rough the sex was.

“What was that?” His voice is quiet, fingers brushing your hair off your clammy shoulder.

You look up at him, head still resting on his chest. “What was what?” you ask innocently. When he gives you a look, a hint of a smile still on his face, you shrug and look down. It seems insane that after what just transpired, you might actually be too shy to meet his gaze. “Did you like it?”

Namjoon sighs thoughtfully, and you eventually do look up at him. “Well,” he says finally, “it was different. And I think you can tell if I liked it or not,” he admits, smile widening just a bit. “But I’d say if you like this chair, you probably shouldn’t do it again.”

“Okay. I won’t do it again in this chair.”

He chuckles and kisses the top of your head. “Where are you going?” he asks when you sit up a moment later, an underlying whine in his tone.

“I’m getting up.” You adjust yourself and both of you sigh softly as he slides out of you. Reaching for the tissue box on the side table, you clean yourselves up before you get off the chair and start pulling on your clothes. “What?” you ask, noticing how he hasn’t moved.

“I…” He sighs and smiles lazily, sitting back and watching you hook your bra. “Nothing. That was just…” He sighs again and you feel your cheeks heat up with the way he’s looking at you, but you keep your cool. “I’m not ready to be done yet,” he states, holding out a hand, presumably for you to take and climb back on his lap.

You shake your head, though. “Can’t, baby,” you tell him, pulling on your t-shirt and kissing him on the cheek. “You have an email to finish writing.”

~

Thank you for reading. Don't forget to drop a review :)

Tagging: @kflixnet @k-radio @ggukkieland

#namjoon x oc #btswritingcafe #ficscafe #kpopsociety #thebtswritersclub #btsgoldnet #houseofddaeng #bangtanbathhouse #namjoon fanfiction #namjoon smut #btsbingo2022 #btsdreamcourt #bangtaninn #bangtanwritershq #bts fanfiction #bts smut #namjoon fluff #bts fluff #ksmutclub #52hertz #hyunglinenetwork

[sugalaritae]

way back home (myg)

summary: you need an escape. yoongi is there for you in your time of need.

pairing: Min Yoongi x Reader (no specified gender or pronouns used)

genre: smut, angst

au: post-apocalyptic western

rating: 18+ this is sort of pwp

word count: 3.1k

warnings: post-environmental apocalypse, hints at abusive father and fiance, rough yoongi, quiet yoongi, death threat, blow job, dom!yoongi, yoongi has BDE, mocking, degradation, nipple biting, possessiveness, throat fucking, fucking, yoongi keeps the jewelry on, unprotected sex (be careful!), creampie

author's note: so as you all know the teaser for 'that that' destroyed me and left me in bits and pieces and i came up with this little teaser that got some attention and i couldn't get the idea out of my head. then i started thinking about the novella Upright Women Wanted by Sarah Gailey and i knew that i wanted to have that kind of western but modern vibe. (seriously read that novella, it's suuuuuper queer and fantastic!!) a special thank you goes to the absolutely wonderful @miscelunaaa @minttangerines and @vyduan for looking this over and giving me suggestions/yelling at me and i'm just so very thankful for all of them!! i appreciate you all so much. the incredible @wwilloww made this banner and i am so thankful for them.

tag list: @herecomesjoon @neverendingforever

© sugalaritae, 2022. you do not have any permission to repost or translate my work even if you give credit. all of this is mine.

You don’t know how long you’ve been riding. The adrenaline from being taken from your house has subsided and thus the ache in your back has slipped further than just the muscle and seems to be in your bones. Every step the horse makes is painful and you want to tell him that you have had enough but you’re not sure how he will react, whether it will be kind or angry.

You’re not willing to find out. So, you persevere and hold his waist tighter. All you can do is hope that the ride will be over soon and you’ll be wherever he is taking you.

You close your eyes. Images of a world and a future that you are not sure you will be able to ever live in floats through your mind. Happiness instead of what has come before. You’ve never been sure if happiness could be attainable for you and yet you’ve still hoped for it.

Whenever you’ve thought of hope, his words always fill your head, telling you that hope is stupid and is more deadly than any cancer. You’re not sure if this is correct or not; but you’ve not lived the life that he has lived. You’ve not been able to experience the world the way he has and you trust that his experience speaks more truth than anything you’ve been through.

Time slips further on with each hoofbeat and you open your eyes to watch the scenery, your head resting against his back between his shoulders, feeling every muscle move against your cheek. You’ve seen images of what this landscape used to look like before everything happened. Before the earth decided to claim herself again and fought back against all of the horrible things humanity had put her through. This is the world that you’ve always known and if he is right about hope, then pictures of what life used to be like seem to be just as deadly. Nostalgia for a time that you have never experienced leaves your brain spinning and an emptiness in the pit of your stomach.

Finally, the horse seems to slow and you turn to look forward over his shoulder. You were always curious about what his life looked like. Where he slept when he wasn’t with you, but you can’t see anywhere that might lend itself as a home. A small rocky hill is where you’ve stopped, but no tent or fire is set up. No evidence that this is where anyone could be living.

You hear him make a few sounds and the animal under you responds, both speaking a language that you didn’t even know existed. You were never raised around horses, always able to see them when they came into town but never up close and you’ve only ever heard stories about how people speak to horses.

He grabs your hands and pulls them off him roughly, leaving you with a weird feeling that travels from the point of touch into your chest. He slides off the horse and pulls at his jacket to straighten it. You’re not sure how he looks so clean still; you feel like you’re covered in dust, whereas his ivory jacket and pants look like he’s just washed them.

Perhaps it’s something that happens when you’re used to this kind of life? Perhaps, eventually, you’ll be able to look just as put together as he does.

He holds up one finger at you and looks around.

You want off this horse and you are growing impatient. Your legs ache. Your back feels like it’s been pushed together. You weren’t sure that muscles could ache in this way. You’re used to being pushed to your limit but this is unpleasant and you hate every single moment of it.

Finally, he returns and holds out his hands. You awkwardly lean down and rest your hands on his shoulders and slip off the horse and land against him and his chest.

“You good?” he asks and you nod. You look up at his face just in time to watch him shove his tongue in his cheek and nod before he lets you go, walking to the horse and whispering something to it as his hands run over its smooth dark brown coat.

You watch as he walks ahead of you and into a small opening in the rock that you had barely noticed. You follow him. The rock is cold to the touch, and for a moment you’re worried that you won’t be able to fit, but you push yourself through, the rock scraping at your cheek followed by a slight burning sensation. Then you’re through. It takes a moment for your eyes to adjust to the change.

It’s not a lot different from the dark outside, but he has lit a candle and it flickers in the small, tall cave. As he begins to light more candles, you can see more of what he has set up. Blankets folded as if they were on top of a mattress. A backpack leans against the wall of the cave with clothes folded neatly beside it. Will this be your new home? You’re not sure what he has planned for you.

Your legs ache as you stand. You’re not sure how much longer you will be able to stay upright.

You’re about to open your mouth and ask him what he is planning when out of the corner of your eye, you see him put a candle down and walk to you, a dark look in his eyes. Your heart beats wildly in your chest, uncertain of what that look might mean.

You are about to speak when he pushes a hand against your mouth, stopping any words that you were about to say, his other arm wrapping around your waist and pulling you against him.

“Before you talk I want you to know that if you tell anyone about this place and where it is, I will kill you.”

His voice is deep. He has spoken to you in a tone similar to this one, but you’ve never heard him speak words like this, and what scares you more about the threat is that you can tell just by his tone that he will follow through if you expose him. If you ran then he would follow through, no matter how many whispered words he’s given you before.

You nod.

His gaze moves over your face, his jaw taut, and then he nods. “Be good and don’t make me regret this.”

Slowly his hand lowers and you swallow, the nerves and realization of what exactly the two of you have done pushes down your throat and settles somewhere deep in your abdomen. He drags his fingertips down your cheek and chin, your mouth falling open ever-so-slightly at the familiar touch. His gaze has softened, and despite knowing that he would follow through with his threat, there is something deeper and bigger in his eyes.

He pushes you back slightly and leaves you craving his touch. That gaze burns through your skin. He turns his back to you and you watch him slip off his jacket and set it down carefully on a small rusted foldable chair.

You take a step and the ground seems to give way and you fall onto your knees into the dirt. Or is it sand?

He turns and you miss the little smirk that slides across his mouth.

“Now what are you doing down there?” he asks with an evil, mocking chuckle that seems to ricochet from deep in his throat. “Is there a purpose? Are you going to beg for something?” He raises an eyebrow, “Or are you going to be good and show me how thankful you are?”

He closes the space between you and bends down, lifting your chin with the edge of his index finger.

“Are you okay?” he asks and you nod as he slides the pad of his thumb along your bottom lip. “Open up baby,” he whispers, his voice that familiar purr.

You’ve known this man for months. He’s the first man that touched you with pleasure as the goal. You didn’t know that another person could make you feel the way that he made you feel. You’ve been his ever since you saw him ride into town.

You open your mouth and he slips his thumb in, pushing down on your tongue and pushing it out just a little.

“Fucking perfect,” he whispers more to himself than to you. “Who does this mouth belong to?”

You mumble back and he chuckles at the sound that you make trying to answer him.

“Sorry, I didn’t get that,” he says, leaning down further, doing nothing to ease the pressure on your tongue.

“Yours,” you mumble again and he nods, his eyes dark.

“You’re not going to fuck me over, are you?” he asks and you realize that he’s just as scared as you are, now that the plan that you had discussed for weeks is finally happening.

You shake your head as you try to give him a gaze that tells him just how much you love him and how much you are his.

“Show me how you’re mine,” he whispers as he slips his thumb out of your mouth and wipes your saliva over your cheek.

He stands up straight and you push yourself up properly to sit on your aching knees. Your hands move quickly to his belt buckle. You think of the first time that he kissed you, touched you, and how you ached for him. You had never had a man touch you with such gentle roughness, every single movement calculated and taking in everything that you might be thinking. The world had become an insufferable place, but whenever you were with him, it felt warm and welcoming. Whenever you met him in secret, hiding from your father and the man that you were supposed to marry, the world seemed to be a place that you felt you could call home.

Even now, in this damp cave, you are safe with him.

He watches as you pull his pants and boxers down. The corner of his mouth quirks up as yours drops open. His arousal has started already and you’re shocked. You’ve done nothing that you would consider arousing, and yet here he is. His cock’s tip is growing dark as more blood flows to it.

You stick your tongue up, finally looking up at him. You’re not sure if it’s a trick of the light, but his eyes seem darker than before, as he looks down at you. His thumb traces a line along your chin before you stick out your tongue and slowly swirl the tip of your tongue along his sensitive head. A breath is released above you and his hand falls away from your face as you open wide and take him in.

The taste of sweat slips down your throat but you push past it. You love his taste and smell. It’s a flavor profile that you have gotten used to.

You gag and take a moment to adjust to him, pushing past the discomfort until he hits the very back of your throat and you release a moan against him, the sound vibrating against his sensitive skin.

Your name slides out of his mouth and, combined with the way you can feel him grow harder in your throat, it makes you feel dizzy. 

You slide off of him with a pop and his hands move to your jaw as you slip back onto him. You let him take control, the feel of his metal rings against your cheeks cool against your warm skin. 

His hands guide you, your tongue working around the skin as well as you can, the taste of precum hitting your tongue like the first drops of rain.

Suddenly he pulls your head off of him and gives it a small gentle tug, you look up at him and he nods for you to come up.

You push yourself up off the ground and before you can settle on your feet, he pulls you to him and kisses you hard. His tongue pushes between your lips and the two tastes of him mix in your mouth. You moan against him. His hands pull at your hips as if it is possible for you to get closer to him. And oh! How it would be amazing if you could be. Some nights you have wanted to just be wrapped up in him and become one. 

He overwhelms you like the sky overwhelms the earth.

Your brain finally sends signals to the rest of your body and your hands spring to action on the buttons of his shirt. Your knuckles hit the chains and bolo tie that he always wears around his neck as you work each button. Finally when you have a little more room to do so, you slip your hand into his shirt and feel his pec. Your fingers brush against his nipple and his lips pause at the sensation, before they attack yours again.

His hands work your jeans until they’re open and then he pulls at your top, pulling it up and over your head and tossing it on the ground. His lips leave yours as he kisses his way down your neck and to your chest.

Your hands move into his hair; it feels soft under your touch. Your fingers tighten against the strands as you feel his mouth envelope your nipple, his tongue circling it until it is hard. He sucks roughly, grazing his teeth against it as he lets it slip out of his mouth.

His mouth is on yours again as he begins to walk backward and you follow him like an animal being led to its feast.

He turns you around and guides you gently down onto the pile of blankets that makes up his bed.

You can feel the hard ground under you and it feels so good against your sore back. He bends down over you and grabs your jeans, tugging them off in one swift motion; this time he tosses them toward the chair and they land with a sharp sound as the metal of the button hits the metal of the chair.

You are exposed to him. The air mixing with the way that he is looking at you makes you shiver. He always looks at you like you are the most magnificent part of nature that he has ever seen, but tonight there is something else joining it. There’s a glint that makes your heart beat a little faster, and you’re unsure if it’s because you’re a little scared, nervous, or because he is looking at you in a way that you have only read about in books.

He pulls his own pants off but before he can undo the rest of the buttons on his shirt, you reach up and tug him down by the leopard print material. He smiles as he meets you and kisses your lips gently.

You spread your legs to fit him in between them. You can feel his cock brush against the inside of your thigh before he takes it in his hand and breaks the kiss. He sits up just enough to spit onto his cock, the image and sound make your core tighten around nothing. You take a deep breath as you feel his tip against your entrance and a moan pulls from you as he pushes into you, pauses and pushes in all the way until you can feel his balls against you.

Your moans slip over the rocky walls and slide against them like water as he stays still inside you, allowing you to adjust to him. He lifts your leg and rests it on his shoulder as he begins at the pace you both have gotten used to.

Your hands push back his shirt, exposing one of his shoulders so you can dig your fingernails into his skin. Your head pushes back against the bed.

It all feels so overwhelming, being with him like this in his place. Still in secret, but you are his now. You will always be his for as long as he will have you. He is your hope. The thing you have always clung to even before you met him, before you got to know the feel of his skin against you, before you got to fall in love with the sound of your bodies moving together.

The emotions, sounds, and smells fill the room and make your head feel like you’re swimming, trying desperately to keep afloat and last a little longer than you know you will because you can feel the build in your chest and pelvis.

“I’m close,” you moan.

“I know, I can feel you. Come for me, baby,” he whispers as his hand moves up and down your thigh. “Let me watch you.”

You move your hips with his, your fingers move up and down on your most sensitive nipple and the sensation builds higher, higher, deeper, deeper, until your muscles are clenching around him, milking him for everything that he has.

Your moan is loud, filling the room, making you dizzy. You are drowning in the overwhelming feelings that have taken over the room.

“Fuck, yes,” he moans. He continues at the pace until he drops your leg from his shoulder and lifts your hips up and pounds into you. Everything is aching, your moans relentless, moving along with each of his thrusts.

Every word and sentence of praise and admiration that has been created by human beings spills from his mouth as he feels every slip of you. Your muscles contract and move with each push and pull he gives you.

Finally you feel him still, warmth filling and spilling into you. He moans as he falls against your chest. His hair brushes against your chin and you reach into it, pushing it back. Holding him there against you, your legs wrap around his waist keeping him there inside you.

“I am yours, Yoongi,” you whisper against him.

He releases a little moan.

He pushes himself up and looks down at you. You meet his gaze and all the words you are both too scared to say out loud are whispered silently. He kisses you softly and smiles into the kiss.

You don’t know what the future will hold. Whether you will live past the night. You don’t know if your fiancé and father will come searching for you — if they will find his horse — but you know that you will never betray him. He is yours and you are his.

____

please like, reblog, comment, send an ask if you read this and enjoy it!! let me know if you would like to added to my tag list 💖

this also fills the square "creampie" for @bangtanwritingbingo

#btsdreamcourt #btsgoldnet #btswritersclub #btshoneyhive #btswritingcafe #btsbingo2022 #min yoongi fic #min yoongi smut #min yoongi fanfic #min yoongi x y/n #yoongi x reader #suga fanfic #suga x you #suga smut #fic: way back home

[simpxxstan]

Got My Number (pjm one-shot)

pairing: jimin x reader, ft. jin

genre: slice of life, pwp, angst, smut, infidelity au

summary: you married your husband because your parents asked you to. and it’s not like you don’t love him. it’s just that, you want more sometimes. and who better to provide this, than your fuckbuddy from college, who is also your husband’s colleague?

word count: 3.3k

rating: 18+ 

warning: explicit sexual content, infidelity, y/n is cheating on her husband, fwb in the past, masturbation, slight phone seduction, soft dom!jimin, jimin uses pet names for y/n, jimin has a daddy kink, oral (f. receiving).

a/n: this is for the bingo square “Jimin x Jin” in the Bangtan Writing Bingo event “That Thing You Do”, organised by @bangtanwritingbingo. inspired by monsta x’s song, “got my number”. can't believe how fast i wrote this fic. i just wish i could finish all my wips at this speed! although i hope that the speed hasn't resulted in this being absolute trash. idk but i feel like jimin would so perfectly fit this role! PLEASE lemme know your feedback! it means so much to me that you read this, and if you enjoyed please let me know! it's the best motivation :)

___

Jin had been away for more than two months now. His business trips never seemed to end, and this one had been the longest till date. You had always know that he was a busy man, but this was quite unbearable. Especially since it had been merely eight months since your wedding. It was an arranged marriage, but you and Jin had known each other since childhood. You expected a little more effort from him. But it was all in vain. 

It had been an unspoken thing between your and Jin’s families that you two were destined to marry when you grew up. And to be honest, you did not have a problem with that. Ever since Jin had built a sand castle with you at the age of four, you had loved him. He had been a constant friend, who you could get drunk with at 4 am in the morning. Although you two had moved in respective circles- especially with him taking after his mother’s business, and you had moved into the world of photography- you had never lost contact. You’d never had a boyfriend either- at least one that lasted long. Your relationships had been largely physical, perhaps because you always attracted the wrong tye of man and seemed to weirdly not notice his red flags until it was too late. And you knew that Jin, being always busy in his work, did not have time for relationships. 

So when, on your 28th birthday, your mother asked you to marry Jin, you could not refuse her. Neither did Jin have any issues. It was quite smooth, the wedding, moving in together and living together. 

Especially because he was away almost half the time. 

You’d always known that Jin was attractive, and although you were too shy to admit, you had always had a tiny crush on him. When you were twelve and he was fourteen- you both faced changes in your body at the same time. Your menstrual cycle began, your hips grew wider defining your body shape as an hourglass figure, and your breasts swelling; while Jin grew taller in a rapid growth spurt, his shoulders broadening, and his voice becoming deeper over the passage of a few months. No wonder that you had been unable to keep your eyes off each other during the summer break when you were fifteen years old. You were in awe of how handsome he was becoming, as was he of how beautiful you were now. 

There was one tipsy kiss on the beach that summer. After your first kiss, you had shyly moved away from him, giggling, and that had turned out to be your last kiss with him for the next thirteen years, as you two hardly met after that. 

But now that he was back in close proximity, you could feel that crush blooming in you again. Especially when he cooked breakfast for you and  brought it to you in bed before he left for work. Especially when he would wake up with bed hair and the most prominent morning wood, but he would try to hide it from you. Especially when your cuddles in bed became a little too risque for the both of you to handle. 

But Jin always drew the line, leaving you frustrated and wanting more. It would be just one kiss on your forehead before leaving for work. It would be just a subtle hand on the small of your back when you would be outside. It would be just a back hug when you did the dishes. It would be just spooning in bed, fully clothed and him snoring within a minute, too exhausted from work. 

He was the reason why you were sexually frustated, and lying in your bed staring up at the ceiling, knowing that you need him, someone, to relieve this awkward tension your entrie body had been in for last eight months. The last time you had slept with someone was a whole year ago, and since then, your body has received no escape. You knew there was no point calling Jin, he was busy in a meeting as he had informed you two hours ago. You finished drinking two glasses of wine, the next one would leave you drunk. You danced to your favourite songs and sang in the karaoke. But nothing was helping. You knew a vibrator wouldn’t help- the last time you had tried it, it had given a less than average experience, and you wanted, no needed more. 

But who could give you that more right now, without you breaking your marriage vows to Jin?

Your mind wandered to one person. In fact, your mind had been wandering to him for the past few days, ever since you had met him again at a work dinner, after several years. 

Park Jimin. 

After graduating from college, you had no idea what your former fuckbuddy had been up to. You two hadn’t kept in touch. But seeing him here, in a three piece slate grey suit, his black hair gelled back, and dangling earrings on both his delicate ears, was quite a surprise for you. A pleasant one, for sure. When you had leaned in to shake his hand, as you were, afterall, in a formal setting, you could smell the typical perfume he always wore and the cold silver rings on his fingers. However, when he smiled at you with his eyes, you instantly knew that he had recognised you. You smiled back at him, as you sat down next to him.

It was an enjoyable evening to say the least although you generally hated work dinners. But with Park Jimin next to you, you were a little too happy for your own liking. 

“I heard you’ve gotten married, Y/N.” He whispers to you, which the others cannot hear because the din at the restaurant is too loud, and you both don’t seem keen to let others know that you know each other. “To Jin?” You look at him with a surprised expression. You and Jin had hardly made any public appearances together, nor had you had a very big wedding. How did Jimin know?

“Yes…, but how do you know?”

He chuckles. “Jin’s my colleague and quite a close friend. You probably don’t know, but I work for his company too. Just different departments.” “Oh.” You gasped. Jimin smirked at you, his infamous smirk that had attracted you to him the first night you had met at a party. “Have you changed your number?” He asked, nonchalantly. “Umm, yeah.” “Can I have your new number?” 

Fuck, he was still as flirty as he was that day. It was the same thing- even the same words. You couldn’t believe that he had the audacity to flirt with you, a married woman, wife of his colleague, wife of his friend. Or maybe this wasn’t flirting, it was just him being informal and nice to you. 

You gave him your new number, believing the second possibility to be more plausible. 

Until he texted you later in the night, “It was nice seeing you after all these years, baby girl. Maybe we can catch up more, later, over a glass of wine?” 

Suddenly everything seemed different. 

It seemed unfriendly to not respond nicely to him, but one conversation became two, and two became four, and slowly you were talking to him almost every day. And the more you talked to home, the more flirtatious and smooth he became. It reminded of his behaviour with you in college, and although you never met him again after that night, you were often disturbed with thoughts of how Jimin would react to you wearing something, or doing your hair in a certain way. You’d often compare how Seokjin’s kisses felt, and how Jimin’s kisses used to feel. You knew you should not compare. But somehow, your mind did it unconsciously. Unconsciously, on those nights when you would wish Jin would be a little more bolder, you kept going back to how good Jimin would make you feel, how bold he would be although the two of you were just friends with benefits, how he would be able to read your mind and know exactly what you needed without you even saying it. 

Tonight was a night like that. You knew that Jimin would be able to give you what you want. And judging from his texts, which were highly suggestive and flirty as was his usual nature, you’d think he would want to give you want you wanted too. 

Just then, your phone lit up with a text. You opened it, and saw that it was a text from Jimin. “I’m watching something that reminds me of you.” And there was a picture after that. Curious, you clicked on it. 

It was a still from the first movie that the two of you had watched together. You remembered clearly how that night had ended. He had eaten you out for the first time. 

Surely, this was a signal. Surely, what you were about to do was right. 

As soon as you called, he picked it up. 

“Hello?”

“Jimin…” Your voice had unknowingly become deeper, and you could hear him shuffle and move about, noticing the change in the mood. 

“What’s up, baby girl?”

“Jimin, I need an answer from you.”

“Hmm…?”

“Are you flirting with me?”

He pauses. When he speaks, you can hear him smirking. “Were you thinking of the same thing I was when I sent you the picture?”

“Jimin, I don’t know if this is correct.”

“What?”

“What we’re doing?”

“What are we doing?” 

You pause. Thinking about it, you were actually doing nothing except talking to an old friend. Then why did you feel so guilty?

“What do you want to do, Y/N? Were you thinking about me? Do you do that often?” His voice became increasingly smooth and seductive, his satoori accent beautiful and his tone swoon-worthy. “Jimin…, what do you want me to say?” “The truth, of course.” You falter. “Yes. I was thinking about you.” “Then why are you so shy?” He teases, “Tell me, how were you thinking about me?” His voice is too deep now for your core to not rumble. You’re already getting wet in your panties, and you put your free hand down to feel just how wet you were. 

“Jimin, I… I miss your touch.” 

“Hmmm… is Jin being too stuck-up as usual?”

You nod, “Yes! He always leaves me… I don’t know… wanting more? He doesn’t touch me like I want him to. Like I need him to.”

“Do you want me to help you?” His voice is now perfectly seductive, and the offer too tempting. 

“But…”

“Where are your fingers right now?” You gasp, but Jimin’s hit the jackpot. Your fingers were unconsciously rubbing over your clothed clit in an effort to relieve the ache. “Do you want me to come over?” He asks when you don’t respond. 

“Can you?”

“I’ll be there in 10 minutes, baby girl. Till then, you may touch yourself, but don’t you dare come. Daddy’s gonna show you how to come.”

You’re speechless when he hangs up the call. At the end, you could hear him change into his dominating voice, the voice he would always use with you, and that left you craving for more. 

You kept touching yourself, pushing your panties down with your other hand, and sliding in a finger to see just how wet you were. When your finger came out covered in slick, you were shocked to see that Jimin still had the same effect on you as he used to… before you were married. But right now, you had no time for moral dilemmas. You needed Jimin.

True to his word, Jimin arrives in ten minutes. When you go to unlock the door, he sees you half naked, and you see him standing in his black leather jacket, black shirt and pants. “Baby…” He steps in and you instantly lean in to kiss him. He holds you by the hips and kisses you fervently. You suck in his cherry pink lips, having missed them forever, as he bites your own lips. “You taste so good.” You whisper to him. He breaks the kiss and looks at you, a glint in his eyes. “I know, doll.” With that, he picks you up on his shoulder and heads straight to the bedroom, dropping you csrefully on the bed. He leans over you, kissing your neck, as you warn him, “Don’t leave hickeys, please!”

“Why? Jin’s not in town.” 

“But… I don’t wanna risk it.” He shrugs, “Okay.” But he continues to suck at your pulse point, leaving you squirming and moaning under him. 

His teeth nip at your collar bones, before going down to the valley of your breasts. Your loose night shirt allows him space, but he wants more. He tugs off the shirt from your body, revealing your bare breasts as you were sleeping without a bra. Wordlessly, he begins to suck on your nipples, as you whine, ”Jimin-aah!” He always knew that your nipples were your specific sensitive spot, but tonight, his attack was brutal as he used his lips, tongue and teeth to leave your nipples hard as rock. 

All this was leaving you quite breathless, but your core was still untouched. You whispered to him, “Jim- aah! I’ve not come, as you- oh fuck!- asked me to… but I’m wet and ready for you- ugh!- daddy!” He stops his ministrations on your breasts to look up at you with hooded eyes. 

“Is that so, baby girl?” You nod eagerly, before moving forward to take off his jacket and t-shirt. When he is shirtless before you, you touch his abs, which are still as well-defined as they were when he was twenty years old. But he hardly gives you any time, as he swoops down to your core, and gently kisses the folds of your most sensitive area. You instantly shiver and moan, as even his soft touch is too much for your touch-starved body. 

He begins by licking the folds, trying to pry into your pussy with his smooth and skilled tongue as much as possible, before putting his fingers into your pussy, without any warning. He holds you down with one hand, while your hands are tangled in his hair. His fingers may not be as long as Jin’s fingers, but the cold rings on them provided a mind-blowing sensation that had you drooling for him. “Daddy, please let me come!” You were so close although he had just begun thrusting two fingers into you. As he smirked, you wash his fingers over with your climax. 

Silence spreads in the room again as your breath becomes stable after your high, while he gently suckled and licked away all the cum from your pussy. It overstimulates you, pushing you to the edge again, when you abruptly yank his head away and say, “Please, I need you inside me, daddy.” He only laughs at your sudden demand, before kissing you on your lips softly again. 

“The best is yet to come, baby.”

He sits up, unbuttoning his pants. Although the tight leather fabric leaves very little to imagination, you still drool thinking of his dick. It had filled you up in a way no one else had been able to, with the girth only he could provide, and his exceptional skills. 

When he takes down his underwear, leaving him naked too, and his cock upright, you can only stare at it, before touching it gently with your fingers. Your touch is soft enough to make him swoon, but he wants none of this softness. He takes it in his own hand, rolling a condom over it, before saying to you, “Sit on me, baby.” With that, he sits back on the headboard, leaning behind, as you position yourself right on top of him. Your sweaty bodies slide against each other as you align yourself on top of his dick, its pink head already leaking. “That’s right baby girl, now let me see you bounce on it.” You gently slide down on him, before sitting up and bouncing back down on it. It’s euphoric and you begin to pick up your pace. 

As he watches your tits bounce into his face, his tongue alternating from licking your neck to your nipples, you keep your eyes closed because the sensation is too good. After one point, you can’t bounce on him anymore, as your high nears but he takes over and begins thrusting into you. 

“How does it feel fucking your husband’s colleague, huh? How does it feel fucking your ex-fuckbuddy in his bedroom, when he’s away?” you whimper at his words, which turn you on beyond control. He holds your hips and pushes into you with more force. 

“You seem to be enjoying this too much, aren’t you? Do you want to do this often, huh?” You nod your head, as your eyes lock with his. He’s also groaning at the speed but the two of you keep going, until you both come together. 

Panting, he gently pulls out of you, although you still lie on top of him. He removes the condom, and throws it away into the dustbin next to your bed. 

You’re too exhausted to move. You haven’t had it this rough in a year now, and you’re speechless after the orgasm. 

“How do you feel, baby?” You can only look at him, and smile. He smiles back at you, his teeth revealed in a beautiful angelic smile. You’re amazed at his duality yet again. 

“I’m sleepy, Jimin-ah…” you mumble, as you roll off him and lie down next to him in a puddle. “Then, let me clean you up.” He gets up and walks to the washroom to get a wet towel. But you don’t know this, nor how he smiles at your sleeping figure, nor how he wraps the blanket around you, and puts on his clothes and walks away from the house at midnight. You’re too deep asleep. 

The next morning, when sunshine pours in from the windows, you wake up with a smile, although you don’t yet remember why. When it does strike you, you instantly jolt up, searching for the man. But you remember how he would disappear in the morning even when you fucked in college. Huh, you smile. Old habits die hard. 

You pick up your phone to see the notifications and find two texts. The first is from Jin, “Good morning, princess! I’m eating hot dogs for breakfast again today, and frankly now I’m bored. But the coffee is great! I’ll call you later, okie? Bye!” you smile at the affectionate text, but the text just below that sends your mind reeling into guilt and doubts. 

It was from Jimin. 

“That was great, baby girl. Thank you for having me over. If you wanna do that again some day, just remember that you got my number.”

#park jimin #bts fanfiction #bts smut #jimin pwp #bts fanfic #bts #fanfiction #romance #smut #jimin #bts jimin #jimin fanfic #jimin smut #got my number #jimin x reader #btsbingo2022

[casuallyimagining]

Human (teaser)

Vampire!Yoongi x female reader; BFF Werewolf!Jungkook x female reader; Platonic Roommates Yoongi & Jungkook

Summary: Yoongi is a monster, but there’s always something worse lurking in the shadows. When that something threatens everything he loves, Yoongi is forced to choose: embrace his humanity, or give in to the monster? Genre: “dark fluff,” hurt/comfort, vampire au, werewolf au, supernatural au, roommates, little bit of a slow burn Teaser Word Count: 1,420 Full Fic Word Count: 12,959 Rating: T Warnings: (everything may not appear in every part) blood, alcohol consumption, creepy dudes and catcalling, fighting, drinking to excess, implied assault, manipulation, murder

Notes: Part of @bangtanwritingbingo's spring bingo event and fills the square vampire au. Thanks to @eatjeanjin, @moccahobi, @magicshopaholic, @madbutgloriouspond, and @imperiussexrex for beta-ing and helping me plot out some of the later chapters.

read the full series here

“Let me set you up. Just one date. I really do think you’ll-”

“Enough, Jungkook.” Yoongi sighed, exasperated. If he had to hear how much he would vibe with Jungkook’s best friend-slash-coworker, he was going to lose his damn mind. “You know it wouldn’t work. Just shut up about it.”

Jungkook frowned. “Just because you don’t have a pulse doesn’t mean you don’t have a heart.”

“And what would I tell her, Jungkook?” Yoongi snapped. “That I get headaches in the sun and don’t eat normal food and oh yeah, I’m 300 years old and could kill her if I slip up even slightly?” He shook his head. “I know you’ve only been dealing with this for a few years now, but use your head.”

A small growl sounded from Jungkook’s chest. “You could make it work. If you really wanted to, you could.”

“You could make it work,” Yoongi corrected. “You’re human 98 percent of the year. You just have to deal with the transformation once a month, for eight hours at most. I’m a monster every single day.”

By then, they were at the train yard, weaving through the dozens of rusted out boxcars stored on the unused tracks. It was quiet. No one tended to wander into the old train yard, not even teenagers looking for dumb fun. It had a reputation for being dangerous. People went missing every few years, and if you weren’t paying attention, it was easy to end up with bruises and tetanus. 

“Fuck you,” Jungkook spat, stopping outside one of the boxcars. “You’re 300. So fucking what? You’re not the only one whose life sucks, you know that?” The younger man glared at Yoongi as he hopped up into the boxcar, leaning against the door. “Sometimes I think you don’t actually want to be more human. Sometimes it seems like you just want to mope.” He turned, backing into the shadows.

Silently, Yoongi reached up, pulling the rusted door shut. It was tough–the wheels on the door were probably a hundred years old and weathered beyond normal use–but with a little pressure, he was able to get the door into place, pulling the lever to secure it. Even if the interior lever was still attached to the door, and Yoongi wasn’t so sure that it was, it would be impossible for the wolf to have the dexterity to open it.

He turned, satisfied. It was almost dark, the last vestiges of orange sun peeking out between the buildings. It would still be a little while before Jungkook started to transform, but it was better and easier to lock him away early, both for his safety and for the general populace.

With the door secure, he turned and began to walk away. It would be a long few hours until sunrise, and there was nothing he could do for Jungkook in the meantime. It was easier this way. At least one of them could have a peaceful evening.

As he walked back to the city, Yoongi could feel his hands starting to shake. The exertion of shutting the boxcar door had taken more out of him than he had expected. When was the last time he had really eaten? Last week? Longer? He couldn’t remember. He’d been trying to limit the stash of blood that they kept in the fridge. Jungkook said it gave the groceries a weird metallic aftertaste. But it had gotten away from him, and Yoongi found himself low on blood and having to ration.

A few blocks away in an old warehouse along the water was the Blood Bank. Yoongi found himself wandering in that direction, letting his craving and his shaking hands lead him. The Blood Bank was a safe haven for people like him attempting to make their way in the human world. 

The Blood Bank was your stereotypical blood donation center, except for the fact that, in addition to providing blood for transfusions, it also catered to vampires. It was easy enough to go in, flash his fangs, and leave with two bags of blood and a small bottle he could drink on his way back home. Almost too easy. He didn’t particularly like going there, but he was desperate.

He’d barely made it a block away from the Blood Bank when he felt something wrong. Someone was following him. He could hear their steps, timed to match his own almost perfectly. And whoever it was smelled familiar. Yoongi could catch hints of rust on them, masked by an expensive perfume. There would be no shaking whoever was tailing him. So Yoongi stopped, his grip on his bag tightening.

“It’s not polite to follow people,” Yoongi grumbled. He said it quietly, but he knew the person behind him had heard.

“Forgive me. I forgot you’d become one for decorum.” The responding voice made Yoongi’s skin crawl. It didn’t matter how many decades passed, he knew that voice. 

“What do you want, Yejun?” Yoongi spoke without turning. His muscles tensed in anticipation. He’d been dreading this.

Finally, the man came into view. His hair was dark like Yoongi’s, and his skin just as pale, though he stood two inches shorter. The man’s eyes were the color of tar, the whites no longer visible from the malice within him.

“I’ve come to bring you back.” He smiled, his fangs glinting in the moonlight. “Sanghae is awakening. Any day now, we’ll be back at our full strength.”

“I don’t give a shit about your strength.”

“Have you no loyalty?” Yejun had the audacity to look offended. “You should respect the man who turned you, Yoongi. Sanghae raised us like his sons.”

“I don’t give a shit about him, either.”

The other vampire snarled, one hand shooting out to grab at Yoongi’s throat. He caught Yejun’s wrist, felt his eyes dilate as they darkened. In less than a moment, his vision was clearer, sharper. No movement was too small nor too sudden. His fangs lengthened in his mouth, brushing against his bottom lip sharply.

When Yejun moved again, Yoongi grabbed him by the throat.

“Leave me alone,” he growled. “I told you. I’m sick of your games. I’m sick of your lies. I want out.”

Yejun snorted, shoving at Yoongi’s chest. “You know that’s not how this works. He gave you this gift. You can’t just deny him.”

“Watch me.” Yoongi turned on his heel, taking a step away from the other vampire.

“How do you think he’ll react if I tell him about your little human fantasy and your pet puppy?”

“Leave the kid out of this, or so help me god-”

Yejun laughed. “God abandoned us long ago, my friend.”

He was gone in an instant, fled at super-human speed. Yoongi could track him if he wanted, but he sighed. It would be a long night.

read the full series here

As always, your feedback is welcome and appreciated! Let me know if you're excited to see the full fic!

#yoongi x reader #yoongi #min yoongi #min yoongi x reader #btsbingo2022 #yoongi vampire au #yoongi vampire #suga #suga x reader #bts suga #bts suga x reader #yoongi fluff #min yoongi fluff #yoongi angst #min yoongi angst #suga fluff #suga angst #bts vampire au #bts vampire

[btsmosphere]

Firstly, CONGRATS FOR 1K!!!!!!

Second... 👀👀👀

namjin roommates au, fluff and humor, idiots to lovers, "it's perfectly legal"

Thirdly, I LOVE YOU RU!

~summary: living with Namjoon usually equals chaos, and tonight is no different. Jin can't pretend he doesn't love it, though ~pairing: jin x namjoon ~fluff, humour, angst if you really squint, idiots to lovers, roommate au ~word count: 1k ~rating: g ~warnings: mentions of alcohol

~a/n: thank you so much!! I love you too🥰💜I'm so sorry it's taken me a while to get to this drabble, I wanted to have it out before this but it's sometimes a challenge coming up with something funny so I had to wait for the right idea to hit! luckily, I thought of something I liked and here it is😊also this is my ‘kim namjoon’ entry for @bangtanwritingbingo ​ this is part of my drabble game, where requests are still open if anyone is interested! for the others who requested, I'm aiming to have one out each week now!

The house was dark. Silent.

Jin’s breathing, steadily evening out as he relaxed into bed, was all that could be heard.

Such peace was admittedly a rarity around here. Living with Namjoon meant there was usually something going on, whether it be songwriting or something very expensive breaking, but this meant it was never quiet.

Today, though, with Namjoon out, Jin missed it. He would scold his roommate, but whenever a loud crash sounded in the middle of the night, the only reaction it ever provoked was really just a fond smile.

Rolling over, he tried to cherish the silence. But in reality, it unnerved him. Namjoon wasn’t here. It made him feel very alone, very… exposed. Who knew what could happen to him-

He bolted upright in bed.

There was a noise.

It had been soft, muffled, but in the quiet of night there was no mistaking it. Body tense, Jin held his breath. Waiting.

Thump.

There it was again.

And although Jin had been longing for some sign of life just moments ago, this made his blood run cold. It hadn’t sounded from inside the house, but from outside his window.

Another thump, louder this time and right against the glass, finally startled him enough to leap from his bed. Grabbing the closest thing from the dresser, he then raced to the light switch and flicked it on, leaving him staring across the room at his window. If whatever was out there realised he was awake, maybe they would go away.

But the noises didn’t stop.

Crap, what should he do now?

Another snap broke the silence, filled only with Jin’s heavy breathing as his mind short-circuited. It was louder than before, and the next thing he knew, there was an impact against his curtain.

The window was open.

Sprinting across the room, Jin tugged the curtain aside, raising his free hand as he prepared to force the window shut or to beat the trespasser around the head, whichever was most applicable.

In the event, he froze.

So did the other person.

Sitting on his windowsill, eyes wide as they found themselves nose to nose with Jin, was Kim Namjoon.

Jin recovered first, though his eyes were practically bulging from his skull.

“Namjoon?”

An idiotically bright smile sprang onto Namjoon’s face.

“Good evening,” he said.

Jin blinked.

“You’re drunk.”

“Maybe.”

“You’re drunk and breaking into your own house?!”

“It’s perfectly legal,” Namjoon protested, swinging his legs to the inside. He jumped down quite deftly; an effect ruined by his tripping over Jin’s rug not a second later.

Jin jumped out of Namjoon’s way as the larger man fell, finally lowering his hand and staring incredulously down at his roommate.

“I’m not sure it is, you know,” he retorted.

Namjoon was already distracted, though, staring at the weapon Jin held clasped in his hand.

“Is that your aftershave?”

Staring at it properly for the first time, Jin realised he had indeed grabbed his aftershave bottle in his panic. Though the cylindrical bottle could probably do some damage, it wasn’t exactly a conventional means of self-defence.

“I thought you were an intruder!” he retaliated, rounding on Joon.

“And what was your plan, make the burglar smell nice?”

“Hey, you don’t get to lecture me in this situation,” Jin ranted, “this is your fault because you picked the wrong room, dummy. Are you really drunk enough that you forgot where you live?”

Nonetheless, he reached down to help Namjoon up. An action he regretted just moments later as Namjoon’s weight swung the other way, crashing against him and sending Jin staggering against the wall.

Though Namjoon managed to catch himself and avoid crushing Jin, he still had him sandwiched against the wall.

Heat rushed to Jin’s cheeks as he sputtered. Namjoon pressed up against him, a hand on the wall beside his head, was sending him into a flurry he wasn’t prepared for. Swallowing, he met Namjoon’s eyes at last, but what he found there looked akin to hurt.

“I didn’t get the wrong room,” Namjoon murmured.

Bewildered, Jin simply stared at him, before turning his eyes to the room around them. It was a little tricky, Namjoon not moving from his place yet, but he got enough of a look to assure himself that yes, this was his own bedroom.

Returning his gaze to his roommate, Jin looked at him seriously. He lowered his voice a little, speaking very plainly.

“Namjoon, this is definitely my room. You’ve had too much to drink, I can get you some water and then you can go to bed. Your bed.”

“What if I don’t want to?”

Namjoon’s retort wasn’t full of teasing, however. His voice was low, the huskiness in Jin’s ears flustering him far too much. And why were they still standing so close?

“What do you mean?” he spluttered, voice also not raising beyond a whisper.

“Maybe it wasn’t the alcohol,” Namjoon pressed, “what would you do?”

The implications of his words slammed into Jin, pinning him against the wall – although, Namjoon was already doing a good job of that himself. Surely the younger didn’t know what he was saying.

Jin’s voice was shaky when he spoke again.

“Namjoon, you need to go to bed.”

At last, Namjoon stepped back, releasing him. But the loss only made Jin feel cold.

“Okay, hyung,” a half-hearted smile flickered across his face, but died a second later, “I’m sure it was the alcohol, yeah? Sorry if I woke you.”

Breathing heavily, Jin watched, frozen, as Namjoon took two slow steps towards the door-

“Namjoon!”

He stopped in his path, turning slightly back.

Jin sighed.

“Why don’t you stay in here, yeah? So I can keep an eye on you… and you can tell me in the morning whether this was really the room you were aiming for?”

Namjoon’s frame relaxed. And, as always, after Namjoon was asleep, Jin couldn’t be mad at his roommate. He watched him with just a loving smile, hoping for the words he would hear come daylight.

Thanks for reading! Comments are always welcomed and appreciated💜

Taglist: @aianlovesevenseven @preciouschimine @un2-verse @taegularities 

#btsbingo2022 #namjoon imagine #jin imagine #namjin imagine #namjin fanfic #namjoon x jin #jin x namjoon #bts mxm #namjin scenario #namjoon x seokjin #seokjin x namjoon #namjin fluff #bts funny #bts humour #namjin humour #namjin crack #bangtanarmynet #purplearmynet #thebtswritersclub

[kpopwritingbingo]

Final Announcement

Good afternoon everyone! Sorry I’m a little late on this! This post formally ends the That Thing You Do 2022 Bingo Event! Everyone’s fics should be reblogged now, so if you haven’t had yours reblogged please let me know asap!

There were 15 participants, and I want to thank all of you for working so hard on this event! We had 57 fics submitted from you all!

There will be future events, of course, and I am already working on some ideas for the next one (sometime in December or January, probably). But if you would please fill out this form letting me know what you guys think of the event so far (and if you’ve never participated, feel free to still fill it out! I welcome all ideas!).

Go to the survey here!

Thanks again for all of your hard work and I look forward to seeing you back for the next event! Keep an eye out for it!

#announcement #btsbingo2022

[pars-ley]

Gone but never forgotten

Pairing: Taehyung x Female Reader

Summary: Out of sight out of mind might be true for some but definitely not in your case. Your old boyfriend made frequent appearances in your mind, but what happens when fantasy becomes reality?

Genre: exes to lovers au / angst / fluff / smut / bookstore au

Rating: 18+ (NSFW)

Word count: 3k

Warnings: Smut / unprotected sex / creampie / nipple sucking / making out / talk of heartbreak / talk of low mood / pining 

Beta Reader: @bangtanintotheroom 🖤

Tag list: @mwitsmejk @vantxx95​

A/N: Ok so I'm back, trying to get back into the swing of writing. It's not proving to be easy! This is a very very belated birthday gift for @taegularities I just love so many of your fics, I wanted to create something in return and to thank you for sharing your talent with us. Happy incredibly belated birthday! I used the prompts 'Taehyung / bookstore au / emotional sex'. I'm also using my bingo square 'Kim Taehyung' from That thing you do bangtan bingo.

Your day was spent unpacking the large shipment of new books you ordered onto the shelves and checking to ensure you were placing them in the correct alphabetised order. It was a rather mundane task but you somehow enjoyed it...usually. Today, however, was different. 

Your mind repeatedly drifts off into your usual fantasy world. No matter how much you tried to pull yourself out of the crevice you were falling into, the incline was too steep and you just kept sliding right back in. 

Imagining another life made with different choices, fewer words spoken and alternate actions taken. 

You lose yourself in happier scenarios where he didn't leave or, better yet, you went with him. Another country, a fresh start for you both and exciting adventures to last a lifetime. 

That, however, happened almost two years ago. He had an opportunity and you made a choice. A stupid one, you realised too late, but here you were. Envisioning an alternate story for you both was the only way you'd been able to cope with the impossible decision to separate. 

All your friends mentioned how well you'd dealt with it, with your smile practically cemented on, masking everything else, when in truth...you hadn't dealt with it at all. You'd ignored it and hoped that he'd change his mind; realised how he couldn't live without you and come back. 

You had always been so sure he was your person, but here you were, twenty-two months on and you're still telling yourself the same thing, clinging to the same desperate hope.

"Excuse me," a soft voice interrupts your train of thought. "Can you point me in the direction of the fashion section?" 

Your usual polite, professional smile instinctively stretches across your face. "Of course." 

You escort the customer to the correct aisle and leave him there to explore, whilst returning to the poetry section and continuing the re-stock.

Movement catches your attention between a gap in the books and your eyes naturally flick to it. 

Just another customer by the till, leaning against the thick wooden desk, scanning the expanse behind it. He turns quickly, searching and you freeze. 

You blink, once, twice, three times. The scenery doesn't change; the person on the other side of the bookcase remains.

Your heart stutters before hammering wildly against your ribs, painfully so. Panicked and excited all at once, your breath feels like it's been stolen from you, Cupid himself sucking the air out of your lungs.

You're so lost in your day dream it has started to bleed into reality.

Him. 

How else could this be possible? 

To have him on the same soil as you and not half way around the world seemed impossible and yet here he is. Was fantasy becoming reality?

His long, velvet coat hanging around his calves makes his frame look longer than you remembered. He runs a hand through his layered hair and you find yourself mesmerised as each strand snaps elegantly back into place. 

His slender hands reach out and press the bell that sits at your pay desk, he scans the store and when nobody comes, he presses it again and calls out, "Hello?", those same innocent eyes searching once more.

The deep monotone of his voice echoes through you, calling to a place inside your chest that's been dark and decaying, a place that only answers to him. The empty hole there beats out of habit but right now feels full and thriving with the rhythmatic thrum. A foreign feeling that you have long been numb to.

When his eyes head in your direction, you snatch yourself away from the break in the books and shield yourself with the others that are tightly packed and don't leave a slither of light between them.

"Someone you're trying to avoid?" The soft spoken fashionista whispers next to you, making you jump.

"Um, no, not really," you respond flustered, an uncomfortable heat growing under your shirt and making its way up your neck.

"Then why are you hiding?" He asks quietly, his eyes turning to crescent moons as he smiles at you.

"I'm not really sure." You almost laugh. "I guess, he's just…"

"Someone you weren't expecting?"

You nod. "The very last person I'd expect to see."

"Well, he is now looking down the aisles, it's only a matter of time before he finds you." His friendly smile somehow manages to calm your escalating nerves. "...Plus, I need to pay for this book." There's a gentle teasing from this stranger that brings you comfort and somehow eases your stress, just a little.

You nod and push yourself off of the shelving, walking as fast as you can to the cash desk. "Can I help you?" You call across the store.

As soon as you're behind the counter, you survey your surroundings and spot him immediately returning right to you. You can't bring yourself to look at his face as you busy yourself with receipts and a stapler. 

"I'm looking for a particular book, do you…" He stops abruptly and you can feel his eyes burning a hole into you. "Y/n?"

You force your eyes up to his, almost worried by what you might see in them. What if he doesn't look at you the way he always did? What if he does? Either scenario is gut-wrenching.

"It's really you," he breathes. 

You stared into his dark pools, drowning in them after willingly diving in head-first. And suddenly, you're home again.

You're unsure how much time passes as you both silently gaze longingly at each other when someone clears their throat, making you jump and snapping you right back into your bookstore.

"Sorry to interrupt this adorable reunion...but can I just pay for this book, then I'll be out of your hair?" The couture customer smiles apologetically.

You throw down the small papers, freeing your hands, and fumble as you ring his book through the till. "My apologies sir, thank you for your visit."

As you hand the book wrapped and bagged over to him, he gives you an encouraging wink and says, "No, thank you, I'll be back again for more." He waves his purchased item. "The name’s Jimin by the way, as opposed to sir." 

He heads towards the exit and when he's behind Taehyung, he gives you an excited thumbs up. You can't help the tug against the corner of your mouth as you find yourself smiling across at the friendly stranger. "See you again then, Jimin." 

He leaves, making you all too aware of the fact that you and Taehyung are now alone.

There's an electricity sparked between you, a silent buzzing connection making your skin tingle and your stomach flip.

"I--" He starts but the words seem to get lost somewhere in his throat, closing his mouth again. 

He leans slightly across the counter; you're unsure if it's intentional or not. His eyes burn into yours, setting your insides ablaze as you feel it devastate every inch of you like a ravaging forest fire. 

His fingers touch yours on the counter, making you jump and your hand shifts away involuntarily. His face drops as his eyes fall sadly from yours. Fearing you've ruined any potential moment, you ask, "Can we talk? Have you got time?"

You watch the light bloom in his eyes. "For you, of course."

You can't fight the pull on your mouth that leaves you grinning like a Cheshire cat as you rush to the shop door and turn the ‘closed’ sign over and lock up.

You start for the back room, a nod of your head indicating for him to follow.  Quickly, you power walk to the mirror in there to check your reflection before he joins you.

Your cheeks are flushed and your eyes look wild. You hardly recognized the person staring back. It was the old you. The version of yourself filled with belief of love and fate and a heart full of hope. Where had she come from and why was she back? You'd grown used to your tired eyes and lackluster hair. The person looking back at you was a shock to your system.

Your eyes snap to his figure entering behind you, busying yourself with the drinks machine in an attempt to distract from your vanity.

"Would you like tea or coffee?" you ask.

He shakes his head as he removes his long coat and drapes it over one of the chairs. His slender frame, you notice, looks more muscular with broader shoulders and bigger arms.

You swallow to wet your suddenly very dry throat. The sight of his jumper pulled tight across his chest has your insides fluttering wildly. 

"What are you doing back?" you ask hesitantly, worried about what the answer might be.

"I'm just visiting, actually." He steps towards you making every cell in your body tense up. You want to dive at him and taste his lips again, to see if your memory does them justice.

"I came to see if perhaps…"

Your eyes watch his mouth as he talks, mesmerised by his angular Cupid's bow, each point an arrow directly to your heart. Every cell in your body felt like it was screaming for him. Strange how quickly you fell into old feelings and habits. They truly do die hard.

"...if maybe, you'd…" His awkward, boxy smile has your heart doing somersaults in your chest, the wildly beating organ desperate to escape your cage of ribs. "...given any thought to what I asked you?"

Your confusion snaps you out of your fantasy that’s escalating rapidly behind your eyes.

"I'm sorry?" You blink. "I'm not understanding...what did you ask and when?" 

A frown mars his brow and you notice a crimson hue faintly painting his cheeks. "The letter I sent you...I asked you if...if you would consider...possibly giving us another chance."

Your mind stills, repeating the last few words over and over in your head like a mantra. "Letter?" 

"Yes, the letter…" Realisation dawns on him and his cheeks flush further. "...you didn't get it."

How could you have not received it? You didn't come across it in your post box unless...no. She wouldn't.

...Or would she? 

Your roommate and best friend. She knew what a painful time it was for you when he left and you knew she'd do anything to encourage you to be happy. The problem is you've become so good at pretending that she thinks you're happy now and have been for a while. She sees a genuine smile and hears real laughter, while your cheeks ache and the sound is painfully forced.

If she did keep this letter or throw it away, she would think she was doing it for your own benefit. It would have been to protect you, no matter how mistaken she was.

Taehyung rubs the back of his neck awkwardly as he looks at the floor.

"So what did this letter say then?" you asked, an amused eyebrow raised from his embarrassment.

"Uhhh, I...well…" He takes a deep, frustrated breath and breathes out with force. "In a nutshell, what it boils down to is…"

As he paces the room, he runs a frustrated hand through his thick, voluminous locks. He finally stops in front of you, less than arm's length; it's the first time that he's been within touching distance. You hear the involuntary swallow cascading noisily down your throat in the deadly silence.

"Look. I love you. I still love you, I haven't stopped. From that day we met in the park and I took that photo of you staring out onto the pond, with your hair flowing in the breeze, looking absolutely breathtaking. You're still the most beautiful person I've ever laid eyes on." He reaches out and strokes your cheeks with the back of his slender fingers. Your pounding heart feels full enough to burst right out of you and paint a loving portrait with its splatter. 

"I will continue to love you as long as time ticks on. As long as there is blood in my veins working this heart of mine, it will beat only for you."

He holds your head in both of his hands and stares into your eyes, beyond them and deep into your soul. Your breathing stills, forbidding your chest to move.

"If you want me to move back, I'm here. I'll do whatever it takes, just...please, don't let me live the rest of my life without you."

The pleading and sheer desperation is obvious in his voice and in his actions, written in the maroon coloured parts of his iris like the most romantic scroll. 

"In a nutshell." You break the silence with your teasing remark, making him laugh and the intensity fades, leaving you able to breathe again.

His bassy laughter vibrates around you and sends a tingle up your spine. You were his in that instant, you handed him your heart on a silver platter with all the trimmings because life without him...it was empty. 

He's your person.

Your lips find his wordlessly, the need to taste them overwhelming everything else. Every feeling you've ever had towards him boils to the surface, threatening to overflow.

Your memory had not done him justice. The sweet, familiar taste of his mouth pulls you in further and your hand tangles into his silky hair, grabbing a fistful to bring him closer still.

Your body moulds to his like a puzzle piece slotting perfectly into position, not a millimeter of air between you.

The cold of the wall sharp against your back makes you gasp, not having realised you were even moving. Taehyung had a way of making you feel like you were floating in an expanse of space filled with hearts and flowers. Everything else disappears around you, nothing but him.

His delicate fingers hesitantly explore your body, skating along your skin and causing a ripple of goosebumps in their wake.

He takes his time undoing the buttons on your shirt and his lips leave a trail of moist prints down your neck and breasts, until he's softly sucking a nipple into his warm mouth.

His name leaves your lips, spoken pleadingly like a prayer, nothing but sheer and utter need for him to be inside you. You didn't want to take your time. You wanted to feel one with him, to feel all your broken pieces put back together and sealed with a loving kiss.

"Taehyung, please." You pull his mouth back up to yours and push him gently down onto one of the chairs.

You remove your underwear, teasingly still concealed by your dress and watch him as he undoes his belt and trousers. All the while his eyes never left you for a second, biting down hard on his bottom lip. Oh, how you wish it was your teeth against the soft, plump skin of his mouth instead.

You climb onto him, knees immediately pressing into the edge of the chair, the wood leaving painful indents on them. But as soon as you feel his erection against your entryway, any other discomfort is lost. You slide yourself down, heat shooting up your back and causing a shiver of pleasure to cascade down your spine as you stretch over him. His hands skate along the same path, as if following the shiver and encouraging its route. They make their way up to either side of your face, holding you still and directly in his eyeline. He had a way of looking right into you, reaching the darkest, most hidden parts, knowing your thoughts and feelings and allowing you the chance to do the same. You start to move your hips; gently and slowly, savouring every movement. With every inch of him touching you, you lose yourself in his dark pools staring back at you, wild with desire. 

No words are spoken, just the sounds of ecstasy between you, as his bassy moans fill the room, surrounding you in a symphony of his pleasure, with you as the only member in the audience. 

He thrusts up to match your hips winding around him, deliciously hitting that sensitive button inside you with perfect time. Your slick coats him and continues to melt around him as you feel the build up already starting. 

“That’s it, angel,” he whispers, breath fanning out lightly against your mouth and sending a wave of goosebumps across your skin. 

You feel yourself tighten around him, eyes rolling back into your head, ready to give yourself to him completely.

“Look at me,” he begs. “Please.”

You focus your eyes back on him, the connection instantaneous as soon as your gaze meets again. The intensity of it burning into you, spreading a wildfire of love and lust straight to your core and alighting it with the promise of your impending orgasm. You clench around him as you unravel, your sex milking his orgasm to your rhythm. His hot seed spills inside you and as your contracting core returns to its normal state, you relax against him as his arms wind around your waist and hold you tight. 

Your pounding hearts aligned and your fast breathing was simultaneous. He holds you in place, the only movement is his long fingers gently combing your hair. The urge to sleep is almost overwhelming but his voice snaps you out of your post-orgasm trance. 

“Does this mean your answer is yes?”

You push away from his chest, your bewildered expression meeting his hopeful gaze. “What was the question again?”

His face drops and his mouth transforms into a small ‘o’ as he opens it to speak but no words find their way to your ears.

“I’m kidding,” you giggle, running your hands through his hair and planting your lips against his once more.

He grins against you, arms squeezing around your sides before he pulls away and is excitedly making plans. “So how do we do this, should I move back, or do you want to come out there with me? You know--”

You place a finger against his lips. “We’ll figure it out.”

#bangtanarmynet #ksmutclub #btsbingo2022 #thebtswritersclub #bts #bangtan #bangtan sonyeondan #bts fanfics #taehyung #kim taehyung #taehyung x reader #bts x reader #kpop fanfic #kpop #bts taehyung #bts kim taehyung #bts smut #bts angst #bts fluff #bts fanfiction

[biaswreckme]

what a glory(ous) night | ot7

From time to time, Namjoon needed them to make him feel small, needed to submit to them, and be relieved of his function as a leader.

Pairing: poly OT7, Namjoon focused

Member: Namjoon, Seokjin, Yoongi, Hoseok, Jimin, Taehyung, Jungkook

Length: 4377 words

Genre: smut. pure smut.

Rating: 18+

Triggers/Warnings: aftercare, blowjobs, bondage, calling namjoon a toy, coming untouched, dom/sub poly relationship, established relationship, glory holes, handjobs, light degradation, light dumbification, male chastity, orgasm control, overstimulation, praise kink, safeword checking, sex toys, subspace, sub!Namjoon

This is part of@bangtanwritingbingo 's "That Thing You Do" Bingo, filling the square Glory Hole

A/N: thank you SO MUCH @chimknj for all the conversations on the subject of this fic and your amazinggg fic Midnight Double Feature and for beta-reading and improving this work ♥

cross-posted on AO3 too

---

They’d argued over the logistics of it when it first came up. It would be complicated and they couldn’t risk doing the real thing because someone would definitely recognize him - or them. But they knew how much he wanted to try this, to feel like what he’d described. Yoongi was the one to save the day. He’d just gotten done with remodeling his studio by himself, so he said they could do something to mimic the situation for Namjoon. Yoongi did some research and bought the necessary materials and enlisted some of the members to help him, all the while keeping a secret from Namjoon. He didn’t want to get the leader’s hopes up in case something went wrong, so the fact that they were actually building this thing would be a surprise. It wasn’t all that complicated in the end, but they were still glad it was a secret.

The members noticed Namjoon had been a little quieter than usual, closing himself off, sometimes even seemingly trying to make himself appear smaller on screen when he was with them. At first they thought it was just the stress, especially combined with the fact that they had been traveling a lot and didn’t have privacy enough to have a scene without alerting people around their hotel rooms. As soon as all of them got back they started working on the secret project again, and they finished it just in time for Namjoon to truly need to disconnect from his overthinking mind.

They were in the kitchen, and as they were preparing their dinner, Namjoon surprised them with a question.

“Am I too big?”

They all shook their heads in confusion, almost as if they hadn’t heard him right.

“What did you say, hyung?” Jimin was the one to ask, trying to clarify the situation.

“Am I getting too big? I’ve been seeing some comments about how I…”

“About how you what?”

“About how I shouldn’t be getting so big. Or that I am too big now.”

They all looked at each other, a knowing look in their eyes as they realized what was happening. From time to time, Namjoon needed them to make him feel small, needed to submit to them, and be relieved of his function as a leader. So their secret project would come in handy just then.

That night they comforted him with hugs, kisses, and spoken reassurances. They arranged so Namjoon wouldn’t need to be in the studio for the next few days before putting their plans into action. They discussed the overalls of the scene they planned with Namjoon, needing their boyfriend to be comfortable and be certain they would not push any hard limits, wanting to hear from him what he wanted out of it this time. Sometimes he needed different things according to his mindset or according to how much pressure he was under, but it was exactly as they had imagined.

It started with Yoongi and Seokjin helping him in the shower after he had cleaned himself up, letting the older men start taking care of him as he needed. They didn’t let him do anything in the shower, thoroughly cleaning and inspecting him to their liking, helping put Namjoon into the right and desired mindset for the evening. Seokjin dried him before Yoongi took him into the bedroom to get the only item Namjoon was allowed to wear for the evening.

“Let me put a pretty thing on you, my pretty boy.” Namjoon shivered at Yoongi’s words, a light blush starting to stain his cheeks. He took a deep breath to try and contain his arousal, knowing it would only make it more difficult. “Which one do you want tonight, baby?” Yoongi took the two options from the drawer; one was a soft pastel glittery pink cock cage, its tip imitating a flower, the smallest he owned, and the other was a transparent cage, simpler in its design and slightly bigger than the pink yet smaller than a beginner chastity device, both favorites of their baby.

“The pink one, please.”

Seokjin looked worried, “Are you sure, Joon-ah? It’s been a while…”

“I’m sure. It makes me feel pretty and tingly and small, please.” Namjoon answered, his eyes big and sparkling with trust.

“Of course, baby. Get comfortable, let me put this pretty thing on you.” Yoongi opened the cage and moved closer to Namjoon. On his knees in front of the leader, he gently slips the enclosure on Namjoon’s cock. On any other day he would tease him mercilessly, making the cock become engorged and stand to full attention before pressing some ice cubes on it to shrink it back, but this was not what Namjoon needed today. He didn’t need to be reminded of how big he was; instead, as he locked the cage, Yoongi’s words were nothing but praise.

“Look how well you fit in this pretty sparkly tiny cage, Joon-ah. You may appear big but in reality you’re so cute and small, aren’t you? Such a good boy for me. I think next time we could go even smaller, don’t you think?”

“Yes, please, hyung…” Namjoon almost sobs at the thought, his mind already slipping into that comfortable place. “Want smaller…”

“We’ll go smaller then baby. We’ll find one just as pretty as this is and as pretty as you are. But it’s okay for now? Comfortable?” Yoongi chuckled, knowing that was about to change quickly.

“Yes, hyung, I’m comfortable.”

“Remember that secret project I’ve been working on? Today you’ll find out what it is. But first we need to close your eyes so we don’t spoil the surprise, okay?”

“Yes, hyung.”

Yoongi placed the blindfold on the leader’s face, Seokjin and him holding Namjoon’s hands and guiding him into the living room. While he helped Namjoon clean up and get ready for the evening, the other members were responsible for rearranging their living room. The curtains were closed, lights low and in a different shade to mimic that of a nightclub. There was music playing, though not too loud so they would still be able to hear each other comfortably. And there it was, in the middle of the room, sofas pushed aside so it would fit perfectly.

“Ready for your surprise?”

“Yes, hyung.”

Yoongi took off the blindfold and Namjoon blinked a few times, trying to adjust to the new lighting. And then his eyes widened, a small gasp leaving his lips. He looked at Yoongi and at the other members, surprised, a look of almost disbelief across his face.

“You… you built it? You built me a glory hole?” He asked, tears in his eyes.

“Anything for our baby.” Jimin is the one to answer, holding Namjoon’s face with his hands, using his thumbs to wipe the beginning of the tears falling down. “Save your tears for later, baby. Let’s get you settled.”

Jimin guided him into the box, opening the latch. Namjoon smiled, seeing the pillows and cushions to make the floor comfortable for him. He knew that in reality it might be different, but the attention to detail made him feel cared for. He noticed the small camera attached to one of the walls and turned to Jimin, a questioning look on his face.

“It’s so we can watch you being wrecked, baby. See, it connects to our tv, so you won’t be able to see us and know which cock is in your mouth or on your hands. We will be able to see every inch swallowed by you, every tear rolling down your cheeks, and every drop of precum falling from that tiny,pretty cage as your own cock strains against it,” Jimin said lowly on Namjoon’s ear, helping him kneel down on the cushions.

Someone turned on the tv and through the opened entrance Namjoon could see himself on the wide screen. He didn't know how to react to that image. They hadn’t even begun and he was already looking debauched, excited, and ready to be ruined.

“Are you ready, baby?” Yoongi asked from behind Jimin.

“Yes, hyung. I’m ready.”

“Any time you feel uncomfortable or for any reason at all that you want to call this off, you do it. Remember your safeword, baby?”

“Yes, hyung. ‘Red’ if I want to stop and ‘yellow’ if I need things to slow down for a moment.”

“Good boy.” Namjoon basked in the praise. “We’re closing this but we can hear you perfectly well, okay? And that camera is there for more than just to watch you getting wrecked. You’re safe with us, baby,” Yoongi kissed Namjoon’s head and helped Jimin close the door.

As soon as the latch was closed, Namjoon heard the soft rustling noise of clothes being discarded. They were giving him time to settle down, so Namjoon closed his eyes for a moment, letting himself sink and feel small. The chastity device was beginning to get tight now as he got excited by their plans, but the tightness in the cage only made him feel even smaller, sinking down – now literally – on his feet, hands on his thighs. He forgot they could see him through the camera, and outside the box Yoongi smiled at seeing Namjoon getting settled. This is what he had been waiting for; when they saw through the tv that Namjoon’s eyes were slowly opening, they knew it was time.

It was a little dark on the inside but no more than it was in the living room in general, as there was no ceiling to this box Yoongi built. It was illuminated enough, however, so that Namjoon saw the first dick going through the hole in the wall. He quickly got closer to it but didn’t do anything, waiting for permission.

“Such a good boy,” he heard from the outside, “no need to wait for permission to touch us tonight, baby. Just enjoy it. You know what to do.”

In the back of his mind he was sure he knew exactly which of his boyfriends that cock belonged to; he was too familiar with their scents, their tastes, to not know. But, in that moment of his fantasy being brought to life, he was not sure, and that was part of the thrill of it. Being granted the permission he so craved, he lapped at the head of the cock being presented to him, moaning at the taste, clenching his hands still on the top of his thighs. He knew they liked when he used only his mouth at first – and he liked the challenge - so he put all his effort into being good for whoever was on the other side of that wall. He closed his eyes again and let himself enjoy it, licking and sucking on the erect member to his delight. He crouched lower on his knees so he could suck on their balls, moaning while doing so, his hips moving slightly on their own accord. The cage felt tight, and he felt stronger, reassured of his place. He sucked on the tip again and slowly engulfed it in his mouth, feeling it hit the back of his throat, taking a deep breath, and continued on until he was choking with his nose pressed against soft skin. He did it again and again, feeling his throat constrict, trying to relax as much as possible to take it entirely in his mouth. But he ended up choking anyway, tears running down his cheeks freely. There was no warning this first time. As he was about to deepthroat it again, he felt the cock pulsing on his tongue, warm salty liquid invading his senses and throat, forcing him to swallow as he sucked more into his mouth. He didn’t stop until the person’s hips started moving back to get the softening cock out of his reach and he couldn’t help but follow, almost pressing his mouth to the hole in the wall.

“Look at him, so eager for cock. Go on.”

Another cock entered the hole in front of his mouth and he latched on it, sucking hard and long. His eyes closed again, enjoying the heavy weight and velvety skin on his tongue. He might have started to slip even harder at some point, because he felt a nudge against his throat; apparently he had stopped sucking and was just content with having something filling his mouth like that.

“Open your eyes, baby.”

He did so, his vision fuzzy in the beginning but quickly adjusting as he saw two more cocks ready for him. He hadn’t noticed there were a few more holes on the boxed walls - but then again there were a lot of things he didn’t notice that evening, such as the precise order that his boyfriends were presenting to him. As he sucked on the one in front of him, his hands reached up and he closed his fingers around the erections.

“That’s it, baby,” He heard from one of his boyfriends.

“Look at him, he looks so peaceful. You just need not to think for a while, huh, Namjoon-ah? You just need to be used and be small for us. Such a good boy. Doing so well for your hyungs and maknaes. I bet you don’t even know whose cock you have in your mouth and hands right now but you don’t care, do you?”

Namjoon made some noise in his throat, not even sure of what his answer was, and he heard them chuckling on the outside. He felt a flush in his body at being teased like that.

“It’s okay, baby,” he hears another of his boyfriends say. “Just enjoy it. You don’t need to worry about anything right now besides working that tongue and those fingers. Empty your mind and be our toy, baby, such a good boy toy for us.”

“So eager.”

“So precious."

The cacophony of voices assaulted his senses and he needed to close his eyes again, feeling another presence in the box rather than hearing the door open.

“Don’t need to open your eyes, baby, just keep enjoying it.”

Namjoon obeyed, continuing with his movements, but he paused for a fraction of a second when he felt a wet finger touching his rim. He shivered and moaned, feeling it breaching him, entering quickly followed by another finger. Both stretched him for a moment before he felt a familiar shape and material replacing the fingers. He took a deep breath when he felt the delicious curve of the massager press right against his prostate and taint as it pressed snugly to his skin. His hips jumped when he felt the vibrations beginning. He whined, not noticing his boyfriend was already out of his box again, his own cock wanting to grow but being impeded by the chastity cage. He whined again at the pressure but felt so good at being kept small and he shrank further in his mind, moving his hips with the massager and his tongue on the large cock in front of him, having trouble fitting all of it in his mouth. He remembered to move his hands again, hearing praises telling him how good of a boy he was, how good of a toy he was, and at each praise and tease he felt deliciously floaty and smaller. He let himself fall, knowing his boyfriends would be there to pick him up and build him up again.

He suddenly felt a pressure within himself being released, and mindlessly realized his own cock was dripping from the tiny constraint in its cage, the white liquid flowing and staining the cushions. They must have seen him looking at it because he heard one of his lovers telling him not to worry about the mess, just to continue basking in his pleasure. Pretty boy toys don’t need to worry their minds about anything, do they? He shook his head, getting comfortable again, the constant pressure on his prostate beginning to feel too much. He whined, moaned, sobbed with a cock hitting the back of his throat, but there was no escaping it. He felt the cock in his right hand releasing first, a few drops of cum getting to his skin and he moved to lick the sensitive head before it was pulled away from him, and soon replaced with another hard erection.

He moved his attention to the one on his other hand, quickly putting the entire length into his mouth, choking and drooling on it. He gagged and felt the liquid filling his throat as he brought his boyfriend to the climax. He swallowed, moaning as another one of his own orgasms took his body by surprise, feeling almost like a ruin from how constrained his cock was yet more intense because of the assault on his prostate.

“Please…” he begged, yet he didn’t know exactly what he was pleading for. His buttcheeks clenched, thighs trembling with the effort to keep his position as the pleasure became overwhelming, because whoever had the control changed the pattern and speed of vibrations. He was sure he shouted, begging again, but only heard delighted laughs from the outside.

“Keep still, eyes closed, and open your mouth, my pretty toy.”

Namjoon obeyed, trying to keep still despite the overwhelming need to move his hips to try and take the pressure off his spot. He heard a loud moan from the other side of the wall and felt the shooting liquid hitting his cheeks, his tongue, his neck, the heavy scent of his boyfriend filling his nostrils. He heard praises again and he blushed. Another orgasm ripped through his body by surprise as the vibrations increased even more and he kept his mouth open, drooling on himself and adding to the mess.

“Good boy, you can swallow now.” And so he did, the taste of one of his boyfriend’s cum even saltier as his tears reached his lips.

Another voice teased him. “Look at our toy, coming with his cock being shrunk in that tiny cage. Maybe we can make it more permanent, what do you think?”

“He does look like he’s enjoying himself. Look at him drooling all over his chest. He’s so pretty like that. How do you feel about that, baby? Coming only like this from now on?” The voice laughed when he whined in response. “I would miss his cock, though, hyung. Our baby is so small now but sometimes I like to use it in a different way.” They were talking now as if he was not in the room. As if he was a toy. He shivered. “We’ll have to see.”

He didn’t have time to think about what they were saying before another erection fit through the oval-shaped hole and he moved to suck on it, but changed what he was doing when another voice talked to him.

“Put your mouth closer to the whole, baby, I want to fuck that mouth.”

It wasn’t so easy but they managed. Namjoon feeling the head of the erection hitting the back of his throat, he splayed his hands on the wall, needing, wanting anything to ground himself as his senses became overwhelmed again. Someone changing the vibration pattern yet another time, his whines and cries were muffled by the cock invading his mouth.

“You’re such a good boy, baby. Look at you, so wrecked, so good at taking cock.” He tried to nod before realizing he couldn’t, so he whined again as liquid filled his mouth, his boyfriends’ flavors mixing up in his mouth. “You can only swallow now when you cum again. Hold it in your mouth, open like that.”

He tried to keep it in his mouth. His tongue moving to try preventing the liquid from slipping down his lips and neck, feeling drool gather in his mouth. He barely made a noise as another orgasm ripped through him, his entire body shaking with the strength of it, and he finally swallowed.

“Good toy. We want to see you have one more orgasm before you get another cock in your mouth, though, baby.”

“Please, I can’t…”

“Yes, you can. Do it, toy. Your orgasms belong to us. You’re our toy, and as such, your orgasms are ours to control.” The pattern changed, quick and short bolts of vibration taking him by surprise. His chest heaving with sobs as he was painfully stimulated, too much yet not enough, needing to cum again, needing to be a good toy. A good toy would cum again. A good toy would do it to get more cock, and he could be good. He would be good. As his mind filled with these thoughts, he cried as the vibrations stopped just as he fell over the edge. The frustration of a ruined orgasm taking over his body, the building pressure was released but no pleasure was felt. He shook so hard, shouting, and someone checked in with him - they had been doing that throughout the night, but the voice seemed more worried as his entire body trembled with his heavy sobs and overstimulation. Yet, his color was green, so green. He heard another praise, and the cock he was promised fit through the hole.

He wasted no time and latched his mouth to it, licking, sucking, using his hands to caress their balls, and he felt the vibrations starting again. It was painful yet it wasn’t. His body was not his anymore. His body was theirs, he was their toy to play with and do as they pleased. He lost himself in time. He started sucking and stopped, letting the erection weigh on his tongue as he was sure he’d done before, but was it another of his boyfriends that time? He heard a familiar voice telling him to suck, and so he did, sloppily, jaw hurting but needing to make his boyfriend cum in his mouth. His throat felt raw as he pressed his head forward, feeling the head hit the back of his mouth, swallowing to increase the pleasure. He felt his boyfriend’s balls tighten in his hand as he caressed them, as his last orgasm took over his body at the same time his boyfriend’s did. Liquid pooling in his mouth,he quickly swallowed as his vision started to fail. As the last shock of pleasure ran through his body, Namjoon closed his eyes, darkness overtaking him, and he heard commotion, a latch being opened and arms encircling his body just as unconsciousness overtook him.

He came to his senses - he doesn’t know how much later, but it must not have been that long because his boyfriends didn’t look too worried. His mind was floating, head so empty, but he was smiling, content. He heard their muffled voices as if they were distant, six soft voices telling how much they loved him, how proud they were, and how good he was. He basked in it, one of them telling him to keep enjoying it, his eyes half-closed, feeling six pairs of hands on his body. Someone was cleaning his face and neck. He tried to mumble a ‘thanks’, but he wasn’t sure his voice came out. With each caress and reassurance, he slowly felt himself coming back to awareness. The haziness in his mind was starting to fade away, but the contentment still filled his heart.

He looked and noticed there was a half-empty bottle of water next to him, had he drunk it? Taehyung saw him eyeing it and raised the bottle to his lips, helping him take some sips. Some chocolate was pressed on his lips and he opened them, munching on the small bite. Oh, he had closed his eyes again. He opened them and found five faces looking at him fondly, love overwhelmingly stamped in their eyes. He was half sitting against someone, and even if he hadn’t opened his eyes, he would recognize the feeling of those wide shoulders supporting him.

He felt time passing again as he let himself be held and warmed up in his boyfriends’ arms. There was something covering his body, a pair of hands fluffing up his hair, a soft tune being hummed. At some point the lighting had changed, but that was not important. He drank more water and ate some small bites of something else, and as the fuzziness in his mind cleared, he recognized the snack. He tried sitting up and Seokjin helped him, and as he did he noticed the chastity device and massager on a towel next to him; he hadn’t even noticed they had already taken them out. But of course they had; they knew his limits, knew what he needed in the aftermath of such a heavy scene, knew how to bring him together after they had taken him apart piece by piece.

At some point Jimin had gone and ran him a bath. When he got back from the bathroom saying it was ready, Namjoon was being helped up, his legs shaking with the effort. Jungkook made the move to fully support him, but he stopped him, trying to speak.

“Am heavy…” he mumbled, voice raw, but he was shushed as Jungkook picked him up in his arms and replied.

“You’re not. You’re just tiny. You’re our tiny baby, not heavy at all for me to carry. You can keep your eyes closed…”

“Am… sticky. Dirty.”

Yoongi shook his head and held Namjoon’s hand, following Jungkook’s steps. “Just sticky, baby, not dirty. Never dirty, okay? We’ll clean you up right away.”

“Let us take care of you,” Hoseok continued, being followed by Taehyung.

“You always take care of us, it’s our turn now. Let us baby you and make you feel precious.”

“You’ve been such a good boy for us, Namjoon-ah,” Seokjin complemented, “ don’t worry about anything.”

As he was lowered into the bathtub, the hot water soothing his muscles, he looked at each one of his boyfriends. Adoration filled his heart, each word and action from them making him feel strong and giant in and with their love. He would take care of them and they would take care of him, each person being precisely enough to fit in their intricate relationship.

And in that moment, he knew he would never have to doubt himself ever again.

#btsbingo2022 #bangtanwritingbingo #bts #ot7 #poly bts #namjoon #seokjin #yoongi #hoseok #jimin #taehyung #jungkook #bts smut #namjoon smut #bangtaninn #52hertz #thebtswritersclub #bts fanfic #bts fic #bts scenarios #bts imagine #my works

[hesperantha]

Pairing: Seokjin x reader (any gender)

Rating: general, sfw

Genre: fluff. non-idol au.

WC: 744

Warnings: none

Summary: He’s been there for you every step of the way, but always on the other side of the counter.

AN: many thanks to @vyduan and @miscelunaaa

For @bangtanwritingbingo Bingo Square: First Date

He’s supposed to be here; waiting outside the restaurant. There’s no way you could miss him. Not unless he used fake pictures on his profile, anyway, and if he’s the kind of dude who would do that, you’re not interested anyway.

Resigning yourself to standing in the rain for a least a few minutes, you pay the driver and get out. You make your way over to the small awning over the side door, even though it won’t look good for your date to see you here, framed with milk crates and a can for cigarette butts; the type of break room that restaurants put in the back alley if they have one. This one doesn’t. It’s really just a stall: four tables, a counter, and kitchen to the side.

It was your pick. Not because the food is the best in town, or the decor is anything to write home about.

You picked it because the new owner, Seokjin, has vetted every man you’ve dated since you were old enough to go out to a restaurant without your parents. He’s seen them all: the losers, the hopefuls, the almosts. He’s seen them since he was a busboy.

You can see him now through the window, overseeing the kitchen. There’s a new cook, and it looks like he’s getting some extra attention as he learns the ropes.

The rain picks up, no longer a drizzle, now a downpour.

Your date, hopefully, will look inside once he arrives. If he isn’t already inside, you realize. It’s completely possible that he went in ahead of you, eager to get out of the rain, and you just can’t quite see him through the windows. Maybe he’s just blocked by the beer posters and neon signs.

The bells over the door chime as you push it open, welcoming you inside, but the four tables inside are empty. Your date would be here by now if he was planning on coming.

The owner looks up, eyes crinkling with a smile when he sees that it’s you. He seats you himself, pulling out your chair for you as if it’s a five-star establishment and bringing you fresh utensils, then a glass of ginger ale (your favorite, on the house).

“Is someone joining you?” asks Seokjin.

“No,” you say. “Not this time.”

“Do you mind if I do?”

“No, of course not,” you answer. “If you can take a break… if it isn’t too busy.”

Even though you’re the only one in a chair, the takeout counter is full as always. Seokjin takes off his mask and sits down across from you.

“Trial by fire for the new guy,” he says. “Do you want a recommendation?”

“Whatever he needs practice on is fine with me,” you say with a laugh.

Seokjin stands up halfway, just enough to see over the ticket bar, and shouts into the kitchen. You hear a pan drop, followed by a clatter of utensils hitting the floor.

“Should you –” you begin.

“Absolutely not,” says Seokjin with a beaming smile. “Unless you’re in a rush.”

“Not at all. I thought I had plans, but I guess not.”

The conversation flows easily from there, Seokjin telling you about the blue plate special, the great deal he got on tilefish, the trials and tribulations of the latest cadre of busboys.

“These kids,” he says. “So easily distracted.”

“You sound old,” you tell him.

“I am old,” he agrees with a shrug. “It’s been a long time.”

“What has?”

“Since I met you.”

He’s right. It’s been a decade. The string of failed romances weighs heavy on you, knowing as you do that he’s seen them all. He could always tell right away if one of them would hurt you. Sometimes you took it to heart when you saw his eyebrows knit together in a frown as you brought one through the doors of his diner. More often you ignored it. He never made you feel guilty about it, though, greeting you each time with a warm welcome as you brought the next date through his door – and the next – and the next.

“And yet this is the first time we’ve really talked, isn’t it? I mean, just the two of us.” It’s as close as you can come to acknowledging that somehow this is different.

“It is,” he agrees. “I’ve waited ten years for you to come in here by yourself. Would you like to go – here – sometime? With me?”

#btsbingo2022 #seokjin x reader #seokjin fluff #possumswrite

[moccahobi]

Hands, Hands, and More Hands

Summary: Taehyung runs an ASMR channel that he wants to keep secret. He plans on telling his boyfriend and friends soon... Someday. He’s most definetly going to share. He’s nervous about it though. After a few bad experiences in the past he's found it harder to share his love for ASMR. When a flier about his channel is posted on the community board of his building (a big place of gossip) though, he's forced to share... Or keep quiet.

Prompt: This is part of @bangtanwritingbingo​ for my prompt “hair brushing”!

Word Count: 4.8k

Pairing: Taehyung (BTS) x Hoseok (BTS)

Genre: fluff, angst

Warnings: allusions to anxiety attacks and anxiety, insecurity

Ratings: teen up

Authors Note: thank you to the lovely @btsmosphere for betaing this! I greatly appreciated all of her help!!!! 💜💜💜

Warmth enveloped Taehyung, his blanket and Hoseok's warm body resting against his own and wrapping him in a blanket of content that he longed to stay in forever. The room was cold and urged Taehyung quietly to never leave bed where he was wrapped in warmth with nothing but the soft sounds of the apartment building and Hoseok filling his mind. It was the perfect combination. 

Hoseok was resting against Taehyung’s chest, listening to his heart beat slowly and steadily. Taehyung ran his fingers through Hoseok's hair and scratched his scalp gently, savoring the melody of content hums Hoseok was making. Hoseok’s many sounds was Taehyung’s favorite music and he wished he could listen to it on repeat. Hoseok’s hair was soft and smelled slightly of mint from when he showered the night before.

It was a soothing Sunday morning, the two of them tangled together in bed after a cozy breakfast date (in Hoseok's kitchen), their bellies full from the wonderful food they are and hearts full from smiles and laughter the two shared. 

Sunday morning dates had become a tradition shortly after they started dating, the two spending the four hours before Hoseok’s shift together in the quiet comfort of Hoseok’s apartment. Originally they had the morning dates in Hoseok’s apartment because Taehyung’s ex-roommate, Sungmin, would spend the morning playing video games loudly and often refused to clean up their main living space no matter how much Taehyung asked. Lucky for the couple,  Hoseok’s roommate, Yoongi, worked mornings on the weekends and was a neat freak. Sungmin has since moved out though so in theory they could have the dates at Taehyung’s apartment, but neither suggested the change, Hoseok’s kitchen and bed a welcome tradition for the two. 

Taehyung might even say that Sunday morning dates were his favorite tradition. They were at the very least, a consistent highlight of his week that encouraged him to continue his long and tiresome work days.

"I wish I didn't have to go to work. I could lay here forever." Hoseok said, snuggling against Taehyung and sighing deeply. 

"I know… It'd be nice to stay here all day… in theory." Hoseok groaned and Taehyung laughed loudly before continuing, "But we just ate. Soon we'll have to pee. Plus--"

"While the bed is nice our backs will hurt after another hour, I know. I know. A guy can wish though. Besides, you have stuff to do later today, right?"

Taehyung nodded and nibbled his lip, Hoseok’s reminder of his plans to film later today left Taehyung feeling uncomfortably hot, his gut twisting with nerves. Maybe he could tell Hoseok today… It wasn't like ASMR was something he was ashamed of. Taehyung enjoyed making it and Hoseok would enjoy it in part because of how much Taehyung enjoyed it. Hoseok was pure sunshine, of course he would be ok with Taehyung filming ASMR. Even if some people may have left Taehyung with a bitter taste in Taehyung’s mouth about sharing, if anyone would be understanding, it would be Hoseok.  

"I do…"

"Hey, Taehyung-ah. I know you're deep in thought about whatever you're working on, but don't stop rubbing my head!"

Taehyung laughed and nodded, ignoring his anxiety and returning to rubbing Hoseok’s head… they were still a new couple… six months… That wasn't a lot of time. He only told his ex-roommate after a year of living together… though that ended poorly. 

Besides, Hoseok was planning on moving in together once Hoseok's and Yoongi’s lease was up in a few months (Yoongi was already looking for another place to move into). Taehyung had time and Hoseok seemed to be ok with waiting until Taehyung was comfortable. He had time. 

He had all the time in the world. 

Taehyung didn't have time. 

He had next to no time in the world.

He went to check the apartment’s community board out of habit on his way back from getting groceries. The apartment building was a big community full of small events people hosted (Taehyung’s favorite was the book club with Miyeon ajussi and the weekly dinners that Seokjin hyung threw). Taehyung also saw a lot of small news clippings sometimes. Every time Taehyung checked the board there were at least five proud parents posting about their kids doing well in school or getting married or getting promotions. People liked to put up the achievements of themselves and their families and Taehyung loved to see it. 

This time though, when he checked the community board, he was met with the community board staring down at him mockingly as if it won something. Pinned between the various fliers for parent breakfasts and local events was a poorly made flier that laughed at Taehyung.

“A famous YouTuber lives on this floor: BearASMR”

One of his thumbnails displaying his hands resting on a wooden cutting board was on the flier as well. 

Taehyung felt like he stopped breathing as his stomach was clawed at his throat with anxiety. No one in the apartment building knew about this and he didn’t put this up.

Taehyung’s mouth felt dry as his heart beat rushed in his ears.  

This couldn't be real. 

This had to be some game. 

Who the hell would even make this sort of flier?

This couldn’t be real. 

He looked around slowly to see if anyone was watching him or going near the board. The hall was empty. No one was around.

This was real and the flier mocked Taehyung with just how real it was. . 

How was this even possible?

Who did? 

Taehyung hadn't told anyone who was on this floor anymore… he rarely showed his interests in general unless his friends brought them up first… No one knew. 

Not his friends. Not Hoseok. 

He sighed, a headache was forming and in the matter of seconds, his whole body felt like complete and utter shit.  He readjusted his grip on his groceries before returning to his apartment. This wasn't what he wanted for his Tuesday. 

All he wanted was a simple Tuesday afternoon after working an exhausting morning shift full of students poorly playing trumpets and saxophones. 

Now he had to try to calm down before even trying to do anything. Today was going to be a long day.

Besides, he wasn't even that famous… he has a good 25k followers… but he was nowhere near famous. He didn't make tons of money and he barely got any sponsorships. It was more so a passion project. 

What was worse was that he didn't know why he was so shy about ASMR either. He had so many interests and enjoyed sharing some with his friends, but ASMR and some of the stuff he explored on his channel made him shy and self conscious. The want to hide his channel only grew after Sungmin kept insulting ASMR shortly before he moved. All of his insecurities around sharing were magnified tenfold after that. 

He sighed.

The aftermath of this wasn’t something he wasn’t looking forward to.

If he was lucky no one would talk about it… but knowing his apartment building, that wouldn’t be the case. Information people posted on that board spread like wildfire through the apartment building and if it was interesting enough information, Taehyung knew that it would be the main talk when people got together. 

Last year, when Choi Jihyo graduated top of his class at SNU and landed a nice job at a law firm, everyone was talking about the many ways that Jihyo managed to and each time Taehyung heard the story, it got more and more elaborate and unlikely. 

Taehyung shuddered at the thought of something similar happening to him and his channel. Would he get 200 million subscribers at some point? Would they warp what ASMR is? 

He didn’t know and that made him more scared.

Maybe he should lay back on attending stuff the apartment did together. Miyeon ajuma's book club would undoubtedly talk about it (even if Taehyung doubted that they knew what ASMR was or even what YouTube was)... The weekly dinners with Seokjin hyung and would also likely be full of talk about the channel… How long would it be before they knew it was Taehyung? 

He hid his face some in his ASMR but his friends knew what he looked like… what clothes he wore… what his voice sounded like. His friends knew him.

They'd likely find out. 

Would they tell everyone else in the apartment?

He sighed and shook his head. 

Not going may be even more suspicious. 

Ok, maybe that was a lie. 

Taehyung sighed, quickly drinking the rest of his tea and wincing as it burnt his mouth. He probably shouldn’t have done that but his nerves were running rampant as he watched his friends discuss the channel while cooking. Their faces alight with excitement and curiosity as they talked and talked, each word making the tension in his stomach grow tenfold. If it wasn’t that Seokjin seemed so bummed at the idea of Taehyung being unable to attend, he wouldn’t have come but Taehyung didn’t want to see Seokjin sad. Taehyung couldn’t say no to one of his favorite hyungs which was why he was stuck watching Jungkook, Hoseok, Yoongi, and Jimin cook Chuncheon dakgalbi.

He was so uncomfortable, unable to sit comfortably in Seokjin’s luxury bar stools. It felt like small bugs were crawling under his skin, his whole body itchy and achy from this whole situation (and work), and he didn't doubt that some of them had realized that. 

According to Hoseok (who always seemed to know what he was thinking), Taehyung was an open book (i.e. shit at hiding his emotions). 

It would be strange if they’ve watched multiple videos, right?

Surely, they’ve likely only watched one or two videos.

"I looked it up! It's a cool ASMR! And the person’s hands are so good looking! Like I could stare at them for hours! And I kind of have." Jungkook was talking and laughing excitedly as he chopped up sweet potatoes for a side he convinced Seokjin would be perfect for Chuncheon dakgalbi.

"You'll have to send me the link! I’ve not seen any of the videos but if you liked it, I am sure I will!" Namjoon said from where he was delegated to sit. 

Like Taehyung, he wasn’t allowed into the kitchen. Taehyung was banned after a few too many mishaps with over-cooking and burning food that led to them needing takeout (which was arguably better sometimes when one didn’t have to spend an hour trying to remove charred food from pans after).  Namjoon on the other hand was banned after his first time in the kitchen. The man has a knack for breaking things and that didn’t go away in the kitchen. Seokjin let the knife incident go because it was Namjoon’s first time using one. How it had taken Namjoon 26 years to finally use a knife, Taehyung didn’t know. That being said, after Namjoon managed to break a drwar, he was banned.

Taehyung longed to be in the kitchen right now or at the very least have something to do while others cooked away, then maybe he wouldn't look as suspicious. Instead, he was forced to sit and watch. Breathing was hard and with nothing to fiddle with or distract him, he was struggling to breath as he squirmed away.

"I'm really curious who it is though. They look young so it's definitely not Jihoon ahjussi." Jungkook laughed, "Maybe I could see Jisoo noona or Nayeon noona! They both seem like they'd be into it. Although the hands look pretty large… I don’t know what Jisoo noona and Nayeon noona’s hands look like."

“You keep bringing up this person’s hands.” Seokjin said with a large smile, his laughter high pitched and squeaky.

“BearASMR has REALLY good looking hands! Like I am mesmerized by them! Saw some of their videos where they played with wigs and their hands were as big as the head of one of the mannequins! Like imagine how soothing it’d be to have your hair played with by such large hands!” 

“Something tells me Jungkook likes hands a lot.” Yoongi laughed.

“Can you blame me? Hands are nice!”

Taehyung shrugged and started picking at his nail beds. Those were his hands that Jungkook was talking about. Would he recognize Taehyung’s hands tonight? 

God. He hoped not. 

It wasn’t like Jungkook would look at people’s hands much… right? 

His mouth felt dry like the one time he tried to make bread and managed to make a brick instead. He felt like a brick of bread. 

Taehyung didn't want to have this conversation. Maybe Seokjin’s upset would’ve been worth not coming today. Surely he could make up a lie about being sick or tired and get in Seokjin’s good grace… maybe even get some soup as well.

Hoseok waddled over, offering a bit of chopped, vibrant green onion to Taehyung.

"You tired, love?"

Taehyung hummed, savoring the sweet green onion as it burst in his mouth as he thought up a lie. The savory and sour flavor of onion did well to hide the bitter taste of bile that rose in his mouth as he lied, "Yeah. Work was tiring today."

Hoseok nodded, "I can imagine. With the new academic year you tend to get more students, right?"

Taehyung nodded. Hoseok knew his work schedule so well. If they didn’t spend most of their time together, it might have been a shock to Taehyung. Taehyung knew Hoseok’s schedule at this point as well, though. He didn’t work today but this week in general is sales heavy for the store he’s working at. Today was likely spent staring at a wall and dreading having to redo a back to school tutors pamphlet for the 100th time. 

Both of them worked in school adjacent jobs so it made sense that they had similar busy seasons. Just as parents were wanting to sign up their kids for tutors and extra curriculars, parents were coming to Taehyung to try to get their kids to learn brass instruments. It’d get busier when recitals and auditions started to come up and then he’d be more tired. Honestly, today was just hard socially with meeting new students, it wasn’t a rough enough day for him to be drained.

Luckily Hoseok didn't push the situation more, instead turning back to helping with cooking. Taehyung was left somewhat alone again, the kitchen bustling with people and as the conversation of the ASMR YouTuber sadly continued. Maybe Taehyung should ask for another drink so he wasn’t sitting awkwardly, waiting for the conversation to drag on and end.

As they started to work on putting the Chuncheon dakgalbi together for cooking though, the gossip died down and was replaced with people (mostly Seokjin and Jungkook) bickering about who does what and Jungkook’s new found obsession with hands. Watching from his chair, he felt comforted in the fact that the gossip seemed to die down quickly. 

Now that Taehyung thought about it more, apartment gossip tends to die down quickly. People would likely talk about it for a few days and then let it go when new gossip came out. Taehyung just had to lie low for a little and then it'll go away. 

Riding the waves was something he loved doing when he visited the beach, he could do it here… metaphorically. 

He sighed, his shoulders feeling lighter with relief as Namjoon started to strike up a conversation about the latest plant trends he’s been seeing.

As BearASMR faded from the conversation, Taehyung felt like a large shadow had just passed and he could see the group dinner clearly once again.

BearASMR will soon fade and no one will remember. Not even those who watched a video or two (or Jungkook who might have seen 10 just to look at Taehyung’s hands).

It’ll go away soon.

It didn't go away. 

Jungkook subscribed. 

Namjoon subscribed. 

The notifications laughed at Taehyung just as much as the damn flier (which was still up on the community board). It left like the subscription notifications and the flier were in cahoots, planning Taehyung’s downfall.

Thankfully, neither of them asked Taehyung if he was BearASMR. In fact, aside from Jungkook’s initial tangents about who might run it, it didn’t even seem like they cared about finding out who ran BearASMR, which was a deep relief. 

Anxiety pooled in his stomach, thrashing around like a growing whirlpool as he watched the two compare their favorite videos during another group dinner. Each excited laugh punctured Taehyung’s mind and made him feel more and more overwhelmed. His clothes became tighter and tighter as they laughed and kept talking, his ears too sensitive, his mind too loud, it was all becoming a lot. 

He tried to focus on the conversation Hoseok, Jimin, Seokjin, and Yoongi were having about work. It seemed to be about the latest drama at Seokjin’s office job, the people there seemed to have a propensity for drama and Taehyung occasionally enjoyed hearing about them. Seokjin’s coworkers were chaos embodied and Taehyung was surprised the place was still standing with all that went down at their office. 

Taehyung sighed, not feeling the conversation in the slightest. He was sick with stress and worry. Maybe if he had the confidence to tell them that BearASMR was his channel, he would have asked Namjoon and Jungkook about their favorite sounds or talked about the strange situations he’s seen and heard about in the ASMR world.

But no. 

He was too stressed. 

Did they know that Taehyung ran the account? Had they pieced it together from the flashes of Taehyung’s face that weren’t cut out of his videos? How many videos did it take for them to realize that it was Taehyung? Were they not saying anything out of courtesy? His nerves were haywire and he felt like his world was slowly closing in on itself the longer he was left to his own thoughts. 

"Oh! Taehyung-ah! You'll never guess who I saw moving into Hyunjin's apartment!" Jimin shouted, causing Taehyung to jump nervously, his stomach turning and twisting uncomfortably.

"Who?"

"Sungmin."

It was like everything came together as red started to wash over Taehyung’s mind. His heartbeat picked up, his stomach a raging whirlpool of nerves and now anger as the pieces started to be pieces together slowly. 

Of course. 

Sungmin knew about his ASMR channel. Sungmin even watched a few videos with an unreadable face when Taehyung nervously shared. Taehyung had thought it’d bring the two closer together but for some reason, Sungmin became closed off and rude after, rarely giving Taehyung quiet time to record and even making many snide and downright rude comments about his hobby. Hell! Sungmin even broke the contract early because of their fall out. Taehyung’s friends didn’t like Sungmin from the beginning (they had many choice words about Sungmin), but Taehyung hadn’t realized how rude Sungmin was until the last few months of living together … 

The flier was posted recently. 

Anger started to overpower Taehyung’s anxiety. 

"What the fuck?"

His lungs felt tiny as he tried to grasp for air. It was as if anger had filled some of the avoli that would otherwise hold air. "Damn hyung! Didn't expect you to cuss about it!" Jungkook laughed. 

This wasn’t funny to Taehyng in the slightest and his anger grew as he looked at Jungkook awkwardly laugh more. 

"I can't believe it!" Taehyung huffed, "I bet he's the one who posted that flier."

“He is an asshole but that might be a bit rude. Even if he moved in last week, him being an asshole doesn’t mean that he’d post something like that flier. Why would he do that?" Namjoon asked, his brows furrowed in confusion.

They didn’t get it. It all fit together so perfectly that it had to be Sungmin. No one else would do this to Taehyung. He was shaking with anger at this point, his mind clouded in red anger and nerves. 

"No, hyung. He did it. It's my channel. You all know how much of a fucking asshole he was to me… He knows how self conscious I am about my channel. He’s the only person who I told who lives here. It has to be him. Has to."

"It's your channel?" Jungkook asked, eyes wide, “It makes sense… but I didn’t realize.” 

Taehyung froze… he hadn’t meant to share that, especially not in anger. His body went cold as if someone splashed him with a bucket of ice water, his head suddenly ice clear as he looked at all his friends.

They were all looking at him with wide eyes and Taehyung didn’t know how to read any of their expressions. It almost felt like he was back in his apartment, watching anxiously as Sungmin watched his youtube videos. 

The air conditioner was too loud, screaming as it pushed chilly air onto Taehyung. 

This was too similar to what happened with Sungmin. 

Taehyung’s own heartbeat was too loud. 

They all were going to hate him because of this.

Just like Sungmin.

His clothes were too tight to his body. 

“I… I have to go. I think I left my… my microwave on.” Taehyung stuttered, pushing through vertigo as he got up anxiously and left quickly. 

If they called out for him, he couldn’t hear over the sound of his own thoughts and heartbeat. Besides, he didn’t want to hear what they might have to say to him. Rushing to his apartment with shaky hands, he entered his pin code.  The door sang loudly as it unlocked. 

Taehyung quickly rushed inside. 

Damn Taehyung. He should’ve kept quiet for now. This wasn’t how he had wanted to tell them about his ASMR channel. He had hoped to tell Hoseok first and then maybe one or two more and slowly tell everyone… not all at once. Not like this where they could now easily talk shit about him behind his back. 

How would Hoseok feel? 

It was so stupid for Taehyung to keep this from him… Surely Hoseok was upset. He was likely heartbroken and planning how to break up with Taehyung right now. Taehyung wouldn’t be surprised if he got a text soon from Hoseok that expressed just that. It was understandable that Hoseok would be upset. 

This was so stupid to keep from Hoseok. So stupid. 

Taehyung would have to talk with them eventually-- if they didn’t cut him off that is.  Maybe Taehyung could try to message them in their group chat, just rip the bandaid off.

Fuck.

Taehyung felt sick.

He didn’t want to think about this right now.He couldn’t right now. His phone was too scary, the weight of it too much for Taehyung to hold. 

Sighing deeply, he wandered over to his kitchen and grabbed a glass of water before returning to his living room and turning on the TV to a random channel. He needed to shut down. After an hour of staring out his window, a random drama playing on the TV to drown out his own thoughts, he gathered up energy to make some tea. 

Sitting around wouldn’t solve anything. If it did, he’d sit around all day and no nothing, but it would be as effective in this situation as an empty hamster wheel is for generating power. 

Tea and a piece of paper might help though. Maybe he could figure out a game plan and start on it tomorrow (or next week). Another hour passed with his mind empty save for the drama that went in one ear and out the other as Taehyung sipped tea, content with procrastinating on thinking up an action plan. 

He was calming down though which was important. His heartbeat was much slower and senses much less stimulated. It was like a breath of fresh air or the calm right after a storm and Taehyung was thankful. Finally he was breathing easily and the churning in his stomach had lessened. 

Ding Dong

The doorbell sung, tearing Taehyung from his thoughts. 

Who would be at his door? 

Anxiety started brewing in Taehyung’s stomach once again as he slowly walked to the door. This couldn’t be good. He hadn’t ordered any packaged and the only people who ever rung his doorbell was his friends… who were likely upset at him.

With baited breath, Taehyung looked out the peephole, Hoseok was standing on the other side, his teeth worrying his lower lip as he looked around, actively avoiding looking at the peephole. Hoseok knew Taehyung checked that before ever opening the door. . He was holding Taehyung’s favorite blanket and stuffed animal, his brows furrowed with worry. 

Taehyung sighed. 

Of course Hoseok was here. He was such a kind person and good boyfriend. Taehyung didn’t deserve such an amazing boyfriend. 

He was even considerate enough to not look at the peephole for Taehyung. 

Hoseok was too good for him.

“Hyung, hi.” Taehyung mumbled as he slowly opened the door for Hoseok, the two quietly making their way to Taehyung’s living room as tears budded in Taehyung’s eyes and his ears started to ache. He didn’t deserve Hoseok in the slightest. 

He wasn’t ready for this situation in the slightest. Hoseok was going to yell at him and break up with him and berate him, and Taehyung deserved all of it. 

“How are you feeling, my bear?” 

“I am sorry for lying.” Taehyung said, his voice quiet and shaky. 

Hoseok cooed, pulling Taehyung into a big hug and tightly wrapping the blanket around Taehyung. Slowly, Hoseok started to gently rock Taehyung back and forth as he hummed quietly. 

“Please don’t apologize. I am sure you had your reasons.” 

Taehyung nodded, “I-I-I do… They aren’t g-go-good though. I t-t-to-totally understand if you want to break up with me.”

“Enough of that. I am not breaking up with you, I promise. You were nervous to share your ASMR channel with people and that’s valid. Besides, I am sure you would’ve told me eventually.”

“Yeah. I-I was planning to but I k-kept on chickening out. I did- did intend to before we moved in together though.”

Hoseok guided the two to the couch, slowly sitting down on it, guiding Taehyung into his warm lap, and  pulling him in closer.

“I am sure you did. I totally understand your anxiety and so does everyone else. No one is upset that you didn’t share your channel with us. I promise.” 

It was like a weight was lifted off of Taehyung’s shoulders, even though he was skeptical of Hoseok’s statement. It was a shock and Taehyung didn’t know how to take it.

Taehyung looked up at Hoseok, his eyes wide, “Really? No one is mad? I would understand if they were.”

“No one. I would have loved to have found this out from you another way, as I am sure others would have loved to share this in a different way, but no one is mad that you didn’t share.” 

“Thank you.” Taehyung nuzzled into Hoseok.

He was tired and his brain felt like a foggy mess. This whole situation stressed him out so much and finally having people know was like a breath of fresh air. Even before the flier was posted, Taehyung felt tired constantly from hiding this, his channel hung over him and even if he wanted to talk about it with people, he couldn’t. 

Distantly, he felt Hoseok rubbing Taehyung’s back, a soothing comfort washing over Taehyung as he drifted into sleep. 

Everything was going to be alright. 

Taehyung took a deep breath, relaxing slowly as he readjusted his array of ASMR tools. 

Everything was going to go alright.

This was going to go perfectly.

“You sure you’re up for this, hyung?” He asked, looking over at Hoseok who was resting on a comfortable stool, his bareback facing Taehyung. Hoseok’s posture was the best Taehyung had ever seen it be and his muscles looked nicely defined as he ever so slightly flexed. It wouldn’t last the whole recording but Taehyung was heartened by the effort Hoseok put in to trying to look proper for the video.

“Of course I am! I am excited to be in a video with you.”

“I am glad. Are you nervous for your ASMR debut?” 

Hoseok laughed, shaking his head vehemently, “Are you kidding me? All I have to do is sit here and let you play with my hair and rub my back for an hour? I'm so hype!”

Taehyung laughed, elated at Hoseok’s excitement, “Alright then. Be as quiet as possible,” He adjusted the microphones and looked over the camera one more time, “We will start soon.” 

“I am so ready!”

With a sure nod, Taehyung turned on the camera, waited a few seconds and waved at the camera, making sure his fingers rubbed against each other softly for a few minutes. Then he grabbed a matchbox, shaking it gently for a little before lighting it, taking time to let it hiss near a mic before lighting the candle. Gently, Taehyung set it down next to a few brushes and back scratchers.

Now the real fun began.

#btsbingo2022 #rainingmxmnet #wkcnet #btswritersclub #bts #bts fanfic #bts fan fic #bts fanfiction #bts fan fiction #bts mxm #bts vhope #bts hoseok #bts jhope #bts taehyung #bts v #vhope #bts fluff #bts oneshot #bts angst #vhope oneshot #vhope fluff #vhope angst #hoseok fluff #hoseok angst #taehyung fluff #taehyung angst #bts mxm fluff #bts mxm angst #bts vhope fluff #bts v hope angst

[magicshopaholic]

Familiar Faces (Jimin x OC)

Summary: Years after falling out over an unspoken yet common misunderstanding, Jimin finds himself face to face with his most significant ex-girlfriend at a party.

Pairing: Jimin x OC

Genre: Exes; flirting, smut, mild angst and fluff

Rating: 18+

Word Count: 12.5 K

Warnings: language, alcohol, longing, flirting, heavy petting, making out, nipple play, car sex, fingering, squirting, multiple orgasms, jealousy, arguments, mentions of infidelity and abandonment, more jealousy

A/N: A huge thank you to @hobicuffed for brainstorming this mess with me and falling for my Jimin because, in her words, who wouldn't (paraphrasing), and @ressjeon for helping me navigate through the hundreds of scenarios in my head <3

This is also part of my submission for the Bangtan Bingo Spring Event by @bangtanwritingbingo, using my square "Park Jimin".

Listen to: "trials of the past" by SBTRKT

jimin masterlist | main masterlist

It’s a single sound, but it’s enough for Jimin. Through the chaos of chatter, the throngs of people, and the never-ending bass, there’s one sound that makes it through the din of the party and pulls Jimin right back into the past.

It’s just that time of the year.

He must be dreaming. Two years ago, it seemed like she was out of his life for good. Of course, it had seemed like that four years ago, too… and five years ago as well. Every time they fell out, it felt like the last time. A few months would pass and the anger would simmer down, followed by a brief period of nostalgia before both of them got busy with their lives again, and eventually found their way back. Or, in this case, landed up at the same party. 

Jimin’s heart beats faster the more he thinks about it. It’s her, potentially, in the flesh. He tries to picture her hair, if it’s changed; if she’s still wearing those bracelets she’d been obsessed with the last time they were both okay; her thousand-watt smile, the curve of her waist into her hips…

It interrupts his thoughts again, the sound. This time, he knows it’s her. It’s so her. It takes him a second to realise he’s smiling, sort of. Despite the history, it could be fun to see her again. Maybe she’s changed. He certainly has; he’s thinner now, fitter. His hair is long, something girls seem to like. He could be reaching, but he thinks he’s gotten taller since the last time they saw each other, despite what Jungkook says.

The song ends and the opening notes of the next one reverberate through the house. This time, Jimin is prepared for it.

Achoo!

Twenty minutes earlier

Jimin hates Sungwoon.

Well, no, he doesn’t. Not really. He hates being invited to a party hosted by a friend of a friend, and then abandoned at said party by the latter friend - that is, Sungwoon. Ordinarily, he wouldn’t mind. He would almost welcome it: going to a party on a weekend, meeting new people, being charming, having a few drinks, possibly flirting with a couple of cute girls who might or might not recognise him.

Ordinarily, he wouldn’t mind. But tonight is just not one of those nights.

He doesn’t know why, though. He doesn’t like to admit it because it makes him sound rather jobless, but he honestly doesn’t even know why he’s here. In fact, the moment he drove up to the house and parked next to the three-storey Victorian house, the bass practically thumping through the walls and the structure looking like it was about to burst with the number of people inside it, he was fairly certain that half the people here wouldn’t know the host, let alone who or what the party is for.

Of course, Jimin is one of those people, too, loathe as he is to admit it. He has one drink in his hand that he’s been nursing for about fifteen minutes now, and he’s currently part of a circle of people in the kitchen who are debating the outcome of some anime show. He’s sure Namjoon would be a better person to participate in this debate, but still, Jimin finds himself talking to a boy and a girl, both around his own age, who seem to be more interested in explaining the show to him than anything else. He tries to look at it as a positive: at least he’s finally socialising.

“So, wait -” Jimin closes his eyes, frowning as he tries to remember. “Nanachi uses the incinerator and kills -”

“No, Reg uses the incinerator,” corrects Jia, the girl, her short blond hair moving as she shakes her head.

“Okay, so then Nanachi tells him to kill…”

“Mitty,” finishes the boy, finally looking satisfied that he’s catching on.

“But…” Jimin frowns deeper. “I thought Nanachi and Mitty were friends. Or something.”

“Exactly,” exclaims Jia, now looking rather hassled. “That’s why it’s so shocking. And that’s why we’re taking bets on the finale this week.”

“It’s going to destroy Reg, to kill her,” says the boy forlornly, shaking his head. Meanwhile, Jia dramatically downs the rest of her drink, turning away as though she can’t bear to talk about it anymore. “Even Nanachi.”

Jimin doesn’t trust himself to respond. He thinks he’s got the broad gist of why everyone is so deeply involved in this show, but the last thing he wants is to contribute and end up sounding stupid, especially since Jia is quite cute… and has been nonchalantly touching his arm every few seconds.

“That’s rough,” he mumbles finally, but a new person’s entry seems to divert everyone’s attention. Jimin peers over a few heads to see a girl he does not recognise enter, but from next to him, Jia skips over to give her a hug and some general chatter begins. He hovers in the same spot for a couple of minutes, slowly sipping his drink and hoping Jia will return but she doesn’t. In fact, she links her arm with the new girl and they both leave the kitchen together, waving at the small group and disappearing.

Jimin leaves, too, eventually. Sungwoon finally texts him (A friend had car trouble. Picking him up on the way. Should be there soon.); it’s only somewhat helpful because while Jimin is reassured that his friend hasn’t abandoned him, it means he has a decent amount of time to kill before he does show up. He leaves the kitchen then, downing the rest of his drink and making his way to the drinks’ table for another.

There’s a surprising amount of choice; opting for a vodka with cranberry juice, a safe yet fun choice, Jimin turns back to face the party, hoping for some familiar face. He wishes he’d brought someone along. He’d almost asked Taehyung, but he’d been on a video call with Dilara and unceremoniously shut the door in Jimin’s face, giving him just enough time to say hi to her before he was alone in the hallway of their dorm. Jungkook had been his next choice, but he’d been knee-deep in a video game when Jungkook had entered, complaining about some player somewhere who was surely cheating.

Hoseok would have accompanied him, Jimin decided, taking a long gulp of his drink and feeling the liquor go straight to his head. But he was visiting family back in Gwangju, thus leaving Jimin all alone. He finishes the rest of his drink, feeling marginally lighter, and goes to pour himself another one.

“Hi.”

Jimin almost jumps out of his skin but recovers quickly. Hoping he hasn’t spilt something on his white shirt (the pink will be impossible to wash off), he turns slightly to see an unfamiliar face.

“Hi,” he replies, slightly unsure but smiling anyway. The guy standing next to him is a bit taller, with a clean buzzcut along the side of his head. He’s holding what smells like whiskey, and he knocks his glass against Jimin’s with a smile.

“I’m Jihoon,” he says, bowing slightly and flashing a smile when Jimin reciprocates. “Sorry, but… you look really familiar.”

Jimin nods, a bit bashful but mostly relieved. While being recognised wasn’t necessarily something he was hoping for, at least it ensures that he won’t have to spend any longer standing by himself next to the drinks table like some chump. “Jimin,” he says, grinning back and shaking Jihoon’s hand. He’s a bit thrown by how firm the handshake is but lets it go.

The mention of his name seems to click, and Jihoon makes a sound of acknowledgement. “Of course. Jasmine here -” He throws his arm around a girl next to him whom Jimin had not noticed until this very moment, “- is a huge fan. She was just complaining that this playlist doesn’t seem to have any BTS in it.”

Next to him, Jasmine, who’s about a head shorter than her companion with warm, amber-coloured hair, flushes. “I didn’t say that,” she mutters, unsticking Jihoon’s arm from her. “I just meant… usually people dance at these kinds of parties which makes them more fun. If they played more dance music, like BTS, it would be. Maybe bring some life to the party.” She rolls her eyes, presumably at Jihoon’s exaggeration.

Jimin smiles, for she’s cute. “I agree with you completely,” he says, noting with pride at how her cheeks go pink again and she suppresses a smile. “It’s never fun dancing alone, though.”

“Oh, you don’t have to -” Jihoon is cut off when Jimin gasps. “Wh-what? What happened?”

It takes Jimin a few seconds. Achoo! When he hears it a third time, he can’t help but chuckle to himself, almost disbelievingly. Out of all the places to find her again… he shakes his head, already feeling the familiar ache of the past, of homework and ice creams, of teenage secrets and first loves.

“I’m - I’m sorry,” he says to Jihoon and Jasmine, suddenly remembering he’s not alone. “I, uh.. I just have to go… find someone.” Jimin’s already walking away when Jasmine calls his name, barely audible over the music.

“Wait! Find who?”

Jimin shrugs, turning back only momentarily. “The life of the party!”

It’s a bit of a stretch, for while she certainly can be the life of the party, Jimin isn’t in a place to presume anymore. He follows the sound, though, guessing vaguely where it might have come from. He reaches what looks like a lounge, by a hallway that’s less crowded and where the music isn’t quite as loud. There’s a dull haze in the air, though; Jimin suspects he’s only noticed it because he’s come from the much more airy living room, but the strong smell of weed solves the mystery for him.

Achoo!

Jimin’s heart thuds. She’s definitely here. When a group of boys exit the lounge with raucous laughter, bumping into people and taking a joint with them, he finally sees her. From behind the group, near the door of the lounge, the smoke clears and he sees her for the first time in two years. Her hair is a bit shorter, bangs longer, a bottle of Corona in one hand as she holds a tissue to her face. Even from this distance, he can spot the red tip of her nose as she sniffles, looking cross as ever.

Jimin snickers but doesn’t look away. Almost as though she can hear him, she looks right at him. Her face goes slack for a moment, eyes sparkling, before she tilts her chin up. She’s fifteen feet away and silent, but he can almost hear her. It’s always the quiet ones.

Sooah can’t quite believe it… and yet, she can. Of course it’s Jimin. Of course he’s here, two years after their last fall out, right here at a party that she’s already bored of. Of course he’s grown up even more, his hair a bright blond, his leather jacket fitting snugly around his shoulders, smile cocky as he waves at her. Of course.

She bites her lip as he walks over, graceful and, in her opinion, far too smiley after what went down the last time. She sneezes once more before he reaches her. “Remember when you hated parties, Park Jimin?”

“I got over it,” he says easily. “Kim Sooah,” he adds after a moment, smile widening. Sooah looks exactly like he remembers, down to the sniffling nose and the bracelets on her left wrist, peeking out from under the sleeve of her frayed denim jacket.

She observes him for a moment with narrowed eyes, trying to ignore the familiar racing of her heart. For fuck’s sake, it’s just Jimin. “How did you find me?” she asks. As if on cue, she sneezes into the tissue once more.

“That’s how,” he replies, patting her casually on the back as she emerges, sniffling again. It feels like the most familiar gesture.

“Ugh, I hate it,” she grumbles, shaking her hair out of her face. “Don’t worry, I’m not sick or anything. It’s some allergy - I don’t know what, though. It’s just -”

“- that time of the year,” he finishes, along with her. There’s a small pause when she nods and Jimin turns to glance at their surroundings. “Have you ever thought about moving away from all this smoke?”

Sooah rolls her eyes. “I’m waiting for a friend,” she explains, pointing to the room where the smoke is wafting out from, now greyer than ever. 

“How long have you been waiting?”

“Like twenty minutes.” She scoffs, as though she’s just realised it herself. “Scratch that: yeah, let’s move away from the smoke, please.”

Like the oldest habit, both of them leave together, reaching the living room where Jimin had got his drink from. “Do you want another drink?” he asks, pointing to her bottle. “Since when do you like beer, anyway?”

“A lot of things change in two years, Park Jimin,” she says meaningfully, cocking an eyebrow at him. “But I’m trying to stay light tonight. Still recovering from a hangover,” she adds.

Jimin nods, not surprised. Sooah had been popular at school; so popular that a party would rarely occur without her in attendance. Her friend group was bigger than he could hope to keep track of; he didn’t think many of them were close friends, but it was enough for her to be a permanent face at every event, be it a birthday party, graduation parties, leaving parties, even club openings in Seoul, if the Instagram updates Jimin has checked surreptitiously over the years are any indication. Taking all this into account, it’s no wonder he's run into her for the first time in years at yet another party.

Jimin’s very own attendance at a party had been only six months after he’d joined their school in Seoul. Even there, he suspected to this day that it was because Taehyung had asked the girl hosting to invite him. Naturally, he’s never confirmed this with Taehyung and Taehyung has never volunteered the information either, but it was the first time he had seen Kim Sooah out of her school uniform, with her hair down her shoulders and, predictably, with the small group of pretty and popular kids who were always rumoured to be the only ones able to sneak in alcohol and weed until everyone got older. 

Nam Daehyun had been one of them, a basketball player, taller than everyone else in the class. It had become apparent later on that it was only because he’d hit his growth spurt earlier than the other boys, but at seventeen years old, it had seemed like he’d accomplished the greatest thing. Jimin didn’t know if he was Sooah’s boyfriend; it wouldn’t have surprised him in the least since they were always together, albeit with the rest of their group as well. It didn’t matter, for she was much further away from him than simply the width of a room.

Of course, Jimin hadn’t the courage to approach her that night, or the next day. In fact, the first time they’d ever exchanged more than a few words wasn’t until weeks later, when Sooah had approached him in the library for help with her maths homework. She was always so confident, even from afar, that Jimin had been surprised at how quiet and almost timid she’d looked when she’d asked him if he was indeed Park Jimin.

Taehyung told me you’re the best in our class, she’d said. It had taken Jimin a few seconds to process what she asked and then nod, gesturing to the chair next to him. She’d sighed in relief and sat down, smelling of Dove soap. I’m Sooah, she’d said, as though he wouldn’t know. He’d shook her hand, she’d smiled, and Jimin had almost been blinded.

It had been only half an hour of tutoring, but something about the way she looked at him while he explained their homework to her had twisted his heart. It was as though she’d just noticed him, even though he’d been in her class for nearly three semesters. But she’d listened diligently, taking notes and clarifying doubts, until they reached the last problem which she finished on her own. 

Sooah had beamed and Jimin’s heart had skipped a beat. I wish I was as smart as you, she’d said wistfully, the sunlight from the library window making her hair glow a warm brown. 

You’re very smart, he’d replied, tapping the notebook on the last question. 

Not as smart as you, she’d disagreed, tucking a lock of hair behind her ear. She’d left after that, apologetically stating that she had to get to volleyball practice. Jimin had watched her gather her things, unable to believe that he’d spent a whole half hour with Kim Sooah - and that she had come to him.

You’re really nice, Park Jimin, she’d said, just before leaving. She looked like a teenage vision in her school uniform, hair loose even though it was against school rules, the sun shining right on her from the window. With his bowl cut, glasses and chubby cheeks, Jimin wondered with a dull pang if she’d even remember his name tomorrow.

But he’d smiled back, if a bit resigned. So are you, Kim Sooah.

We don’t get a lot of that around here, she’d said, and she sounded a bit disappointed. But then she’d touched his shoulder. It’s always the quiet ones. He’d watched her walk away, her short skirt fluttering by the backs of her toned thighs, her long hair bouncing gently as she left, and tried to count himself lucky that he’d had thirty uninterrupted minutes with Kim Sooah at all.

“Is that Jihoon?”

Sooah’s voice breaks him out of his memory. Trying to ignore the slight racing of his pulse, Jimin turns to look in the direction she is. He instantly recognises the tall guy with the buzzcut, his smaller and shyer friend standing next to him.

"Oh. Yeah."

She turns to him, frowning in surprise. "You know him?"

"Mhm," he replies seriously, nodding and taking a sip of his drink. "Jihoon and Jasmine."

“Huh.” Sooah turns back to look at them. “Jihoon and Jasmine?”

“Yeah. I think she was hitting on me.” Jimin observes her from the corner of his eye, wondering if he’s imagining how her expression changes an infinitesimal amount.

“Uh-huh.” She nods slowly. “Why do you think that?”

He shrugs, focusing on nonchalance. “She’s a fan, apparently. And her friend Jihoon introduced her, so I guess she’s shy.” He grins innocently down at Sooah, blond hair falling effortlessly into his eyes. “I like shy girls.”

Sooah purses her lips and nods, clearly trying not to smile. “Really? Did she say anything else?”

He raises his eyebrows. “Wait… why do you care?”

“I don’t.” Her face doesn’t betray anything, still holding his gaze with suppressed amusement. 

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah. About as sure as the fact that Jasmine was not hitting on you.” 

He scoffs. “It’s been years, Sooah. I really don’t think -”

“Jihoon was,” she finishes, returning the charming and innocent smile he’d given her.

“I -” Jimin is driven to silence, but whether due to this new revelation or his ex-girlfriend’s blinding smile, he’s unsure. He looks back in Jihoon’s direction, who, as though he’s heard his own name, looks up and meets Jimin’s gaze. He grins and waves, which Jimin returns with only a moment’s hesitation. Looking back down at Sooah, he shrugs. “I’ll take it.”

She chuckles before sneezing again. “Okay, so it wasn’t the weed,” she grumbles, dabbing her nose again. 

“Seems to be getting better, though,” he says, lightly patting her back. His stomach flutters when his thumb accidentally brushes her bra strap.

Sooah nods just as the song changes. “Oh, my god. Do you remember this song?”

Jimin, cheeks already getting hot, shakes his head. “No.”

“Yes, you do!” she exclaims, clearly seeing through him. “It was the first time you danced for all of us, remember? You said you were a modern dancer and you couldn’t do hip hop, but then your friend - I can’t remember her name -” lies “- said you had a real flair for dancing.” She grabs his arm, tugging as though to get him to remember.

“First of all,” he says, putting his hand over hers on his shoulder to get her to stop moving, “she didn’t say it, she yelled it,” he corrects, rolling his eyes. “Secondly, it wasn’t hip hop. It was popping. And I was… I was good. Wasn’t I?” He looks down at her, like he has so many times before.

“Of course you were,” she answers easily. “I remember thinking, Park Jimin is cool. He’s smart and he can dance.” She takes a swig of her beer, apparently oblivious to how his heart swells with pride at her compliment, as though out of habit.

“You thought I was cool?” he asks, a little belatedly.

Sooah, who’s watching a few people start to dance now, gives him a look. “No. I asked you out because I thought you were uncool. Jesus, Jimin.”

Jimin frowns slightly as she looks away again, a memory tugging at the corner of his mind. But then the song fades into another, a popular one this time.

She chuckles “How long before you get asked to dance to this? Steps and all?”

“No, I don’t think anyone here has recognised me yet. Except Jihoon, I guess,” he adds, tilting his head. “God, I don’t think I can dance to this ever again.”

“Don’t remember the steps?”

“I don’t think I could forget the steps to Idol if I tried.” He raises an eyebrow. “I’ll dance if you dance, though.”

Predictably, she scoffs. “Yeah, right. Dancing in front of strangers may be what you do for a living, but you couldn’t pay me to do that.”

“I like dancing in front of strangers,” he says, a little defensively. “Believe me, I gave up a lot to be able to do that.”

“Oh, I know,” she says under her breath, but loud enough for Jimin to catch it. 

He sighs. “Sooah -”

She turns to look up at him at the sound of her name, forehead smooth but eyes almost challenging, as though she’s waiting to see if he’ll actually bring it up. Jimin holds her gaze, feeling the familiar rush of excitement of not knowing what was next, as it always was with Sooah. 

“Yes?”

Jimin licks his lips, the corners of his mouth already twitching. “Dance with me,” he says abruptly.

She frowns and rolls her eyes. “Don’t be funny, Jimin.” She looks away from him, almost nervously, and takes a large sip of her beer and immediately sneezes again.

“I’m not,” he says lightly, patting her back again.

“You know I’m a shit dancer.”

“I’m not. Together, we average each other out.”

“Using your maths genius to manipulate me?” Sooah raises an eyebrow and chuckles. “It’s always the quiet ones.”

Jimin’s heart skips a beat, but before he can dwell on it, someone whoops and a cluster of people join the makeshift dance floor in the middle of the living room. “Oh, come on, you actually like this song.”

“I like listening to it. Quietly. In a corner, with my beer.” She raises her bottle, apparently not noticing how it’s almost empty.

“Sooah, come on, it’s been two years,” insists Jimin, hearing himself whine a bit and cringing slightly. “For lost time.”

“It’s been two years because you left for Europe.”

“Actually, it’s been two years because you went on a trip to Busan and didn’t call me when you returned to Seoul.”

“Because you’d left for Europe by then!” Sooah shakes her head. “It doesn’t matter. Can’t we just stand here and catch up?”

“We can also dance and catch up,” he points out, widening his eyes pleadingly when she gives him a look. “One song.”

She bites her lip, the lipstick red against her white teeth. With the thin black choker, a plain red top and the light blue denim jacket, she looks like she’d been on her way to someplace else when she’d decided to bless this party with her attendance at all. If that’s true, Jimin kind of can’t believe his luck.

“Fine,” she says finally, turning around to place her near-empty bottle on the mantle behind her. “One song. But you’re leading and don’t you dare let me trip, Park Jimin.”

Jimin snickers and places his cup next to her bottle. “Don’t worry, Kim Sooah,” he says, grabbing her hand and walking backwards, “I’m good enough for the both of us.”

Sooah believes him, because she doesn’t have any reason not to. He’s always been graceful, always the most beautiful person in any crowd, despite what he used to think of himself back in school, and later during his debut. Once he’d started gaining some confidence, Sooah remembers, all eyes went straight to Park Jimin - and hers were no exception.

“Okay, now…” Jimin pulls her towards him and wraps an arm around her back, the other holding her hand in his, “just relax. And move,” he adds when she freezes.

Sighing, she tries to loosen up. “I actually do like this song,” she admits, trying to sway like Jimin, whose hips and body are moving in rhythm to the music without him seemingly even trying.

“Of course you do,” he agrees, gently pushing her away to spin her. Her hair brushes his chest as she does and he catches a whiff of something pleasantly floral. His heart soars in amusement as Sooah turns clumsily, stumbling back into his arms.

“I hate you,” she mutters, tossing her bangs out her eyes and trying to pay attention to his feet.

“At least you’re doing it with a professional,” he says, pulling her closer - and noting how she doesn’t resist. When she simply shrugs nonchalantly, he gives her a look. “Really? Is there someone else you’d rather be doing this with?”

She pauses only for a moment before shaking her head. “No,” she says honestly, her heart skipping an unexpected beat when he grins down at her, blond hair falling into his eyes.

Kim Sooah had fallen in love with Park Jimin sooner than she’d expected. She’d realised it within a month after they’d started dating, when he’d gotten a rare evening off from dance practice and shyly texted her to see if she could meet him. They’d gone for ice cream, where they’d had fun trying out the different flavours until she’d decided on cookies ‘n’ cream (Jimin had foregone one due to his diet), and then gone to the park where, in the seclusion of the shrubbery and setting sun, they’d fooled around in the grass.

They were only teenagers, a popular girl and the shy new student who’d embedded himself in her mind since the day she’d asked him for help with maths. Sooah wasn’t sure what it was, just that he’d been sweet and smart, and even charming and funny once he’d opened up to her a bit. He treated her better than any of her friends, even the boys that claimed to have a crush on her, and seemed to care about her interests and personality beyond just what party she was planning to attend that weekend. 

That day at the park, he’d been confiding her about how he’d been up all night practising a difficult dance routine, his face transparent with worry. He’d nailed it, though, that day during the test, and they’d given him the evening off as a reward. Sooah had shared his happiness genuinely, loving how his face shone with relief, and had asked him to show her some of it. He’d declined immediately, continuing to do so until she’d confessed that she was a terrible dancer so she couldn’t judge him even if she wanted to. 

Biting his lip, he’d pressed a quick kiss to her mouth before standing up and showing it to her. The passion and grace in his movements had been unparalleled, and the fact that he trusted her had tugged at her heartstrings in a way she’d never felt before. Even as the sky darkened, Jimin remained the brightest thing in her vision, and she felt everything she’d read in books and seen in the movies. She was in love, and she hoped to everything she knew that he was, too.

She hadn’t said anything, naturally, not until months later, just before summer vacation was to begin and she had to go back to Busan to visit her grandparents. She’d confessed and he’d returned her feelings, and they’d had sex with each other for the first time.

At that moment, Sooah sneezes again. “Jesus,” she mutters, stopping in her tracks. “What is it in this house?”

Jimin grins again, hips moving subtly in time to the music. “It’s just that time of the year,” he says wisely, spinning her awkwardly again and chuckling when she trips over her feet.

“You’re doing this on purpose, Jimin,” she hisses, nudging him in annoyance.

“Me?” He tugs her closer. “You’re the one with two left feet. I’m the only reason you’re standing upright.”

Sooah’s heart races and she grabs the lapels of his jacket, pulling him closer dramatically. She tries to ignore how close his plush, pink lips are, twisted in a smirk. “Good thing the song’s getting over, then. I can stand upright all by myself when you aren’t steering me around.” 

Jimin nods, slowing down as the song indeed changes. “That’s good. Do you want me to hang around, though?” He gestures to the tissue she brings out of her pocket, presumably as a precaution. “Just in case you lose your balance battling your allergies?”

She shrugs. “It’s up to you, really.”

“No, I wouldn’t want to impose.”

“You really think you can leave the dance floor while this song is playing?”

“Of course.” Jimin gives her an amused look. “I have some self-control. And it’s much more fun dancing with you.”

Flirty little shit. Sooah narrows her eyes. “Dancing? I was just trying not to look stupid, while you were…” She gestures vaguely.

“Breathtaking? I know,” he says seriously. “And you can’t ever look stupid while you’re dancing with me.”

“That’s a lot of confidence, Chim, for someone who was too afraid to get out there just because Idol was playing.” She raises an eyebrow and waits for a similar response, possibly with a backhanded compliment inserted in there. But there’s a small nostalgic smile on his face and the moment Sooah realises why, she feels her cheeks getting warm.

“Sooah, you know you can -”

“Um, hi.” 

Jimin is cut off and turns to see Jia, the same girl who’d been passionately explaining that anime to him earlier in the kitchen. Her short hair bobbing as she murmurs a “hi” to Sooah, she looks back up at Jimin with a nervous smile.

“I hope this isn’t too cliche,” she begins, tilting her head charmingly, “but… do you want to dance?”

Jimin raises his eyebrows, and it seems to be only then that he and Sooah realise that they’re still in the middle of the makeshift dance floor, the only ones standing still as people around them do the viral dance moves to the song. His eyes flicker to Sooah, eyes wide and innocent - and daring her to say something.

Sooah holds his gaze for a moment before tearing her eyes away and looking at Jia. “Oh, of course,” she says, taking a step back. “He was just saying that he wants to dance - and I’m not a very good dancer, so.” She shrugs sweetly and gestures towards Jimin, biting her lip when she sees his face go slack.

“Oh, well -” Jia chuckles self-consciously, tucking a lock of hair behind her ear. “I don’t think anyone here is as good as you, but if you’re okay…” She shrugs, and Jimin finds himself charmed, especially when Sooah nods. 

“Of course,” he replies, smiling and asking for Jia’s hand. “Sooah has never liked dancing all that much.”

“Guilty.” She takes another step back and waves at them, grinning at Jimin who meets her gaze over Jia’s head. Her stomach jolts unpleasantly when he takes her hand and spins her around, but she retains her expression, making sure he sees her grab her beer and leave the room.

Jimin finds her soon enough, less than five minutes later. Sooah is on the steps of the balcony to the front yard, observing the handful of smokers and lone party-goers getting a breath of fresh air. With a fresh gin and tonic in one hand, she feels the cool breeze through her hair, interrupted by a light, fruity scent that makes her stomach flip.

“I hate you.”

Eyes closed, Sooah laughs. She feels Jimin take a seat next to her and opens her eyes to see him scowling. “Whatever do you mean, Park Jimin?”

“She was the worst dancer I have ever seen,” he blurts out, looking truly hassled. “Like… I don’t even know if I can call that dancing. She knocked into two people and it was like she was trying to stay off beat.” He shakes his head. “And you knew, didn’t you?”

Sooah laughs again, and despite himself, Jimin’s heart skips a beat. “That’s the good thing about me. At least I know I’m a terrible dancer.”

“You could’ve warned me.”

“You wanted to dance,” she reminds him. “And I’ve never liked dancing all that much.”

“She stepped on my feet twice, Sooah.” He sticks out his foot, long and lean in tight black jeans, to show her his shiny black shoe. “These are new shoes. And expensive.”

She raises her eyebrows. “You bought yourself super expensive shoes and wore them to a house party? Where anyone could spill sticky liquor all over them?”

Jimin shrugs, looking a bit sullen. His pale jaw is bright against the dark sky. “I didn’t even buy them,” he says after a moment, sounding a bit defensive. “Taehyung bought them for me, for my birthday.”

Sooah nudges his shoulder playfully. “Oh. Then it’s alright.” She waits for him to acknowledge her reply, accepting the shrug he gives her. “How is Tae, by the way?”

He lets out a long sigh, looking up. “I don’t know, honestly.”

“Wait, what? You’re still close, aren’t you?”

“What? No, yeah, of course we are. He’s just…” Jimin gestures vaguely. “He’s trying to get this girl to date him and… I don’t know how it’s going, honestly.”

“Really?” Sooah frowns curiously. “Taehyung can’t get a girl to go out with him? That’s new.”

“He asked out Park Soyeon twice in senior year before he finally gave up.” The words are out of his mouth before he can stop them. There’s a momentary pause before he scrambles to cover it up. “I don’t think that’s what’s going on here, though. She likes him, too, but she’s a foreigner and…” He sighs, suddenly tired. “I don’t know. There’s a lot of drama going on there.”

She nods thoughtfully as she leans backwards on her hands, her light blue denim jacket brushing against his leather one. Her cheeks are as full as ever, and Jimin is faced with an insane urge to pinch them. “It’s a good thing we never had any drama.”

He pauses before snorting. “No, no… never. No drama,” he adds, glad to see she’s grinning, too. He drops his gaze to the ground, acknowledging a bit gratefully that they’re able to joke about it. He nudges a tuft of grass with the toe of his shoe, trying not to close his eyes at the smell of her floral perfume. “Were you really mad that I left for Europe?”

Sooah stiffens. Her knuckles tighten on the step she’s sitting on, and she fixes her gaze on two guys across the yard, both peering into one phone. “No.”

“No?”

“It’s your job, Jimin.”

“I meant, without calling.”

She’s mildly surprised at how bold he’s being. “I wasn’t mad,” she says decidedly. Her light blue jeans look extraordinarily pale next to his black ones, their knees an inch away from each other. “I was surprised, that’s all.” She shrugs with a forced nonchalance she hopes he won’t spot. “I thought we were… I thought we were good.”

“We were,” he says automatically. When she doesn’t respond, he bites his lip. “Why didn’t you call me when you were in Busan? I didn’t hear from you for two whole weeks.”

Sooah’s stomach twists unpleasantly. “I wasn’t sure if I was meant to, you know?” she says in a small voice, shrugging. “We weren’t dating,” she reminds him.

Jimin nods slowly. “I thought you were back together with Daehyun,” he says after a moment, anticipating her reaction a moment before it comes.

“That would be difficult since we weren’t ever together.”

The silence that settles over them is a familiar one, thick with baggage and past misunderstandings. Jimin can almost predict the pattern of their conversation if they continue along this thread, which mistakes would be brought up and which passive aggressive comments would be made until one of them either snapped or walked away. Despite knowing, he feels an old, familiar panic grip his heart when he thinks about her walking away from him, another familiar sight.

A cool gust of wind blows then, making Sooah’s hair fly off her neck, revealing thin hoop earrings. Jimin runs a hand through his ruffled blond hair. “Why did you come out here?”

She shrugs, glad for the change in topic. “Thought it would help with the allergies.”

He frowns, suddenly aware that she hasn’t sneezed once since he joined her. “Looks like it worked.” He chances a look at her when she nods. “I thought because…” He trails off, not knowing if this is another line of conversation that could end badly.

“Because of Jia?”

To his relief, her eyes are twinkling and her lips are tilted up in half a smirk. He wants to see that smile again, the blinding one. “Yeah, because of Jia,” he says, a bit more confidently.

“Because she’s a bad dancer?”

“Is that the only reason you might have a problem with Jia?”

“Why would I have a problem with Jia at all?” She narrows her eyes playfully, and - Jimin swears he’s not imagining it - her gaze flickers momentarily to his mouth before meeting his eyes again.

“I don’t know.” Jimin plays along, tilting his head and licking his lips. “She did interrupt us.”

“I usually brace myself for interruptions when I’m with the famous Park Jimin. You do need to cater to your fans.”

He raises an eyebrow. “Weren’t you a fan?”

The biggest one, once. But Sooah doesn’t say it. This, too, is a familiar turn of conversation, and she’d rather not disturb it. “Probably not the same kind.” When Jimin can no longer hide the grin on his face, her heart skips a beat. “Where are you off to next?”

An abrupt change of subject. Right on cue. “Um… America, next month.”

“Concert?”

“No, just promotion. Austin, Texas,” he recites. “Supposed to be freezing, apparently.”

“Oh, I’m sure you’ll find someone to keep you warm.” Sooah nudges his shoulder, and he rolls his eyes before turning to her. “Christ, Chim, it’s not my fault if your mind goes straight to the gutter.”

“So you don’t mind if I find someone to keep me warm?” Jimin asks, raising an eyebrow.

“Of course not. Would you mind if I found someone to keep me warm here? Seoul gets pretty cold, too.”

Jimin bites his lip, feeling a flutter low in his abdomen. “I wouldn’t know about that. I run pretty hot myself.”

“Lies.” But Sooah finds she’d suddenly like to test that theory. “Speaking of… it’s getting pretty cold right now, don’t you think?” As if to prove her point, she pulls her thin jacket a bit tighter around her. The movement pushes her breasts together, a hint of cleavage visible over the clingy red top. For the first time, he notices her nipples, erect and pushing against her top, and he feels himself suddenly stir.

“Is it?” He swallows and straightens up, adjusting his jacket and pretending not to notice how her gaze lingers on his lean biceps as they flex. “I’m wearing a leather jacket.”

“And you run hot.”

“Exactly.” He pauses as he watches her bring her hair to the front of her shoulders, as if to keep her warm. The action sends a whiff of her shampoo, something similarly floral, straight to his nose and he bites his lip. “I have an extra hoodie in my car,” he says after a moment.

Sooah’s mouth twists to stop the automatic smile. Right on cue. “Yeah?” When Jimin nods and stands up, her heart skips a beat at how glorious he looks. It’s not purely admiring, though; there’s an old, painfully familiar uneasiness at it, at a twenty-one year old Jimin who’s suddenly aware of his own attractiveness, especially in relation to her.

“Sooah?”

It’s the one thing that’s remained constant through the years, through the teenage drama, the debut, the fame, the distance. He still says her name like she’s Kim Sooah, and for a moment he’s still the same Park Jimin. It’s always the quiet ones. She feels a sudden tightness in her throat and immediately stands up to cover it up, swallowing and fluffing out her hair.

“Lead the way,” she says, glad she sounds normal. Jimin’s eyes twinkle as they begin walking, hands safely in their pockets while their shoulders brush. Her stomach flutters again, a warmth forming low in her abdomen as they leave the party behind and reach the quieter area of the parking lot.

“Which one’s yours? Let me guess,” continues Sooah, turning and walking backwards, “the most expensive one?”

“Your words, not mine.” He stops in between four cars, all shiny and fairly fancy. “You really want to guess?”

She narrows her eyes. “Not the Ferrari,” she says right off the bat, pointing at the shiny red car to his left. “Too ostentatious, even for you.”

“I do like my subtlety,” he sighs, running a hand through his blond hair. 

“Sure you do,” she murmurs, taking her time to look away from the sliver of hard muscle as his shirt rides up. When she looks back up at him, he meets her gaze with a smirk. “Not the Volvo.”

“No?”

“Nope. Not sexy enough.”

Jimin grins, watching her movements more openly now as she walks slowly over to one of the two remaining cars. Her walk is still the same, naturally confident. She saunters over to the wine red Audi and turns around to face him, leaning backwards against the hood. “Do I have another guess left?”

“Just one,” he tells her, taking a step forward.

Sooah finds herself pressing her legs together as he gets closer, the leather jacket proving once again to be her biggest weakness. “What if I get it wrong?”

Jimin pauses. “You’ve already narrowed it down to two.”

“So? There’s a fifty percent probability of me getting it wrong.”

“You know me better than that. I taught you better than that.”

Sooah bites her lip, trying not to react to his cologne as he gets even closer. From this distance, the material of his t-shirt looks so flimsy that she’s sure she can see his tattoo through it. She forces herself to focus. “Did you?”

“It hasn’t been that long.”

“When I met you, you were the shy, sweet guy with the snapback who taught me calculus. Now you’re…” She trails off, making a show of looking at him up and down.

Jimin raises his eyebrows, open his arms with his hands in the pockets of his jacket, making her more certain than ever that he knows how it puts his lean torso on display. “Am I not sweet anymore?”

“You’re something,” she murmurs, tilting her head up to look at him as he gets even closer, less than a foot between them. “Definitely too famous to be hanging out with, say, an old high school flame. No?”

Taking a step closer, he halts, his eyes flickering momentarily as though with a past memory. “I haven’t changed that much.” Her lips are red, he observes, like a cherry, matching her top perfectly. Slightly lower, her nipples look hard as rock. “There’s about two hundred people in that house,” he reminds her, his voice low. “And I’m still here with you.”

Her heart begins to race at the sight of his lips, plush and pink as always. It’s always the quiet ones. “You’re just bored,” she states, but it doesn’t sound as confident as she intended.

“And you aren’t?”

“There’s two hundred people in that house, you know.”

Jimin bites his lip, not even trying to hide his grin as his gaze flickers to her mouth. It’s time. He leans down and tilts his head, slowly, so his lips barely brush her helix. “It’s been two years, Soaah,” he murmurs, her name sounding deliciously familiar on his tongue. He lowers his head slightly so his lips brush her earlobe now. “Bored is not the word I’d use.”

Sooah’s eyes flutter shut, goosebumps erupting on the back of her neck. There’s never been a situation more exciting yet familiar at the same time, especially when his last words sound only partly flirty. It can only go one of two ways now, depending on which she chooses. Tilting her head up slightly, she takes a deep breath. “Not the Mustang,” she murmurs finally.

She feels Jimin smile against her skin and his hand come up to her side, fingers brushing her stomach before his arm wraps around her waist. “Bingo,” he whispers, pressing a light, feathery kiss to her neck before bringing his lips straight to hers and kissing her.

He tastes like cranberry juice; her hands go straight up his torso, feeling the lean muscle for the first time in two years, before snaking it up to his face and hair. Blond suits him, she thinks absently as he pulls her closer, his soft lips feeling like velvet against hers. His hands go under her jacket now, feeling the curve of her waist down her hips before slipping his hands in the back pockets of her jeans.

Sooah gasps, pulling him closer by the lapels of his jacket. “You really haven’t changed that much,” she moans softly against his lips, loving how firm his hands feel on her arse.

“I told you,” he mutters, squeezing her once more before sliding one hand out of her pocket to bring it back up her side. Like an automatic reaction, his hand moves towards her chest and finally, finally brushes her nipple, making both of them moan in unison. “Fuck, Sooah,” he whines, “you still don’t believe in wearing a bra?”

“I haven’t changed that much either,” she whispers, moving her hands lower now, taking care to touch every inch of muscle she can before reaching his jeans to find what she’s really looking for.

Jimin pulls away when he feels her hands roam lightly down the front of his jeans. “Right here?”

“M-m.” She brings his head back down to kiss him with one hand, the other one brushing down his front, only momentarily teasing the restrained bulge, before feeling down his front pocket. Reaching for what she needs, she grins and breaks away. “Just wanted to see if I was right,” she says, pressing the button on the car key and biting her lip when the Audi beeps.

“I told you you were,” he sighs, but still backing her up the side of the car and reaching behind her to open the door to the back seat. He kisses her again before she backs into the car and shimmies up the seat, taking off her jacket. Jimin follows just behind to take off his own and push her down gently, lowering himself onto her and kissing her deeply.

She tugs his t-shirt off, sighing shakily when she finally sees everything she’d been imagining. “You’re so hot, Park Jimin,” she murmurs, reaching up to press a wet kiss to his collarbone before sucking on the same spot, her fingernails raking down his body.

Jimin groans audibly, at the sensation and at her words, his hair falling into his eyes as he lowers his head. Sooah’s hands reach for his belt and unbuckle it, and he follows suit as he unbuttons his jeans and undoes his zipper, freeing his erection slightly.

“Better?”

He can hear the smirk in her voice against his neck, feeling her press a kiss to the surely reddening spot. “Much,” he mutters, pushing her back down again and swallowing her chuckle in a kiss. He rolls his hips into hers, helping her spread her legs along the seat. Slowly, teasingly, he touches his tongue to her lips, running them along the side, tasting the light gin and tonic she’d been drinking along with something smoky. It’s addictive, whatever it is, and he can’t get enough of it.

Sooah pulls him lower by the waist as she kisses him back, loving how his body feels against hers. He always did have the most beautiful body, diet or no diet, especially because he knew how to use it, how to mould it against hers so she felt him, his skin, his feel everywhere. Even now, as he’s covering her completely, his biceps taut as he runs a hand up her sternum and lightly squeezes her breast, she still wants more.

“Chim,” she whispers, the old familiar nickname feeling natural on her tongue, biting her lip when he trails his lips down her jaw. She tilts her head back automatically, giving him access to her neck, her knee bending automatically.

“Yeah?” he asks, lips lightly biting at the strap of her tank top.

“Chim,” she repeats softly, running a hand through his thick hair, “suck my tits.”

Right on fucking cue. Jimin makes a sound against her skin that’s something between a groan and whine at her soft command, immediately pulling away slightly to push her top up her torso. Sooah watches his expression as he slows down, carefully peeling the top over her breasts like he’s unwrapping a present. Against her crotch, she feels his erection twitch.

“No bra,” he breathes, eyes flickering up to hers. “I was right.”

“I told you you were.” Her eyes flutter shut when he kisses her left nipple, first lightly, then a bit more passionately. She tugs at his hair and he takes the hint, wrapping his lips around it and sucking it. “Fuck,” she whispers, her back arching off the beige leather seat. His other hand moves down her bare waist to stop at the button of her jeans. Pausing to see if she’ll stop him, he unbuttons it expertly with one hand and unzips it before sliding his hand down to feel her warm, wet core.

“Yes,” she whispers, reaching up with her hand for her other breast and squeezing it, bringing the nipple between her fingers. “Chim, do you have a condom?”

Jimin lets her nipple fall out of his mouth before nodding, his hair brushing against her breast. “It’s in the glove compartment…” Grunting softly as he climbs off her, he leans over the gear shift and clicks it open, rummaging in its contents in the dark. In the meantime, Sooah tears her eyes away from how tight his thighs and hips look in his jeans and takes off her own along with her underwear, and tugs her top back down as Jimin returns.

He shakes the square plastic packet and rips it open before pausing and looking down at her. “Are you sure you -”

“Yes.” She pulls him down to kiss him again, easing him back on top of her and between her legs, moaning into his mouth when he feels the cloth of his underwear against her clit. “Fuck, yes…”

Jimin lets her tug his jeans below his hips, her hands running over his tight backside before she slips two fingers behind the elastic of his boxer briefs. “Are you sure?” she asks, feeling his hard abdomen against her knuckles and feeling breathless.

He nods wordlessly and answers her with a kiss, more tender than the previous ones, a memory surfacing despite everything, of her asking him the same question years and years ago, the day he’d lost his virginity to her. Jimin slips his boxer briefs down, erection finally free, both of them groaning as his tip brushes her mound.

Sooah reaches between them to gently grasp him, smiling slightly when he gasps into her mouth. “Put it on, Jimin,” she whispers, feeling full and ready for him. He nods, pulling away slightly to slip on the condom and lining himself up at her entrance, glancing up at her once more and feeling his heart stop momentarily.

When she smiles slightly, almost shyly, he forgets what he was thinking and lowers his head to kiss her again, entering her slowly. Both of them groan softly in unison, and Jimin drops his head in the crook of her neck, pushing in further, feeling himself fully encased inside her. Sooah’s hands rake down his back, short fingernails scraping his skin sensually until they reach his hips. Taking the hint, he rolls his hips into hers, harder this time.

“Fuck, like that…” Sooah’s back arches again as he continues moving, his rhythm so delicious and teasing that she knows already that she won’t last too long. Besides, it’s just been so long. She wraps the leg on the outside of the seat around his waist, pulling him to her, wanting to feel him fill her up.

Jimin grunts softly, continuing to increase his speed. With one hand, he reaches for her top and pulls it down, allowing her breasts to be free and pushed up over the hem. She whimpers his name when he sucks at her nipple again, a bit rougher this time as he keeps thrusting into her. The car is filled with sounds of their kisses, gasps and thrusts, just them and no one else in the dark.

“I’m close…” Sooah’s voice is soft and high-pitched now as she feels herself approach her climax, clutching his hard shoulder as she finally comes undone. She feels him slow down as her orgasm washes over her, the pleasurable explosions following the major one. When she finally opens her eyes and locks eyes with him, she smiles in bliss and Jimin is blinded.

Angelic, smirking and wondrous all at once, his thick blond hair falling into his eyes, Park Jimin kisses her as he begins moving again. His movements are so smooth and so sensual that as he picks up his pace, faster this time as he chases his own orgasm, Sooah begins feeling a sensation low in her abdomen again.

“Fuck, Sooah…” Jimin whines, eyes screwed shut as his mouth falls open, his plush lips looking biteable and kissable in the dark. She kisses his jaw, his neck, his collarbone as he thrusts faster, his whimpers in line with the growing heat in her own core.

“Yes, yes…” She speaks without realising and notices Jimin’s eyes widen as he realises what’s happening. 

“Are you -”

“Yeah - faster, Chim…” The moment she says his name, Jimin’s thrusts hard before groaning. His head falls onto her shoulder but he keeps himself up on his forearms. He’s still inside her, though, and without thinking, she moves her hips upwards into his. On top of her, Jimin stiffens.

“Are you close, baby?” When she whimpers in the affirmative, he moans in satisfaction, straightening up and pulling out. “Shh, don’t worry,” he murmurs, replacing his cock with his fingers, inserting two fingers deep inside her, feeling her walls clench around him.

Sooah nods frantically, aware of how he’s watching her now with full attention, putting one more finger in as he pumps them in and out of her. “Yes, fuck…” It’s as though the first orgasm wasn’t enough, for the feel of his fingers and the sight of him so proud at the effect he’s having on her is enough to push her over the edge again. 

“Oh, fuck!” 

She feels the explosion harder than before, shuddering underneath him before she realises what’s happened. Looking down at the mess she’s just made, the droplets falling off his beautiful leather seats, she winces. “Oh, fuck,” she mutters, heart still racing. “I’m sorry, Chim…”

But Jimin shakes his head even as he avoids the liquid, retrieving his fingers gently. “Please don’t apologise for that,” he murmurs cheekily, leaning over to press another kiss to her mouth. “It’s okay, I have tissues…” He reaches over for the tissue box behind the gear shift and hands it to her, watching her fix her top before pulling out a handful as he takes off his condom and ties it up.

“It’s, um, been a while since that’s happened,” she speaks up after a moment, sounding uncharacteristically anxious. “Are you giving your car for servicing any time soon?”

Jimin chuckles as he buckles his belt, reaching for his t-shirt over the back of the seat. When he looks up to see her expression, he immediately shakes his head. “Sooah… don’t worry about it. Yes, I will be, actually,” he adds after a moment, noting how she nods and looks away.

“Okay. Cool.” Swinging her legs over the front of the seat, she rummages around for her underwear and jeans, silently pulling them on. Her hair swings over her shoulder, blocking Jimin from view until she sweeps it back over her neck to smoothen it.

“Should we…”

“Yeah.”

They climb out of opposite doors, jackets in their hands, emerging around the front of the car, tissues awkwardly bunched in their hands when Jimin pats the front of his jeans. “What did you do with the key?”

“Um -” Sooah frowns and turns back to the car. “I may have dropped it… somewhere.”

Jimin sighs and begins walking back to open the door. “Seriously, Sooah…”

“Hey, I was too busy with something else to pay attention to where I dropped your keys,” she says, only mildly defensive, as she opens the passenger door to search under the seat. She hears Jimin chuckle despite himself  as he rummages around at the back, and looks near the gear shift before her eyes trail over the glove compartment. The availability of the condom now seems awfully convenient, as does his apparent plan to give his car for servicing, all seemingly unrelated to their recent tryst.

“Found it!” Jimin’s voice shakes her out of her uneasy train of thought. “It was between the seats,” he declares, climbing back out of the car and gesturing for her to follow suit. As they retrace their steps out, making a beeline for a trash can at the edge of the parking lot, Sooah watches him walk ahead of her, the confidence in his stride so familiarly sexy and attractive, and yet so different from the Park Jimin she’d discovered in high school.

They head into the house together after that, still walking beside each other but somehow a bit more intimate, now that the proverbial ice of this reunion has finally been broken. The party is in full swing now, many more people dancing, the living room far more crowded.

“Do you want a drink?” Jimin asks loudly, leaning down to speak in her ear and touching the small of her back.

“Yeah. Cranberry juice and vodka for you?” She raises her eyebrows playfully, pulling him by the wrist towards the drinks table as he grins.

“It’s my favourite,” he tells her mock-defensively, following her and grabbing a bottle of gin the same time as she reaches for the carton of cranberry juice. They mix each other’s drinks and hand it to each other, Sooah raising her eyebrows in approval as she peers into her glass, and they knock their glasses together.

“Doesn’t look bad,” she says, taking a sip of her drink. She gives him a look when Jimin takes a sip of his and gags dramatically.

“Wish I could say the same,” he sputters, shaking his hair out of his eyes. “This is just vodka and barely any juice.”

“I did the best I could,” she says, shrugging easily.

“Really?” He raises an eyebrow as the song changes to a popular one, and a roar of cheers emanates from the dance floor. “Trying to get me drunk? Want to take advantage of me, Kim Sooah?”

“I think we took enough advantage of each other, Park Jimin,” she replies, moving a bit closer to him, “and this isn’t high school anymore.”

Jimin bites his lip, the back of his neck tingling. In a bold move, he brushes her hair away from her neck and peels her jacket away from her skin. "Some things are still like high school," he reminds her, smirking when her cheeks flush.

Sooah licks her lips, the memory of her hickey on display as she entered their history class burning in her mind. "Jimin, I think I should let you know -"

At that moment, his eyes snap up to see something behind her, face breaking out into a grin. "Sungwoon!" he shouts over the music, waving hugely.

Sooah turns around as well to see the familiar face of Ha Sungwoon and his friend, her stomach sinking as though in slow motion. As both guys approach, Jimin grins and hugs Sungwoon, who then seems to notice her.

"This is Sooah," he says, “my… we know each other from high school. What the hell took you so long?" he adds quickly, punching him lightly on the shoulder.

"My friend got a flat tyre and - oh, we know each other, by the -" Sungwoon starts to say, pointing to Sooah, but then Jimin spots Sungwoon’s friend and waves to him, shaking his hand.

"We've been waiting for you," he tells him cheerfully. "This is -"

"Oh, Sooah, thank god."

There's a momentary pause where Jimin frowns curiously. The friend doesn't seem to notice, though. "Sorry we’re late, though. I'm Hyunjun, by the way,” he says, putting an arm around Sooah’s shoulders. “Thanks for keeping my date company.”

The song changes again, and in a hideous coincidence, the voice that comes out of the speaker is Jimin’s, sounding like he has the burdens of the world on his shoulders. Sooah freezes before looking up at him, already expecting the worst. He’s still staring at Hyunjun, and she sees his mouth move in the words “What did you say?” but with no sound, or so softly that it can’t be heard over the music.

“Yeah, they interned at an event planning company last year. We met at Jiwon’s party, right?” Sungwoon asks, apparently noticing nothing as well, pointing to Sooah curiously.

She only nods, though, eyes still on Jimin. His jaw is sharper than ever and there’s a way in which he purses his lips that reminds her of just what his temper can be. 

“You know, I think I just spotted someone, just before you came,” he says abruptly, turning to Sungwoon. “I think she was hitting on me earlier. Think I’ll go make sure.” Without waiting for a response, he downs the rest of his drink in one go, nods at his friend and starts to walk away.

Sooah sighs. “Jimin -”

But he simply sweeps past her as though he hasn’t heard her. He forces his way through the crowd, the music thumping in his bones, the alcohol swimming in his brain, and his chest feeling like there’s someone sitting on it. The crowd suddenly goes “Fake love!” along with the music and he winces; his only goal is to find Jia, the cute girl who was discussing anime with him earlier in the evening before everything went to shit.

But he can’t quite conjure up her face in his mind. Short hair, blond, most likely… she was wearing pink or purple, or it could’ve been blue… he can remember a locket of some kind, with a thin black choker over a cherry red tank top, nipples erect in the cold…

“Excuse me!” Someone bumps into him and Jimin finds himself in the kitchen, somehow next to the refrigerator. Throwing the door open, he picks out a beer, bites the bottle cap off and takes a long swig, welcoming the stinging cold after the disgusting vodka. He backs up towards the pantry; the kitchen is much emptier than before, the downside of which soon becomes apparent.

“Jimin!”

“Go back to your date,” he says flatly, without even turning around. He doesn’t expect her to listen, however; in a typical move, she grabs his arm and forces him to look at her, panting slightly like she’s hurried through the party to find him.

“Just listen to -”

“I don’t care, Sooah. It was just a quick fuck, it didn’t mean anything.”

She scoffs, her eyebrows turning down in a scowl. “Yeah, I’m not surprised,” she says, and Jimin struggles to locate the sarcasm in her words. “Listen, I didn’t do anything wrong, okay? We’re not dating.”

“So you fucked me while you’re with someone else?” Jimin chuckles without humour. “Classy as ever, Sooah.”

Sooah is silent for a moment, as though reconsidering her next words. “Yeah, except it’s no different than three years ago, when you got a blowjob from that dolled-up idol at Jungkook’s birthday party,” she spits, the words tumbling out as though she’s been bottling them up since. “And you explicitly said we were nothing. And you wonder why I didn’t call you when I went to Busan the next year?”

“That’s different,” he says dismissively, his cheeks burning - but from the alcohol or her words, he’s unsure.

“Oh, please. You didn’t even tell me about it. If Jungkook hadn’t opened his big mouth and let it slip, I would never have known.”

“Why the fuck did you even care?” Jimin snaps suddenly. “You were with Daehyun at the time, if I remember correctly.”

“Fucking hell, Jimin. Not this again. You know we never dated.”

“I know that’s what you told me.”

“You saw us together in one coffee shop, one time. Four years ago,” she adds, unable to keep the annoyance out of her voice.

“So you’re telling me, through four whole years of high school, you never once -”

“That’s exactly what I’m telling you. And I think you’d remember since for nearly two of those years, I was dating you.”

“Oh, thank you, Kim Sooah, for noticing someone outside your popular little bubble,” he says sarcastically, ignoring how her eyes widen. “I must have really scored when you decided I was worthy of your attention.”

“God, I can’t -” She breaks off, apparently speechless. “Tell me, Jimin. When did I “score”, huh?” she asks, putting air quotes around the word. “Was it a couple of years later, when you debuted and became famous and decided your plain old - oh, what was the word you used? It was something -”

“Sooah -”

“Oh, right! When your “normal person pretty” girlfriend wouldn’t cut it anymore?” She looks livid now, and somewhere in the back of his swimming mind, he finds himself disappointed that it took them less than a night to dissolve into an argument again. “I must have really scored when you decided to drop me that carefully worded break-up text.”

Jimin exhales through his nose, his heart thudding. “I never said that, Sooah. That’s not how I meant it, at least. And that was five years ago! How are you still holding onto that?”

“How are you still holding onto Daehyun? That was an even longer time ago and nothing even happened!”

“You really were just bored, weren’t you?” he asks, ignoring her and shaking his head. “Just whiling away time with me in the back of my car until your date got here?”

Sooah scoffs again. “Maybe I was. And it was only somewhat worth my time,” she adds snarkily.

“Really? My car seat would say otherwise,” he replies, tilting his head, presumably in the direction of the parking lot. He takes a step towards her, his gaze involuntarily flickering down to her chest. “I made you cum twice, Sooah. Can your date do that?”

Her cheeks flush, only partly out of embarrassment. “Guess we’ll find out,” she murmurs, taking a step back and exiting the kitchen.

Jimin watches her leave, feeling a myriad of emotions that only Kim Sooah is capable of inspiring in him. When they’d been in his car, just before he’d entered her, there had been a moment, just a moment where he’d felt like he was watching them from a third person’s point of view.

Seventeen year old Jimin wouldn’t have believed it, that Kim Sooah would be here, underneath him, resplendent in red as she gazed up at him, longed for him. The way she looked at him, though… it tugged at his heart how familiar it was, despite everything else that had changed - or hadn’t changed. 

But then her date arrived, whatever his name was. Jimin can only describe the feeling as akin to feeling a door close somewhere, one he wasn’t even aware was open. The door turns see-through, a vision of Sooah on the other side, surrounded by all the people in her life that he doesn’t know because he’s no longer in it. Suddenly, he feels incredibly stupid for not considering that she might be with someone, that he would be the first person she would see. It’s always the quiet ones.

“Fuck that,” he mutters angrily, slamming the half-empty beer bottle on the kitchen counter and striding out, determined to find Jia. The crowd seems to have multiplied by the time he reaches the living room again, an Epik High song making everyone dance, whether or not they mean to. He moves automatically to the beat, unable to spot Jia anywhere - or unable to identify her, in any case. Another girl smiles at him, however, a taller one with a face like Tiffany Hwang’s, with blue dye at the end of her hair. She’s holding a plastic cup with dark liquid inside it, and Jimin makes a beeline for her.

You know I’m a shit dancer.

This one’s not, though, Jimin decides. Yujin, her name is, or something similar - the music is too loud to tell for certain. But she’s a good dancer, even in heels, tugging at his jacket just the right amount to be flirty, swaying her hips just enough to be teasing. He doesn’t know how long he’s on the floor with her; she doesn’t seem to be getting tired and whoever is in charge of the music is doing their job right. It’s been a long time since he’s danced with a girl this good, he thinks absently. It’s an English song playing now, some rap song, but he can’t think for the life of him who it’s by.

“Hobi hyung would know,” he says, sure of it.

“What?”

Jimin shakes his head. “You’re a good dancer,” he tells her, speaking louder over the music.

She grins. “So are you,” she says, looking up at him in a way that makes it clear that she recognises him. “Think you can give me a few more tips later?”

He grins back, suddenly spotting red behind her, and his heart skips a beat. “Maybe later,” he says absently, realising only now that he’d been looking for her at all. She’s still standing with Sungwoon and that idiot date of hers, and they’ve been joined by the two people he’d met earlier, Jihoon and Jasmine. The latter is standing with her back to Jimin; he watches Sooah, begrudgingly transfixed, as she nods at something Jasmine is saying. He can’t fathom what they might be talking about, just that Sooah looks mildly amused as she swings her glass lightly by her wrist. Then, suddenly and without warning, she grins and Jimin is blinded.

His stomach jolts when her date turns at the sound of her laugh and takes her hand. To Jimin’s immense irritation, he smiles and says something before walking towards the dance floor. Sooah shakes her head and pulls her hand back, immediately and clearly declining. Her date visibly insists, bopping on the spot and looking ridiculous in a transparent attempt to get her to dance, possibly reasoning that he’s just as bad as she is.

She continues declining, though, until the date finally gives up, looking a bit put off. Jimin’s stomach settles, not twisting anymore but not fully comfortable either. Her date would never know, he decides in a strange combination of pride and sadness. He would never fully know Sooah. Not like I used to.

He untangles himself from Yujin, suddenly tired, and heads back outside to the same steps they were sitting at. A low, weary voice at the back of his head sighs. Any minute now. 

But five minutes pass and he’s still sitting by himself, arms folded on his knees, chin resting on his forearms. It’s a hard pill to swallow, but he supposes he has no right to refuse it, just like he has no right to be angry with her for her omission of detail. Jimin closes his eyes, wondering for the first time in hours just what he’s doing at this stupid party.

“Could you be more dramatic?”

Jimin stops himself from turning even as his stomach leaps. “Are you following me or something?”

“You wish.” When he doesn’t respond, Sooah speaks again. “My allergies started acting up inside again,” she says. From the corner of his eye, he sees her move to stand next to wear he’s sitting, but she doesn’t join him on the steps. Her light blue denim clad legs stand beside him, and he remembers for a split second how they were wrapped around his waist an hour ago. 

“We’re leaving,” she says, pausing abruptly. He’s guessing she’s cringing - because he certainly is - but he no longer has the energy to comment on it. “Just wanted to say bye.”

“Bye, then.”

She doesn’t move, though, and he’s determined not to look up at her. He wonders, vaguely, who’s going to text whom first this time after tonight, and he decides it’s not going to be him. Not a chance.

“For god’s sake, Jimin,” she mutters in a low voice, and he can practically hear her rolling her eyes. “I’m not dating Hyunjun, alright?”

The night feels a degree warmer than it was a moment ago. He swallows. “What, so he was lying?”

“No. He…” She sighs, sounding just as tired as him. “There was a bet among a few of us about the hockey match last weekend and… long story short, I lost it. To Hyunjun.” She pauses. “I’m not dating him… or anyone else.” As she finally walks away, she adds one last detail - and this time she’s definitely rolling her eyes. “Not even Daehyun.” 

Just like that, the door cracks open again.

—

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Tagging: @kflixnet @k-radio @ggukkieland @bbl32

#jimin x oc #jimin fanfiction #btswritingcafe #ficscafe #kpopsociety #thebtswritersclub #btsgoldnet #bangtanbathhouse #jimin smut #btsbingo2022 #btsdreamcourtbangtaninn #bangtanwritershq #bangtaninn #ksmutckub #52hertz

[sugalaritae]

Brightly Wound (MYG)

summary: For Yoongi, handling your body feels as easy as playing the tender notes on his piano

pairing: Yoongi x Reader (no pronouns are used but genitalia is mentioned)

genres: fluff and pwp

au: slice of life, established relationship

rating: 18+

word count: 3.1k

triggers/smut warnings: fingering, oral (both), groping, unprotected sex, he cums on their ass, looots of praising

author's note: hello and welcome to my little ode to Min Yoongi on this date of his birth!! i've been listening a lot to "first love" and i am just constantly amazed by his mind and talent, so i wanted to write a little something that showed that. happy birthday to him!! the lovely @bangtanintotheroom and @rkivian both beta'd this and i am so incredibly thankful for them and the work they did in such a short amount of time! a special thank you to the wonderful @taegularities who came up with this beautiful summary!! this is for the square "our song" for the @bangtanwritingbingo spring event. if you like what you read please like, reblog, comment, send a little ask. feedback is always welcomed! :D <3 © sugalaritae. you do not have permission to translate or repost my work even if you give credit. all of this is mine.

His fingers glide over the wooden black and white keys of the brown piano that sits in the corner of the living room. His back faces you as you enter the room with two cups of coffee. It's a routine of sorts.

Getting up early, you admire him while he still sleeps in your bed, blankets curled up around him and hugging in all the ways that you wish you could if you didn't have to work. He gets up hours later and pads his way to the piano. Sometimes he writes. Sometimes he sits there with his notebook and pen writing out pieces of lyrics and music that is flowing through his mind. Sometimes he sits and stares. Sometimes you step out of your office and watch as the words pour out onto the paper in thin lines of ink. Sometimes you stand there and watch him; if he is aware of your presence, he says nothing. It is always the routine, though, that after watching him, you walk back to the kitchen tucked into the corner of your home and make him his first cup of coffee and your second.

You return the gift of watching him and hearing him write with a gift of your own - coffee and a small kiss. He makes you dinner when your days of work finish.

It is a quiet life that you have with him. Quiet only in the sense of peace. The house you share, much like your relationship, is full of music. He hums when you kiss, makes you sing an aria of moans, conducts your body with his hands and together, you fill entire rooms with thick, loud beats and symphonies of laughter and conversation.

Today, he plays.

His music pulls you out of your office earlier than normal. You still have work to do, words of your own to write, but you can't help but be pulled toward him. You don't watch; instead, you slip quietly out of your office and to the kitchen to make your coffee. It amazes you how he can pull you out of your own head and work so easily. You joked that he was the Pied Piper when you first heard him play.

"That story doesn't end well," he said as he pressed his hand into the bench and leaned toward you.

"Depends on how you look at it," you countered. "Perhaps he saved those children, taught them music and made their lives better."

He had chuckled at that, a crooked smile pulled up on one side of his face and you knew at once that not only could he create music but was a work of art himself.

You step beside the piano, the music filling your head and pulling your heart forward, placing the mug on the coaster he keeps on the top of the piano.

He looks up at you and gives you a nod as his fingers continue to glide over the keys.

You return his nod with a smile, as you lean against the wall and look out the window. Your fingertips touch the hot ceramic as you bring the mug to your lips and take a slow sip. He presses the pedal and you hear the shift in the piano; it's one of your favourite sounds.

He watches you for a moment as he plays the melody that he has been working on for weeks. He wonders at times if you will get sick of hearing the same song repeated but you never mention it. Never ask him to stop. Occasionally, you’d ask how it's going and his insecurities would wonder if this is you asking so you can figure out when he will stop playing, but when he answers, you’d show interest and enjoyment in his success and give him soft touches when he tells you he's struggling. You have mentioned that he is amazing but he knows that you are just as wonderful as he is, if not more. He's not great at voicing his love, that is why he uses music and lyrics. He's capable of letting the world know through those two things just how much he loves you and the beauty the two of you create in the world.

He turns his gaze to the keys as he steps on the pedal for a moment, playing three notes, before releasing it again. The song is in a minor key, crying out with emotion and love. It sounds so simple played on one instrument but as he plays, he hears an entire symphony of strings. He can't wait to show you when it's finished as he has done with every other piece of music he has written. He never watches you as you listen, always leaves the room, and comes back when he knows it's finished. Always eager for you to be part of his world and always nervous.

His gaze turns to you again just in time to watch you smile and he watches a bird fly by the window; he knows that this is what has caught your attention. Birds always bring you a happiness that is a blessing to watch. The kind of happiness that is your inner child pressing its face to the surface and giggling at the extraordinary wonder that nature brings.

He stops playing, pushes himself up off the bench and steps behind you, wrapping his arms around your waist. His hands glide over your t-shirt, feeling the small bumps and curves of your stomach that he knows and loves so well.

He pulls you backward carefully so that you don't spill any of the hot liquid.

Your eyes close briefly as you step backward with him, only to open again a moment later, casting your gaze to the ground as he guides you to the piano bench and steps away from you so you can sit down. Carefully, and wordlessly, he instructs you to hand him your drink and you oblige.

He turns around and sets the mug down on the coffee table a few feet away before he walks back to you, that look in his eyes that you have seen so many times and can never get enough. You have work to do. You should protest but you keep your mouth tightly shut.

You watch as he kneels in front of you, his hands running up your thighs. Those veins and knuckles grab your attention every time he does anything but especially when they touch you. Now they grab the top of your leggings.

"May I?" He asks as he looks up at you.

You nod in response and you stand for a moment so he can pull them down.

You watch him kneel before you, his eyes fixed on the skin that is shown as he pulls down the material. You sit back down on the bench; the leather has been warmed by him and you are thankful for that.

He gently, and with such care, slips your leggings off your body and discards them on the floor.

His gaze is heavy as he looks up at your body. Your eyes meet and it takes your breath away at how dark his eyes are. His mouth opens and a soft "fuck" falls out as your beauty overwhelms him. Your chest rises and falls slowly with anticipation like the first few notes of Bach's cello suites, the sound radiating through your ribs. Your body feels hot already and only burns hotter as he grips your knees and guides your legs apart gently.

Slowly, he leans down as one hand slips up your chest and pushes you back gently. Your elbows press into the keys, creating a horrible mix of notes but neither of you care.

His other hand parts your folds, feeling the excitement slip out of you. His chest feels full, his head empty of all worries and thoughts, only full of desire to make you sing with pleasure and fill the empty parts of the song he's been working on.

His mouth parts and you feel his teeth lightly graze your sensitive clit. Your hand hits a key and a deep note rings in your ear.

He moans against you. His fingers slide carefully over your entrance as his tongue slips against you. You are the sweetest taste that he has ever had the pleasure to taste. You remind him of honey and lemon. A perfect combination.

You can feel your excitement slip against his fingers. Your moan is more of a gasp as he pushes two fingers into you, stretching you just a little. Your own scrape against the wooden keys and you can feel the small spaces between each, but you don't hook into them despite needing something to hold onto as his fingers find your soft spot with expert precision.

"Yoongi," you moan, casting your gaze down to him just as he looks up at you.

His gaze makes you dizzy, or maybe it's his tongue swirling against your clit.

His hand, still pressed to your sternum, slides down and cups one of your breasts. Just as he has perfected the piano, using his foot on the pedals, his fingers playing the keys, reading each bar of notes and translating them; he has perfected you. Perfected multitasking.

He presses your breast up and squeezes gently. His palm presses against your nipple and you curse the bra and shirt you are wearing. You need to feel more of him.

He watches your face as he slips his fingers out of you and pushes back in with a wonderful lewd, noise. Your mouth opens releasing a breath.

"I want to hear you," he says, sitting up. The first words he has spoken today, his voice rough and deep. You happily oblige, releasing a moan as he slowly builds the speed of his fingers.

His gaze is locked on your face, every wave of pleasure that moves across your brow sending a wonderful surge of emotion and pleasure through his body.

He leans down and kisses your thigh as his thumb hooks up and moves against your clit. He's watched you; he knows how you like to be touched and learned every movement that makes up your symphony of pleasure. You are the greatest piece of music that he will ever create, and much like the piano, he had nothing to do with its creation; it is all you. He just knows which note comes with which press of a key and how to put everything together to make you sing.

His movements have built, fingers sliding in and out of you with precision and speed. Then he stills and presses a third finger into you. A loud moan fills the room, followed quickly by an echo of his own moan.

He sucks on your inner thigh and his hand grips your breast tightly. His thumb slides over your clit and you feel nothing but the sensation of your orgasm build. He abandons your thigh to take your clit back in his mouth, his tongue pressing against it and the sensation continues to build.

"Don't stop," you moan and every word that spills out of you is accompanied by a chorus of breaths.

"Right there."

"Yoongi."

"Fuck!"

Your walls clench around him as you spill out a long note. He licks everything up that you give him. His fingers push you through your orgasm until finally, he slowly slides out of you, and your breath catches as you adjust to the empty feeling.

He leaves a kiss on your inner thigh before his hand on your breast drops to the floor and he pushes himself up. He stares at you as he slides his fingers into his mouth and licks them clean. You bite your lip as you watch him.

His chin shines with your juices and he wipes at his chin as he stares down at you. His tongue slips out and he licks his lips. This time it's you that lets out a "fuck" and he chuckles.

You push yourself up off the bench, legs a little weak under you, but you close the small space between and crash your lips against his. You can taste yourself and you moan against his lips.

His hand grips the back of your head as he kisses you back with fervor. Both of you are unable to get enough of the other.

It's you that moves your kisses to his jaw, kissing up until you have his earlobe between your lips, sucking lightly before you bite down and he shivers against you. You smile into the embrace; his hand grips your neck and you release his ear. You lick his neck before slowly lowering yourself onto your knees; he releases you but caresses your cheek as you pause and look up at him. He gives you a short nod and you bite your lip as you pull his joggers and briefs down.

You don't care how many times you've been presented with his cock but every time you see it like this, your mouth waters and you are amazed at how beautiful he is.

You lean forward, your tongue slipping out between your lips as you lick his tender tip. The salty citrus taste of his precum falls against your tastebuds and you moan just as his cock twitches against your mouth.

"Baby," he lets out with a breath.

You lift him for a moment, your hand cupping his balls as you lick them tenderly. He pushes down on your head as he moans, desperate for more.

You make a trail with your tongue, up his ball sack and his shaft until you taste his precum again and slowly you take him in your mouth, inch by glorious inch.

"Fuck," he gasps as you relax your throat and push him all the way in until he hits the back of your mouth.

You push down further until you gag around him and pull yourself off him.

"Fuck my mouth," you say as you look up at him and he runs his thumb against your bottom lip. You're desperate for him to take control again, unsure if you're able to do any of the work that is required of you as your head hasn't cleared from the kiss, the ache between your thighs still ringing like a bell.

"As you wish."

He takes his cock in his hand and taps your lip with his thumb. You open your mouth, sticking out your tongue. He gently bounces the tip of his pink head before he pushes in until he can feel the back of your throat again.

"That's right, baby, take all of me."

You gag and for a moment, you get relief as he slides out of you and then pushes deep. You feel drool slip down your chin and marvel at how sexy you feel. You love giving this to him, letting him take control.

He marvels at the beauty that you are. How generous you are, not just in these moments but always.

Your head swims as you hollow out your cheeks and take his balls again in your hand, massaging them gently as he moans above you. His voice is dark and filled with lust as he showers you with compliments.

"You're amazing."

"Oh my god, baby!"

Then suddenly he pulls out of you and taps the bottom of your chin, nodding you up to stand.

"Turn around. I need you." His eyes are wild with desire and you nod, unable to think of anything else but the craving you have for him. You do as he says, bending down and gripping the piano bench as he lines himself up with your entrance.

Your tummy hangs and while you have felt too vulnerable in this position with previous lovers, with Yoongi, you don't. You feel like the sexiest woman that has ever existed. The sexiest woman that he has ever laid his eyes on.

He pushes in and your fingers tighten around the edge of the bench as you join the other in a beautiful harmony of moans.

You love how he fills you. He loves how he feels wrapped up in your tight, warm walls. He's never loved anyone as much as he loves you. Never desired anyone as much as he desires you and he gives your ass a little slap, groaning as he watches it move around his hand.

He takes no time in picking up his pace, drilling into you at a fast rate that makes your head spin. His hands press into your hips as he grips you to keep him upright, watching your tight and beautifully thin skin slipping around his cock.

He moans your name and directly in front of you stands the instrument that he plays such beautiful music with; this is the best sound you have heard all day.

It's hurried and fast. It doesn’t take long until you’re coming again. Your walls pulsate around him, arms shaking as pleasure rips through your body, relaxing and tightening every muscle in its wake. Your fingers grip the side of the bench tighter to keep yourself upright. Your legs feel weak under you, his hands holding your hips, doing more than just helping him with leverage.

He moans, "Fuck baby, you feel so amazing."

He continues to fuck you through your orgasm until he pulls out and with a few quick strokes, you feel his hot seed spill onto your ass, causing you to moan his name.

He leans down and kisses your back before he pulls his white shirt off and wipes you down.

You turn and collapse against the bench, your legs too weak to carry you anymore. You can feel your orgasm slowly leave you and he kneels in front of you. He leans up and kisses you gently.

"What was that for?" You ask as you look at him and watch as the corner of his mouth twitches upward.

"You," he answers and you feel like your heart is going to burst.

The afternoon sun shines on the wood floor, lighting them up. The plants that decorate your living room soak every morsel of light they can get and you smile as your hand drifts over his chest. Your fingers draw invisible lines as your tongues dance together to a tune that plays in his head.

You are his muse, the reason the sounds of the violins, haegeums, and drums have gotten louder and clearer. He wishes he could compose the way you make him feel. He has tried, but everything comes up short and yet Min Yoongi never gives up on himself and so, he continues to try, going to you for inspiration when it wanes.

#fic: brightly wound #*harrow writes #min yoongi fic #min yoongi fanfic #yoongi fic #yoongi fanfic #min yoongi x you #min yoongi x oc #min yoongi x y/n #myg fic #bts fanfic #min yoongi smut #min yoongi fluff #min yoongi x reader #thebtswritersclub #btsbingo2022 #btshoneyhive #btsdreamcourt #btsgoldnet #btswritingcafe

[written-in-flowers]

Midnight Double Feature

Pairing: Jimin x Namjoon 

Genre: Smut

Word Count: 7k

Summary: At the suggestion of a friend, Jimin visits The Lotus Cinema, an adult film theater known for its vintage style and the special screenings they hold in their basement. He particularly ends up enjoying their monster special starring Monie. 

Disclaimer: These works are completely fictitious and for entertainment purposes only. They are not meant to reflect or label the members of BTS in any way. The events within never took place. Thank you.

Tags: slight social anxiety, prostitution, glory hole situation, blow jobs, anal sex, sex toys, BD!Namjoon, bottom!Jimin, top!Namjoon, voice kink (?), dirty talk, protected sex, 

A/N: thanks to JJ ( @m-yg93 ) for their help with the banner! and this is for my ‘gloryhole’ square for @bangtanwritingbingo​ 

Teaser:

“Hi?” Jimin said shyly into the air, his voice sounded compressed in the room. 

“Hey,” a voice replied from the other side. It was smooth and low-pitched. “Single, double or triple, babe?”

The way the man said ‘babe’ made Jimin melt internally. In his mind, he imagined someone six-feet tall, broad, dark and handsome. Very handsome. He supposed that was the beauty of glory holes: he could picture whoever he liked. For all he knew, it could be a wrinkled grandfather on the other side wanting to fondle him. But, in his mind, Jimin felt that wasn’t true. 

“Um, double?” he tried keeping the nervousness out of his voice, but a shaky breath gave it away. 

“First time?” the other guy asked. 

“No, no, I’ve had sex. Really, I have. I’ve just…” he gripped the chair, “Haven’t done something like, you know, this before.”

“That’s cool,” he heard shuffling and a bag being zipped, “We can take it slow if you want. You paid for a double, so whatever you say goes.” He sensed Jimin’s anxiousness, and said, “What’s your name?”

“M-My name?” 

“We don’t have to use real names, if you don’t want to.” When Jimin didn’t respond, he said, “I’m Monie.”

“Jimin,” he finally said. “My name’s Jimin.” 

“Ah, a name as cute as you.” 

AO3 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/37570261

#btswritersclub #btsbingo2022 #bts #bts fanfic #kim namjoon #park jimin #namjoon bts #jimin bts #bts smut #minjoon smut

[simpxxstan]

Butterflies in Your Eyes

one-shot pairing: min yoongi x reader

genre: soulmate au, smut, angst, some fluff

summary: in a desperate effort to escape marriage arranged by your parents, you have fled your home to ensure that you never meet your soulmate. but can you escape fate?

word count: 5.1k

rating: 18+

warnings: cursing, hints at near-violence, alcohol, smoking, explicit sexual content

a/n: just cute content. going a little wild over yoongi these days, and cannot imagine anyone fitting the soulmate trope better than him. thank you for reading! :)) do let me know your feedback!

written for the bingo square "Butterflies" in the bingo card from @bangtanwritingbingo under the event BTS Bingo 2022!

The mattress had been scratching at your bare back all night. After sleeping in the same bed for six days now, why was the mattress suddenly acting up? Maybe, it was a sign from the gods. That you needed to move on. Suddenly, you shot up from your bed. A million thoughts filled your head, and you felt like you couldn’t navigate through your own brain. Nothing was clear, everything felt like it was choking you. Was dad on the verge of finding where you had been hiding? Were they already waiting for you downstairs? Had they sent the police or a detective after you? What was happening at home? Had a bounty been announced on your head? 

Everything felt wrong this morning. Starting from the intense pain in your forehead, a headache that seemed to persist through days and days, to these unending thoughts filling your brain, to the threat of your money running out. All the worries of the world had suddenly clamped down upon you, and nothing you did could ease your mind now. 

You slowly got off your bed, looking at the clock on the wall. It was slow by more than an hour, so you estimated that it must be around noon. You had kept no phone nor any electronic device with you when you had run away. Nothing but a few pieces of clothing, and some food. Not even your credit card. But you had taken a wad of notes from your brother’s cupboard, and that had been enough for the last three weeks. 

You knew that the money would eventually run out, but you hoped to stay undercover for the next week at least. A month after looking for you, your parents were bound to get tired of looking for you. Maybe they would never forgo their dreams of getting rich through you, and maybe never ever forgive you, but at least they wouldn’t actively look for you. You had kept aside some money to take a train across the country and a boat ride from there to one of the islands in the Pacific. Once there, you would be able to survive in isolation, and your parents would never bother looking for you beyond South Korea. 

There. That was it. That was the entire plan. 

Except, there was a tiny problem. In fact, two tiny problems. One was the constant itch on your back that seemed to irritate you even when you got off bed. And the second was the slowly disappearing money. Doomsday was here- you weren’t going to last even another week. You would have to travel somewhere as soon as possible and take up some kind of lowkey job. That would be the only way to still continue with your plan, but only in a delayed manner. 

Fuck the itch on your back. Fuck the money. Fuck everything in the world. You could smell hot ramen from the other side of the door, and your stomach growled. No, hunger couldn’t be controlled anymore. You had to go down to the basement and beg them to make a bowl of ramen for you too. If possible, for free. You weren’t sure how that would work out, but at least you should take a shot. 

Jez bore his eyes into you as you finished every tiny bit of your ramen, savouring the taste to the fullest. As soon as you put your bowl down, smiling softly, he barked, “Why do you want to leave?”

“Cause it’s not safe for me to stay here any longer.” You burped. 

“This is bullshit. This is paranoia.” 

“No, Jez. I’m barely 250 miles away from home. This is too close. They will find me.”

Jez rolled his eyes. His coloured tattoos were bright against the black shirt he wore. He had once trained to be an idol, but when he fell into an awful drug addiction barely two months before his debut, he could not recover. 

“This is still paranoia. You’re living, I hate to say this but it’s true, in a tiny inn in a village so far away from Seoul. Your parents don’t have that many contacts, nor do the police have that much patience. You’re safe here.”

“Jez, I… don’t know, honestly. The money’s also running out. I need to cross the sea as soon as possible.”

“Oh.”

There was an awkward silence in that brief moment. You knew exactly what he was going to say, and the moment he opened his mouth to say something, you stopped him, “And No. I won’t take any money from you. No loans. Please. I will never be able to re-”

“Who ever talked about loans?”

You gaped, your words stuck in your mouth, staring at the ghost of a smile lingering around his lips. “Huh?”

“I was thinking of hiring you as the barmaid. We really need one. With the fishing season starting, the night crowds at the bar are rowdy. And you’re one with a snappy mouth to keep the old buggers in control.”

You gaped harder, your eyes wide. You couldn’t believe what he had just said. You had seen the crowds in the bar. There was no way you would be able to handle them. Belonging to an upper class family, you had never even interacted with such rowdy people. Not that they were ill-meaning, but you had never seen such behaviour before. It would be a nightmare for you to try and control those crowds. 

“Listen, this is the perfect plan!” Jez was smirking, his eyes bore deep into your soul.

“No, Jez. This is not a plan. I’m not signing up for this.” 

“Cool. Pay up, and leave.”

You stuttered, “W-what?”

“Pay up for the two weeks you stayed in the attic. I’ve treated you well, haven’t I? Then I deserve the payment.”

You almost choked on your saliva. Barely three minutes ago you had told him about your cash running out. And now he had the audacity to ask you to pay up? Bloody men, one could never trust them. You had known Jez since you were five, until he left to train for his debut. Not blood related, but he had been more to you than any of your blood relations. And he chose this very moment to betray you and break his promises. 

“You know I can’t.”

You stared back at him, trying to read his hazed eyes. 

“And you know I won’t give up on what I deserve to get.”

“Well, I deserve that you keep your promise to me!” You nearly shouted, the waiter standing far away now turned to look at you. Gulping, you lowered your voice. “Jez, you had promised-”

“I had said that I’d keep you. Hiding you is in itself a big risk. You know very well that if the police turn up at my front door, my business is ruined, and I’ll be in jail.”

“Jez-”

“Stop trying to say you don’t have money. I’ve fed you and given you a room.”

“I’ve paid you for all meals!”

“Insignificant. When you ran away you stole money with you. Where did you spend it?”

“I couldn’t take much money!”

“Doesn’t fucking matter. Give me the due payment and get your ass out of my sight!”

“You bastard! Fucking loser! Liar!” You shouted back at him, trying to match his volume. “I trusted you with everything and now you say this to me. I can’t-” you had picked up the empty bowl and were about to drop it on his head. You were seeing red, as you always did when you were provoked into anger. 

He quickly caught your arm, standing up, so that he was taller than you. “See.” His voice suddenly dropped. 

You stared, too stunned by his sudden change in demeanour.

“You can handle the rowdy crowds.”

Shocked by his statement, you almost dropped the bowl, but he caught it, chuckling a little.

“You can handle anything with that fire, little one.” He smiled and patted your head. Then he walked past you and left, leaving you staring at your hands.

The events in the afternoon had still not sunk in for you. And yet you were, standing at the edge of the door leading to the bar and pub, wearing a neat fresh skirt and blouse. They were modest clothes, and Jez had constantly reassured you that the fishermen were nice old men who just wanted to look at a pretty young girl. They would not try to harass her. Still to avoid any possibility, you had chosen a loose skirt that did not show your curves at all, and a plain full-sleeved blouse with a neckline that revealed nothing except your defined collarbones. Your hair had been tied up in a ponytail, and some pink lipstick adorned your lips that were heart shaped and small in comparison to your face. 

You still didn’t know what you were getting into. After the entire, quite dramatic, discussion with jez, you had gone up to your room and thought much about it. Finally you realised that this was the best way for you to earn at the moment. If you needed to escape quickly, you would need all the cash at your disposal to ensure your plans were executed fool-proof. 

“Ready?” A face popped up next to you. It was Jez’s right-hand man, Kamal. He was not Korean, but a refugee from South Asia. His kind eyes were wrinkled up into a smile, and you nodded your head slowly but steadily. “Yes. Ready.”

The grand old clock in the inn struck eight, and the crowds rushed in through the doors in a loud cheer. You had no choice but to be ready. 

The evening passed into night pretty quickly. The old men were surprisingly easy to manage. Since it was your first night, Kamal was always by your side, helping you with the drinks and tips. The crowd was mostly males above the age of forty, tiny flecks of white hair whispering through their mane, some were older and had wrinkled foreheads. There was a television screen with some game going on, which was the source of entertainment for most of the people. As the game came to an end, the men were drunk enough to produce their own entertainment by singing and dancing in their drunken haze. They never made you feel uncomfortable, in fact you were apparently a reason for them to make more merry. Jez’s sales went up, and the tips came in nicely. Kamal said you could keep them. When the bar closed at three am, your ankles were tired but you smiled. The glinting coins and the merry evening had done much to improve your mood and keep your mind away from the constant worry of being found out. 

One night, two nights, three nights passed. You became more and more familiar with the customers, and started addressing them less formally. The drinks became smoother, your eyes shined naturally, your skirt became less loose and your blouse less stern. 

Then came the fourth night. 

All was going well. The crowds were filling in like usual, the small inn smelling of sweat, alcohol and fish. It was nearly eleven at night, the game was just at its climax ending, when a man walked in through the doors. He was dressed unimpressively, his white blazer hanging loosely over his broad shoulders and far thinner body, a mop of black hair falling on a very fair face, short but enigmatic enough for you to notice him. He didn’t walk up straight to the bar initially. He walked slowly, as if he was being drawn by something but he was taking his time to reach it so as to draw out the anticipation. The way he was dressed, he looked like someone in his early thirties who had come to visit this small town for some business purpose and would be leaving soon. Sad. It would probably be the first and last time you would see a young face in the crowd. 

Once he had glazed his eyes over the crowd of old fishermen gaping and cheering at the television screen, he let his eyes wander to you. You had been looking at him all this while, and when he locked eyes with you, you were instantly embarrassed and blushing. You looked down for a second, busying yourself with some bottle of wine that was now empty, and then again when you looked up, you saw that he had walked up closer to the bar. With little effort, he sat on the bar stool, right in front of you. “One whiskey, on the rocks, please.” You looked straight back at him, managing a tiny smile. One which he did not return. His entire personality looked much more brooding up close. His bright skin and white formals did nothing to mellow the obsidian of his eyes which were deep and intense. 

You poured out his drink, plopping in the ice from the bucket. He was busy looking at the game, just like the rest of the crowd, and you took this opportunity to look at his side profile. “Here you go.” “Thank you.” His voice was deep, raspy and soft. It made your flesh tingle. 

You did not know his name, all you knew that he was not a slight bit drunk even after drinking three glasses of whiskey. When the game ended, a few older gentlemen came over to the bar. They were already drunk on their cheap brandy, and they struck up a conversation with this man. Simple small talk, like what was a young man like him doing in this small town, where did he work, what was he drinking, where had he come from, and so on. You had half expected him to continue his cold attitude with them, but surprisingly, he was all smiles and soft chatter with them. His voice was generally not loud, but had this edge to it that sounded like he could cut through you. Thankfully he was not looking at you at all, else he would have caught you staring at him multiple times. You almost dropped a glass of beer in the distraction. But at least the old fellows had someone to entertain them. 

And entertained they were. Generally when midnight struck, many would head home. But when this man was telling stories of his adventures and travels, hardly anyone could leave their seats. Drinks were in unlimited supply, Jez was grinning from ear to ear. Giving the man a bro-handshake, the former asked him something in his ear, the chatter in the room too loud to allow you to hear him. Jez smiled and pointed in your direction… but it was also the path to the washroom. You sighed, and went back to your work. 

You did not notice when he checked you out from head to toe on his way to the washroom, gently wondering what you had looked like before you had donned these country outfits. 

It was three at night, more like three at dawn. Min Yoongi had stepped out of the inn to smoke a cigarette. The town had quite obviously fallen asleep, save the few lights shining in the inn. As he breathed a mixture of the smoke and the night air, moonlight shining down on him, he thought of the one reason he had come to the inn. He dropped his cigarette, stamping over the burning butt, and walked back inside to finish his unfinished task. 

He saw you cleaning up the bar. It was probably time for you to wrap up for the day, as most of the crowd had disappeared, only a few drunkards lying here and there. Now, there was just you and him. 

He walked up to the counter, looking you straight in the eye. Over the night, he had drunk enough but not too much so that he didn’t get tipsy. “Could I get a scotch and soda?” You looked up at him, mildly surprised. “Aren’t you done yet?” You laughed out a little, while pouring him out the drink. 

“Pour one out for yourself, Y/N.”

You looked at him again, surprised. How did he know your name? As if he could read your mind, “I heard Jez calling you Y/N today.”

“But I don’t know your name.”

“Yoongi. Min Yoongi.”

“Hi, Yoongi.”

“Go on, the drink’s on me.”

“Umm, but-” You hesitated for a second, then poured out one for yourself too. You really needed it. You did get tipsy a little too fast, but that won’t be a problem. It was just one drink.

Drinking with Min Yoongi was all whispers and sarcasm. He had a dry sense of humour, and as you grew tipsier, you giggled more often, encouraging him to continue his stream of jokes. The two of you joked about the crowd at the bar, about Jez and his inn, his life, small remnants of your life, the weather, the government, even the latest K-drama that had been airing that week. Talking to Min Yoongi was easy, words fell smoothly off his pink lips like honey, and his voice was like music to your ears-

“Did you just kiss me, Y/N?”

You moved back, shocked at your own actions. The alcohol was finally allowing you to loosen up and do what you had wanted to do for the last five hours. You were never this bold, but something about Min Yoongi drew you in like nobody else. You’d probably never see him again. And the way he was looking at you, he would probably not mind. 

Except, he did seem to mind. His face grew darker, his eyes hooded, his face flushed. “Y/N-ah.”

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to cause you trouble-”

He bent over the counter to kiss you back, shutting you off from what you were about to say.

“You’re making me too hard to resist, huh?”

Smirking, he kissed you again, which slowly deepened. You both bended towards each other, your waist hurting, but his hands on your jaws, cupping you in his large warm palms, made it all easy to forget. “Yoongi” you breathed, “We can go up.”

He drew back, slowly taking in your flushed face and swollen lips. Clearly no one had kissed you like this before. He smiled, his confidence and excitement slowly rising. “If you’re sure.” 

Of course you were sure. You had never been surer in your life that when you sat down on Min Yoongi’s lap on your single bed. His blazer was off, and your blouse had been fully unbuttoned. He was sucking and biting hickeys into your cleavage, letting you unclip your bra, and let it fall off your breasts as you bared your chest to his hungry gaze. 

It was a sight that made him wild, and Yoongi repeatedly thanked his stars. Keeping your hands on your hips, he let you grind into his crotch slowly, as he felt himself growing harder. Your boobs hit his face as you struggled to keep up a good pace, and he smiled into them while making kitten licks all over your areola. Every time he ended a lick with a tiny nip, your body shivered, and it drove him mad. 

“Yoongi, I’ve not done this before.”

Great, you had chosen to confess this right when he had started thinking of how he could fit his cock between your breasts. Yet you continued to grind into him, your hips moving against his.

“Do you want me to show you?”

You gasped in his ear as he began biting near your neck, “Yes! Show me!” 

You made breathy sounds as he laid you down on your bed, gently taking off your skirt and panties in the process, leaving you naked all at once. It felt a little weird, you felt a little shy, but it was oddly familiar. You had never felt more comfortable in your life. And as Yoongi drew little circles over your thighs rising slowly to the place where all your heat and pain had been gathering, he whispered sweet praises of how beautiful you were. 

Those were probably due to the alcohol. 

Min Yoongi had never seen someone looking so delicate and beautiful while his face was lying between their legs. You shivered and squirmed every time he used his tongue to lap up your slick and drive his tongue through your folds. He was determined to make you come using only his tongue, leaving his fingers enclasped in your hands, holding you down gently so that you did not squirm too much. Your moans and his breathless whispers were all the sounds in the room, and to be honest, this was better than any music he had heard. 

And you did come over his tongue, directly spewing all of your sweet cum on his tongue as he sucked and lapped you clean like a kitten lapping milk. “Yoongi!” Your hands were in his hair, your chest rising and falling with each heavy breath you took. “Hmm, baby?”

“I need you to help me…”

He jerked up, staring at you. Were you asking him to stop? Had it been too much for you? Were you uncomfortable?

“Help you?”

“I need you to enter me, right now, Yoongi. This fucking pain is killing me!” 

Sighing, he smiled, his gummy smile revealed. As you blushed harder at his smile, you looked down at him. His shirt and pants were still intact. You reached out to unbutton his shirt, while he took off his pants. In a second, he was left in his boxers, his erection quite evident. For someone who had never had sex before, the exhilaration from seeing him like was enough to make you come. 

He slowly peeled off his boxers, gripping his dick in his hand. It was not too long, but thick and pink, and it looked just as desperate to satisfy your need as you wanted it. “Yoongi, please?” 

“Yes, baby, since you asked so nicely-” 

He didn’t even wait for two minutes. He thrust in directly and never looked back.

You were finally tired after two more orgasms and had passed out on Yoongi’s broad chest. But he wasn’t asleep. He was wide awake as he saw the first rays of the sun enter the room through the window panes. His mind was full of a variety of thoughts that he needed to sort out. But having you naked on his chest, your scent filling his nose, was not helping. 

Yoongi had learnt only three days ago that you were his soulmate. He had been staying in this town for the last week due to a building his company was planning to build in the town, an effort to upgrade this busy but underdeveloped fishing town. The building would be the precursor to setting up an export centre there, and profits would roll in easily. He had seen you in the market on the very first day that he had arrived. You had been wearing a tank top, and your back was visible. And on it, was visible the inches of your slowly emerging tattoo. 

The tattoo of a butterfly. 

Min Yoongi knew it too well. It had appeared on his back too, at the exact same spot, precisely three years ago, when he had turned twenty years old. 

And that was how, purely by accident, Min Yoongi had found his soulmate. 

That was the reason why he had mustered up courage to enter the bar on a busy Friday night. Being the older and more mature partner in the relationship, he was bound to feel a stronger affection towards you. You had probably not even realised that you had developed your soulmate tattoo. But Yoongi had been waiting for you for way too long. He had to tell you. 

Being soulmates, you could never reject him. Everyone wanted to settle down with their soulmates as soon as possible in order to lead an orderly life within society. He was sure that with his decent amount of wealth, and his fairly decent looks, you would not turn him down. 

It had taken him all night to find an excuse to talk to you. And when he did, he fell for you harder and harder. Yoongi had only heard about soulmates who fell in love at first sight. Today he had experienced it as well. 

The confession was on the tip of his tongue, when he asked you, “And what is a pretty girl like you doing in this tiny town?”

You had giggled and said, “I’m running away from my Appa. I can’t let him get me betrothed to my soulmate.”

And in that instant, all his plans had been ruined. 

You would never accept him. The reason why you had run away from your home was because you were not ready to marry your soulmate yet. How could he, at this time, tell you that the reason why he had come to meet you was because you were his soulmate?

That’s when you had kissed him, and thankfully the night had diverted into something else. Something that he had momentarily enjoyed, but when he realised that you would probably never do this again with him, his heart broke into a million pieces. 

You woke up to the sunlight pouring in through the windows, and Min Yoongi standing in front of one of the windows, his hands on his hips, lost in thought. Your head was dizzy but you smiled at him, remembering all the memories of last night. 

“Yoongo-aah,” you called for him. 

“You’re up!” He smiled at you, his face glowing. 

He gently picked you up and kissed you, while you wrapped your legs around his waist. “Did you sleep well?”

“Yes!”

In the morning light, Yoongi’s features were more prominent. As he walked the two of you to the tiny washroom that you called your own, his back facing the mirror, you noticed a soulmate tattoo on his back, right below his left shoulder. 

He was busy humming a tune, when you said, “You’ve already found your soulmate?”

Locking eyes with you, he said, “Not yet.”

“So you’re not cheating on them, are you?”

“No, Y/N.”

You stroked your fingers over his tattoo, gently marking its outline. 

“Y/N…”

You could feel his breathing getting heavier. “Hmm?”

“Have you got your soulmate tattoo yet?” 

“Me? Nah, I don’t think so. I mean, unless I got it in the last few days when I’ve been living here and haven’t paid any attention to myself, I don’t-”

Your voice trailed off. He had turned you around, to make your back face the mirror, and slowly you turned your face. What you saw made your jaw drop. It was the replica of the tattoo you had just seen on his back.

“Yoon…”

“Yes?”

You looked at him. “You knew? Is that why you’re here? Has Appa sent you here?” Your voice became shriller with every sentence, until you were out of his arms and on the floor.

“No, Y/N. If you’ve developed your tattoo here, how would your father know how it looked and find me?”

You stared at him, dumbfounded.

“Then… how?”

“I didn’t know until I saw you that day, in the market. You were wearing a tank top, the tattoo was quite visible.”

There was a dead silence. You could feel that the air was getting more difficult to breathe. 

“Y/N, please calm down. I don’t want you to get worried-”

“Get worried? Do you know what this means?”

“No, I don’t. But if this is about your father, then you should not think about him. Please think about yourself first.”

“Min Yoongi, are you rich?” The question took him off-guard.

“Yes, well, you could say so.”

“Fuck.” You muttered under your breath.

“That’s a problem?” He looked at you wide-eyed.

“No. I mean, yes. So…” you bit your lip, the hesitation to trust him clear in your eyes.

“Go on.”

“When I was young, an astrologer told my father that I had a very rich soulmate. Since then he’s taken loans and wasted his money in the hope and dreams of a rich child-in-law.”

“And you have a problem?”

“I don’t have a problem with a rich soulmate, of course. It’s just that… this year I turned twenty. Since then, my parents have tried every hack to make me meet my soulmate. Random blind dates and what not. That’s why I ran away. I don’t want to be married so early just for them to suck off the wealth of my soulmate.” You had a frown on your face, that looked so adorable that Yoongi had no option but to smile. 

“There’s a very simple solution, Y/N.”

“There is?” you looked up at him, hopefully. 

“We don’t get married now. We can wait for as long as you want to stay away from your parents. When you’re ready to marry, we’ll marry. I will wait.”

“But why did I find you so early!”

“That is beyond our control. It’s written in our fate- when we will find our soulmate. I met you at twenty four, you met me weeks after your soulmate tattoo was born.”

“Yoongi…” You hugged him at the waist, basking in his warmth.

“I really like you, Y/N. And, haha, I am twenty four and I’ve been looking for my soulmate for a long time. Now that I have found you, I really don’t want to let you go. So please don’t abandon me…”

You looked up at him, your eyes watering. In such a short span of time, you felt like you could trust him implicitly. You had fallen for him, hard. For his rough looks, and porcelain skin. For his honey tone and raspy voice. For his smartness and wit. For the comfort he was providing you right now, and for his understandingness. 

Thank God your soulmate was someone like Min Yoongi.

“I will never abandon you, darling.” You stepped on your toes and kissed his forehead, before hugging him tightly again. You were never fucking letting him go. 

#btsbingo2022 #bts smut #bts fluff #bts angst #min yoongi #fanfiction #bts ff #bts fanfic #bts fanfiction #bts #suga #butterflies in your eyes

[casuallyimagining]

Rest

Min Yoongi x reader

Summary: Yoongi is sick. Luckily, you're there to take care of him and make sure he rests. Word Count: 1,382 Notes: I've been wanting to write a fic like this ever since they announced Yoongi had Covid. And then when he said that he'd lied and he actually did have symptoms, I had to write this. My first instinct with Yoongi is always the desire to wrap him in a blanket and smooch his little cheeks, and I think this fic is just the epitome of that.

This fic is a part of @bangtanwritingbingo’s spring bingo event and fills the square slice of life.

Part of the Long Term Couples series. Read more here.

Trying to be as quiet as you could, you opened the door to your bedroom. It was dark inside, the only light in the room coming from the small nightlight you had plugged in before you left. The curtains were drawn completely closed. You winced as you listened, the soft wheezing worrying you slightly despite the doctor saying it was normal and nothing to be concerned about.

Carefully, you crept through the room, approaching the sleeping figure in the bed. You’d been gone for about an hour, picking up medicine and groceries, and while you hoped he’d slept the whole time, you knew it wasn’t likely. You sat the cup of water and bottle of pills in your hand down on his nightstand. He’d thrown the covers away from his body in his sleep, so you gathered them up, pulling only the sheet over his body and letting the rest fall to your side of the bed so they were handy if he wanted them.

You placed a tentative hand on his forehead and sighed. He still felt warmer than he should, and if the amount of sweat that kept his hair clinging to his face was any indication, his fever hadn’t broken yet. You frowned, brushing his hair back silently before placing a gentle kiss on his temple and turning away. Maybe you could make him some soup. His mother had emailed you the recipe for samgyetang and said it might help.

It certainly couldn’t hurt.

Just as you were about to close the door again, you heard the blankets shuffle and a soft “what time is it?” croak out.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you,” you said, approaching him. “It’s a little after two.”

Yoongi hummed, a small wheeze accompanying the sound. “S’okay.” He reached out, wrapping an arm around the back of your thighs, just above your knee, keeping you close to the bed. “You weren’t gone that long.”

“I’m what you call an efficient shopper.” He laughed weakly, leaning into your touch as you cupped his jaw. “How are you feeling?”

“Like I got hit by a car.”

“My poor honey boy,” you cooed, running your thumb across his sleep-swollen cheek.

He shook his head, attempting to take a deep breath and wheezing out a sigh. “I love that you’re here. But you should go stay with Jungkook. You’re going to get sick.”

“Hate to tell you this, honey boy, but if I’m going to get sick, I probably already have.”

It was true. Yoongi had only started to show symptoms the afternoon before, and neither of you were particularly sure where he had contracted the virus. You’d both been so careful in your travels, and no one else you knew was sick. You had considered staying with Jungkook and his girlfriend while Yoongi was contagious, but what was the point? You lived with him. You had been exposed far before his symptoms had presented. And you knew him. You knew he wouldn’t take care of himself.

“Why don’t you try to nap a little more?” you suggested softly. “I want to make that soup eomma-nim sent me the recipe for.”

Yoongi groaned, using his grip on your legs to attempt to pull himself up into a sitting position. “I’m not tired,” he whined. “I just don’t have any energy.”

“Love, I think that’s the literal definition of being tired.” You turned in his hold, allowing him to rest his head against your stomach. “You should rest while you have the chance. You’ll feel better faster.”

“I can rest in the kitchen while you cook,” he protested.

Despite the fact that he sounded more nasally than usual and that his voice was much more gravelly, his tone was firm. You could tell you wouldn’t be able to argue him back into taking a nap. So you gave in.

“At least sit with the humidifier,” you told him, scratching at the base of his scalp with your fingertips. His hair was disgustingly sweaty, but he melted into you, so you continued to do it.

You weren’t used to Yoongi being this lethargic. He followed you dutifully into the kitchen, a hand gripping the back of your shirt to keep his balance. You’d had to pause in the hallway so he could catch his breath, leaning heavily against the wall as you stood beside him, rubbing his back. He sat quietly as you cooked, his head resting on his arm, a towel partially thrown over his face to direct the moist air from the humidifier towards his mouth and nose. Every once in a while, he would comment on something, but mostly, you were left to converse with yourself. He’d told you once that he liked hearing you talk, so you prattled on, telling him about the many times you were sick as a child.

A few hours later, you were helping Yoongi back into bed. He hadn’t eaten as much as you would have liked–the chickens you’d bought for the samgyetang were small, but even still, he’d barely eaten half–but you could tell the fatigue was starting to catch up with him.

He sighed as he settled in, the action causing him to cough dryly. He sat up, reaching for the glass of water you had sat at his bedside earlier, taking a small sip to calm the inflammation in his throat.

“Thank you for taking care of me,” he said softly once he was comfortable. “Again.”

“It’s what I’m here for.” You smiled, pushing his hair back off his forehead. “Try to get some rest, okay?”

“You’re going?”

“I don’t want to disturb you.”

He scoffed. Or, at least, he made the closest noise he could to a scoff. You rolled your eyes. You really shouldn’t have been surprised that this was how the conversation was going. He was like this with his shoulder, too. For all his cool and uncaring outward posturing, it really was all just a front. Especially when he was sick, Yoongi craved attention and affection. And he knew that you were happy to provide.

So you pulled the curtains closed again–though, to be fair, it was nearly sunset and it would be dark in the room naturally soon enough–and climbed into bed, sliding under the covers behind him. With much effort and wheezing, he rolled over, his arms snaking around your waist, legs tangling with yours. His head settled onto your chest, and immediately, you felt him relax. His breath was light as it fanned across your skin.

You wrapped your arms around him, one hand resting against his shoulder, the other finding purchase in his hair. It had dried some now that he wasn’t sweating as much, and though he was still warm, he didn’t seem to be nearly as feverish as he had been before. Gently, you massaged his scalp with your fingertips, attempting to lull him to sleep.

A few minutes passed in near silence, the quiet wheeze that accompanied every exhale the only sound in the room. Soon, you realized that you were successful–a small, congested snore joining the wheezes for a pitiful, if not a little comical, symphony. You placed a kiss to the crown of his head and he hummed in his sleep, his arms tightening around you.

You hated when he was sick, but if it meant that he was this cuddly and affectionate… you would happily continue to care for him.

#btsbingo2022 #yoongi #min yoongi #yoongi x reader #min yoongi x reader #yoongi fluff #suga #suga x reader #bts yoongi #bts yoongi x reader #bts x reader #bts suga #bts suga x reader #bts

[btsmosphere]

Number 45 | KNJ

~summary: The man at number 45 becomes the highlight of your shift... Five times you delivered something to Namjoon, and one time he gave something back to you! ~pairing: namjoon x female!reader ~word count: 2.5k ~delivery girl!reader, fluff, slight angst, strangers to lovers ~rating: g ~warnings: allusion to injury (very minor)

~a/n: @bangtanwritingbingo has me actually writing atm, so you guys get another fic!! this one has sat in my wips for aaages, but it kinda lost direction before the ‘5+1′ square gave me the idea of structuring it like a 5+1. hope you enjoy!

Number 45

The first time the man at number 45 – Kim Namjoon, it said on the parcel – opened the door for you, he tripped on his doormat and fell into your arms.

Unfortunately, in your startled state, you had jumped back too, leaving him scrambling for stability until only the box in your arms separated you. He was grasping onto your forearms, finally righting himself against you.

Staring back at him, you found incredibly pink cheeks bursting into a dimpled grin as he backed away.

“S-sorry, sorry,” he had stuttered, gladly taking the package and hurrying back through his doorway.

“Have a nice day…” you offered, perplexed, before awkwardly turning back to your van.

You hadn’t been on the route for long, and you already had a story to tell! And at least he was cute, so you were able to smirk about it and get on with your day.

The next time, you hadn’t really made the connection, not being familiar with the route just yet. But one particular package you had to deliver that day had made you smile, and it was addressed to number 45.

Pulling up at his street at last, a silly grin spread onto your face as you heaved the thing out. It was a smallish tree, just less than your height, but with a large bundle of roots wrapped up at the bottom.

Carefully manoeuvring it to the ground, you decided it better to knock on the door first, which you did.

Though you recognised the guy almost instantly, you pushed aside the recollection of your last visit and brightly informed him that you had brought his tree.

It was downright impossible not to smile at the way his face lit up on seeing the plant waiting for him, and he eagerly offered to help you lug it up the path. Between you, you shuffled it right the way to his door.

“Want any more help getting this in?” you smiled.

“Yeah, okay, er, if we could just put it over there-“ he strained as you heaved it up again, crossing the threshold and eventually setting it beside a large pot standing in his kitchen.

“Thanks a lot,” he grinned, wiping his hands off.

“Not a problem,” you brushed your palms against your trousers and made to head out again.

It was a much cheerier goodbye this time, with him waving you off briefly. And maybe you stared a little too long, but what was the harm?

Barely three days later, a large bag of soil was in your delivery truck. Addressed to number 45. Kim Namjoon.

“Er, your soil?” you gestured to the bag at your feet when he answered your knock.

“Ah, yes,” he rubbed the back of his neck, colour rising in his cheeks.

“Kind of important for a tree, don’t you think?” you joked as you lifted it over his threshold.

“Probably…” he laughed, looking down his hallway behind him.

Sure enough, the new tree was right in the spot you left it, next to the pot that would be its new home.

“Hopefully you have everything you need now, then,” you grinned and bid him farewell.

It didn’t take long for Kim Namjoon, number 45 to become the highlight of your delivery round. It was a shame he didn’t get more things delivered, you thought as you sorted through the parcels in search of him.

Each time you were given a delivery for him, you felt more excited than you probably should be towards the guy, who you had to remind yourself was in most respects a stranger. But it lightened up your shifts a little, at least.

One day, you saw his address on the box of a food mixer as you loaded up in the morning. Already, it put a smile on your face.

It did the same to him too, apparently. The bright dimpled grin you recognised so well lit up his doorway just moments after you knocked..

To your delight, he seemed to be spending a while signing for the parcel you had brought to his door.

“Planning on cooking something nice?” you enquired, given the contents of his order.

“Hmm?” he turned his attention back towards you, “oh, yeah. Well… maybe.”

He rubbed the back of his neck with a shy laugh when you tilted your head in question.

“My friends are coming over and insisted we make food. But I’m not really cut out for the kitchen.”

“Best of luck, then!” you laughed at his admission.

Unfortunately, you did have the rest of your round to get through, so you reluctantly reached for the tablet to sign.

“Uh… sorry, I don’t think it’s working,” Namjoon said.

Taking it back with a frown, you prodded at a few things but it seemed he was right. You probably could have figured it out with a bit more investigation (you managed it before your next stop), but you took this as a chance to hang around a bit longer.

“I have some paper copies somewhere, we can use those,” you told him.

To your pleasant surprise, he accompanied you down the path and to your van, offering to hold the tablet while you rooted through various things to find the form.

“I hope this isn’t a bad omen,” he joked, “I’m really good at breaking things. Maybe I shouldn’t attempt cooking after all…”

“I’m sure you’ll do fine,” you encouraged. Honestly, his earnest hope to cook for his friends was endearing.

By the time everything was sorted, you had heard about everything he was planning to make. It didn’t sound too tricky, but you wished him luck anyway, sensing his nerves about it.

He was too cute.

A week later, you frowned at the contents of your delivery.

A food mixer. For number 45. Kim Namjoon.

Maybe he had accidentally ordered two?

The only way to find out if there was some confusion was to talk to him, which you weren’t going to complain about, so you made your way as normal to his door, depositing the food mixer on the ground as you waited for him to open the door.

He took a bit longer than normal. Eventually, though, the handle clicked and you looked up-

That wasn’t Namjoon.

“You’re not Jimin.”

Those were the first words the dark-haired man at the door said, leaving you even more confused.

“No.”

The man’s eyes found the box on the floor beside you then, and understanding dawned on him. To your surprise, his eyes widened and a smirk slipped onto his face as he stared at you.

“Joon!” he yelled suddenly, startling you, “it’s for you!”

Then he walked away.

Moments later, the man you recognised came hurrying to the door. After that strange encounter, you were even happier to see those adorable dimples again.

What you were less elated to see, however, was a bandage on one of his hands.

“Hi,” he said, a bit breathless.

Blinking, you pulled your eyes from his injury and reminded yourself of the task at hand.

“You… ordered another food mixer?” you asked.

A sheepish smile bloomed on Namjoon’s face, melting your heart and striking concern through it at the same time.

“Yeah… the cooking may have gone slightly wrong,” he winced, gesturing to his bandaged hand.

“Oh gosh, let me bring it in for you,” you offered, “how did you even manage that?”

“Told you I was good at breaking things,” he laughed softly, and stepped aside to let you into the house with the large box.

It was the same as last time you had been here, except the kitchen was strewn with flour, chopped vegetables and random utensils in absolute chaos. Simply raising your eyebrows, you turned back to ask where you could possibly put the delivery.

For a moment, you thought you saw the other man peering around the doorframe, but Namjoon took your attention soon after.

“Thanks so much, you can just put it on the floor. It’s kind of a disaster in here…”

Chuckling, you obliged. As you set it down, you caught sight of something familiar.

“The tree looks great!” you commented. And you weren’t lying. The plant you had delivered a while back had really flourished – now that it had soil.

“Plants are something I am good with,” Namjoon smiled as he followed you back to the front door, “I should stick to that.”

“I can tell!” you assured him. “And um, good luck with the rest of the cooking. Don’t hurt yourself! Then you can get back to the gardening.”

“Oh, I’m not cooking!” he laughed, “at least, not much. After the mixer incident, I called Jin in to help. Sorry about him, by the way…”

“Why are you apologising?”

“I don’t know, he probably did something,” Namjoon grinned.

“I can hear you!” Jin called from inside, making you both laugh.

A moment later, someone appeared from behind you.

“Hi Joon!” he greeted, then looked questioningly at you.

“Oh Jimin, there you are,” Jin had come outside now, “I thought you said you wouldn’t be late?”

As the new arrival began to defend himself, you said a quiet goodbye to Namjoon, who thanked you again. As you walked back down the path, you heard a bit of their conversation drifting to your ears.

“Was that-?”

Jimin was cut off by a loud shush from Namjoon. Ignoring his friend, Jin spoke over him – quite loudly, you might add.

“Do you reckon he only broke it as an excuse for her to come back?”

An even louder shush followed. Loud laughter erupted, only cutting off when the door shut behind the men.

Of course, you kept going, pretending you hadn’t just heard that. Inside, meanwhile, your heart was hammering. Surely they couldn’t have been talking about you…?

After that, you had to admit your crush on Namjoon grew further. You let yourself daydream a little on your shifts and relished in all the small interactions you were granted with him. Without fail, his smile was the highlight of your days.

You got on fairly well, but of course you were only able to have brief chats in your busy shifts.

Today would be one of the busiest. It had only just begun, but you could already tell. It was valentine’s day, and the back of your van was full of red and pink envelopes, heart shaped boxes and even a bunch of balloons.

Perhaps this was the one day you didn’t want to be taking a delivery to Namjoon’s house.

But, apparently, the world loved making a fool of you.

Your heart dropped when you found the package. Now you stood at the end of Namjoon’s front path, red envelope in one hand and a small pot of flowers in the other.

It was stupid to feel so deflated over this. You had a crush on the guy, nothing more. But still, it hurt to know that if he was seeing someone, that would overshadow your interactions from now on. You wouldn’t feel right about trying to flirt with him or being so eager to see his smile if you knew he had a significant other already.

It was best to get it over with.

Finally, you took a breath and pushed the gate open, making your way to knock on his door.

When he appeared, it was with the same dazzling smile you had come to love, ignorant of your disappointment.

He looked so happy to see you. You swallowed down the false hope welling in you.

You couldn’t even muster a ‘happy valentine’s day,’ the words feeling too bitter on your tongue. Squeezing a half-hearted smile, you turned away quickly after he thanked you for the items, not noticing that he hadn’t even shut the door yet.

You hurried through the couple of deliveries for his street, just wanting today to be over.

Returning to your van, you were walking around to the driver’s door when you heard quick footsteps. Looking around, you soon found their source as Namjoon dashed from his gate. And he was coming towards you.

Slightly alarmed, you slowed down. Perhaps he had broken the flower pot already?

You cursed the part of yourself that was happy to see him again. Usually, you loved to take any excuse to draw out the time you could spend together. But knowing what you did now...

Now, Namjoon stopped in front of you. He was holding the flower pot, but it was miraculously intact from what you could see. In fact, he had the envelope with him too…

“Hey, sorry,” he panted, “I didn’t expect you to leave so quick. I um, I hope it isn’t too forward but I…”

A light frown formed between your brows as you tried to follow what he was saying. At the moment, his usual shy demeanour was only amplified as he shifted on his feet, dimples showing from his nervous smile as he watched you for a response.

“I got these… for you,” he said, “i-if you don’t feel the same then it can just be a nice present? It sounds silly, but I really like seeing you and I just wondered… well…”

The frown had faded from your face. All you could do was stare in shock. Could you believe your ears right now?

Namjoon pressed the gifts carefully into your hands. You noticed he had opened the red envelope and clumsily tucked the flap into itself to re-seal it.

Curious, you opened it. In the time it had taken you to make the other deliveries, he had written a message inside the previously blank card – blank! All your worries dissipated faster than ever, an exhilarated rush coming in to replace them.

His handwriting was very neat, you thought as you read. It was really pretty.

Inside was his number, and an invitation on a date. I’d love to get to know you more, he wrote.

You couldn’t believe this. It couldn’t be real.

Unfortunately, your disbelieving stare at the card meant Namjoon’s nerves were about to fail him.

“What do you say?” he asked tentatively.

Slowly looking up, you gaped at him. Lost for words, you made an admittedly poor choice of topic to start with.

“You made me deliver my own gift?” you sputtered.

Namjoon’s ears turned redder.

“Sorry, I couldn’t help it! You are the cutest delivery service, after all.”

That was it, your heart was going to give out. He looked distinctly embarrassed at his words, but managed to ask again in a hopeful tone.

“So… do you want to come on a date with me?”

Laughing, you tucked the card away and held it to your chest. You gave one more glance to the flowers as well. They were so sweet, not a bouquet but something that could grow, like Namjoon loved to do. The same way you hoped your relationship would blossom.

“Yes.”

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