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#drummer hoseok
taexual · 7 months
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sleepwalking ● 1 | jjk
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summary: due to unfortunate circumstances, you ended up managing your ex-boyfriend’s band. you thought you’ve both made peace with it, but suddenly he’s very eager to prove to you that first love never dies.
pairing: jungkook x fem!reader
genre: rockstar!jungkook / exes to lovers / fluff / angst / smut (in later chapters)
warnings: explicit language, suggestive themes, SLOW BURN
words: 7.5k
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chapter 1 ► when i open my eyes to the future, i can hear you say my name
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There was virtually not a single person left on the entire fourth floor of the company building, despite it being a Monday afternoon. Normally, two other managers worked in offices adjacent to yours, so the noise in the hallways never settled below a pleasant hum: producers, promoters, and publicists – the three cursed Ps – shuffled in and out, heels clicking urgently against the marble floor.
This funeral silence was unusual, but you knew it was only a calm before the storm.
Rated Riot were going on their first-ever European tour in two days to promote their sophomore album – named aptly, “ready, set, RIOT” – and today was the final day of meetings. Evidently, the executives at Jett Records assumed that the band deserved to have a whole floor to themselves, so everyone else got a half-day, leaving you and the Floor Administrator, Rue, all by yourselves until the band got here.
This unsettling silence was exactly why you heard them arrive as soon as the door of the building opened four floors below. Rated Riot lived up to their name by making themselves heard before they were seen.
As soon as the sharp ding! of the elevator reached you in your office—your door was always open on meeting days, because the four members of one of the most promising rock bands in the world at the moment lacked any sense of direction—you could immediately feel the atmosphere lighten, the previous silence long gone.
“Rue! The apple of my eye!” Hoseok, the drummer and the de facto mood setter of Rated Riot, exclaimed as you listened to the familiar sounds of the band as they exited the elevator and, based on the repeated clicking of shoes in the lobby, momentarily got disoriented.
“Always looking good, Rue!” Jungkook, the vocalist, as well as the new Golden Boy of Jett Records followed after.
“Good to see you again,” Taehyung, the always well-mannered bassist, said. Silence followed and you assumed he shook Rue’s hand.
“Hello,” Yoongi, who was, technically, the guitarist of the band, but, really, played any instrument he could get his hands on, was the last to speak. He’d always been very well-spoken in songwriting, but quieter and more careful in most everyday conversations.
“Welcome, guys,” Rue greeted them. You couldn’t see any of them from where your office was located, but you’ve been in a similar situation countless times before and you could imagine what was happening without needing to witness it first-hand.
Rue would stand up from her seat and point her right hand down the hallway, reminding them—yet again—that they needed to walk down the hall and take a right turn. The members of Rated Riot, in turn, would walk down the hall. At least one of the four of them would turn left instead, causing a pause as the group gathered back together, exchanging confused glances. Then, they would turn back to Rue—who would still be standing there, her right hand extended like a helpful Statue of Liberty. They’d laugh at themselves, nod at Rue, and take the correct turn.
If things were going well, they’d find your office on first try—they’d just need to find the open door and peer inside; your desk was right in front. More often than not, however, they stumbled around, knocking and chuckling to themselves as they continuously interrupted the offices of everyone else, but you.
They were special. Not just because they looked like loose ducklings, separated from the Mother Duck, whenever they entered the company building, but also because, in spite of their own lack of coordination, they still managed to get things done.
And they brightened the day of everyone they came across. Which was almost ironic—as you realised by watching the four of them enter your office—considering the effortless rockstar aura that surrounded them.
Jungkook walked in first. That was typical because he usually did: sometimes because he was the only one who remembered where your office was, but usually because the other members offered him as a sacrificial lamb when they went knocking around every office on the floor in search of yours.
He was dressed in all-black—always—adorned with silver chains and necklaces that often gave you a start when you looked up, because he had a very specific way of entering the room: he seemed to make sure to position himself in just a way that the light, coming in from the window behind you, always reflected off his jewellery and momentarily blinded you.
Sure enough, you blinked, cringing into yourself as the brightness hit your eyes, and when you opened them again, he was already grinning.
“Hi,” he said and the rest of the members followed in after him—a brighter palette of colours.
Even Yoongi, who was the only one who could have given Jungkook a run for his money if you had to count which one had more black items of clothing in their closet, was wearing a beige, loosely buttoned shirt.
Despite that, however, you could tell they were rock artists as soon as you looked at them—all tattoos, piercings, intense eye make-up behind sunglasses, and old band tees—and you stood up, excited to let them know that, finally, every last loose thread had been found and tightened. They’d get to introduce their artistry on a different continent, and you’d make sure it’d go smoothly.
“We’re leaving for Prague tomorrow morning,” you told them once the five of you settled down at the round table in the back of your office. “So, if you were planning a going away party, I strongly advise against it.”
“We weren’t,” Yoongi said, lifting his glass of lemon water—there was a jug on the table—and giving you a reassuring look. “This is the strongest drink I’m having tonight.”
“Thanks,” you said paradoxically enough, but being grateful when the members of the band you managed didn’t get drunk before an important day was part of the job. “I’d also appreciate it if—”
“Hold on a second, though,” Jungkook interrupted—you’d been anticipating it. “I’m going to a gig tonight, Reconnaissance are in town again. And there’s obviously an after-party—”
Despite Reconnaissance being, arguably, one of the most popular rock bands in the world right now, you were definite when you cut him off, “No.”
“—so, I—wait. No?” he paused. “I never miss their shows, you know that. And I don’t get drunk easily. You know that, too.”
“That’s why you drink so much,” you rebutted. The rest of the band members got their phones out, knowing well enough at this point that this would take a while. “And then I have to come get you out of trouble.”
“You absolutely do not have to do that,” Jungkook insisted. “We’ve been through this.”
“Have we?” you argued. “Because I keep telling you it’s my job to keep you from passing out in a dirty bar bathroom, but you don’t care enough to hear me.”
“Well, you’re not very convincing. What’s the worst that can happen? I’ll wake up again.”
You were used to having this conversation with him—you’ve argued about this way before he became a singer and you ended up as his manager. And yet, the lax way he said this made you clench your fists.
Despite being mostly introverted, Jungkook did enjoy getting drinks with friends: even if said friends enjoyed his celebrity status more than they enjoyed the drinks.
“And if you don’t?” you threatened. “Rated Riot’s vocalist gets his stomach pumped. A catchy headline.”
“Yeah, man,” Hoseok interjected, putting his phone screen down on the table and crossing his arms. “Doesn’t go well with the vibe we’re going for. Don’t get your stomach pumped.”
“Fine, I—”
“What he meant was, don’t drink so much that you’d need your stomach pumped,” you clarified because Jungkook moonlighted as a Loophole Finder.
“I never have!” he insisted. “Seriously, you treat me like I’m still nineteen. Have some faith.”
Out of the corner of your eye, you could see the other members of the group look up from their phones. The band had only formed a few years ago, so you were the only person in this room who knew what Jungkook was like when he was nineteen. You never spoke about it – that was likely why everyone was so curious.
In any case, Jungkook was wrong. You did have faith—that’s why you spent so many of your off-duty nights driving down deserted streets to pick him up after his asshole friends convinced him it was a good idea to try the biker bar on the outskirts of town, and he’d gotten in an altercation with a burly redneck that was twice his size.
There was no time for that now, not when he was supposed to be on stage in Prague in three days.
“Well,” Taehyung spoke up. “I was thinking of going to the show as well. Not so much the after-party, I have better plans. But, uh, I could come, after all.”
You appreciated the offer, but you knew that these better plans involved him spending time with his girlfriend, Luna, who was going to join him for a few weeks of the European tour, but after that, the two of them were going to be apart for several months.
“You don’t have to go if you don’t want to,” you said, not trying very much to hide the hopeful undertones in your voice. Jungkook’s friends felt intimidated by all the members of Rated Riot; they’d be on their best behaviour if Taehyung was there.
“No, I think it might be fun,” Taehyung said. You exhaled quietly and he could sense your gratitude without words. He turned to his younger bandmate. “Should we go together?”
Jungkook groaned and mumbled under his breath, “not if I have to third-wheel again.”
“When have you ever third-wheeled anyone?” you asked rhetorically, but he was already opening his mouth to reply. Quickly, you added, “be careful, is what I’m saying, okay? I am complaining about having to pick you up from all kinds of holes, but if you need me to bring NDAs, I will bring them. So, ask.”
Jungkook rolled his eyes, but chose to stay quiet. He knew better now – the one time he did not make anyone sign a non-disclosure agreement after an impromptu, drunken busking session in New York, pictures of him, half-dressed and giving a lap dance to a random, equally as drunk, groupie, were on every rock page on Instagram. Accompanied with detailed retellings of how it came to happen, of course; all of them more ridiculous than the next. Your personal favourite story was that he was recruiting members for a sex cult.
“We’ll call you,” Taehyung gave you a nod, “if we have to.”
“Perfect,” you said, glancing at Jungkook again, even though expecting him to confirm that he, too, would call you if he had to, was wishful thinking.
Every time you reminded him how he needed to start going out with a less destructive crowd, he’d treat his phone like a poisonous snake – and he’d been doing that even before you became his manager. His friends seemed to get their pleasure fix from watching you arrive and rip him a new one, so they were the ones who called you most of the time, always laughing into their phones like true accomplices.
It was funny how Jungkook was the only one who passed out or got so wasted, he ended up on a ferry to Martha’s Vineyard. His friends always walked away unscathed and, usually, only called you by the time they were back in their bedrooms – “when we left, he was ordering mint and honey daiquiris, you should probably go over there and check up on him.”
It was like they loved pushing him into danger and purposefully bringing the two of you together again, and Jungkook either didn’t realise or didn’t care anymore. It’s been a while, after all.
You and Jungkook had been broken up for two years when you got the unbelievable offer to manage an up-and-coming rock band. This was two years ago now and you were only twenty-four back then. Up until that point, you had worked as an assistant manager for various indie artists, so that offer was massive.
You figured the downside that your ex-boyfriend happened to be in this particular band was worth it, considering the huge leap in your career you’d make by accepting this job.
And, for the most part (excluding the first two months that were pure chaos of repressed feelings), you and Jungkook both made this work, drawing a strict line between your relationship before Rated Riot (back when he still had your phone number saved as “❌”) and after he met you again as Rated Riot’s new manager (ironically, now your name on his phone was “❌❌❌”).
You’ve managed Rated Riot for almost exactly two years now, and if you’d asked the band – which you wouldn’t, partially out of humbleness, but also because you were scared – you’d know that they loved working with you as much as you loved working with them. So, in the end, it all really had been worth it.
“Check your emails for the descriptive itineraries,” you continued smoothly enough. The guys at the table put their phones down and returned their attention to you. “Now, who else is coming with us?”
Technically, the band wasn’t supposed to bring anyone – the label was explicitly clear about that. They wanted the first European tour to go “without a hitch” (meaning, without distractions), but you held a more liberal view here.
You didn’t think loved ones coming on the road were a distraction; if anything, they were a firm support mechanism that made touring easier for the artists.
“I know Luna’s staying until the Barcelona show, yeah?” you asked, double-checking the notes on your laptop.
Taehyung nodded, a small smile on his lips at the mention of the girl. “She flies out the next day, yeah.”
“Okay. Who else?”
“Well, Sid and Jude are coming,” Jungkook spoke up and, after seeing your eyes roll back, added, quieter, “and Minjun isn’t sure.”
The three musketeer-wannabes – Sid, Jude, and Minjun – were on speed dial on your work and personal phones, because if Rated Riot had a performance and the vocalist wasn’t there, it was likely those three who were to blame. They were the only ones who knew Jungkook longer than you did, and they seemed to take pride in the fact that they had successfully been causing you headaches for seven years now.
“Sid and Jude,” you repeated, “aren’t worried they’ll lose their jobs if they travel to Europe abruptly?”
“No, they’re cool,” Jungkook shrugged, not catching the mockery in your voice. “I’ll text Minjun right now. Maybe he’ll come when we’re in Poland…”
“I needed confirmation by last week,” you reminded him. “At the latest.”
He glanced at you from his phone and then went back to texting. “So, why’d you ask now?”
“To double-check,” you said. “They’re going to have to book the hotels themselves. Or sleep on the street. Honestly, I don’t really—”
“So, uh,” Yoongi interrupted before another argument could begin, “how many hotels this time?”
“Prague, Amsterdam, and Paris. And, depending on flight time, maybe two nights in London,” you said with an apologetic smile. “Bring your favourite blankets. We’re living on buses for the next three months.”
None of them minded – if anything, you could see a little glitter in their eyes as they listened to you. Being on the road and having to sleep on the tour bus every night was an experience they’d missed. They hadn’t gone on an actual tour in almost a year – as someone who thrived on live performances, they had obviously missed this.
Really, you’ve missed it, too. Rated Riot may have been a riot to look after as their manager – pun fully intended – especially on tour, but they were your riot to deal with.
You liked your job and the challenges that came with it, because, in the end, you overcame most of them: starting with your previous relationship with Jungkook (no one in the band had a problem with it, and the label miraculously seemed not to know about it) and ending with your relatively young age (Jungkook was the only one who had a problem with you being his age, but he had a problem with almost everything).
Hopefully, one day you’d manage to overcome the challenge that was getting Jungkook to open his eyes and realise that the people he surrounded himself with were more groupies than his friends. But all in due time.
“If you have questions,” you said as the meeting approached its’ conclusion, “go right ahead.”
“Wake-up calls,” Yoongi said. “Any possibility of arranging those?”
You smiled – this had been traditional practice ever since you started to work with them.
“I’ll call,” you said and then remembered a particularly frustrating way in which this had backfired. You added, “and keep you on the phone until you’re out of bed.”
Back when you were an assistant manager to a different band, this had been your main task. And, you supposed, if Rated Riot had assistant managers, they’d be the ones making wake-up calls, too – however, the band had only started to live up to their potential now. Before you booked the European tour for them, Jett Records thought they barely needed one manager to begin with.
You’ve made it this far. If the tour went well, maybe you’d get to expand your team as the band gained popularity.
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Jungkook felt giddy the whole night. The Reconnaissance show with Taehyung and Luna was a lot of fun, as expected—he’d seen the band five times before tonight, and they never failed to let him down.
When he arrived at the after-party, he was nearly vibrating with excitement—on top of everything, he was going on tour tomorrow and he knew he might lose his mind over it—and this was usually the time when he tended to get reckless.
He did drink a little too much to retain a completely sober mind, but he stayed true to his word and did not wander anywhere or caused any—serious—trouble. You would have said that’s because Sid and Jude weren’t with him, but Jungkook was convinced it was because he simply had great self-control when he put his mind to it.
The only place he went to after the party was his family’s house, so he could say goodbye to his grandma. She probably wouldn’t even hear him—and if she would, then she probably wouldn’t recognise him—but he couldn’t leave to Europe without saying goodbye to her.
He thought he’d take his Katana to the house, but then remembered immediately the last time he got on his motorcycle drunk – his grandma had, literally, smacked him on the back with a rolling pin, yelling about how careless he was. She didn’t say that she hit him out of concern for his safety—that was obvious—and, instead, she focused on how hard he’d worked on restoring the bike after he’d bought it; his first purchase with the money that he made off Rated Riot’s music.
“Don’t you want it to last?” she had said then. She’d been the only person who believed he could bring the bike to life, despite it not having a single properly functioning part, least of all the engine. “You worked so hard on it. Do you want to wreck it in one night?”
Tonight, however, everyone in the house was asleep when he arrived. It was quiet, so he tried to be silent as he went up the stairs to her room—and then knocked over a picture frame after his feet fumbled on the carpet in the hallway. But no one went out to check who was making the noise—which was dangerous, he realised for a brief, semi-sober second; but the house had security, so he figured they were safe from outsiders—and he gently lowered the handle on his grandma’s door, peering inside.
The room was painted in blue hues from the night light next to the bed where his grandma was sleeping. He approached—really trying to be quiet this time—and carefully pulled her comforter up, so she wouldn’t get cold, even though the room felt warm.
It was always warm here and Jungkook had to bite his lip when he realised how much he missed sitting here as a child while dozens of his cousins ran around the house and wreaked loud, childish havoc. How much he missed his grandma reading him books—never children’s stories, he always insisted she read him the thickest, most boring books he could find on her shelves, just so he could stay in her room longer, listening to her soothing voice and feeling her comforting warmth.
Sniffling quietly, he leaned closer to her and brushed a strand of white hair from her face, listening to her soft breathing as she slept, unaware of his presence.
“I’ll be back soon,” he promised in a whisper as he pressed a soft kiss to her forehead. She didn’t wake. “We will talk again then.”
He knew he’d keep this promise even if she didn’t hear it, even if she didn’t remember. But leaving her room felt painful and he was far less excited now. The alcohol had begun to wear off and heaviness settled in his chest instead. This happened sometimes when he was left alone with his thoughts, especially after he visited his grandma.
He'd come back, he knew he would. But as he glanced at his grandma’s sleeping frame one more time—remembering how she hadn’t called him by his name in months; not one glint of recognition in her eyes when she’d see him—he wondered if he’d have anyone to come back to.
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Surprising exactly no one, Jungkook was the only one who did not answer your wake-up call the next morning. Having foreseen this, you’d already called Hoseok, Yoongi and Taehyung – in that order, because the first two took the longest to wake up, and by that time, Taehyung was already awake on his own – and only then attempted to reach the one remaining member.
Fifteen minutes later, you were already dressed and ready to drive over to his house and personally wake him up with an icy bath in bed. And just then, your phone rang – his name as the caller’s ID.
“Look who—”
“Okay, okay,” Jungkook’s groggy voice cut you off before you could greet him with the appropriate sarcastic remark. “I’m awake. Halfway in the shower.”
“I don’t hear running water.”
He responded with a groan first, then shuffling. You waited patiently, balancing the phone on your shoulder as you unlocked the door of your apartment. Finally, you could hear the water start running on the other end of the call.
“Happy?” Jungkook asked, always the brightest of all rays of sunshine in the morning.
“Ecstatic,” you replied, equally as enthusiastically. “Sending a car to pick you up in half an hour. Don’t be late.”
“I can drive myself—”
“No driving when you’re hungover,” you said, not for the first time. “In fact, don’t even go near your Katana.”
He considered several ways to respond to you; first and foremost, defending his beloved, navy-coloured Suzuki Katana with a matte coating, custom-made leather seat covers, golden rims, purring engine, and—anyway. He ended up choosing to respond with a question, “how do you know I’m hungover?”
“I’ve known you for almost ten years,” you replied. “If you go out drinking the night before, you’ll wake up hungover.”
“Well, how do you know I drank that much last ni—?”
“Listen,” you cut him off, hoisting your suitcases over the threshold of your front door. You fixed your phone against your cheek and continued, “how about you take that shower, and we’ll resume this nice little Q&A at the airport?”
“No,” he replied and, in a purposefully exaggerated breathy voice said, “I simply can’t stop talking to you.”
“Hanging up now.”
Jungkook laughed as he listened to the beep, indicating the end of the call. Putting his phone on the side of the sink, he took his shirt off and was about to continue undressing when his phone vibrated and nearly fell off the sink.
Scrambling to catch it, he smacked it against the cupboard and exhaled in relief when he saw that the screen hadn’t cracked. He was expecting a text from you – a threat, in case he’d go back to bed – but it was actually Sid, asking for the time of his flight.
His friends were taking a separate flight out to Prague – they weren’t happy about it and neither was he, but at least they’d get to hang out in Europe eventually – and, obviously, they wanted to know what time they’d meet up and where.
He double-checked the itinerary you’d emailed him, got confused about the time zone difference and texted Sid back.
“Gonna be there the day before the show,” his text said, “jetlag. Sleep. Maybe beer? Catch u there.”
Sid was, of course, delighted to hear the mention of beer and Jungkook snickered to himself before he resumed undressing for his shower—knowing from experience that you wouldn’t be above shipping him to Prague in the cargo section on the plane if he was late to the airport.
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As it turned out, for the first time in his life, Jungkook was so terribly jet-lagged, that he did not feel like doing anything – not even drinking with friends – but sleeping.
He slept through the whole layover in Paris – and, consequently, through Taehyung and Luna’s stories about the 5 minutes they got to spend in front of the Eiffel Tower before rushing back to the airport (never mind that it was about 2 AM) – as well as the flight to Prague.
He only woke up on the bus ride to the hotel when he felt something nudging his lips and opened his eyes to find an open bottle of Coca-Cola in your hands as you held it by his face.
“Did you just—” he started to say, but his voice sounded brittle, more a croak than a voice, really. He cleared his throat and tried again, “did you just wake me up by making me sniff soda?”
“It worked,” you replied, nudging the bottle at him again. “Drink. You need sugar. You didn’t eat anything on the plane here.”
“I had that bagel on the flight to Paris,” he mumbled, but sat up properly and took the bottle from you.
“That was a croissant,” you clarified. It was almost cute to see him barely awake. “And I warned you about flying with a hangover. You did this to yourself.”
“I’m fine,” he replied after taking a big gulp of coke. “Not sure which day it is, but other than that, I’m perfect. Do you have anything for headaches?”
Snickering, you nodded. “Yeah, give me a second.”
You went to fetch your carry-on bag and returned with ibuprofen, which allowed him to go back to sleep until you arrived at the hotel. The other members were also in and out of slumber, but that was their own fault. You and the other girls on this tour, which, really, only meant Luna— Taehyung’s girlfriend—and Maggie—the tour photographer—had planned ahead and taken sleeping pills as soon as the plane took off. Meanwhile, every man on this trip thought too much of himself.
By the time you arrived to the hotel and checked in, it was already lunchtime. If this had been your first time travelling with Rated Riot, you would have been beyond surprised to see what effect food had on them: they looked like they'd just returned from the most refreshing vacation in the Caribbean. Lively conversation and cheerful laughter echoed around the table – no one would have guessed that they’d just spent over 13 hours on airplanes. Their recovery was nearly always miraculous.
And, naturally, since they were feeling better, they wanted to do something as soon as the first rehearsal was over. You had far too many things to do before the show tomorrow, so you couldn’t babysit them – again, an assistant manager would have been life-saving – but you knew you’d still have to keep an eye on them.
Taehyung and Luna went sightseeing, but they were the sort who kept you updated on their adventures through pictures, which you were endlessly grateful for. There was never a reason to worry here; if you were a teacher who had to pretend not to have a favourite student, Taehyung would be the student you were pretending about.
Yoongi and Hoseok, initially, went to a record store together, but then split up – one of them returned to the hotel for a nap, and the other one went café-hopping. Those two were also fine – they usually took some members of the crew with them anyway, so you knew that in the worst-case scenario, you’d still have several people you could call to reach them.
Now Jungkook was going to meet up with Sid and Jude, both of whom had, most unfortunately, successfully landed in Prague. The Diabolical Duo would take him out drinking, you had no doubt about it – and this was where you’d have to step in with another warning. You weren’t the angry mother, dragging her children by their ears, but you felt it necessary to remind Jungkook of what was at stake if he allowed his friends to be their usual, obnoxious selves tonight.
However, you didn’t want to ask, so you had to figure out where to find them yourself. You didn’t even have to use the seven years that you’ve known them to deduce two logical, universal-for-all-assholes things: one, Jungkook’s friends wouldn’t be nearly tired enough not to want to drink. Two, they’d be too jet-lagged to look for their usual hole-in-the-wall spot that sold drinks. Therefore, they’d have to settle for the bar of the hotel.
And when you exited the elevator on the ground floor later that night, your assumption was confirmed – you could hear their laughter from where you were standing in the lobby.
You’d texted Jungkook as you arrived, hoping he’d leave his friends and come see you at the back of the bar for a minute, but unfortunately, Sid and Jude noticed you and waved you over with loud cheers.
Embarrassed as the people in booths around you began to turn to look, you swallowed and walked towards the front where Jungkook and his friends were sitting by the bar.
“Wow, it’s been so long!” Jude exclaimed as you approached. In your opinion, it wasn’t nearly long enough, but you only lifted the corners of your lips and did not comment.
“Jungkook, a moment?” you said instead.
“Let’s get you a drink!” Sid suggested as though you hadn’t spoken and extended a hand, clicking his fingers to get the bartender’s attention. “Hey! Can we get some Margaritas here?”
You cringed watching this, but, again, restrained yourself. They could behave like pricks all they wanted; it wasn’t their reputation that you had to protect. Someone else would, hopefully, teach them a lesson.
“Sure,” Jungkook said to you, sliding off the stool. He seemed sober enough to walk without any sort of waddling or stand without swaying, but you could tell by the relaxation behind his eyes, that he was already tipsy.
His friends patted him on the back and whistled as he followed you to a quieter spot in the back of the bar. He shook his head at them—but had a grin on his face, and for that alone you wanted to punch him.
“Can I count on you to take it easy?” you asked, once the two of you were out of earshot. “Not because you’ll make my job much harder if you don’t, but because you have a rehearsal tomorrow at eight, and that’s hard with the jet lag alone, but add a hangover into the mix, and—”
“I’ll be fine,” he said, but you’ve heard this song many times before. It was one of his top hits. “I’m actually tired, so I might have a few and then go straight to bed.”
“Okay,” you said, choosing to believe him, because that was easier than making him sign a contract, swearing not to wake up in a dumpster. “Can you text me when you’re back in your room? So I know you’re not lost somewhere in Prague with Dumb and Dumber.”
His lip twitched in an almost-smile at the nickname, but he resisted – a loyal friend, even if they didn’t deserve it – and gave you a nod.
“Fine,” he said. “I’ll text you. And I won’t get lost.”
“Okay—” you started to say and then squinted your eyes at him, realizing. “I meant don’t go wandering the city streets while drunk.”
He snorted and placed a hand on your left shoulder. Gazing into your eyes, he enunciated very dramatically, “I will not get into trouble. Promise.”
You pursed your lips. “You’d better not.”
“I realise what that would mean, believe it or not,” he said, straightening. “Tomorrow is an important day. I’d never do anything to ruin it.”
“I know,” you said. “I trust you to make smart choices. I don’t trust them.”
You pointed at the twosome by the bar – both of them watching you like you were the entertainment of the night – and Jungkook turned to look. Sid and Jude both immediately waved at him. Jungkook waved back and, when he looked at you again, he was smiling softly.
Clearly, he genuinely enjoyed hanging out with those two. You’d never believe that there was anything about them that was bearable—let alone enjoyable—so Jungkook’s weird attachment to them had to come from some sort of weird destructive force inside of him.
“I’ll keep them in check,” he said and then, possibly prompted by the skeptical frown on your face, he felt the need to explain, “they help me relax. If it weren’t for them, I’d probably be shaking from anxiety all the time. Kind of like you are.”
He winked as he said that last part, grinning at his own wit, but you rolled your eyes in response.
“Goodnight,” you said then. “Don’t forget to text me.”
“Are you going to stay up late waiting for my text?” his tone was humorous and it stopped you from leaving.
“Hopefully not,” you said, ignoring the flirty comment that was obviously meant to rattle your composure. “But it’d do you well to remember that I can make life very difficult for you if you disobey me.”
He lifted his eyebrows at this, but did not lose the grin. “Oh? Will I get punished if I—”
“Goodnight, Jungkook,” you said again—louder—and turned away.
You glanced over your shoulder when you reached the archway leading to the lobby and caught him watching you leave—he was still beaming, but he composed himself and nodded when he caught your eye. You nodded back.
Maybe he really would be fine tonight.
And, truly, Jungkook had meant what he’d said – he couldn’t wait for tomorrow and there was nothing he’d do to ruin that. Not even if the smirking faces of his friends prompted him to laugh as soon as he returned to his seat by the bar.
“What do you want, assholes?” he asked, punching Jude on the shoulder as he walked past his friends. As soon as he sat down, leaving Sid in the middle, he took a big gulp of the beer he’d left waiting; only his third one tonight.
“We don’t want anything,” Jude said, still smirking. “What did she want? Another moral how you’re not being a good boy?”
Jungkook rolled his eyes. “No—”
“I was always curious,” Sid interrupted. “Was she like that when you dated, too? You know, always in charge?”
Even before you and Jungkook had settled into a steady enough rhythm of working with each other, neither of you spoke to others about your relationship. Not while you were dating, and not after you broke up. So, all your friends—real friends and whoever the hell Sid and Jude were—essentially knew nothing of your relationship.
And there was nothing he’d tell them now.
It’s been four years since you broke up—plenty of time to move on. Not to mention, you were both (trying to be) professionals. There was no point to bring back the past; there never had been.
“Wouldn’t you like to know?” Jungkook teased, managing to keep the banter going without revealing how the question irked something inside him.
“I would. That’s why I asked,” Sid replied, laughing haughtily. A few heads turned his way. Sid sounded very much like an entitled heir—or an elephant high on helium—when he laughed, especially when there was nothing funny going on. “I mean, you never talked about her to us. Was it getting rid of her that made you who you are today?”
Jude snorted, slapping Sid on the back in a half-supportive, half-warning manner. Jungkook knew that the level of your patience for his friends ranged from Sid (no patience) to Jude (case-by-case), to Minjun (bearable)—and he could see why.
“I didn’t get rid of her,” he said, an edge to his voice. “We broke up and moved on. Did you hear from Minjun?”
Sid laughed again—even louder than before; the glasses behind the bar seemed to clatter.
“Look at him, trying to change the topic!” he wheezed, looking at Jude over his shoulder.
“Leave him be, man,” Jude said and nodded at Jungkook. “So many girls around us and this dumbass is still hung up on your ex, huh?”
Jungkook finished his beer and held the liquid behind his cheeks for a second before swallowing. He caught the bartender’s eye and lifted his empty glass, indicating a refill.
“I don’t think I’m the one who’s hung up,” Sid said with a very knowing look in his eye.
Jungkook looked at him and raised his eyebrows—surprised and momentarily distracted from his drink. “What is that supposed to mean?”
“Well, you come to her as soon as she calls, like a puppy,” Sid replied. “So, you tell me.”
“I have to come when she calls,” Jungkook defended. “She’s my manager.”
“Yeah, dumbass,” Jude said, slapping Sid on the back of the head this time. “She’s his manager.”
Jungkook suddenly found himself smiling when he realised that you’d probably consider this the reason why Sid acted the way he did sometimes – permanent brain damage from Jude’s incessant slaps.
“Well, then someone,” Sid said, angrily accentuating the word—the anger was clearly directed at Jude, but the pronoun at Jungkook, “has a fucking crush on their manager.”
“I don’t have a crush—”
Sid spoke over him, “I bet you could never get her to go out with you again.”
Jungkook saw the bartender approach to pour him a drink and he heard Jude scoffing, but he could only blink, taken aback by what sounded like an accusation.  “Why��why would I even—why—”
“Oh, see, see?!” Sid screeched, turning to Jude with a triumphant expression. Jude gave him a pitiful look—and looked about ready to give him a black eye, too. “He knows I’m right, it’s why he’s stuttering!”
“Dude,” Jude said slowly. “You are yelling.”
Jungkook cleared his throat, nodding at the bartender as a thank-you and then bringing his refilled glass to his lips. “And I’m not stuttering.”
“You so are, my man,” Sid taunted, patting Jungkook on the shoulder with so much force, the beer nearly spilled from the glass and from his mouth. “Your ass is so whipped, you’re going to be singing at her wedding to some random producer.”
Suddenly hyper-aware that there were several producers on tour with them right now, Jungkook put his drink down and straightened in his seat.
“I’m not fucking singing at weddings,” he said.
“Not yet,” Sid pointed out, grinning. He knew he'd gotten under his skin.
“Okay, come on now,” Jude interjected, leaning back in his seat to be able to see Jungkook. “You promised you’d sing at my wedding.”
“As if anyone would ever marry you,” came Sid’s snide.
“You shut the fuck up,” Jude snarled, but there was no malice behind his bark. “I have more chances of marrying someone than he has of marrying his manager.”
“He—oh, fuck!” Sid was about to argue, but then burst into laughter—so loud and thunderous again, that the bartender was forced to glance over at the security guards by the entrance to the bar. “That’s good! You’re so right!”
“Both of you are fucking idiots,” Jungkook spoke. The edges of his vision were red. “I could get her to go out with me again if I wanted to.”
“Oh, sure, sure,” Sid nodded, wiping invisible tears from his eyes. “Big talk.”
“Jungkook, no offense, my dude,” Jude said, leaning forwards this time. “Let him have this one. Sid may be dumber than box of rocks, but he’s got a point here. Forget about her.”
Another insinuation that had Jungkook throwing his head back in frustration.
“There’s nothing to forget!” he groaned. “What the fuck are you even talking about? I just fucking told you I moved on.”
“So why are you getting all riled up, then?” Sid smirked, more and more satisfied with each curse that he provoked out of him.
Jungkook felt even angrier, because he was getting riled up, but he had a good reason for it. He enjoyed banter as much as the next person, but he did not enjoy mockery at his own expense—especially not the kind that involved you.
He snapped back, “because you don’t know what the fuck you’re talking about.”
His friends snickered at this – convinced that his irritation only proved the point they were both making – and Jungkook clenched his jaw, annoyed.
“If anything,” he added sharply as he picked his beer up—as if that could somehow distance him from this conversation, “it’s her who’s still hung up on me.”
That was a cheap, childish defence, and everyone by the bar knew it.
“Yeah, right!” Sid cried out, but resisted from laughing again. “We’ve heard her yell at you more times than we can count. You fucking wish she was still hung up on you.”
“Okay, to be fair, Sid can probably only count to five,” Jude added—Sid finally punched him on the shoulder—as he toyed with the paper umbrella on his fourth cocktail; the Margaritas they’d ordered were long gone. “But he’s right, you know? You’d never get her to go out with you again.”
There was pity in Jude’s voice—as if he felt sorry that Jungkook lived in denial, chasing after you and convincing himself that it was only a matter of time before you’d come back to him.
This made Jungkook’s temper vile, his face red, hot, and angry. He slammed his beer back on the table, forcing some of it to spill. “Yes, I fucking would!”
Sid was hiccupping as he laughed.
“Okay, okay, listen—let’s make a proper bet,” he managed. He picked up a napkin from the bar top, then looked around for something to write on it with—not finding anything, he stood up from his seat and leaned over the bar, grabbing a pen before the bartender could notice. “$1000 says you can’t get her to go on a date with you again.”
He glanced at Jude for approval—Jude shrugged.
“I’d suggest $500,” he said. “We don’t want to rob him blind.”
Jungkook’s face remained stoic, prideful.
“Fine with me. But you have no idea what you’re getting yourselves into,” he bit.
“Oh, that’s right, he’s been awfully cocky about the whole thing, hasn’t he?” Sid spoke, addressing his rhetorical question at the bar. He wrote something on the napkin and then lifted it to show the number “4000” to Jungkook. “How about this: Jude and I each pay you $2000 if you win. But if you lose, you give us your Katana.”
Jungkook lifted his eyebrows, the sudden mention of his bike catching him off-guard. Sid came from old money, he could afford fifteen brand-new motorcycles with the change he found in his suitcase, probably.
“How is that fair?” he asked. “Do you even know how much a Suzuki costs these days? It’s not $4000, I can tell you that much.”
“Why should you care?” Sid asked, his eyes glinting with mischief. “You were so confident about winning the bet just a second ago. Scared you’ll lose after all?”
In his defence, Jungkook did hesitate for half a moment. But there was a shit-eating grin on Sid’s mouth that he wanted to wipe off more than anything else, and he downed the rest of his beer in one big gulp—a showcase of his determination.
“Not at all,” he said then. He wasn’t sure if he was lying as he said this, but he had no time to figure that out. He extended his hand at Sid. “Get your money ready.”
Here, he was putting up a front – this wasn’t about the money at all. It was more a thing of pride; they were teasing him, purposefully making fun of him—and he wanted to prove them wrong, regardless if they were actually wrong.
Smirking, Sid shook his hand—cementing the bet between all three of them, as Jude was busy finishing off his cocktail—and was about to say something when Jungkook jumped off his stool.
“Have to go now,” he said, always a show-off with his overly creative comebacks when he was tipsy. “My horoscope predicts a date and a big fortune in my near future. Got to prepare.”
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chapter title credits: sleep token, “rain”
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special shout-out & thank you to @eleni-cherie who delivered the much-appreciated kicks in the ass, so that i would keep writing. the odds were really against me, so if it weren't for you & our in-depth fanfic discussions, i definitely wouldn't even be writing this note right now, let alone finally starting this story 💜
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thvhoe · 2 years
Text
HIS - JJK
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Pairing: Drummer Jeon Jungkook x Bestfriends little sis Reader
Genre: Smut, Enemies to Lovers, Band AU
Rating: 18+
Warnings: arguing, mentions of marijuana, smut, cum, riding, Dom JK, Sub Reader, false accusations, swearing, cocky JK, change of events.
Words: 7k
A/n: Just know that I appreciate every single one of you who reblogs, likes, comments or even leaves an ask
Synopsis:
With his 3 other friends, Jeon Jungkook formed 'Bangtan', 3 years ago, and its a global success. While girls drop their panties for them, others would pay upon hundreds to be at one of their concerts.
They undoubtedly made millions, but they also shattered millions of hearts. the worst of all of them?
Jeon Jungkook.
Min Yoongi, just happens to be your brother, and main rapper of the group. Additionally theres Jung Hoseok, Park Jimin, and... and then theres Jeon Jungkook, who you absolutely despise but may have also harbored a small bit of a crush on. Fact is, that your brother would murder you if he ever found out. The thing is, Jungkook had similar feelings toward you.
Tag list; @kooliv @sexymenandcuteanimals101 @tatyhend @idontevenknow75 @dunixxd @saweetspoiled @shescharlie @telepathytae @jeikeisblue @ellesalazar @jungshook7 @zerocge @dodoneck @urarmyhopeworld @koobsessed @pamzn @taepiper @mwitsmejk @softiegukk
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There were many aspects of Jeon Jungkook that you despised, including the way his ego would soar whenever the crowd applauded him, the way he berated you whenever you spoke, the way he walked, the way he talked, the way his lips moved when he kissed some random chick, the way his tattoos were stuck, so incredibly attractive, on the right side of his arm, and how steamy it was when he splashed water on his face on stage. The way he got out of the shower with just a towel around his waist and his abs looked fantastic. How he grinned when you bent over to pick something up, and how he gave you a quick once-over whenever you walked into the room. Although Jungkook was a jerk, he was yours. Since you were five and he was eight, the two of you have been mortal enemies. There has always been this animosity between you two ever since you were pushed off the swings by him in first grade. Although there was no justification for the how or why, you never really discussed the matter and simply allowed things to continue as they had. As largest playboy in school, Jungkook has also had a deep passion for music ever since he was a kid. You were aware that he had always been one to play an instrument or to create music with any household items that were nearby. He was gifted, there was no doubt about it.
Over the years, you had undoubtedly grown to have a slight but fierce crush on him. In fact, you frequently considered just putting an end to the conflict between the two of you. Doing that now, though, wouldn't that be strange? 20 years have nearly passed. Now that Jungkook was 25, it was unlikely that he would want to talk about anything he did when he was younger. It's possible that he now detested you personally. It's possible that he didn't enjoy the fact that you traveled with them on tour or that you were always around. Due to your fear of his response, you remained silent throughout.
You were the sister of his best buddy, someone he had grown accustomed to hate. You've always despised him, yet he can't remember why. It was made worse by the fact that he had and still has the strongest crush on you that dates back to first grade. He was used to you not paying attention to him, not conversing with him, and even not saying hello to him when you entered the room. He had been wishing for twenty years that you would perceive him the same way. He wishes you'd explain to him why you despise him so much one day. After ninth grade, he had already made the decision to give up on you and had just decided that it would be better if he treated you with the same level of absolute hatred as you did.
Everyone was too preoccupied with their own activities to disturb the hush on the stage, which was silent. While you were composing the lyrics for one of their future songs, Yoongi was checking the microphone, Hoseok was performing some type of dance, Jimin was probably messaging a girl, and Jungkook broke the comfortable silence by producing noise on his drums, which was unusually right next to where you were working. Everyone didn't appear to notice how loud Jungkook's stupid drumming was, but you couldn't because he was only a few feet away.
When you finally got up and rushed over to Jungkook in a rage, you said to him, "Remember that one song we used to listen to as kids?" His face is now only centimeters away from yours as you turn to gaze to his side. You took a moment to stare into his eyes when you suddenly found yourself too close to him before moving on. "You sound just like it: foolish and childish. hence, stop" At him, you hiss. Upon hearing what you had just stated, Jungkook just rolled his eyes and began to play the drums even louder. You make the angry decision to leave the stage where they were scheduled to play later today and to take a break in one of the dressing rooms. You turn around as soon as you enter a room though because, based on appearances, it was Jungkooks. The furniture, the decor, and even all of his clothing were all black in color. When it comes to this hue, Jungkook had a distinct aesthetic. You can't remember him ever wearing anything other than black, gray, or occasionally white. Maybe it was because of the hue, which gave him this badboy appearance and made him look mysterious and careless, girls wet their underwear over him.
Nonetheless, you halt after noticing a little trinket on his dresser. It… was that your old songbook? A year ago, didn't you lose it? Taking a few steps ahead, you grab the pink NoteBook with the headline "Y/n's everything." When you open it, you see that some of the pages are missing, and one of the songs has edits that are definitely not yours. Did Jungkook steal this from you to modify it? Your anger abruptly gave way to astonishment and interest. You sat on a black leather chair, and slowly began to read the lyrics. The song's title was "euphoria," but as you read it, you could have noticed that some words, like a name, had been crossed out and substituted with something else. You ponder who he wrote it for and why he put it in your notebook in particular.
When you left, Jungkook looked after you, he felt bad about the way he had snapped at you. He moved to follow you while rolling his eyes and cracking his fingers. He didn't anticipate you entering his room, though. He remained concealed outside the door while he observed you turn and go. However, when you didn't pass him, he peered inside the room once again and was now watching you as you gazed at your old notepad with wide eyes. He should have known better than to just leave it out in the open like that, but he also didn't anticipate you entering his room and finding it.
While taking a swallow, Jungkook observed you turning the pages and noted that he had torn out a few. When you abruptly halted at a couple of pages and read the word "euphoria" aloud his heart dropped. What the hell, you weren't supposed to see that and you weren't supposed to know about that song. He doesn't know why, but he had grabbed this book from you last year in an effort to peek into your creative mind since he knew you'd always had a thing for music, just like he did. However, you were a far superior songwriter to him, and as a result, you were responsible for creating the majority of the band's songs. He vowed to return it to you, but for some reason he just kept it instead of fulfilling his promise. Jungkook was taken aback when you shut the book with a snap and placed it meticulously back where it belonged. Why didn't you simply keep it with you? You had every right to. Jimin, Hoseok, and Yoongi were among the group who stopped him while he was thinking. They were talking loudly and were going to pass by him as he was spying on you, which from anyone's point of view seemed quite strange. So, to your surprise, Jungkook entered his changing room as they got close to the destination and shut the door behind him.
Maybe he stole it because he wasn't aware it was your note book? But since your name was printed in large letters on the front header, it was impossible. You frowned as you shut the book and made the decision to put it back where it belonged since you didn't need it anymore and there was no need for you to carry it with you, when Jungkook had clearly used it more effectively. The door banged shut behind you as you were standing up and putting it back. When you turned, you were met to see Jungkook, who appeared as brilliant as a tomato. He crossed his arms, looked you up and down, and immediately went from a scared to an unconcerned facial expression.
Your initial impulse was to ignore him and walk away without explaining why you were there. But, you didn't want to come across strange, so you just gave him the truth before he had a chance to retaliate against you. "I'm sorry; I didn't realize this was your dresser. I'm leaving now." and as you did so, his powerful arm halted you in your tracks as you tried to pass by him. The man spoke in a low voice and withdrew his hand from you as he said, "Your brother is outside; if he sees you go, he'll believe something happened between us. Stay here for a few more minutes." He was correct—you could hear your brother and his bandmates talking loudly outside. There was a little moment of stillness as the two of you just exchanged glances. You've always had a thing for eyes, especially Jungkooks. You couldn't tell if it was because you had a crush on him or just because he had attractive eyes. In either case, it would be simple to become lost in them.
"Hey Jungkook, you in there?" your brother abruptly said from outside the door. Before you could even respond, Jungkook shoved you against one of the dressers as his eyes became big he stared at you. Panic was evident on his face the entire time. In order to prevent you from revealing that you were in the room with him, his hand covered your lips. Was he upset to be seen with you? Or maybe he was just afraid that if your brother found out Jungkook had feelings for you, he would be killed in a heartbeat. Before eventually shoving you into the closet, he mumbled a short apology. When he shut the closet door, all that came out of your lips was a little yelp. "Jungkook?" Yoongi casually entered Jungkook's room when he didn't hear a response. You were hiding out in his closet at the time, and Jungkook was leaning on it. He nodded at your brother with his arms folded. "What's up, Yoon." Yoongi appeared to be a little perplexed before he finally spoke up once again. "Concert starts in 30 minutes, people are already inside the stadium." All Jungkook did was nod once more "Are you okay, bro? You look high. did you smoke marijuana before the fucking concert again?" your brother was about to reprimand the youngster, who was now frantically shaking his head in denial. He brushed it off and said, "I- its, it's nothing."
You chuckle when Yoongi mentions the weed incident from the previous year, you remember it so well that it was widely publicized: "young rockstar high at concert." You try really hard not to laugh. Your grin disappeared the moment you locked eyes with Jungkook again after he made sure your brother was gone and unlocked the door. He seemed remorseful, you had to give him that. He murmured, "concert starts in 30 minutes," and made room for you to step out. As you shake some dust off your clothing and nod, "I heard," Jungkook hums and uncomfortably scans your body. It had been a while since you had been alone in a room, just the two of you, and there was stillness once more. One part of you wanted to ask him about the notebook, while the other simply wanted to get the fuck out of there.
And so, in less than a minute, you departed the room, leaving a tense-looking boy behind.
You looked at your hotel room; it was far smaller than the others rooms and had only a couch, not even a bed. Was this ever intended to be a sleeping room in the first place? You groan as you take out your phone, contact your brother, and then exit the room once more carrying all of your belongings. Yoongi picked up the call fairly abruptly, and the worry in his voice made you giggle. You cherished his concern for you. "Y/N, how are you doing? What is the issue?" Worry could be heard in his voice. You question him as you move into the foyer, "Where are you right now?" You hang up when he tells you he's in his hotel room with the others.
It was impossible for you to afford this; thank God the management paid for it, or you would have been in financial ruin later. You take a short stroll around the hotel. You questioned whether the vegetation here was genuine. If those things hanging from the ceiling are diamonds, you pondered. After finally finding his room number, you knock on the door. "Did you order any more food, Hyung?" When Jungkook opened the door, you were standing there like a lost dog while he chuckled. With your large suitcase in both hands and adorable lavender pajamas on, you presented a lovely image. He said nothing more, simply allowing you to pass and go inside the room. "Yoongi, I need to sleep here tonight. They confused my reservation, and now I have no else to stay, they don't have any more rooms right now, and the next hotel is 30 minutes away," you snarl in frustration. Your brother shakes his head, "I'm sorry, but I suppose Jungkook has the biggest room out of the four of us, so stay there. Got a girl coming over later."
Yoongi was the primary rapper, thus it seems sense that he would have male and female underwear drop for him often. You continued to gaze at him unfavorably, but you quickly turned to face Jimin, "Sorry, y/n, same here." Jimin then raised his hands in surrender. Turning to Hoseok while moaning, he gave you a knowing glance. Okay, so if he permitted it, you had to remain with Jungkook who was now sneering and biting his lip, saying, "Not my fault she can't fucking get a hotel room," as you timidly raised your head to look at him. Yoongi glared the younger, "You better fucking let my sister sleep in your room Jeon or no more free weed." He grinned at Yoongi, who merely dutifully nodded. "Youre really lucky, I love me some free cannabis, give me your bags and I'll even carry it for you," he said.
"All of you out now" As he got to his feet and physically shoved everyone away, your brother clapped. Although it was just a short distance to Jungkook's room, the prolonged stillness made the distance seem much longer. He gave you his key to open the door, and once it was open, you looked around his room. It was significantly larger; your brother was correct; why did he require so much room? Without hesitation, you assisted Jungkook in setting your belongings on the sofa. The space was largely white with a few gold accents built into the ceiling and walls, but that was about it. It was extremely understated but exquisite, which, if you had to be honest, was just your taste. Even though the bed was rather large, there wasn't really "another one" to be found when you attempted to seek for it. Realizing there is just one bed and there are two of you, your eyes widen. Uncomfortably, you looked back at Jungkook, who was looking at your behind in a blank manner. As you rolled your eyes at his perversion, you clapped your hands as loudly as you could to scare him back to reality. You growl at him while pointing furiously towards the bed, "so what do we do about this."
"The bed is huge enough, there's no way that I'll even get near to touching you." He seemed somewhat upset that you had taken away this amazing view of your ass from him. While walking to his phone charger to charge his phone, he ran his hands over his hair. "Have you forgotten that first of all; you fart, a lot, you snore like a fucking elephant, and finally you-" "at the end of the day, it's my room, so if my snoring bothers you, youre welcome to leave." When he was inches away from your lips, Jungkook snarled at you as he drew dangerously near to you. Don't be too upset, it's only one night, he was correct. pitfalls that could arise.
You sneer at him mockingly, "tonight is simply great," and push him away before grabbing your makeup bag and heading to the restroom. Your abrupt harshness surprised Jungkook. He had offered you his room to stay in; why couldn't you two get along for more than five minutes without wanting to murder each other? when he saw you lock the restroom door behind you he rolled his eyes. What was he going to do? watch you when you were taking a bath? He turned his attention back to the items on the couch; he could plainly see your new lyric notepad peeking out and couldn't help but take a glance.
He seized it without giving it a second thought and leafed through the pages, his attention being piqued by one in particular. He has always adored each and every song you've ever written, whether it was for the band or not. You were very talented. "Why the hell are you so obsessed with my notebooks?" You go over to him in a fit of rage and seize the book from his hands. Jungkook was caught, it was evident he had not heard you exit the restroom. You cross your arms and look at him while saying, "yes, I know that you were the one that took the other." Your face was red and swollen from earlier taking off your makeup, yet you still looked cute. His lips opened, but immediately closed again as you watched, and you also noticed that his brows wrinkled. He appeared to be battling with himself. Rolling your eyes, you put your notepad back in your bag and pushed past the man to your side of the bed, where you took a delicate grasp of the tiny chocolate bar that had been neatly placed on each pillow.
When you didn't bother to ask any more questions, Jungkook's shoulders dropped. He didn't want to tell you the truth or to show you how much you genuinely meant to him. As always when the two of you entered a room, everything became silent.
At around midnight, Jungkook had placed a dinner order. The fact that he was eating again was so characteristic of him and the fact that you immediately nodded when he inquired whether you needed anything proved that you were also at fault.
A single wine glass developed into three and eventually four. It's fair to say that the two of you were at least a touch tipsy at this point. Jungkook placed the ukulele he had just used to perform "Baby Shark" on the bed and bowed, saying, "talent—I truly am the next Mozart and I don't care what anyone thinks." As you clap your hands collectively while giggling, you take another drink of your wine. Jungkook enquired, "Y/N how drunk are you?" "yes".
Since there was only one chair, you opted to eat on the floor, closing your eyes, you smugly smirked to yourself as you did so. He watched as you did this. In particular, Jungkook was struck by how vulnerable you appeared to him at this moment. He also appreciated your grin and bright cheeks. Since you hadn't actually gotten along in 20 years, it's safe to say that you wouldn't be sitting in this room if booze hadn't been pumping through your veins. Jungkook preferred you this way over when you continually scoffed at him for whatever he did, despite the sad reality that you wouldn't be like this without the alcohol.
When you unexpectedly fell, he was swift to catch you in his arms. The only communication between the two of you was a few looks that were shared involuntarily. You had beautiful eyes. With regard to his best friend's younger sister, Jungkook should not feel this way, but he was unable to stop himself. You are absolutely stunningly attractive, humorous, and the perfect match for him. Nobody was able to compare to you, and those who did try; failed horribly. When you didn't yank him away, he moved on to your lower lip and delicately brushed over it with his thumb after bringing it up to your face. Your heart was pounding. He was acting this way because he was intoxicated, you were sure of it. Your fingers brushed across his before you met his gaze in a stare-down. It was not good.
You were acting inappropriately. Why were you suddenly becoming so cutesy when you used to despise one other and even fought just an hour earlier? Without a doubt, this was absurd, but when did love ever make sense?
You were lying on his lap, his face was just inches from yours, and his hair was practically in contact with your face. The situation appeared to be adorable. At this point, Jungkook didn't care any more. Instead, he grabbed your cheek and held it still while placing his lips tenderly on yours. It only lasted a little period of time—at most a few seconds—before you sat up and turned to face him in disbelief. This was your first kiss ever, and Jeon Jungkook, the internationally renowned rock star, stole it from you. You were fulfilling the desires of the majority of girls. Now that you are completely open and sober, you stammer, "I've never done this before." Jungkook lured you back into his lap rather than shoving you away. He buried his head in your shoulder and said, "I knew I'd adore kissing you, but this was.."
He was inebriated, didn't intend it, and for god's sake, he was Jeon Jungkook. He didn't date, he didn't give people beautiful kisses, and he was a player. If he were sober, he would know he didn't mean to do this. You push him away while blushing, get to your feet, and lock yourself in the restroom.
At last, you reached London, the last stop on Tour. The guys were extremely eager to rock the stage one last time as it would be the final performance. Since the kiss, things had been tense between you and Jungkook; you didn't talk, not that you did before, and didn't even dare to look at each other. You don't regret kissing him, you miss the sensation of his soft lips on yours. You still clearly recall how he leaned in for the kiss, how he touched your cheek, and how delightfully he tasted like cigarette smoke and wine. By the time the band concluded their final song, the audience had erupted in applause, and you could see from the back as girls flung their bras and underwear onto the stage. Once a bra touched Jimin's cheek and he put it in his pocket, you couldn't help but giggle. He would undoubtedly drive that young woman home after. When they left the stage and everyone but Jungkook gave you high fives, you congratulated them and said, "Good work guys." Hoseok, who appeared worn out, made a comment about checking into the hotel and sleeping. In contrast to Jimin and Yoongi, who were excited to go out for drinks, Jungkook only muttered something about being worn out as well. Everyone turned their attention to you at once to see if you were up for going partying or if you would like to stay in and rest. As you laughed and excused yourself by saying, "I'd rather sleep," you hit your brother in the chest playfully.
Finally having a place to yourself, you exhaled as you walked inside your hotel room and collapsed into the bed. Going to bed early was a decision made because it was done; three months of touring had passed quickly, and it was time to go home the next morning. The fact that it was almost midnight was obvious from a short glance at the clock, which led you to believe that Jimin and Yoongi were still out partying and Hobi was sound asleep. Was Jungkook awake?, your thoughts turned to him. Possibly, was he contemplating you at this moment too?
After taking a shower, Jungkook exited the restroom with nothing on him but a towel wrapped around his torso. He still had damp, untidy hair. His thoughts turned to you. where you asleep? Shaking his head, he dismissed the idea of you, it upset him too much to consider you while also being aware that you had no affections for him. He sat back on his bed, flung his arm over his head, and let out a huge sigh. You wanted to talk, and Jungkook wanted to talk too. There was tension in both of your rooms.
The two of you simultaneously rose from your beds, Jungkook already clothed, and marched towards your doors with a 'screw it'. The way you two met in the hallway was extremely comical.
"We need to talk."
The mood in Jungkook's hotel room was unexpectedly cozy, you two were sitting on his bed with a glass of wine each to lessen the uneasiness. "Did I do anything wrong to make you so red all of a sudden?" With his hand consolingly resting on your bare thigh, Jungkook inquires. From this perspective, you could plainly see his numerous tattoos. The dragon that wrapped itself over his entire arm was your favorite, though. You hesitantly grin up at him while nodding your head, allowing him to continue. He chuckles and turns to stare at the ground, letting his hair fall. How could he always appear so effortlessly gorgeous? He grinned and softly stroked your thigh, adding, "As I was saying, we need to chat." Jungkook was definitely not hesitant about expressing affection. He smiles at you and displays his bunny teeth as you nod while he does so. He took a drink of wine, set the glas down on his nightstand, and then he said, "I've always wondered." He then turned to face you. "Why, do you not like me?" The answer would be lengthy despite the question's briefness. You shrug as you glance at the ground and reply, "I guess that's simply how things have always been." He now offered you a big smile since your modest smile had spread to him.
Jungkook gave you a sympathetic glance when you looked up. "Its pretty amazing, how contagious your grin is, you know", he said abruptly. You took two or three sips of wine, you weren't drunk, but you let out a chuckle. He loved this one so much, it was a sincere giggle. "So you're telling me that since you believed I did, we simply assumed we disliked one other? and I believed you disliked me, causing me to despise you." While he was speaking, Jungkook's hand was still moving up and down your exposed thigh. You nod uncomfortably and put your glass down at this point as well. Biting your lip, you say, "I think we were very foolish; I'm sure we would've actually been terrific friends if it weren't for this misunderstanding." "Perhaps," you heard him say.
You murmur, looking back down, "yeah you did sorta trample over my sandcastle, in kindergarten," and then you heard him snort, "theres no way youre still salty about that, I cant even remember it." The hand that had been stroking your thigh was now running through his hair. After a little pause, Jungkook spoke out once again, sincerely saying, "I'm sorry about that then." Your hair quickly moves from one side to the other as you shake your head, saying, "It's just—why are we like this, we could have simply talked it out." "But were obstinate and we didn't, let's just leave it at that."
Jungkook extended his hand and motioned for you to shake it. "Let's try this again again, shall we?" he said. When you shook your hand, he inched closer to you and said, "Hi, my name is Jeon Jungkook, and if it's alright with you, one day, I'd like to take you out on a date." He made you flush "Nice to meet you, Jungkook,"
You didn't consider the kiss again up until he was only a few inches away from you now. It wasn't when he reintroduced himself or when he so casually ran his fingers through his hair. Both of you were sober this time, and you knew precisely what you were doing. He lifted your chin up with his hand and positioned you to look up at him. "I don't regret the first time we did this, and I certainly won't regret the second time." Before your lips came into contact with each other for the second time this month, he said. This time, though, it didn't seem wrong; rather, it felt like the part of you that had been missing was now at last there.
As soon as you changed into a set of makeshift pajamas consisting of his shirt, you heard Jungkook say from over the bed, "I adore how you look with my shirt on."
After you kissed, he virtually begged you to spend the night in his room since he didn't want to let go of you just yet. You argued that your brother may find out, but in the end you caved. Additionally, he said, "you're so adorable when you're tired." and as soon as you were standing in front of him, he kissed your cheek, hugged you, and placed you on his lap.
After three months of globe travel, you were finally able to unwind a little when you arrived home. You heard Jungkook tell you as you left the house where you all shared a residence, "its chilly, you should, you know, hold my hand."
You push him away out of fear. Although your brother was present, he could not know that there was a connection between the two of you. While Jungkook was dressed in his customary big boots, a black sweater, and black slacks, you were wearing a plain black loose shirt and jeans as you made your way to dinner with the group. He seemed delectable, and you wished you could tell him as much, but not in front of Yoongi.
The scenario was clear to Jungkook, who appeared to be a little disappointed. The two of you would be dead if your brother ever found out. You were off limits, and Yoongi had made it quite plain to everyone from the beginning. No paparazzi or anything of the type were present at the lovely restaurant, it was quite private. Even though you weren't the famous one, it was wonderful to feel regular for once. As Jimin extended an invitation to sit next to him, you grinned and expressed your gratitude. That grin persisted until Jungkook shooed Jimin away and sat down next to you instead. When Jimin mumbled profanities under his breath, a little smile appeared on your face.
Yoongi noticed that during the previous week, you two had become increasingly close. Jungkook was acting remarkably nicer to you, and you hadn't argued in days. Your brother questioned you out of the blue, not looking at you as his eyes scanned the menu card, "did you finally put your differences aside and become friends?" You both nod as you simultaneously exchange shocked looks with Jungkook before turning to Yoongi again like guilty pups. With a half-assed smile and a nod, Yoongi said, "That's nice, finally some peace-" "hey, that's my fork!" Yoongi rolled his eyes as Hoseok and Jimin fought. "or not" You let out a laugh.
Dinner went well, with Jungkook's hand massaging your tight the entire time, you had to admit that it was a beautiful gesture. Surprisingly, Jungkook turned out to be a nice boyfriend to you. When your food finally arrived and you were able to dive in, you groaned. Pasta was your favorite.
As you took a bite of your dinner and smiled, Jungkook squeezed your tigh affectionately, he looked admiringly at you from the side. It was difficult for him to resist giving you a public kiss or even just a little amount of tenderness, but Yoongi was keeping a tight eye on the two of you and already had his suspicions.
Late at night, you managed to sneak into Jungkook's room where the two of you were making out and cuddling under his bed's covers.
He kissed your neck and gave you a loving squeeze on the bum, which caused you to giggle. Being able to get close to him was ideal. However, there was still a tiny bit of anxiety that Yoongi may enter. When Jungkook drew you onto his lap, you subconsciously pressed against him, causing him to pause in his motions to stare into your eyes. Biting your lip, you nodded.
"I'm ready."
As soon as you removed your, his, shirt and showed him your naked chest, he muttered an expletive and gripped you closer. His eyebrows wrinkled. He had no reticence in grabbing hold of your breast and treating it with the same delicacy as your mouth had been before. With a sigh, you drew him nearer to you while your hands were buried in his hair. Nothing in your life had ever seemed so perfect as it did right now. As it brushed against your clit, causing some friction, you could feel his boner pressing against your underwear, causing you to writhe in his embrace and moan loudly.
He muttered, "We have to be quiet," and when you nodded, he proceeded with his interventions while his tattooed palm covered your lips in fear. Slowly but surely, you continued to grind on his dick, becoming wet from the extreme friction. It didn't take long for the two of you to be completely nude, laughing under his covers as Jungkook touched you all over, one hand already burying itself in your cunt as he fingered you. It wasn't long before you started to feel your first orgasm coming on. And as you did, Jungkook felt something click inside of him. Hesitantly, he flipped you over onto your back and sat down between your legs so that you could feel his boner against your heat. You could feel him pressing down on you, and it was only then that you realized what you were going to do as he took a condom off his nightstand and placed it on. It seemed completely appropriate to give away your virginity to him.
While wincing at the comforting warmth of your heat, he grinned and gave you one final kiss before slowly inserting his cock inside you. His movement was gradual but hard, and you sometimes let out little groans as your body moved in unison.
His pelvis pressing on your clit caused too much friction, causing a coating of sweat to form on the top of your skin, and you soon started cumming once more. You were turned around by Jungkook so you could now ride him.
He grabbed hold of your waist and led you up and down while allowing you to fuck yourself on him as you wished. He adored how untidy your hair looked and how irregular your breathing was. The final straw that caused him to finally cum was a tiny whine from you. Before he resumed speaking, there was a little, relaxed pause. "You okay baby?", you nod to calm him.
Unfortunately, the comfortableness didn't stay long before your lights were abruptly turned on. Additionally, the person currently guarding Jungkook's door resembled your brothers a bit too much.
"You have a lot of explaining to do Jeon"
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foxymoxynoona · 8 months
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Over the Falls Ch. 2: Bomb
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Sexy Banner & bar by @borabae-gx
Summary: Jungkook sees a lot of things as a pool tech. It’s…  fine. It pays the bills between mornings on the water and evenings  rocking out with his garage-band. His favorite thing to see on the job has been Grace Birch –older but a hottie, wealthy but nice, and  unfortunately very married. At least until Grace learns what her husband  has been up to behind her back. Now that she’s free, Jungkook finds  himself wondering: what does it take for a guy like him to catch the eye of a woman like that?
Genre: Poolboy Jungkook x Rich Divorcee OC
Tags: Age gap (older woman), socioeconomic gap, Surferboy JK, drummer/guitarist/vocalist JK, Wealthy divorcee OC, househusband
CW: Mature/Explicit,  Infidelity (not between JKxOC), language, alcohol, recreational drugs, lots of explicit sex, ageist/racist/classist remarks down the road, outdoor sex, beach sex
Chapter One | Masterlist | Chapter Three
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“You’re pursing your lips!” Taro called back to Jungkook. His attempts to unpurse them failed beneath his glare; he pursed them tighter, then squeezed his eyes shut accidentally while trying to relax his lips. Thinking about it all caused him to drag the rhythm and Yoongi abruptly stopped.
“Fuck off,” Jungkook scowled at Taro. “Who cares what my mouth is doing when I’m not singing?”
“I care, it doesn’t look cool.”
“Well stop looking back at me and you won’t see it. The audience is that way,” Jungkook said, pointing with his stick to the front of the garage where Taehyung, Jimin, Hoseok, and Corri chilled with beers on cheap folding chairs. They weren’t paying any attention to the rehearsal, certainly not to anything Jungkook’s face was doing behind the drums. 
“Yeah but–”
“No one cares what his fucking face does,” Soyoon agreed with him. “They care whether he nails that tricky rhythm.”
“Thank you–”
“If he looks like a muppet, so what?”
Jungkook’s grateful grin slid into a scowl. Soyoon smiled. 
Yoongi’s voice sounded equally as deceptively supportive as he suggested, “Maybe more like a tarsier.”
“I was thinking tree frog,” Taehyung called over. 
“You’re all fucking assholes,” Jungkook huffed and did a run on the drums as loud as he could as punishment. They were unfortunately unbothered. As unbothered as they should have been about whatever concentration face he made as he drummed. They had no idea the coordination and focus it required! 
“Don’t listen to them,” Hoseok insisted as soon as the cacophony died down. “You’re handsome no matter what face you make, that’s why they’re being like that. They’re jealous. You look so cool when you drum, you’re stealing the show.”
It was too over the top. Jungkook sighed and let his head hang as his friends got their laughs out. 
“What? What did I say?” Hoseok mumbled as Jimin patted his arm and shushed him. Hoseok was the only one of their group to say something like that and mean it sincerely, but no one could take it seriously. Alas.
“Let’s just take it from the top,” Yoongi said. “Last song of the night and I’m out.”
“Out? Why out? We’re performing this weekend,” Taro instantly argued. Jungkook saw the twitch of Yoongi’s lips, only the faintest sign he ever showed that he was annoyed.
“Yeah, so we had the extra rehearsal.”
“I just want us to do well,” Taro insisted. “This isn’t a normal performance. It’s a competition.”
Jungkook couldn’t help the snicker, “For Aughts Coverbands. It’s not that deep, Taro, you don’t have to be a bitch about my face.”
“Gee, can’t imagine why you can’t get laid lately.”
“The fuck do you know about it? I can get laid whenever I–” Jungkook sputtered. Really? She had to say that right in front of Corri?!
Soyoon sighed noisily, “We all know you want to win, we all know Junky can get laid, can we just do it already?” God he hated that nickname, if anyone besides Soyoon called him that he’d lose his shit, but somehow she’d always been able to use it as a hook to draw him back. He rolled his eyes at her, as expected, and she grinned and thumbed a line on the bass.
“Winning is fun,” Taro huffed. “I thought at least Jungkook would agree with me.”
“You’re talking shit about my face! We aren’t going to lose because of my face!”
“Only when you purse your lips like that.”
“I’m just concentrating.”
“You’re supposed to make it look effortless.”
“You wanna drum?” he asked, standing from the stool and holding the sticks out. She rolled her eyes and looked away. She’d once tried to pick it up and failed miserable, she lacked the coordination and muscle for it. And Jungkook had taken the high road and not teased her (too bad) about it. Her inability to play any instrument didn’t matter; she was a kickass lead vocalist and frontwoman, even though she sucked before any performance she deemed important. Yeah, Jungkook wanted to do well in a competition, obviously, but it wasn’t supposed to be a source of stress. They were a mostly-covers band, not some music act out to change the world. It was just supposed to be fun. Jungkook had managed to calm down the hyper-competitive streak of his younger days and wasn’t interested in getting all wrapped up in it again. 
“I’m just trying to help you get laid,” she mumbled.
“Why are you so worried whether he’s getting laid?” Taehyung asked, just as loudly as before, as if Corri hadn’t already heard all of this. Corri, one of the women uninterested in laying him despite their past lays.
“I’m not. I just think he seems frustrated.”
“Yeah because our vocalist keeps talking shit about my concentration face.”
Yoongi started to play the chorus, a not-so-subtle sign he was bored with the bickering banter. 
“Yeah I’m frustrated but not about… whatever, just play the song,” Jungkook huffed. Corri’s obvious avoidance of looking in his direction suddenly embarrassed him, when he usually could shrug off teasing no problem. He didn’t care that Corri didn’t want to fuck anymore, it wasn’t like they had been a thing, it just was embarrassing for someone you weren’t a thing with to tell you they wanted to be even less of a thing… Suddenly he wondered if Corri and Taro had been talking about him….
Before anyone (Taro) could escalate further, Soyoon scolded, “Elizabeth. Sing the damn song so I’m not late to teaching.”
Taro —real name Elizabeth– scowled in Soyoon’s direction this time and Jungkook settled back onto his stool. He flexed his fingers and cracked his neck to get ready for the final run-through of all three songs they would play at the competition: “Misery Business” by Paramore, “All Around You” by Flyleaf, and “The Real Mothers” by Screaming Females. Jungkook could have done without Flyleaf but Taro had gotten to choose the final song after a cutthroat tournament of rock-paper-scissors. Granted, Jungkook would have preferred to cover at least one male-led song, but he wasn’t going to go there. 
Instead he did his best to keep his face neutral and un-pinched as he played, his best effort to be above reproach. Yoongi was who he cared more about impressing though; Taro was a great vocalist but when it came to musical talent, Yoongi was their lead with Soyoon not far behind. The two of them wrote and composed all their original stuff and did the arrangements for their covers. The two of them could have gone pro, really, but they had their reasons for being in this hobby band, just like Taro did, just like Jungkook did. 
Fun. It was all supposed to be fun. 
Usually he liked rehearsal, but Taro was right about one tiny thing: he was frustrated. But it wasn’t about sex! Or at least not about his sex. It was about a particular video sitting on his phone that he had no fucking clue what to do about. He had hoped to ask Yoongi what he thought but then felt stupid about it as they kicked off rehearsal and there wasn’t any time afterwards. As soon as the set was done, Soyoon and Yoongi both split for their evening gigs. 
Taro’s face went through a tornado of emotions before she finally put her hands on Jungkook’s shoulders and said, “Sorry. Your face is fine. I just want us to look good but I didn’t mean to be a dick about it.”
“Whoever you have coming to the show isn’t going to fuck or not fuck you because of what my face does.”
She growled, “Come on, I apologized. Don’t be a shit.” But it was allowed. That’s how things were between them, had been for the ten years they’d known each other since their first pick up performances as teens, back when she was just Beth and not the artist known as Taro. He grinned and she pinched his cheek and that was the end of it; she and Corri disappeared with only a backward wave.
Jungkook expected to be on his own for the last bit of cleanup but Jimin and Taehyung and Hoseok shuffled around the garage helping with it. They’d done their best to waterproof the garage but after a leak had come a little too close to an amp, Jungkook was too nervous to leave anything of value on the ground ever again. He’d built a shaky wooden platform for his kit, made sure all the cables and amps were on shelves and hooks against the windowless wall, and kept the other instruments inside the house. Yoongi’s garage had been nicer and at the top of a hill but after his neighbors called the cops on them twice, they’d moved to Jungkook’s garage. His neighbors didn’t give a shit; everyone was noisy here. They usually played with the door open anyways because it got hot as fuck in there with only a couple fans and sometimes people would sit out on their porches to listen. Jimin had the great idea of adding an air conditioner but with what fucking money? Someday. Maybe with the prize money if they won the competition! The 2000s were the worst decade of music as far as Jungkook was concerned, but that didn’t mean they couldn’t win…
He felt the stirrings of ambition and squashed it.
“Paramore and Flyleaf,” he mumbled as Jimin and Taehyung sang lyrics over each other while they looped cables. 
“What’s wrong with Paramore?” Hoseok asked. “Besides that you’re too young to remember them.”
“I’m not too young. I remember “Ain’t It Fun,” that album. And I remember these songs! I like them. The drumming is good, and they’re good for Taro’s voice.”
“But… you’d rather be playing something else?”
“I just don’t like the competitions,” he admitted. “I’d rather be doing our usual set for our usual stage. No stress, no worries–”
“Yeah you don’t like it because you’re a sleeping competitive asshole,” Jimin snickered.
Jungkook looked around for anything left down as he demanded, “What does that mean, sleeping?”
“It means you want everything to think you’re chill. Surfer life, ya?” Jimin teased, making two shaka gestures. His mockery was idiotic considering he surfed almost as much as Jungkook did, although he hadn’t gone as much lately. Work. “We’ve known you too long. We know you like to crush the competition.”
“Nah, man, that’s not me anymore.”
Jimin and Taehyung shared a look. Jungkook backhanded Taehyung in the stomach because he was closest, then motioned for them to get out so he could drag the garage door closed. The clicker had been broken for a while and every time one of them tried to fix it, it just broke again. Handymen they were not despite their best efforts, Jungkook in particular. He just didn’t have the knack for it, so he was learning, that was all. Their landlord didn’t have to be such a shitbag about his attempts gone awry. If he’d just call the fucking plumber or contractor or whatever it was on time, Jungkook wouldn’t have to take matters into his own hands! Or worse, Taehyung or Jimin went after it. 
“What are we doing for dinner?” Taehyung asked as they kicked their shoes off by the back door. Jungkook ignored the question, assuming it was intended for Jimin or Hoseok, or at least not him. Briefly looking at his phone with the thought of delivery –followed by the painful reminder of his bank account– nudged his attention back to the video. The video. The one currently living in the Recently Deleted folder on his phone, chilling in limbo for 30 days until he either restored it or let his phone delete it for good. He felt no closer to making a decision on what to do with it. Forget he knew this and let it disappear? Give it to Mrs. Birch because she deserved to know she was married to an epic dipshit? 
“JK?” 
“Yeah episode four, I don’t know.”
“Huh?”
“Are we talking about what to watch?”
“What show are you even talking about?” Jimin laughed at him. “We’re talking about food! Dinner!”
“Oh. Uh…”
Taehyung snickered and nudged him with an elbow as he passed through the door, “He’s thinking about the video.”
“Grossss.”
���I’m not— I’m not thinking about the video,” Jungkook argued. It was a lie; they could tell it was a lie. He didn’t appreciate their joke of making it sound like he was thinking-thinking about it, rather than stressing about it. Stressing wasn’t his style.
“Just delete it, man,” Taehyung said. “You don’t need some guy’s nut on your phone. No offense to the gays in the room.”
“None taken, I don’t want some asshole’s nut on my phone either,” Jimin snickered.
“Yeah but….” 
Jimin, still grinning, countered, “Stop being a puss and just tell the wife what you found. She deserves to know and once she’s done being heartbroken, she’ll appreciate it,” Jimin countered. “Maybe a lot.” He wiggled his eyebrows. Jungkook deeply regretted having drunkenly shared a Mrs. Birch fantasy with Jimin just one time, which Jimin would now never ever forget.
Their “advice” was too much like teasing. It didn’t feel serious and had already put him in a bad mood when they first acted like this when he told them yesterday. Not everything was a joke. He wanted to live like that too, sure! But he had a real moral conflict here and he didn’t appreciate them making it sound like he was getting some kind of sick pleasure –either out of having a fucking porn video of that spaghetti-dick Tim or of hoping to get into Mrs. Birch’s good graces as a hero. He didn’t feel like this was heroic. He felt like a fucking creep to have taken it in the first place. He felt like it was infecting his phone. He felt like he was holding a bomb that was going to blow up a marriage and really hurt a good person. 
Not that he really knew her and whether she was a good person. For all he knew she had Nice White Lady Syndrome for “the Help” and was an entitled privileged bitch elsewhere. She’d married that fucker, after all, so she had to be like into that kind of guy and lifestyle and all that. Maybe she had her side pieces too, for all he knew! And it just wasn’t him! He didn’t want to insert himself into what could be a really sick, fucked up marriage.
“What if the dude comes after me?” he mused. He flopped down on the couch, instantly comforted by the broken-in cushion that nearly swallowed him. “He could get me fired. Sue me. Ruin my life. I dunno.”
“For exposing his cheating?” Taehyung’s face crinkled up. “Then we fuck him up.”
“He’s rich.”
Jimin tapped his chin and pointed out, “Ah, it’s true, it probably wasn’t legal for you to take that video, right?”
“Huh?”
“You filmed a guy having sex in his own house,” Jimin said. “I just mean… having the video is probably a risk. You should either pass it along or get rid of it, but only if you know the wife won’t turn on you. Rich people… you gotta be careful with them.”
“She…” Jungkook started to say she wouldn’t… but he didn’t know. He didn’t actually know her at all. And now Jimin and Taehyung were making him more scared than guilty. He couldn’t get sued. He didn’t have money! He didn’t have time for court. And his family wouldn’t be able to handle the shame. Who would watch Max when Yoojin got called into work without warning? Who would help his dad set up literally any new electronic device or go grocery shopping with his mom so she didn’t have to carry all the bags into the house because Yoojin was busy with Max and his dad worked a lot and Haewon didn’t live at home anymore? His parents needed him more than ever now, he couldn’t go to jail just because he was trying to do something “good” for a woman he didn’t even know! A thing she probably wouldn’t even appreciate!
He turned to Hoseok, hoping for some meaningful insight from him. Hoseok was a few years older and easily the most mature, experienced person in the house right now. Aside from his choice in dating Jimin, he tended to demonstrate good taste and clear judgment. Jimin and Taehyung could be hit or miss on their advice but Hoseok had a knack for people. Jungkook rebelled at their stirring of the pot, making him so nervous. He wasn’t a nervous guy. There had to be an easy, simple solution.
But Hoseok, who hadn’t said a word this whole time, nor when Jungkook first stupidly told these guys about the video two days ago, just read from his phone, “Kalasha is doing a free delivery special to celebrate the new restaurant. Chicken? Egg sandwiches?”
“Yeah, chicken!” Taehyung quickly agreed. Jungkook understood: they were done talking about this, and he sure wasn’t going to be the needy baby demanding more advice that he didn’t even appreciate. He was both relieved and annoyed. This was his mess. He had to figure this out on his own. But he could have used some good advice.
“Egg sandwich,” he said. “Is there one with chicken too? I’m gonna hit the gym later tonight and surf in the morning so I need that protein, yo!” There, Jungkook back to himself, and his friends readily accepted it. 
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The crash of the waves against the shore drowned out all else. Early mornings had a cool humidity to them, leaving a cold sweaty feeling on Jungkook’s skin, his hair wild and crunchy from the salt. The warm water lapped his ankles, sand sucking out from beneath his toes as the water swirled and then retreated, only to be overrun by the next impatient wave. It was a beautiful morning to be out, perfect surf conditions, beach not yet overrun by the tourists who would flock here once they’d finished their brunch and mimosas at the nearby resort.
Jungkook shook the wet hair out of his face and closed his eyes for a moment to enjoy the breeze off the water. The scent of salt and fish, sharp and pungent, was home to him. He breathed in deeply and tried to let everything else in the world sift from his mind. That was the beauty of surfing, it took all of you, for a brief time you were nothing but a fleck of energy carried by the water. That was what he liked about drumming too. He liked things that consumed him.
Surfing early in the morning had many advantages, when the tide worked out. Nice weather. Quieter beach. Fewer rookies. 
“How’s the break, bro?” Carver asked, coming up behind and slapping him on the shoulder. Jungkook saw Missy trailing further up the beach, board perched on her head. He took his eyes off Hoseok only for a second to answer,
“Yeah, bomb breaks today.” He slapped Carver’s back in return. “You’re late for dawn patrol though, eh?”
Carver rolled his eyes, “Someone couldn’t get out of bed this morning.” He jerked his thumb at Missy. Jungkook’s eyebrows raised but he said nothing, knowing he’d be awkward. Carver and Missy had been dating a year now or something like it, and for at least a year before that Carver had trailed along behind her like a lovesick dickhead while Missy didn’t have the time of day for him. Jungkook had spent many a daybreak catching waves with her but she’d seemed unbothered by any of his attempts at flirting –until suddenly one day she took a liking to Carver and now they stayed up all night fucking so she couldn’t make it to the beach on time. Jungkook hated that he knew that. He was fine that she’d never given him a chance but he was bummed to see less of two people he enjoyed. 
And also that they were just so happy together.
Fuck, he just knew too much about other people’s fuck lives without having one of his own to occupy his thoughts.
He gave a wave to Missy and headed out to the water just as Hoseok slid smoothly onto the beach. He sure didn’t let his bedmate keep him from catching those early breaks under the first streaks of light. His hair spiked and his smile glowed as he took those first heavy steps off the board and then immediately turned around to drag it back into the water a few yards behind Jungkook.
“I’ve only got time for one more,” he called, voice swallowed by the surf but Jungkook still heard and remembered he’d said that earlier, he had an earlier shift as a manager at the resort. It was a really demanding job, and he busted his ass. But he was still here! Unlike Taehyung. Jimin was practically a hodad at this point anyway so it didn’t really matter if he was here since he just distracted Hoseok anyway.
Jungkook walked until he had to glide and paddle. The sun was steadily heating up on his back but the water felt cool by comparison, drenching the thin fabric of his rash guard. He kept his eyes on the horizon where sea birds flitted and landed, and a couple fishing boats in the distance seemed to hover. Greenish fish darted beneath the shadow of his board. A shadow of a cloud passed over but otherwise the sky was clear and would no doubt be scorching later. Work was going to be hot today. He had three pools to clean, and then had promised Yoojin he’d take Max in the evening. She was being cagey as shit about why she needed the sitting, which probably meant she had a date and she knew very well how Jungkook felt about that. Yoojin’s taste in men was as shitty as her cooking. Max was the only good thing her ex had ever done in his life, and he wasn’t even still involved except for an occasional miniscule child-support check.
When he got far enough out, he straddled the board and waited as first one and then a second mushburger made him bob. Too gentle to ride. Sitting in the lull was peaceful though and gave Hoseok time to catch up. Jungkook breathed the breeze and watched his friend sit up several yards away. As the first one out, Jungkook had wave priority, but he knew Hoseok had somewhere to be.
“You want the next one?” he called.
“Nah bro, you’re first!”
“I can wait. I’m floating.”
“No no it’s fine, you first.”
“Eh…” Jungkook sighed as a totally surfable swell raised beneath them. Neither of them took it, just watched as it peeled. “Damn, would’ve been perfect.”
“Take it,” Hoseok insisted. “I can chill.”
Jungkook briefly considered it. Felt his muscles tense as another swell began to rise behind him. But being out here was soothing, and he felt tendrils dragging at his mind again that he wasn’t willing to face once he went back to shore. Out here he was nothing, nobody, just a piece of driftwood on the sea. Back on land, he had a job to do. The Birch pool was on his roster today, and he was no closer to figuring out what to do with the video in his trash folder. He closed his eyes and let his head fall back as the wave once again passed them and broke.
“Bro,” Hoseok called. “You ok?”
“What do I do about that video, man?” Jungkook sighed, shouting to be heard over the distance. “I just don’t know… I gotta face her today and what, know her husband is fucking around and that she probably doesn’t know? But damn I don’t want to be tied up in some rich person bullshit…”
Hoseok shook his head, “Yeah, you can’t get into that shit. Richies will rip you up, they don’t give a shit you were trying to do a good thing.” Of course, Hoseok saw lots of shitty rich people in his resort job. Jungkook had briefly worked there as a cabana boy too. He remembered. Oh boy, did he remember.
“Yeah but…” Jungkook sighed. They were all right. He knew they were right, and his family would give the same advice if he asked –which he wouldn’t, because he would never talk to his family about personal problems like that. They had enough of their own and he was the eldest now so it was his job to help them. 
But he also just had this painful twist in his stomach at the idea of Mrs. Birch being married to that piece of shit. Probably the fucker was going to catch something and give it to her and that’s how she’d fine out. He’d get some other chick pregnant. She’d walk in on it and be traumatized. Maybe she was secretly as shitty as the rest but if she wasn’t, didn’t she deserve to know the kind of man she married? Since apparently she hadn’t already figured it out on her own? But it wasn’t Jungkook’s job to tell her…
“I see that look,” Hoseok laughed, splashing Jungkook to get his attention. “You want to do it. That’s why I don’t like to give you advice. You just do what you’re going to do anyway.”
“The thing is, I would want to know,” Jungkook said.
“You aren’t her. You should be worried about yourself. She doesn’t care about you.”
It hurt to hear. It was true. He didn’t like to hear it but appreciated the honesty.
“I know but… otherwise what, I keep cleaning their pool and keep knowing and don’t say anything? That’s not who I am. I want to be an honest person no matter what.”
“No matter what,” Hoseok laughed. “It’s admirable but sometimes not the best.”
Jungkook let out a noisy sigh. 
And then had an idea.
“What if it’s not me that tells her?” he said, slowly turning his board after it drifted. “What if I just give her the video anonymously? Then she knows but no one knows it’s me.”
Hoseok’s face screwed up, “How would you even do that?”
“Burn a dvd. Leave it in her mailbox?”
“They probably have cameras all over the place. Or they’ll data mine the DVD or whatever…”
But Jungkook was onto something and he knew it. Fine, a USB stick, and he didn’t think it had to be that secure because he hadn’t seen anything that made him think either of the Birchs was that technically smart and they were going to have bigger things to worry about anyway, right? Like divorce. Divorce that would bring that piece of rich-ass shit to his dry, wrinkled knees.
“Nah bro, this will work!” Jungkook beamed. He felt an instant lightness swell within him that had nothing to do with the lift of another wave beneath the board. “Ya, ok, it’s a plan. Let’s get it!”
“Wait, but JK–”
“I’m taking this one!” he called, ignoring Hoseok’s concerns. There was no good path forward but this was the best one. Probably Mrs. Birch would be hurt but at least no one could trace it to him and he wouldn’t have to admit to her he’d been the one to record it and no one could sue him for what pennies he had to his name.
He caught the next wave, leaping to his feet at the lip of it as he drew in a deep, joyful breath. This was the best part. Flying. Adrenaline coursed through his body, just the right amount to make him feel like a beam of sunlight, the rough board beneath his feet the only thing left to ground him as he cut his board across clear water that sprayed in his face. No barrels big enough to pull into this morning but the drop left his heart thumping in his chest and his head spinning. Nothing beat the high of a bitchin’ ride. 
Suddenly the wave closed out, sending Jungkook tumbling into the water. The slap to his chest left him winded but he surfaced only a moment after his board bobbed, tugging his ankle by the leash. He flipped his hair back and lifted his face to the sun as he swiped the salt water from his eyes. Didn’t matter that he’d grubbed it, the ride had been excellent until then. Grubbing it was just part of the game.
With a lighter heart and a clear mind, Jungkook sloshed his way to shore to put his plan into action.
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The orange envelope was on the front porch when she got home that day, tucked between the storm door and the wooden door as if the mailman had dropped it off. They often did that, even though Tim had built a big stupid UV box for packages. She couldn’t blame the mailmen for not wanting to open the lid of a heavy-looking mysterious box just to leave her latest pantry tupperware from Amazon or Tim’s Razor of the Month club or whatever, despite the insistent sign. She tried to always be the one to bring the mail in so she wouldn’t have to listen to Tim rail about packages left on the ground. He worried about that kind of thing. He thought he was the kind of person important enough for someone to send Anthrax to in the mail.
She’d grabbed the envelope on her way out to get the mail from the box, and tossed it all onto the kitchen counter since Tim was out of town and not here to gripe at her for even briefly making a mess.
“It’s unfair of me to be so critical towards him,” she scolded herself as she looked in the fridge to see what the personal chef had left her for dinner. Tim had actually been very pleasant lately. He’d finally agreed they ought to redecorate the bedroom (as long as it stayed white and gray), praised the dinner she made on a day the chef didn’t come, greeted her with daiquiris after she’d been swimming and asked her about her day as he untied the strings of her bikini. 
Look, she knew those things shuffled over a low bar when listed out of context. But the context was that he’d been working hard and stressed for a while now. The latest acquisition was so close to signing and he was sweating it but the fact he was making an effort even in the midst of that meant a lot to her. It reassured her that once they were to the other side of this period of work, things were going to even out again. Tim would go back to being a bit less of a cranky asshole. She would go back to feeling less resentful, a little more charitable about the moodswings of her hard-working husband who was doing his best to succeed in a cutthroat industry. He wanted to make a name for himself beyond what his own father had accomplished. She admired that.
While the oven preheated, she flipped through the mail, mostly junk. When she got to the envelope though, she realized it was just addressed to Mrs. Birch, no mailing address, no stamp.
Her first thought was that a friend must have dropped something off for her, only to instantly consider it would be really weird for them to address it to Mrs. Birch. None of her friends called her that. 
A client? But she never gave her personal address to anyone she worked for, there was no need for it anyway, she just had things mailed to the office space she kept.
Maybe she had forgotten something somewhere? Her license would have her name and address on it, but the salutation of Mrs. would be odd because how would the person know she was married? Unless she dropped something and they googled her? Her address was supposed to be unlisted but people had ways of searching public records.
She tore the end of the envelope open and out tumbled a CD in a jewel case. Her brow furrowed. Certainly not something she owned and left somewhere. Nothing was printed on the CD. She checked inside the envelope for any evidence of marketing material and found a folded piece of paper with a printed sentence:
Your husband is not who you think he is. He’s a fucking asshole.
Grace’s blood ran cold. 
Tim’s involved with something bad. That felt like the immediate and obvious thing. Tim worked in business and he was constantly trying to get ahead, always working upstream and feeling behind. It made sense that he might have taken what looked like help in a moment of difficulty and wound up in over his head with something. Or someone. He could be short-sighted, she’d always secretly thought that about him.
“Oh god please don’t let it be something illegal,” she murmured, hand shaking as she turned the CD over in her hand. Just how bad could it be? Extortion? Money-laundering? Murder? No. No, Tim wasn’t capable of murdering someone, what a ridiculous thought.
But dirty business, with the confidence he wouldn’t be caught….?
The fact was that in the moment, at just one sentence prompt from a mysterious source, Grace’s trust in her husband tumbled like a tower of toothpicks. Instead of debating who would be out to malign her husband, Grace fretted whether this CD was safe for her to look at, or if simply by seeing whatever was on here, she might become an accomplice. What if he’d already done things to implicate her? 
Grace was not going to prison for Tim!
Her heart pounded in her chest so painfully she felt like she couldn’t breathe. She set the CD quickly down on the counter and backed away, already contemplating whether she ought to wipe her fingerprints off. But no, no, it would make sense she opened an envelope addressed to herself. It didn’t mean she’d committed any crime–
And this didn’t mean Tim had either! She leaned against the counter and pressed her hand to her forehead.
Fuck, I’m a bad wife.
This was Tim, for fuck’s sake. He could be an asshole, the anonymous sender was right about that, but it didn’t mean he was doing anything illegal or dangerous or immoral. Probably this was some business thing, some colleague of his pissed about a move he’d made and trying to undermine him starting at home. 
…But what if it wasn’t?!
Grace’s family had been in possession of significant money for several generations. Old money. 19th century American money funded by 18th century European money. She’d been raised with warnings and stories, not paranoia but awareness that sometimes the presence of money made people think you were an easy victim. Maybe Tim wasn’t the target here, maybe she was. 
She grabbed her phone and placed a call and after only a few rings heard her father’s deep voice over the line, greeting, “Grace? What’s up, honeybell?”
“Hi Daddy, there’s a thing… it’s making me nervous so I wanted to ask…” She trailed off, realizing immediately how stupid she sounded. She should have pulled her thoughts together before calling.
“What’s the matter now? Something is what?” She could tell he was distracted over the line. Mid-day like this, he was probably out golfing, or at least at a friend’s house for the afternoon. Her dad was a creature of habit, an introvert who’d carved his safe places out over the decades they’d lived in Winnetka, Illinois. His days were predictable. 
“Sorry, Dad, I just got spooked. Someone left a weird envelope at my house with a CD and–”
“Wait, who did what now?” he interrupted. Grace felt the shudder across her shoulders at that tone in her father’s voice, even knowing it wasn’t aimed at her. He’d been casual before but pulled himself into lawyer mode in only an instant.
“I’m just being silly,” she began. That’s what her mother would say. Calling her dad, interrupting his afternoon plans, because someone left a CD on her porch and she was freaked even though she didn’t even know what was on it.
“Someone left something on your porch? What did they leave?”
“I don’t know, a CD and a printed note that says, um…” She grimaced. “It says my husband isn’t who I think he is.”
The line was silent for a moment. Grace’s father had grown to love Tim. He’d be pissed at slander aimed her husband’s direction. He’d be furious about baseless accusations.  
“You know who sent it? You know what’s on it?”
“No,” Grace said. “I called you right away.”
“Is Tim there?”
“He’s out of town.”
“All right, Grace, don’t touch a thing. Call Alan. Don’t do anything until Alan is there.”
Grace nodded as if he could see her and mused, “I don’t know whether I should call Tim. Maybe he has an idea–”
“Do not call Tim,” he interrupted. “Only Alan. Don’t talk to anyone else. He’ll bring a secure computer over to look at what’s on the CD and after that I want you to check into a hotel until this gets figured out. This person knows where you live and that your husband isn’t home–”
“So you think it’s something bad?”
“Well you do, don’t you, sweetheart? Calling me sounding like you’re having a heart attack.”
“I’m sorry, I know I’m probably overreacting–”
“No such thing with our family.”
“But it’s not like Tim is actually a bad man. The CD is probably just… I don’t know. Something stupid. Someone’s just angry at him for something…”
Grace wanted to hear her dad agree that she was overreacting. His serious response escalated her fears. She’d wanted to be talked off the ledge and instead he was calling in a SWAT team and helicopter rescue.  
“Do as I say, Grace. Call Alan now and tell me when he’s there.”
Spooked, Grace did as he said. Within thirty minutes, Alan Theodorakos stood on her doorstep straightening his cuffs and adjusting his hair in the reflection of the one-sided mirror where a window used to be in the door. One of the family’s many lawyers, Alan had worked for Grace’s parents for many years before she moved to California; now, because of proximity, he’d served as Grace’s own legal counsel any time she’d needed it, even if just to oversee her affairs with specialized attorneys such as when she’d married and when they’d bought their house. Her father was a lawyer too, of course, but financial, and he never directly handled family matters himself anyway.
“Where is the CD?” he immediately asked when Grace welcomed him in. 
“I left it on the kitchen counter.” She showed him where the jewel case lay next to the printed note and the torn envelope, her name side up. Alan took a photo of all of it and Grace felt that tremor in her stomach again. If everyone was taking this so seriously, maybe she wasn’t taking it seriously enough!
Alan had with him a laptop, just as her dad had said he would. They made only the most polite small-talk as he set it up and, with gloves, removed the CD from the case and inserted it into the tray. Grace wrapped her arms around herself and paced back and forth, afraid to look, unable to look away. 
“It’s probably nothing,” she said to herself as much as to him. “I’m probably wasting your time, it’s just some disgruntled admin assistant or something…”
Alan didn’t have anything to say to that except, “Nothing is ever a waste of my time.” Because your family pays well, he didn’t need to say. Yes she’d wanted financial independence from her family, but legal counsel was one thing she let them fund, so sue me. Except don’t, please….
“It looks like there’s a video file,” Alan said, opening the CD. The filename was automated, generic. He double-clicked to pull it up and Grace held her breath, bracing herself for something. Perhaps her imagination was running away with her –this was very impractical, yes, when she usually prided herself on being a practical person– but her dad and Alan had her fearing the worst now. Kidnapping, torture, murder. At least a secret meeting discussing some money-laundering scheme that was going to land her in court for weeks defending her oblivious innocence as Tim’s spouse. I’m sorry, your honor, I’m a fool but I’m innocent.
“Let’s see,” Alan said and hit play.
And this was how Grace wound up watching a video of her husband fucking another woman while standing next to her father’s lawyer. 
Grace’s mouth hung open. Somehow she was shocked, even when the deepest part of her brain taunted her for being so surprised. It was recent; she saw the blue flower arrangement on the kitchen counter without even needing a time stamp. She didn’t recognize the woman, but she was young and beautiful and not Grace.
“I can stop the video,” Alan murmured, reaching forward but Grace brushed his hand away. She stared, eyes glued to the screen as her heart shattered. Or her mind. Something inside of her shattered.
Every criticism, every fight, every distracted dinner and missed date and complete lack of concern for anything she cared about flew in her face now. She’d loved Tim to distraction, even when he was unfair, even when he was unkind, even when he’d been a nobody before. And now he was doing this behind her back, as if she was nothing to him! In their own home! On her own fucking kitchen counter?! 
She wanted to scream. She wanted to sob. But her upbringing trained her better than that. She turned a tight-lipped grimace to Alan and said,
“It turns out this is a private affair.” Affair. Terrible choice of words.
“Indeed,” Alan nodded. “I can provide legal counsel however you’d like to proceed.”
“For now I just need discretion…” How would she like to proceed…. Grace couldn’t fucking answer that! She still was having a hard time processing that Tim was fucking around on her. Tim! Tim, who was so focused on work and deals and dollar signs that he barely had time for her anymore, much less…. Except apparently he did!
“What would you like me to say to your father?” Alan prodded. 
Grace grimaced. There was no good answer. Her father paid Alan’s bills but he was here as her legal counsel. But if Alan gave her father a non-answer, he’d be calling her up for direct answers within minutes.
“I’ll call him,” she said, just to buy herself time. What was she going to say? It’s a private matter between Tim and I. Might as well put up a sign on the front lawn that her husband was cheating on her. And to admit that to her family! She couldn’t. There were exactly zero divorces in her family. If there had ever been infidelity, she sure didn’t know about it. A marriage was for life, and it was her job to make this marriage worked, even in the face of infidelity, especially after she’d defended this relationship so hard in the face of her family’s early concerns. God, they were going to think she was worse than an idiot!
“Very well.” Alan packed the CD back into the jewel case to leave with her, took his laptop, and bid her good day. With another offer to provide whatever help she needed, he was gone.
Grace stood alone in her kitchen and tried to make sense of this. Tim cheating. Someone filming it from within her property. Someone sending it for her to find. Some explanation she needed to give her father. A very painful conversation she needed to have with Tim without any understanding yet of what she wanted to have happen. Did she want him to grovel and apologize? Did she want the shame of being divorced and cheated on? What would her family say if she left? What would her family say if she stayed?
Grace sank down to the mat in front of the sink and tried to cry but she just felt numb. This couldn’t be real. She’d so carefully managed her life up until now. She had thought Tim was right there in the seat next to her. What was happening?!
In a brief moment of gumption, Grace called her dad and, before he could say a word, blurted out, “It turns out it’s a private matter between Tim and I. I’d rather not talk about it yet. Please don’t tell anyone else yet.” It was an impossible thing to ask, but she decided she’d try. 
A pause had her heart in her throat. She felt like so much hung in the balance: would her father defend her dignity or her marriage?
“Why don’t you and Tim come for a visit? I’d like to spend an afternoon golfing with him, man to man.”
Her marriage.
Grace said a quick goodbye before any pained sobs could escape, let her face drop to her bent knees, and tried to squeeze the tears back in. Like everything else in her life, it seemed, she failed.
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The days were long this week in a way Jungkook didn’t like, but he’d picked up the extra lifeguarding hours because he needed the money. Haewon needed textbooks and that shit was expensive so he’d told her to ask him instead of their parents and then demanded to know why she wanted to be a lawyer so bad anyway. Political Science. Boring as fuck, he couldn’t believe how much money they were paying for her to be a leech. She always screeched at him when he teased her about it. He just wanted to keep her humble, that’s why he teased.
It had been hot as balls on the beach that morning and he’d been stuck near the wharf which sucked swamp ass because you had to actually do stuff: namely, chase people away when they swam too close to the pillars. Which everyone wanted to do, because there was shade, and just blowing your whistle wasn’t enough because suddenly people “couldn’t hear you” and “didn’t know the whistle meant they were doing something wrong.” So you had to drag your ass all the way over to yell at them, and then by the time you got back up to your chair, some other fucker was doing the same thing. Didn’t they look at the surf and the giant immovable objects and realize how easily the ocean could bash their puny brains out?! But if there was anything Jungkook had learned about tourists and teenagers both, it was that they had poor respect for the ocean. You had to respect the ocean. She was older and more powerful than you. Unconcerned with whether you lived or died. Sexy of her but annoying for lifeguards. 
He only had two pool cleans on his schedule today, which meant an easier afternoon before band practice tonight, so he should still have energy to fight with Taro about how they shouldn’t add more 00s rock to their regular set just because they’d managed to come in second place in that competition. The first pool was an easy job, and the second was the one he both looked forward to and dreaded the most: The Birches. 
This time last week, he’d chickened out dropping the envelope off, only to go back and do it later that day when the guilt ate at him. Now he wished he’d waited until the end of the season in two weeks so he wouldn’t have to see them again for a while; while most people kept their heated pools running year-round here, the Birches closed theirs at the end of summer so he was almost free of them. He’d never understood why. It was heated and this was southern Cali. He’d be swimming in that baby 365 days a year. 
But he’d dropped the envelope and sprinted away and today would be the first opportunity to see if the bomb he dropped had done any damage. It gave him a nervous twitch, because what if he’d done the wrong thing? What if they knew it was him? 
What if he was going to get arrested as soon as he showed up?!
Still he went, because he wasn’t someone to turn away from an unpleasant task, no matter how scary. And he needed to get paid. Maybe nobody would be there again, like last week…
The garage was closed but he glimpsed three cars through the windows after he’d parked in the driveway –Mr. Birch hated that. Well Jungkook hated douchebags who cheated on their wives. And walking further to get to the pool than he had to after lifeguarding all morning. 
The missing car was Mr. Birch’s. Jungkook felt his skin tingle but ignored it, uninterested in nerves. Instead he prepared himself to knock on the back door, per usual, so Mrs. Birch would know he was here and unfortunately not accidentally walk out in revealing clothing–
Except Mrs. Birch was in the pool. In the pool. Jungkook froze like a bank burglar just inside the pool gate as her faked-blonde head surfaced from the water. Her eyes remained closed as she pushed her hair back, water droplets spraying as she panted for breath, emphasizing her collarbones and long neck. 
Fuck. Fuck! Red alert! 
Jungkook just stared as she grabbed the edge of the pool to hold herself steady as she swiped the water from her face. She looked tired, out of breath, like she’d been swimming hard for a while, not just lounging around for a dip.
Is she the swimmer then? Jungkook didn’t find it surprising at all to learn this about her but it made him happy, like this somehow confirmed she was the good person he’d always thought she was. Of course she was the swimmer. They both loved the water. And damn did she look good doing it, even just bobbing there as she pushed her hair back from her shoulders. 
White bathing suit.
Jesus Christ, Jungkook was going to hit the deck. His brain attempted to save him without thinking through the consequences: he cleared his throat. It was rude. It was out of line. It wasn’t at all what he’d meant to do but someone had pulled the fire alarm in his head and that was the result. 
Mrs. Birch spun quickly to face him, clearly started, and gasped, “Oh! Shit!”
The fantasy that hadn’t even begun to spin yet –that she had done this on purpose for him– died in its cradle. 
“I’m so sorry, is it– are you early?” she asked. Her bare face looked at him with such surprise and alarm that he actually felt too bad to ogle her the way he wanted to. 
“Ah, um… I don’t… think so,” he mumbled. Actually he was later than usual but he didn’t want to argue with her. “I can come back later?” He couldn’t, it was already late afternoon. Well, he could. He would! If she wanted him to.
“No no, I’m sorry, let me get out of your way.” 
He watched with a semi he’d deny to his grave as she gracefully swam to the ladder and pulled herself up like a fucking centerfold. It was a one piece, he realized with no disappointment because the cutouts at the side showed smooth waist and water streamed down her bare shoulderblades and exposed back– but fuck he couldn’t tell if the tattoo was there or not, the bottom rose too high over her ass. She almost caught him staring when she turned to wrap the towel she’d set on the lounge chair, except his brain had leapt immediately to nipple patrol–
Fuck! He didn’t get a good look as his brain caught up with his stare and he immediately averted his eyes, leaving her to cover herself with the towel not under his blown-out gaze. Shit! He was around hot chicks in bathings suits all the time! Why now did his brain decide to run away….
“I completely lost track of time. Um…” She paused and then gestured to the pool with one hand as if to tell him to carry on, then fled into the house.
Jungkook just stood there for a moment. He’d never seen Mrs. Birch –or anyone for that matter– in the pool before, though legend said they used it, at least for parties sometimes. He felt a sense of pride now to know she really did, and that she looked so damn good in it. He sauntered to the edge to survey his work and felt his satisfaction grow further at the confirmation that he kept this pool in good shape. It looked great right now. He wouldn’t have to do much today, clean the filters, maybe nothing else. Now he felt bad to have chased her off. He could have done that while she kept swimming. He wouldn’t mind. 
Damn. He was going to be thinking about this for a long time.
White bathing suit, huh? 
He grabbed the outdoor trash and some gloves to get to work on the filters, in the hopes he could wrap it up quickly and she could slide right back in. But just as he was finishing up, she reappeared from the house in loose lounge clothes with her hair piled up on top of her head and a bamboo tray with his drink and snacks in her hands.
“You didn’t have to,” he called to her, “I won’t be long today. Pool looks good. Are you using it a lot lately?”
Her head tilted as she set the tray down and asked, “Yes, I’ve been out here every day lately. You can tell?”
It was mostly a lie as he shrugged, “If you’re swimming a lot, the motion sends the detritus into the filters. If no one’s swimming, it sits on top.” Detritus. Haewon had used that word a couple weeks ago and he’d latched onto it because it sounded more professional than shit.
“Oh, that makes sense.”
“Yeah?”
She glanced at the pool and he got the feeling something was bothering her. Which made sense, considering the whole bomb on her doorstep thing, now that his head had cleared enough to remember that. For a moment he thought she knew it was him and was going to ask him about it. Of course she’d figure it out, she seemed smart, or he’d missed something obvious in covering his tracks…
“Well I won’t bother you while you finish.”
“You’re not a bother,” he assured her. Her smile was small and didn’t reach her eyes as she turned to go. He reached for the drink out of obligation, because really he didn’t have anything more to do but he couldn’t just leave the things she’d brought for him sitting there. It felt unappreciative. Also it was free.
She must be hot in the long-sleeved lounge top, although the fabric was thin. The shorts rode high, showing off her thighs as she headed back towards the house. He realized she could see his reflection in the windows and squinted to look out over the pool as if he was lost in thought when she suddenly stopped walking, hand on the door. 
When she turned, arms sliding across to sort of hold herself, Jungkook felt that nervous flutter. Oh no. Busted staring at her ass. Caught. He felt like a kid again, he’d fucked up and it was time to get in trouble. He gave into the urgent need to have his hands full, so he popped open the bag of chips and shoveled a handful into his mouth as she came back.
“Hey,” she said, voice softer and less certain than he’d ever heard her before. Her whole body seemed to curl in on itself miserably, a far cry from the way she’d pushed up from the pool half an hour ago. “I just wanted to ask you– when you were here last time, did you happen to see anyone drop off something? On my front porch?”
His eyes went wide. He chomped down, accidentally getting his cheek too, and cursed as he pressed his finger to the outside of it. She just watched him and he realized with a burst of paranoia how fucking guilty he looked. He sucked at lying. He was terrible at lying, especially when he really was guilty as shit!
“Oh, um…” he fumbled, swallowing the Cheetos down and licking the residue off his finger. He licked his lips nervously, feeling like there was orange powder there too. “From back here? What package?” Playing stupid was better than outright lying, even if saying he’d seen someone else do it would probably do a better job of getting him out of the hot seat. 
She shifted her weight and chewed on the inside of her cheek, exactly where he’d just accidentally bitten on his own, and this similarity sent another wave of guilt rolling over him. He was lying to her. Fuck. Was he any better than Mr. Birch?! Shitothy Smirch? Eh, not his best work for taunting names….
“Ok, if you didn’t see anything… I just thought…” A cascade of emotions crossed her face, so raw and unpoised compared to the normally polite and neutral look she had with him, that Jungkook felt himself chipping further apart. She looked miserable, her face even redder than it had been just getting out of the pool. “Someone left an orange envelope for me,” she said. Fuck, were her eyes watering?!!? “I don’t know who but I’m trying to find out who so I can talk to them about it before–”
“It was me,” he blurted out as he suddenly realized how fucking scary this must be for her. “I left the envelope and I’m really sorry–”
He cut off as Mrs. Birch started to cry. Not quite burst into tears the way he might have expected, but she drew in a shaky breath and the tears he’d suspected managed to sneak out and she pressed her hands to her face.
The impulse to reach for her was hard to deny but he did. Obviously he couldn’t touch this woman he barely knew and whose marriage he’d just exposed as a sham. Plus he had Cheeto dust on his fingers and her clothes were light colored. He’d done enough already! It would be wrong! But it was hard to watch her upset and not comfort her.
“I’m sorry,” he said again in desperation. “I swear I’m not trying be a dick or anything, I just thought you should know.”
He saw her draw air in like strength and push her hands back through her hair, fortifying herself, before demanding with a strong expression that didn’t match the tears on her cheek, “So you filmed it and left an anonymous package on my porch?”
He pulled back, defenses instantly activated. Fuck. Had he misjudged? Had she already known? Did she not care? Fuck! All his friends had told him not to get involved but he’d wanted to be this hero and now he’d really fucked himself.
“I, uh, I thought you should know,” he stammered again. “But maybe you wouldn’t want anyone else to know? I wasn’t going to blackmail him or anything. It’s private for you so I didn’t want to blow up your spot–”
“But obviously someone knew, the person who took the video! And I didn’t know who it was until I watched the security footage and then I thought it was you but–”
“Ah I thought I had my hat on low enough…” he mumbled.
She gave him a baffled look and pointed out, “You still look and walk like yourself– but I didn’t know if I was wrong or who was filming from inside my backyard and it was just really scary…” She trailed off and suddenly sat down on the lounge chair, threatening to upend the bamboo tray. She covered her face again. She took another of those deep bracing breaths.
“Shit, I’m really sorry scared you,” he said, sinking onto the second one to face her.  “I just felt bad about it.”
“Why?! You weren’t fucking someone else in our–” She broke herself off and that spark of rage tossed him around another loop. He didn’t know her, he didn’t know her emotional processes, he didn’t know how she was handling this thing he’d opened her eyes too, and yet he felt unavoidably anchored here with her in this moment. How would he handle this in her shoes? He sure didn’t know, but he thought he’d do an even worse job of holding himself together.
“Yeah but I didn’t mean to scare you. I just thought you should know your husband is a fucking piece of shit.” The words rolled out without any hesitation because he was.
But it brought Mrs. Birch up short. She looked shocked, as if she somehow hadn’t realized what the video showed, and for a moment he forgot she had just referenced it and worried she hadn’t actually watched and he’d just done exactly what he had hoped to avoid: verbally give her this news. Instead she blinked slowly at him. 
He meant to say sorry if that was too blunt but what actually came out was, “You deserve better than that.” He wasn’t actually sorry about that.
“Like you?”
“Wait, what?!” he cried, and jumped to his feet and stepped back so quickly he tripped on the lounger and fell onto his ass, tangled up in his own sandals. “No! I– what? I don’t have anything to do with this! I just–”
“I’m sorry,” she gasped this time, and covered her face again. “Oh god, I’m so sorry, I just…”
He’d scraped his palm in the fall; she didn’t seem to have even noticed that he did something so fucking clownish. Everything was all fucked up right now, she was all fucked up he understood now. That’s why she seemed all over the place.  
“Hey, it’s ok, it’s ok. Look, I swear I don’t have any shitty motives.” He eased back onto the lounger, ignoring the burn of his hand. “I didn’t want to get involved with your personal business. I just couldn’t believe he’d do that to you and I didn’t think you’d believe me if I just told you so I… but yeah, you don’t deserve to be treated like that.”
Her voice was barely a whisper as she lowered her hands, eyes on her knees, “I would have believed you.”
“Damn.” He stopped himself from saying more. But damn that was a bad marriage if you’d believe your poolguy that your husband was banging someone else without even providing proof. She must have already known then that she’d married an asshole. That made him both very happy (Mrs. Birch is not like him!) and very sad for her (Mrs. Birch is married to someone who doesn’t deserve her!)
Watching her struggle to compose herself was distressing. He wished she would just cry it out hard. She’d feel better and he’d feel better too. Instead it was like watching her hurt herself further trying to keep the tears locked in when they so obviously wanted to come out. 
“Who else did you show that video to?” she asked, gaze lifting to meet his. Her words sounded fiercer than her face looked, though her expression was still sort of scary. Sharp. “Or tell about… this?”
“No one,” he said, hoping a quick response would hide that it wasn’t entirely true. “Who would I tell? Why? I don’t even like knowing about it and I don’t know anyone who knows you–”
“You didn’t like upload it to the internet or– Reddit or something–”
“Fuck, no.” The goodwill he’d felt after she had said she’d have believed him evaporated and he felt as scummy as her cheating husband. “I don’t post that kind of shit anyway but even– I would never do that to you. Why would I do that–”
“I don’t know, for money, for clout, for revenge because Tim has been rude to you–”
Jungkook pushed to his feet as the heat rose in his cheeks, tingling up his neck. Apparently she’d believe him that her husband was cheating but not his own promise that he wasn’t blackmailing anyone. That she thought so lowly of him was the bullet through every last fantasy he’d harbored. No one had ever thought so badly of him as Mrs. Birch apparently did. Except maybe Mr. Birch.
“I said I wasn’t blackmailing,” Jungkook grumbled and turned to go because there was nothing else to say here.
Her hand suddenly on his arm stopped him dead in his tracks; she had leapt up and caught him quickly.
“No, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to insult you, it’s just… you wouldn’t be the first person who realized they could use something like this against my family.”
“Your family?” He made a face, ignoring the hiccup in his chest at her fingers curled against his arm. Just as quickly she let go. “I don’t know anything about your family and I don’t care. I just wanted to let you know in case you didn’t, that’s it.”
It was like she hadn’t heard a word he said and continued, “And just think about it from my perspective. This is a private matter that I want to handle privately.”
“Well I’m not telling anyone,” he huffed, frustrated by the ongoing accusations.
“Do you still have the video? Will you delete it in front of me?”
“I already deleted it,” he said, but still fished out his phone. “You think I wanted that on my phone? It’s in my trash.”
“Yeah but will you permanently delete it? Please? I’m sorry I insulted you, I’m just… stressed right now.”
He paused, phone unlocked, showing a picture of the beach behind his apps. It softened the edge of her accusation to be reminded that the inciting incident of all of this was learning that her husband was cheating on her and the pool tech knew. That sucked. From her perspective, if he was in her shoes, he’d be hurt and distrustful too. She was just upset. 
“I get it,” he told her. “No problem, you can watch me permanently delete it.” He opened up the ‘Recently Deleted’ folder on his phone as she leaned in to look, only for his stomach to cramp as he discovered just how many deleted selfies filled the rows ahead of the video. No dick pics thank fuck but still, it was embarrassing for her to see three rows of him posing in the bathroom without a shirt –he’d been trying to get a good one for his dating profile, ok?--, and he tried to cover them subtly with his fingers as he quickly tapped the video and then ‘Permanently Delete’ before it could begin to play. Too late did he realize how close she was standing, and that she smelled like something fresh and clean and mildly floral, and that her loose top had slid down her shoulder.
She pulled away and crossed her arms and nodded as she said, “Thank you.” She must have seen the photos but didn’t give any sign of it.
“Yeah, no problem.”
“I mean for telling me, too. I know it’s… awkward. It’s easier to mind your own business when it’s something uncomfortable but I’m glad that I know now. So thank you for telling me but now please forget that you know.”
“Yeah of course, I don’t know anything. I hope you get to keep your house in the divorce and I’ll keep the pool looking great.” He meant it as a joke, kind of. He was serious about it, but he hoped the tone shift could free them both from this moment that was even beyond awkward. Sustained emotionality wore him out. Guarding the wharf was easier than this for sure.
“I don’t know what I’m doing yet,” she said with utmost seriousness, with a shake of her head as if the idea was an annoying fly buzzing in her ear.
“Uh… what? How can you not know? The guy’s cheating on you, so leave his ass and wring him dry in the divorce,” he scoffed. As if he knew all about it! But it was just such an obvious next step, he couldn’t fathom she would do anything else. Good riddance to the fuckwad!
The effect on her was immediate: her hands dropped and she leaned away and got this scowl on her face that would have been sexy as hell if she hadn’t been almost defending that guy.
“It’s not that simple.”
“It is that simple.”
“It’s not. Marriage is complicated, especially one like ours, it’s not always easy and–”
“Well he pissed on that marriage when he started fucking other people, didn’t he?”
“How dare you?” The sexiness evaporated from her glare as it hardened, as his own words caught up to him.
“Fuck, sorry, I know it’s not my business–” He held his hands up, choosing to apologize even though in his gut he wanted to say more. See? He was bad at this! He really just wanted to comfort her and instead he was fucking it up because he just couldn’t stand to hear her insist there was anything salvageable about that wad of snot.
“You’re right, it’s not. Thank you for telling me about what’s going on but that’s where your judgment ends. You don’t know anything about us or our life or–”
“You’re right, I don’t. I do know he’s a piece of shit though and that you deserve better.”
“And how many times have you been married, since you’re such an expert on marital conflict–”
“Zero times,” he answered. “But when I do get married, I sure won’t treat my wife the way that asshole treats you. You’ve been apologizing for his shit since I started cleaning your pool and I may be just the pool guy but I see all kinds of people and I know a piece of shit when I see one. Whatever you think is worth staying married to him for, you’re wrong. That’s all I know. So whatever, you can report me to my boss and I can have someone else come clean your pool now or whatever but yeah, you’re better off without him.”
“Well thank you for not leaving that sage wisdom in a cryptic package on my doorstep this time,” she snapped. 
Jungkook knew he’d gone too far. He’d stepped completely into their bullshit. He couldn’t help it! He was typically slow to erupt but good luck once he got going, and he was going now, because this was the 21st century and a woman didn’t need to stay with a fucker like that for anything! And to stand there and have her possibly saying thanks for telling me but I’m going to stay with him, I don’t mind him treating me like gum on his shoe– how was he supposed to silently endorse that! 
He was too worked up to think of anything to say back so he just said, “Yeah, you’re welcome. You deserve better.” It was a stupid thing to sound so angry saying. He’d think of something better int he shower later. 
“Why, because I give you snacks while you clean our pool? You don’t know anything about me or what kind of person I am, JK. Maybe I did deserve this.”
“No way.”
“But you don’t know!”
If he hadn’t already known it in his gut, he knew it was true now, as the anger on her face wavered and he saw, just for one brief moment, raw grief. For one moment she had that look that in the movies makes a guy take up his sword and march off to war or whatever. She looked like a vulnerable, hurting person, not some rich caricature of a human, and that was exactly why he had stepped into this so far and couldn’t even regret it even if he knew he was making an ass of himself.
Just as quickly it was mostly gone, all except a soft, downward turn of her mouth. She had color on her lips which struck Jungkook as a little strange to have put on after the pool but he supposed Mrs. Birch wanted to always be put together. It was not a helpful train of thought –I could undo her combined with but she’s so sad right now and trying to hide it, isn’t she?-- and he looked away. He didn’t know what else to say. He wasn’t used to this kind of dramatic exchange. He didn’t have stamina for it. Usually if he was fighting with a woman he just let her say her peace and then she left and that was the end, there were only a few times he really got into it.
But telling Mrs. Birch she ought to divorce her husband was worth it.
“I don’t even know what I’m saying anymore,” she admitted with a deep, tired sigh. “I need to go. Thank you for bringing all of this to my attention, but please, forget everything.”
“You got it, boss,” he mumbled. It was awkward. He felt deflated now.
She wasn’t going to leave her husband. That’s what he’d just learned. And the idea that a good woman would stay with a shitty man just flooded him with despair. Romance was dead, marriage was a sham, and there was no justice. His dad had divorced his mom and there were even kids involved, so what did Mrs. Birch think made it so impossible for her? But he didn’t feel like saying that to her now. He felt like he’d just burned what minor threads had connected them, and maybe it had been necessary in order for her to know about her husband, but selfishly he wondered now if it had been worth it. If she wasn’t even going to leave him, maybe she wished Jungkook had just kept his mouth shut. Maybe he should have.
“JK, I…”
He’d never know what she was going to say because after a grimace rolled across her face, she turned and went inside. Leaving him to finish the job he was paid to do, cleaning the fucking pool.
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Chapter One | Masterlist | Chapter Three
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dawnagustd · 2 years
Text
encore || jhs (18+)
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Part of the Jack N’ Jill Series: Encore | Danger! | Party Time 
⇢ Drabbles: Kink Hours Drabble
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⤏ title: Encore ⤏ pairing: lead rapper!hoseok x drummer!female reader ⤏ genre: angst | smut | rock band au | rich kid!reader | bad boy!hoseok | friends to fwb | early 2000s settings ⤏ summary: The show's over, but you’re still begging for more. ⤏ rating: 18+ ⇢ word count: 5.1k ⤏ warnings: mentions violence (a punch) | mentions injuries & caring for them | light pining | sexual tension | dry humping | first time sex | virgin!reader | protected sex | pet names (i clench every time he calls her “ma”) | spit kink | choking (yes, with the gloves on) | hair tugging and you know why | oral sex (pussy eating) | there’s Hoseok and then there’s Jay both are wild if you ask me | power play dynamics | light dom/sub dynamics | cum shots | cum play | semi public sex | cervix touching | rough sex | pussy sniffing/worshiping | dirty talk | corruption kink | and yes the camera will make an appearance in the name of science | aftercare | crying | degradation | breast play | female masturbation | light manhandling...let me know if I missed anything ⤏ a/n: And behold !! lol. This is what theee performance made me do. Please forgive me, this isn’t my best work. I wrote some of this why dealing with COVID. But thank you @agustdealer​ for beta reading for me so last minute. Words can’t describe how much I appreciate it. I hope y’all enjoy it.
⤏ playlist: Mesmerize by Ja Rule & Ashanti(I’ve decided that this is one of their theme songs) | What If by J-Hope | When I See U by Fantasia | Naughty Girl Remix by Beyoncé ft. Lil Flip
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Story Guide: This installment takes place before Danger! and Party Time. However, it can probably be read out of order or as a standalone if you wish to read that way.
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“Keep your hand flat. I’m almost done,” you stress as you secure the bandage with some tape.
It’s not the best work, but you had limited supplies in the band’s first aid kit. If you’d known it was this scarce, you would have stocked it up with supplies. You can never be too careful when it comes to safety.
“Why did you hit him anyway?”
Hoseok stares straight ahead, zoned out with his left knee bouncing up and down. A tick of his that only appears when he’s angry or anxious.
You call his name and tap his arm, snapping him out of it and regaining his attention.
“Hm?” he hums.
With an eye roll, you repeat yourself. 
“I was talking about Viper. Why’d you hit him in the first place?” you ask, running your thumb over the dressing to see if it’s sturdy enough to last through the performance. He winces when you come in contact with his knuckle. “Sorry.”
“You’re good. And it’s just some bullshit. Don’t worry about it,” he insists.
But you aren’t dumb.
“It was about me, wasn’t it?”
When Hoseok’s eyes widen, you get your answer.
“Hey, it’s nothing,” he lies.
You turn away from him, looking at your nails to distract yourself from the ugly truth of your presence here. They’ll never like you, so why even try?
“Maybe I should stop coming around,” you suggest. “This isn’t worth it.”
He’s behind you before you can even finish speaking, turning you around so he can see your face.
“Stop that, all right. I asked you to be here, and they have to accept that.”
You nod, but you still aren’t feeling any better about it. You don’t care much about what people think, but you don’t want friends fighting over you. It makes you feel so shitty.
“Look at me,” he requests, then uses his finger to tilt your chin up. In moments like this, you must remind yourself to take a step back. Feeding into any thoughts of Hoseok being more than a friend is dangerous, and you know you shouldn’t do it. “I want you around. That’s all that should matter—”
The door bursts open, revealing the band’s bass player, Ty.
“Jay, we got a problem.”
The look on his face indicates that something is wrong.
Hoseok scoffs. “We,” he points between himself and the man standing at the door, “sure do.”
“Uhh, sorry, bro. But there really is a huge problem,” he informs.
“Okay, spit it out. I don’t have all night.” Hoseok’s annoyance has him all tensed up, and you absentmindedly place your hand on his back, relieving some of the pressure momentarily.
Ty gazes at the site with curious eyes but thankfully asks no questions because you have no explanation on why you did it or why he actually relaxed under your touch.
“Well, um…Viper just quit, and we’ve got ten minutes until showtime,” Ty finally confesses.
Hoseok doesn’t bat an eye. However, your stomach drops to the floor. This isn’t good. Now you’ll definitely be kicked out of the circle. Viper’s the band’s drummer. They can’t perform without him.
You’re about to open your mouth to offer an apology and to plead with Hoseok to allow you to speak with Viper, but he speaks up before you can even find the words.
“Okay,” he shrugs. “Fuck him. Go check the equipment and make sure the bastard didn’t take anything. I’ll be out there in a second.”
Ty stands there in shock, his expression looking similar to yours. When he doesn’t move, Hoseok loses his patience. 
“Dude, why are you still standing here?” His arms stretch out with an aggravated huff. “Go!”
The man scrambles out of there before Hoseok can throw another punch, and you stand in utter disbelief. How is he not upset? And how is he going to put on a show without a drummer?
Although, your answer comes sooner than later.
“You got your sticks, right?” he asks while grabbing his black leather gloves.
You nod.
“Yeah, always,” you confirm. “Why?”
The moment Hoseok throws you a smirk, your knees become weak, though you aren’t swooned for long.
“It’s time to use them,” he says, looking in the mirror to fluff out his hair. “Let’s go.”
But instead of following him, you stand in the same spot, babbling any excuse that comes to mind. Hoseok walks over to you and starts pulling you towards the door.
“I-I can’t go out there!... I don’t have an outfit…What if I mess up?... My braces are still on!”
Hoseok silences you by placing his finger on your lips. He chuckles, finding your panic amusing.
“First of all, you look hot. Second, you were at my place every day while I was writing these songs,” he tells you. “I wouldn’t ask you if I didn’t know you could do it.”
“But—”
“You’re gonna be fine, ma. Don’t worry,” he assures, giving you those soft eyes that he knows will leave you a mess. “Just keep your attention on me, and you’ll never miss a beat.”
You have no idea what that means, but it has your pussy leaking like a waterfall. Your thoughts are clouded by whatever delusional haze that has come over you as you allow yourself to think this man is flirting with you. You agree before you can change your mind.
“All right, I guess I’ll give it a try,” you sigh. “I’ll get my stuff and meet you on stage.”
“Yes,” he triumphs briefly and wastes no time making his way to the stage. 
However, you call his name before he departs.
“You aren’t going to wear your hat?” You point to the jester cap on the “dressing room” couch.
“Nah, it’s too hot. Don’t be too long, babe.”
And then he’s gone, leaving you with your mouth open and your legs wobbling. 
Hoseok hasn’t had a haircut in over a month. How in the hell are you supposed to survive when he's out there looking like the three letters of sin?
“I’ll try,” you mumble as you stare at the empty hallway. 
You stand there until you hear them calling your name, and then you have no choice but to go out there and face your fears—or your desires, you should say.
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“I have to give it to you, _____,” Yoongi compliments. “I’ve been playing with these guys for years, and I don’t think Viper could ever capture your stage presence.”
Ty chimes in. “Shit, tell me about it. Did you see those chicks on the front row telling Jay to move so they can throw her some kisses? That was hot, and I laughed my ass off.”
Both of them retell the events of the show, but you can’t find yourself cheering. You were initially nervous, but once the music started and the crowd’s applause vibrated the stage, you felt an unexplainable rush that took over your body.
Now you’re just worried if it was too much. You’re afraid you’ve overstepped, and Hoseok may be angry with you. You’ve been avoiding him since you got off the stage, but you know you can’t run forever.
“Hey, _____. Jay wants you to come backstage when you get a chance,” one of his groupies calls from the doorway of the entertainment hall. 
“Okay. Did he say why?” you ask out of curiosity.
“I’m not a messenger. Ask him yourself.”
Her attitude rubs you wrong, and it makes your eye twitch. You take a deep breath to calm yourself as she disappears into the corridor.
“We’ll catch you later. Better see what he wants,” Yoongi teases, and you give him the best smile you can muster up.
Knowing Hoseok is waiting for you, you don’t stall. You make your way towards the room you were in earlier with a fast-beating heart.
The door is cracked, but you still knock before you enter. Your hand searches for the light switch as you close the door behind you, but a force traps you against the wall before you can do so.
Even in the poorly lit room, you can make out Hoseok’s handsome features and curly hair. His body is pressed against yours, causing you to tense up for a brief moment.
“Shit, you scared me,” you squeak, eyes wide. “Is something wrong?”
“Nope. I’m just a little jealous.” His smile is genuine but sinister.
You take a gulp before you answer, swallowing back a feeling you know you shouldn’t feel when he’s this close to you.
“Jealous of what?”
“You know how you behaved out there. Don’t play with me,” he scoffs, his smirk still evident.
“Oh. Sorry about that.”
“Sorry? For what?” he asks.
“I guess for getting too wild. I know that’s your thing.”
His head shakes, and his hair covers his dark eyes. You plant your hands on the wall behind you to support your trembling legs. A part of you wishes he’ll create some space between you.
“Am I making you uncomfortable or something?” Hoseok quizzes.
“What?! I mean, no. Of course not,” you laugh nervously.
He leans closer, and the smell of him invades your nostrils. You instantly become drunk off of him just standing there, inhaling his scent.
“I was about to say,” he whispers in your ear. “You didn’t seem shy earlier.”
“What do you mean?” 
You hold a breath, waiting for him to back off, but he never does.
“When you were checking me out,” he reveals, and you nearly sink to the floor. “You were peering over, trying to see me. They told me, you know.”
“Um…”
You have no argument. There’s nothing you can say because it’s true.
The growling, the dick grabbing, his wet fucking hair. You couldn’t catch a break. Then to make matters worse, he started thrusting the air. You couldn’t see him clearly since his back was facing you, but the reaction from the crowd told you everything. You craved to see more, but unfortunately, your position prevented you from doing so.
“If you wanted me to show you some more, all you had to do was ask,” he informs, using his hips to grind against you.
Your mouth falls open slightly, but nothing comes out. There are no words to describe the thoughts going through your head. Your body is tempted to join him, but thankfully he laughs before you can give in.
“I’m just fucking with you,” he chuckles. “You did good, ma. I’m proud of you. That energy was incredible.”
After you give him a tight smile, he continues.
“The position is yours if you want it.”
“Yeah, of course I do,” you answer truthfully, and he congratulates you.
You release a sigh when he withdraws, and it doesn’t go unnoticed. 
“What’s up with you?” he asks immediately.
Fuck.
“Nothing,” you lie.
“Really?” 
He walks over to you again and tries to read your expression. His fingers poke at your sides playfully to get a reaction.
“Yeah, I’m fine. Move, please,” you groan, trying to walk around him, but he grabs your waist.
It’s not uncommon for you two to be touchy when no one’s around, but you don’t trust yourself tonight. You might react inappropriately and can’t handle that kind of embarrassment.
“Can you stop it?” You push him away, and the game changes; he’s no longer his playful self.
Without another word, he spins you around and corners you once again. Your back hits the wall with a small thud, but it's only because the back of his hands block the impact. You stare at him like a deer in headlights, knowing that you’re in deep shit.
If there’s one thing you know about Hoseok, he’ll draw the truth out of you.
“Sorry, but something’s wrong,” he tries again. He whispers, “Is it girl stuff?”
You sigh defeatedly.
“Something like that,” you admit.
The ridges on Hoseok’s face become more defined as he tries to decipher what that could mean.
“It’s a guy, huh?”
Your reaction proves your guilt. “What?! No!”
“A girl?”
“Uhh…”
“You can tell me, you know?” he assures, and you crack at the sight of the softness within his eyes. Most of the time, he’s rough around the edges, but he’s caring when he needs to be.
“Yeah, it’s a guy,” you confess.
His expression is unreadable, but still, you feel a bit of disapproval radiating from his body.
“So, you’re his now? And I’m not allowed to touch you?” he concludes.
“Wha–No, Jay. I swear that’s not it.”
“Then what is it?”
“It’s you,” you blurt out, slapping your hand over your mouth.
Hoseok goes from pissed to shocked, and you quickly try to escape the embarrassing moment you’ve created for yourself. Why couldn’t you just have kept your mouth shut?
“Wait a minute.” He takes a step back but holds up his hand to stop you. “You need to explain what you mean by that. I can get someone else if you don’t want to talk to me.”
“It’s nothing like that. I promise,” you assure.
“Okay, I figured. But still, what’s up?”
“It doesn’t matter. I just need to go. It’s late.”
But he doesn’t move.
“Where are you going?” he questions. “Your parents letting you in at this hour?”
When you got off stage earlier, you already had 23 missed calls. He should already know the answer to that question.
“No, but I don’t think I can come over to yours either,” you inform. His head tilts, curiosity probably flooding his thoughts. “I’m not myself tonight, and I don’t want to say or do anything stupid.”
“Like…?”
You shrug your shoulders.
“Tell you the things I think about you probably? I’ve already slipped up once.”
You lower your head, but he tells you to look at him.
“So you’re trying to tell me that you like me or something?” he quizzes, searching your face for answers. “You know the rules, right?”
You nod. “Members can’t date each other, and that includes fucking.”
“So you know that nothing can happen, right? I’d be a hypocrite.”
“I’m sorry. I don’t know how it happened, but I swear it was never my intention. I know how much the band means to you, and it means a lot to me too, and—”
“Shh,” he whispers, bring a finger to his mouth. He comes closer and leans down, bringing his face only an inch away from yours. Your breath hitches as soon as your eyes meet, and you’re left wondering what will happen next. “This is our secret, okay?”
After you agree, the softest kiss is placed on your lips. Your eyelids flutter shut, and your palms find his chest to ground yourself. His hands return to your waist, but as the kiss deepens and the moment heats up, he wraps his arms around you and pulls you closer.
A soft moan emits from your throat when he slips his tongue inside your mouth, exploring aimlessly and becoming greedier as the seconds pass.
You start to feel more confident and begin run your hands over his body, noting how firm he is with each gentle squeeze. Your mind is left jumbled and hazy by the time his lips abandon yours. A whine threatens to escape, but you catch it at the last second.
When your eyes open, you stare at each other as you process the intensity of the minute-long moment shared between you. Heat creeps up your neck because, despite the many kisses you’ve shared with others while making out, this is the first time you’ve felt this overcome with lust from the small act alone.
Your mind races with many thoughts because you aren’t sure of what Hoseok is thinking until he speaks.
“I’m probably going to regret this…” he says before hooking his hand behind your thigh. He lifts your leg and then taps the other one. “But, come here.”
You hop in his arms, and he carries you across the room to a large wooden table.
He lays you on top of it and slips his hand under your skirt, snatching off your panties in one swift motion. You prop yourself up on your elbows and use your foot to push yourself back. Once both feet are on the table, he spreads your legs and drops to his knees. 
Hoseok curses when your pussy is revealed to him, and he brings his face in close proximity. He inhales deeply as his nose travels along your inner thigh and eventually finds itself against your cunt. He breathes in your scent with a satisfied hum, like he’s been dying to smell you forever.
“You have no idea how badly I’ve wanted to taste this pussy,” he comments, giving your clit tiny kitten licks. “Fuck, you’re gonna be crying when I’m done.”
“What–Oh, shit!”
His tongue flattens and licks up your slit, making you tremble in his grasp. The first intrusion is breathtaking and unlike anything you’ve ever felt. Hoseok does not show any fear when he dives into your center and doesn’t hold back any thought that runs through his mind.
He laps up your juices and makes out with your pussy as feverishly as he did your lips. Your hands form fists as you fight through the sensitivity.
“So fucking sweet,” he moans against your heat. “You taste so fucking good.”
“Please.” The plea erupts from your throat without much effort, without even knowing what you’re asking for. However, Hoseok seems to know what it is you need.
“Come on my tongue. I don’t mind.”
He sucks in your clit between his lips and your back arches. The volume of your voice leaves your ears ringing, not even caring if someone outside of the room could hear you. The tears Hoseok promised begin to roll down your cheeks as the first real orgasm of your life takes over your body.
Your limbs stiffen when he nibbles on your sensitive bundle of nerves and robs you of the only breath that remains in your lungs.
“Be as loud as you want, baby. It’s just us.”
He finishes by cleaning up your arousal, licking you into oversensitivity while your body squirms to get out of his hold. “Don’t run from me,” he tells you, and you’re forced to lay there while being drained of all your energy.
You’re still whimpering when he makes his way up your body, kissing you and allowing you to taste yourself on his lips. He chuckles when you moan into his mouth.
“Fuck, this is a bad idea,” he says after he pulls away. He mumbles while pondering and trying to determine if it is worth the risk. If you’re worth the risk.
The fate of the entire band lies in his hands, and every decision he makes is crucial to its existence.
“You don’t have to. I would understand if you didn’t.”
“What if I think you look too good to resist?” he asks. A smile cannot help but spread on your face, knowing that your feeling for him is mutual.
Feeling bold, your hands move up his shoulders, and your fingers entangle in his curly wet strands. You catch on to your mistake and withdraw quickly. Hoseok doesn’t like when people touch his hair. You vividly remember how he kicked everyone out when some girl tried to run her fingers through it once.
“I’m so sorry,” you apologize. “I got carried away.”
His response is not one you expect. “You’re good, ma.”
Goosebumps raise on your skin as his glove-clad hands travel up your thighs, pausing once they reach your skirt. He tugs at it gently while looking at you lying beneath him.
“You can touch wherever you want,” he permits.
As he leaves a kiss on your cheek, you relish in the silkiness of his locks. Quickly you get drunk from his touch and slip into a lust-induced trance. Hoseok’s lips travel lower, entering dangerous territory—drawing a sound from you that only your bedroom walls have heard.
“Jay…”
He freezes.
Your mind begins to scramble for excuses, but fortunately, you won’t need them.
“Don’t moan my name like that unless you’re trying to get fucked for real,” he warns you.
Curiosity leaves you practically begging to discover what it is he wishes to keep hidden.
“What if I do?... What if I want you like that?” he rests his forehead on yours to see your face while you speak.
“You don’t know what you’re asking for,” he chuckles.
“How will I ever know if you won’t show me?”
“I shouldn’t, though.”
“Why not?” you ask him.
“You know why.”
“But you have my permission, and I don’t expect you to be my boyfriend afterward,” you assure, but he doesn’t say anything until you beg. “Please?... You can’t take me this far just to leave me hanging.”
“Fuck,” he curses. “That’s not fair.”
“But doubting me is?”
Hoseok breaks with a heavy sigh.
“Well, let me take you back to my place first, okay?” he suggests, gathering your skirt in his hands. “I wanna do it the right way.”
You notice how he reluctantly tries to pull it down but is torn between being patient or feeding into his desire. You hope that he’ll give into it with some encouragement.
“Hoseok, I can’t wait that long.” You wrap your legs around his waist, bucking into his crotch and taunting him carelessly. He grips the fabric a little tight after you gently tug on his hair.
“Babe…”
“I want you,” you whisper. “Now.”
“Then you have me, baby.” 
His hands move to your shirt and make hasty movements to get it over your head. He doesn’t stop there because your bra is next to go, but he pauses before he rips it off you.
“You aren’t shy, are you?”
You take it off yourself, showing him all of your glory. The man has had his face buried in your cunt for nearly five minutes—shame no longer exists.
“Nope,” you reply.
“So fucking hot,” he says, spreading your legs wide. “But so delicate and sweet.”
His hand runs along your inner thigh while he digs inside his back pocket, pulling out his wallet. He opens it and explores its compartments before pulling out a condom.
“Are you nervous?” he asks you, tearing the foil with his teeth.
“Yeah, but I’ll be okay.”
“Eager, are we?” he teases.
“Shut up,” you retort. Your eyes expand when he grabs your face, making you look at him.
“Make me.”
His fingers squish your cheeks together while he places the condom between his lips and unzips his pants with the other hand. He takes it and pumps his cock as he rolls it on, preparing himself for the warmth that awaits him.
When he pulls you closer, and the tip of his dick touches your heat, you realize that it’s really about to happen, and all the stories you’ve heard about the first time start to invade your mind.
“You sure you want to, right?”
You take a deep breath to calm yourself and reply. “Yeah.”
He nods, then brings his cock to your entrance.
“Don’t let me hurt you,” he tells you, probing the thin barrier that blocks his entry. “Just relax.” 
You can only shake your head in understanding because words are impossible to form right now.
You start clawing at his back, trying to hold onto something and cope with the overwhelming fullness. You try to speak, but the intrusion leaves you gasping. There’s a bit of stinging, but the pressure and intensity make you feel like you’re about to explode. 
“I know it’s tough, but you gotta let me know how you’re doing, babe.”
“Do something, please.”
“Huh?”
“Fuck me or something. Don’t just stay like this.” Thankfully, he understands what you mean and starts out with small strokes to test the waters. You squeeze your eyes shut and try to get more familiar with the feeling. “...So big.”
Hoseok can barely contain himself and releases a pained laugh while he also gets used to the feeling.
“No, you’re just really tight…and you’re squeezing the shit out of me,” he informs.
“I-Is that bad?”
“No, sweetheart,” he laughs. “It’s going to feel good for both of us in a second.”
He looks between you to watch the way your pussy takes him in, cursing and commenting on how pretty your cunt looks with him inside of it.
“Can’t believe this pretty pussy is wrapped around my dick. You don’t know how long I’ve been thinking about this.”
The discomfort starts to ebb away when he starts speaking to you. You linger on every word and relish in each compliment he gives you. 
“Always teasing me in these little skirts like I wasn’t tempted to bend you over and fuck you where you stood,” he confesses. “I tried my best to behave, but you just couldn’t keep this pretty cunt to yourself, huh?”
“Jay,” you moan, not even realizing he’s picked up the pace. 
The overwhelming feeling has dissipated, and all that remains is lust and the desire to feel another wave of pleasure wash over you.
“You wanted me to have it, huh? Wanted it to be mine, didn’t you?”
“I—”
“Your parents would be so proud if they knew you gave it up to me, wouldn’t they?” he mocks, amusement in his voice. Your walls tighten around his shaft, making him hiss and degrade you more. “I should tell them what a nasty girl you are.”
His thrusts become deeper, his cock entering your womb and pushing you further up the table on impact. Hoseok brings his hand up to your neck and pins you to the table while he fucks you as roughly as he pleases.
The other hand gropes your tits, swirling his fingers around your nipples to intensify your pleasure. 
“You think they’d approve of this, hm?”
“No,” you rasp, eyes rolling back when he squeezes your throat. “They wouldn’t.”
“But you don’t care, do you?” he questions, and once again, you deny. “You’d rather be my whore than a good girl.”
“Jay, please.”
“Please what?” he teases, loosening his hold to let you breathe. “Does that pretty pussy want to come again?”
“Fuck, yes! Please, Hoseok.”
He laughs at your desperation. 
“Using my real name and shit.” He snatches you up and pulls you to the edge of the table, making you look him in the eye. “Must be a desperate little whore.”
Without even thinking, you reply and shock him even.
“I am. I really am.”
The smirk that grows on his face is menacing, but it sends a pool of arousal gushing from your hole. 
“Prove it,” he taunts. “Open your mouth.”
You do it without hesitation, and immediately he spits in your mouth, telling you to close and swallow without leaving a drop. You don’t bat an eye when you consume it and then open up to show him what you did.
Your obedience leaves his dick twitching inside of you, revealing that he’s also close to his release. 
“Damn, I need to keep you around,” he says, mostly to himself. His words still boost your ego and leave you a drooling mess within his hold. “So good for me. Go ahead and come.”
He whispers as he stares at you with those lust-filled eyes, pounding you remorselessly and bringing more tears to your reddened eyes.
“You deserve it, pretty girl.”
The tightened coil within you snaps, and you can no longer fight off the urge to let go. You come with his name on your drool-covered lips, falling limp in his arms when you’re finally spent. Hoseok lays you down gently and pulls out of your heat, removing the condom swiftly and rubbing his dick until he squirts his cum all over your pussy. 
His moans are so sexy as they fill your ears, and you lay there smiling at him, fucked out and in your post-orgasmic daze. When he’s finally spent, he removes gloves and starts to caress your body gently. You appreciate the delicate touch of his soft hands.
“You okay? Did I go too far?” he asks, you shake your head.
“I enjoyed it a lot,” you answer truthfully. “Thank you.”
“For what?”
“This.” You gesture towards your tired body with a weak smile, earning a laugh from Hoseok. 
“I should clean you up,” he points out, walking over to his bag to grab an extra t-shirt he has buried somewhere inside. He pauses as he’s searching and turns to you. 
“Hey.”
You hum.
“You don’t have to say yes, so don’t feel pressured but umm…” he holds up his camera, “I just like to keep these. I don’t show anyone. I just—”
“I’m okay with it,” you confirm.
“Really?”
“Yeah,” you nod, opening your legs so he can have a better view.
You swirl his arousal around and mix it with yours before shoving your fingers inside of yourself, wincing slightly from sensitivity.
“Fuck, just like that,” he encourages.
He snaps pictures and collects them as soon as they develop, lining them up next to you so you can see them once he’s done. They actually look nice, and you find yourself smiling as you look at them.
“You like them?” Hoseok speaks after you’ve been staring for a few seconds. “We can take some more at my place.”
“We can?”
“You want to?” he laughs.
“Of course! I look sexy.” You wiggle your brows playfully, and he shakes his head.
He helps you clean up and put on your clothes despite you telling him not to. You have to walk beside him and grip his arm for stability because your legs are shaky and wobbly. Both of you laugh as you depart. However, he turns to you before you get to his car.
“I know we said stuff while we were fucking, but I just wanna make sure our agreement is still intact,” he states, his tone becoming more serious.
“No, I still feel the same. I have to focus on school, and my parents would never approve, you know?... I don’t think it would be worth it, no offense.”
“Oh, I agree,” he assures. “Well, if it’s all good, let’s go to my place, and I’ll take you to your dorm tomorrow?”
“Sounds good,” you tell him, and it really did sound great.
But then he took you home and fucked you in every position the entire weekend. By Monday morning, you were sore, covered in his marks, and dick-whipped beyond the point of return. 
That weekend was only a sample. The more time you spent together, the more you fucked each other, and the closer you two became.
You had to learn the hard way that friends with benefits usually never work in your favor.
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rainbowsuitcase · 7 months
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Fanfic Rec Friday #1
Linked are the fics and the authors' tumblr or other social media accounts
Coffee Stained Rings by femissamelie - Yoongi x Namjoon, 17 505 words, E - Hurt/Comfort, Angst and Sex
Professor Yoongi is broken up with on Valentine's Day and his waiter Namjoon decides to swoop in.
NamGi Forgotten Fest - bringing back old Namgi prompts that were never made into fics
I may be bad, but I'm perfectly good at it by @seethegoodinyou - Namjoon X Jungkook, 6 244 words, E - Dom/Sub, Daddy Kink, Overstimulation
Jungkook is a brat and Namjoon knows just the punishment.
BTS Got Kinks? Fest - a spicy mix between a fic fest and a bingo challenge
As if this is the beginning by cloudyvhope - OT7, 13 090 words, T - Band AU, Strangers to Lovers, Jungkook focused
Jungkook responds to an ad of a band looking for a drummer. It's a prank, but everything works out anyway.
Weird. by littlemeowmeow_7 - Yoongi x Taehyung, 2 222 words, G - Rapper x Fan, First Meeting
Taehyung is Yoongi's biggest fan, but when he's presented with a unique opportunity to meet him, the rapper isn't who he was expecting.
high blood drumming by viviviolets - Seokjin x Jimin x Jungkook, 33 073 words, E - Rock Band AU, Enemies to Lovers, Vampire Seokjin, Blood Drinking
Maknae Line's band gets invited to perform at a supernatural bar, where they catch the attention of vampire Seokjin, but not everything is as easy as it seems.
Battle of the Bands 2022 - fest for Band AUs and other music themed fics
To Hurt and To Heal by rinnieluv - Jimin x Jungkook, 40 587 words, E - A/B/O, Implied Mpreg (Jimin has a son), Hurt/Comfort, Past Abuse
Omega Jimin is running away from his pack with his son, when he stumbles upon alpha Jungkook's cabin and finds a safe space.
BONUS - Yoongi x Hoseok Twitter AU - 141 parts, Angst and Fluff, Rapper X Youtuber, Secret Relationship
I read a lot more fest fics this week, but I'm trying for a variety here, so I figured I'd save those for later.
What do you think about the formating? Any complaints? Should I keep up the one bonus Twitter AU or no?
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ace-angel-judas · 3 days
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What do the DPR kids end up being when they grow up?
Ciri becomes a model and actress, she starts off in Korea and gets really popular and ends up as ambassador for a lot of brands. She never gets married or has any kids.
Jaime becomes a teacher, a primary school teacher. She and Ciri lived together during college, she ends up with Kion and they have five kids.
Kion starts a rock/metal band in high school with Nyx (TK and Cleo’s son), Lilo and MJ (Vernon and Hazel’s son.) He ends up with Kion and they have five kids.
Lilo becomes the drummer in Kion’s band, she’s a lesbian. She ends up meeting a girl on tour and they adopt a son together.
Camilla becomes a doctor, she’s the busiest of all the Dalica kids. She studied medicine and goes to different places in the world to help people.
Kairo (Melian’s youngest son) becomes an artist. He’s designs a lot of Kion’s album covers for the band and ends up with Hope (Hoseok and Kyra’s daughter.) They have three kids together.
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basket-of-loquats · 2 years
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hyung line but they’re in a suffering alternative band called 3 Body Problem! namjoon is drummer, hobi is main vocalist, jin is main vocalist + guitarist, and yoongi is keyboardist :)
[Image description: a digital drawing of Namjoon, Hoseok, Seokjin, and Yoongi from BTS, all visible from the thighs up. Namjoon holds a drum stick and smiles slightly, looking at Hoseok. Hoseok is grinning brightly at Namjoon, one hand on a microphone attached to a stand. Seokjin stands next to Hoseok and looks serenely at Yoongi, holding a guitar. Yoongi stands behind a keyboard and glances at Seokjin. The background is paper-colored with the words “3 Body Problem” above all the members’ heads.
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arch1va1 · 2 years
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✫⠀!!⠀ˊˎ-   LEE EUNHYE professionally known as EMERY was born in 1995 in seoul, south korea. he originally debuted in 2014 with the boygroup, DEEPDIVE, but was replaced after their contract was acquired by angelico entertainment.
ˊˎ- FULL NAME: lee eunhye
ˊˎ- BIRTHDAY: november 2nd, 1995.
ˊˎ- BIRTHPLACE: seoul, south korea
ˊˎ- POSITION: main vocal + guitarist + face of the group.
- SUB-UNIT: call again?
ˊˎ- HEIGHT: 5’9”
ˊˎ- ETHNICITY: korean
ˊˎ- FACECLAIM: byun baekhyun
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✫⠀!!⠀ˊˎ-   KIM BONHWA professionally known as BEAU was born in 1997 in brisbane, australia. he was one of joystar’s first trainees, training for six years, having the longest training period in the group.
ˊˎ- FULL NAME: beau kim
ˊˎ- BIRTHDAY: july 15th, 1997.
ˊˎ- BIRTHPLACE: brisbane, australia
ˊˎ- POSITION: rapper + vocalist + dancer
- SUB-UNIT: -
ˊˎ- HEIGHT: 5’7”
ˊˎ- ETHNICITY: korean
ˊˎ- FACECLAIM: bang chan
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✫⠀!!⠀ˊˎ-   KANG JUWON professionally known as JUWON was born in 1996 in busan, south korea. along side emery, he is one of the most well known members due to his successful acting career.
ˊˎ- FULL NAME: kang juwon
ˊˎ- BIRTHDAY: may 19th, 1996.
ˊˎ- BIRTHPLACE: brisbane, australia
ˊˎ- POSITION: main vocalist + leader + bassist
- SUB-UNIT: call again?
ˊˎ- HEIGHT: 5’8”
ˊˎ- ETHNICITY: korean
ˊˎ- FACECLAIM: do kyunsoo
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✫⠀!!⠀ˊˎ-   JEON MINJAE professionally known as MINJAE was born in 1995 in seoul, south korea. minjun trained the shortest of the group, a year, before debuting. many say his only purpose in the group is as a backup dancer.
ˊˎ- FULL NAME: jeon minjae
ˊˎ- BIRTHDAY: august 20th, 1995.
ˊˎ- BIRTHPLACE: brisbane, australia
ˊˎ- POSITION: main dancer + rapper + keyboardist
- SUB-UNIT: call again?
ˊˎ- HEIGHT: 5’10”
ˊˎ- ETHNICITY: korean
ˊˎ- FACECLAIM: jung hoseok
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✫⠀!!⠀ˊˎ-   LEE SUNGJIN professionally known as SUNGJIN was born in 1997 in daegu, south korea. sungjin is a fan favorite due to his visuals and carefree personality. though, many say he adds nothing talent wise to the group.
ˊˎ- FULL NAME: lee sungjin
ˊˎ- BIRTHDAY: october 30th, 1997.
ˊˎ- BIRTHPLACE: daegu, south korea
ˊˎ- POSITION: vocalist+ rapper + visual + guitarist
- SUB-UNIT: call again?
ˊˎ- HEIGHT: 5’10”
ˊˎ- ETHNICITY: korean
ˊˎ- FACECLAIM: jeon jungkook
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✫⠀!!⠀ˊˎ-   ZHANG LIXIN professionally known as TING TING was born in 2000 in chengdu, china. ting ting is is the youngest in the group and is often babied by fans, many being protective over him.
ˊˎ- FULL NAME: zhang lixin
ˊˎ- BIRTHDAY: may 1st, 2000.
ˊˎ- BIRTHPLACE: chengdu, china
ˊˎ- POSITION: vocalist + dancer + maknae
- SUB-UNIT: -
ˊˎ- HEIGHT: 5’8”
ˊˎ- ETHNICITY: chinese
ˊˎ- FACECLAIM: dejun xiao
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✫⠀!!⠀ˊˎ-   JANG KITAE professionally known as KITAE was born in 1999 in busan, south korea. kitae has practically been erased from the group after his death in 2021. many fans wish to forget him and what he’s done.
ˊˎ- FULL NAME: jang kitae
ˊˎ- BIRTHDAY: december 21st, 1999.
- COD: self inflicted wound to the neck.
ˊˎ- BIRTHPLACE: busan, south korea
ˊˎ- POSITION: vocalist + rapper + drummer
- SUB-UNIT: call again?
ˊˎ- HEIGHT: 5’9”
ˊˎ- ETHNICITY: korean
ˊˎ- FACECLAIM: im changkyun
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missduplicities · 9 months
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Chapter 59: Family Meeting (pt. 2)
Eunha was the last of her roommates to leave the house that morning. She had a virtual meeting, which gave her enough time to prepare something to eat for her and her brother, who was still asleep upstairs. After her meeting, Yoongi asked her to call him so they could schedule their weekly agenda with Han. Finally, about an hour later, Seong Dae-Hyun came downstairs to inspect the kitchen for something to eat. Eunha didn’t notice, being too focused on the screen in her videoconference with her team to realize her brother was pacing around wearing her own bathrobe, which suited him very tight.
            “Hm, Ms. Seong?” Han interrupted when he caught sight of Dae-Hyun in the corner of Eunha’s camera.
            “Yeah?” She asked, still oblivious. Han made a move with his head, not wanting to say out loud that there was someone behind her since Yoongi was distracted by his phone. Only then, Eunha turned and saw Dae-Hyun, sitting on top of the counter, eating the breakfast she had made. “Oh, my God! Can’t you see I’m busy?”
            “Who is that?” Dae-Hyun asked, not reading the room. Eunha muted her mic and turned the camera off; Yoongi was still busy on his phone, so he didn’t notice the interruption.
            “It’s my boss, you creep!” Eunha told her brother. “Why the hell are you wearing my robe?”
            “I didn’t bring mine,” he said, as if wearing hers was the obvious choice. “Did you put salt on this?”
            “Hey, I’m working! Go to your room!”
            “Ugh, so grumpy for no reason,” he sighed, taking his plate to the living room to continue his breakfast.
            “Sorry about that,” Eunha said, going back to her team’s meeting. “My brother arrived last night,”
            “I didn’t know you had a brother,” Yoongi said, finally putting down his phone.
            “Uhm… I’m sure I’ve mentioned it,” Eunha said. “Anyway, back on the agenda,”
            “Right,” Han said, sharing the screen again so they could see the calendar. “We have the trimestral meeting in HQ this Wednesday; the Label Managers have been working on the distribution of the projects per team. From what I heard, they are asking Mr. Min and you, Ms. Seong, to work on the new debut group’s EP,”
            “I called Deku last night,” Yoongi said. “She wanted to discuss the details of the concept they have for this group. It’s pretty straight-forward, taking inspiration from early 2000s American rock bands, mostly,”
            “Do you know who is running the visual concept?” Eunha asked, taking notes.
            “I think it’s the same team that’s running Kwan’s project,” Han said; both Yoongi and Eunha grunted, they didn’t like to work with Kwan.
            “How old are the group members?” Yoongi asked.
            “I think the youngest is 20,” Han said, going over his notes again. “All I know is there are four members: drummer, bassist, and two guitarists,”
            “Make sure to ask for their brand book and concept book,” Eunha told Han. “It will give us enough info to know what we’re dealing with,”
            “Sure, count on that,” the young assistant said. “Now, going to the next point in the minute. I wanted to ask you both about your personal agendas for the next couple of weeks. It is my understanding that Jung Hoseok’s sister is getting married since you’ve both mentioned it before. Are you both planning on taking those days off?”
            “Yeah, I forgot about that,” Yoongi sighed, getting stressed with the whole wedding stuff. “It’s next weekend. I won’t be available from Friday to Sunday, but I’m planning to go back to work on Monday as usual,”
            “Alright,” Han said, blocking the dates on the calendar already. “Ms. Seong?”
            “Yeah, same as him,” she said.
            “Great,” Han blocked the dates for her, too. “There’s a shooting next week in Busan, as well,”
“Oh, I totally forgot about that,” Yoongi grunted.
“It’s the same project from a couple months, the one Ms. Seong was in charge of,” Han said. Eunha wasn’t sure if she remembered the necessary details about her trip to Busan.
            “Cool,” Yoongi said. “Send her back, then,”
            “Hey, I only went last time because you were busy,” she complained. “The team was very condescending with me,”
            “There are rude people everywhere,” Yoongi said. “You need to be firm with them, let them know you are not playing around,”
            “This time they’re shooting a short music video,” Han interrupted. “It’s supposed to be a continuation of the previous one, so…”
            “If I’m going, I’ll need an assistant,” Eunha said out of nowhere. “And I’m staying at least a couple of days. Traveling back home on the same day was a pain in the ass,”
            “We’ll make it work,” Yoongi said, trying to hide his smirk as he knew exactly what was on her mind. “I’ll need Han to stay in the office, so let’s see if we can find someone to help you with this,”
            “Oh, I have lots of friends who are professional filmmakers,” Han said, unaware of what Yoongi and Eunha were telepathically plotting. “Some of them are freelancers, so I could call them,”
            “We’ll check that later,” Yoongi said, going to the next thing to check on their agenda.
After two and a half hours, Eunha was finally free of her morning meetings. She was expected to go to the studio to work with Yoongi later but still had enough time to eat her breakfast and even grab some coffee. She had almost forgotten that her brother was in the same house until she heard his laugh come from the living room.
            “Don’t you have something else to do?” Eunha asked, joining him on the couch. “Why the hell are you still wearing my robe?”
            “I was looking for the only clean shirt I have left but I can’t find it,”
            “Oh,” Eunha said, knowing exactly which one he meant. “Taehyung needed a change so I gave it to him,”
            “First of all, gross! I don’t want your boyfriend’s sweaty body to ruin my silk shirt!” he whined. “And second, we need to talk about him sneaking into your room at night as a horny teenager,”
            “Shut up!” Eunha was not talking about her romantic and potentially sexual life with her brother. “We’re not teenagers anymore, and we’re not horny,”
            “Sure,” he sarcastically said.
            “Besides, what we do or not is none of your business,”
            “So, you are doing it!”
            “No, we’re not!”
            “You’re not?” he asked, now laughing. “You’re really not?”
            “No,” she sighed, fuming.
            “Hey, I just want you to be careful when you actually do it,”
            “Nope, we’re not talking about this,” she stood up, going back to the kitchen.
            “Eunnie,” he said, following her. “I’m serious! I don’t want you to fuck up like me. Just… remember you don’t owe him anything just because he is your boyfriend and because you love him or whatever. I don’t want you to feel pressured to do something if you don’t feel like you’re ready,”
She knew it was coming from a good place, and she actually appreciated her brother’s attempt of taking care of her. Still, she didn’t want to talk about it. She was sure she and Taehyung were not there yet. Sure, the thought had crossed her mind a couple of times, but it wasn’t going to happen anytime soon.
            “What are your plans in Seoul, anyway?” she asked, letting him know the previous conversation was over.
            “I want to see what the city has to offer,” he sighed. “I’m tired of working in Mom’s restaurant. I mean, I appreciate them letting me stay at their home and all that but,”
            “But you miss your freedom,”
            “Exactly,” he chuckled. “Besides, Dad keeps asking when I’ll recover and go back to play baseball. To be honest, I’m not even sure if I want to do that anymore,”
            “I thought you loved baseball,”
            “I do. I just don’t love the team, the city, the people around me,” he unconsciously started rubbing his injured shoulder, thinking of everything about his current life that hurt him. “After the last time I saw you, I kept thinking of how happy you looked, and good you were doing. I… I want that, you know?”
She didn’t say anything. She wished it was as simple as her brother made it sound, but to get to the point she was now, she had struggled and cried a lot. Still, Eunha didn’t have the heart to discourage her brother. She wanted Dae-Hyun to be happy; he deserved it.
            “Want to grab some coffee?” she asked.
Eunha continued her day as she had planned, only with her brother coming along, too. She was happy to catch up with him as they walked to the bus stop and answered all his questions about Taehyung and her roommates on the way to the café. She was a bit sad that she didn’t get to see James, wanting to introduce him to Dae-Hyun, but still told him all about the little Aussie kid who was friends with her. They walked together to Eunha’s office, where she gave him a tour, showing him the fancy studio where she was supposed to meet Yoongi.
            “This is dope!” Dae-Hyun complimented. “The studio I saw yesterday was smaller,”
            “Yeah, that’s where the rest of the crew works, but this is my boss’ personal studio,” she proudly said. “He lets me use it,”
            “Is that a Johny Cash Martin?” he was already on his way to grab the guitar, which gave Eunha a little panic attack.
            “Don’t! That’s Yoongi’s! That’s like the only thing I’m not allowed to use, so please, don’t!”
            “Damn, you’re making him sound like a monster,” Dae-Hyun said, frowning at the thought of his sister’s tyrant boss.
            “No, he is a sweetheart, honestly. Well, at first he might come off as a jerk, but that’s only because he is an introvert,” she wasn’t helping the mental image he was making. “He’s just very careful with the things that are important to him, like this guitar,”
            “I thought you said he was your friend,”
            “He is. He is probably my best friend. After Taehyung, of course,” she made sure to clear that out. “But he is still my boss and I respect him a lot,”
Just then, the studio door opened, and Min Yoongi came in, holding a six-pack of beers in one hand and a jumbo bag of chips.
            “Let’s finish this fucking EP already, oh… hello,” Yoongi seemed very confused by the presence of a stranger in his studio.
            “Hi, Yoongi, this is my brother Dae-Hyun,” Eunha was fast to say. “Dae-Hyun, this is Min Yoongi,”
            “Nice to meet you,” Dae-Hyun said, bowing his head and offering a friendly smile. Yoongi’s eyes went from brother to sister, trying to catch the similarities between them. “Let me help you with that,”
            “Thanks,” Yoongi said, letting Seong Dae-Hyun grab the beers effortlessly and put them in the mini-fridge.
            “I couldn’t leave him home alone,” Eunha explained. “He might burn down the house or something,”
            “Ha-ha,” Dae-Hyun ironically laughed, glaring at his sister. “She’s just scared that I bump into her boyfriend again,”
            “Taehyung had the brilliant idea of breaking into my room last night,” Eunha explained. “Now he doesn’t trust me,”
            “Honestly, I’m just surprised he had the physical ability to climb through your balcony,” Yoongi chuckled, finally sitting down in front of his computer. “Feel at home, Dae-Hyun-ssi,”
            “Thanks,” Dae-Hyun’s eye smile appeared as he took Yoongi’s word and sat on the couch. “I’ll be nice and quiet, don’t worry,”
            “Where do you want to start today?” Eunha asked, getting into work mode already.
            “I’d like to re-record the bass line now that you’re here,” Yoongi said, opening the bag of Cheetos and passing it to Eunha’s brother. She thought it was cute that he was doing his best effort to make Dae-Hyun feel welcome, knowing how hard it was for Yoongi to open up to strangers at first.
            “Can you remind me what's the melody?” Eunha was already walking over the guitars, taking the pretty precision bass she liked. Yoongi helped her plug it in and played the previous recording so she could figure out what to play.
Dae-Hyun kept his promise, allowing the two friends to work in peace, enjoying seeing their process and noticing how easily they understood each other, almost as if reading the other’s minds. After they finished recording all the bass parts, Yoongi made an unusual pause to open a beer and offer one to the guest.
            “We don’t usually drink at work,” Yoongi felt the need to explain. “But we’re really sick of this particular song. The process it’s been dull as hell,”
            “I imagine,” Dae-Hyun said, accepting the beer. “It sounds great, though. Did you write it?”
            “No, I’m only producing and mastering it,” Yoongi explained. It looked as if neither of them knew exactly what to do with their drinks. Dae-Hyun wasn’t sure if he had to turn his head to the side, not knowing if Yoongi was older or younger than him.
            “So, you’re Eunha’s older brother,” Yoongi said conversationally.
            “Yeah, for two years,” Dae-Hyun said, letting Yoongi do the math.
            “He was also born in 93,” Eunha finally said.
            “Really?” Dae-Hyun looked happy about it. “What month?”
            “March. I’m a Piscis,” Yoongi said. “I mean, not that I believe in that stuff but people always ask,”
Eunha almost laughed at how out of pocket his comment was.
            “I’m a Sagittarius,” Dae-Hyun said.
            “November or December?” Yoongi asked.
            “December,” Dae-Hyun said, finally drinking from his beer. “Jin-hyung is a Sag, too,”
Of course, Dae-Hyun had no idea who Jin-Hyung was but he made sure to remember that information. For a minute, the room went silent. None of the boys knew exactly what to talk about. Eunha was running through her head all the different possible conversation topics she could bring up to make the two of them keep talking.
            “Oh, did I mention Dae-Hyun plays baseball?” she was sure Yoongi had mentioned liking a sport that involved a ball, but she wasn’t sure which was it.
            “Played,” her brother corrected. “Well, I mean, I’m not playing at the moment,”
            “So, you’re in a team?” Yoongi asked with curiosity.
            “Yeah, but right now I’m on a break,” he explained. “I got in an accident recently so, I can’t really play,”
            “I’m sorry,” Yoongi said.
            “It’s okay, I’m still getting paid,” Dae-Hyun drank from his beer again and Yoongi mimicked him. “Do you play any sports?”
            “Basketball, but not professionally,” Yoongi said. “I considered it, though,”
            “Oh, so you must be good, then,”
            “I’m okay, I guess,” Yoongi said. Eunha was happy the conversation between them was going well. She really wanted them to get along, especially if Dae-Hyun was considering staying in Seoul for a while; she thought her brother could use some friends his age. “Of course, that wouldn’t have worked because of my height,”
“What are you talking about? You’re just perfect,” Dae-Hyun laughed. “Besides, stereotypical physical attributes end up being worthless if you compare them to actual talent and use of brains,”
 “Says the guy who is pure muscle,” Yoongi laughed.
            “That only means I don’t have the brains,” Dae-Hyun laughed even harder, making Yoongi laugh as well.
            “Shut up, you graduated with honors,” Eunha didn’t like when his brother used self-deprecating humor to entertain the rest. “He learned to play guitar overnight,”
            “Really?” Yoongi asked. “Do you play any other instruments?”
            “Mostly guitar and piano,” Dae-Hyun said. “But not seriously, I mean I just know a couple of scales,”
            “That’s all you need,” Yoongi said, trying to be nice. “Music is just a couple of scales if you think about it,”
            “I guess. Still, music is not where I shine the most. Not like you guys do,” Dae-Hyun finished his beer, not saying anything else. Yoongi followed right after, drinking the last sips from his bottle, and left it on the table before going back to his computer.
Eunha: So, Yoongi and Dae-Hyun met
Tae: how did that go?
Eunha: surprisingly good
Eunha: They seemed to get along well
Tae: Did you take him to the studio?
Eunha: Yeah, but he left a while ago
Eunha: Said he was meeting some old friends
Eunha: But I’m sure I saw a Tinder notification pop up on his screen
Tae: Good for him I guess
Tae: You said he broke up with his girlfriend, right?
Eunha: Yeah, some months ago
Eunha: So I’m happy for him to put himself out there or whatever
Eunha: What are you doing?
Tae: I’m taking Tae-Jun to get a haircut
Tae: He also needs some clothes
Tae: I don’t think I can make it to lunch babe
Eunha: It’s okay!!
Eunha: Are you free later?
Eunha: Yoongi invited Dae-Hyun to his place later
Tae: So, party at Yoongi’s at night?
Eunha: I don’t think he meant party, but he mentioned some wine
Tae: Sounds great!
Tae: Wait, am I invited or only Dae-Hyun?
Eunha: I’m sure he meant all of us
Eunha: I’ll ask him later
Tae: Alright, text you later
Tae: This kid is taking too long to pick a drink
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Eunha: Cuteeeee
Tae: what about me?
Eunha: You're the cutest
Tae: ok
Tae: see you at night love
Eunha: bye 💗
(Previous) (Next)
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thvhoe · 2 years
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HIS - JJK
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Pairing: Drummer Jeon Jungkook x Bestfriends Little Sis Reader
Genre: Smut, Enemies to Lovers, Band AU
Rating: 18+
A/n: As of right now, it’s only 10% finished.
Words: Approximately 5 to 7 k
Synopsis:
With his 3 other friends, Jeon Jungkook formed 'Bangtan', 3 years ago, and its a global success. While girls drop their panties for them, others would pay upon hundreds to be at one of their concerts.
They undoubtedly made millions, but they also shattered millions of hearts. the worst of all of them?
Jeon Jungkook.
Min Yoongi, just happens to be your brother, and main rapper of the group. Additionally theres Jung Hoseok, Park Jimin, and... and then theres Jeon Jungkook, who you absolutely despise but may have also harbored a small bit of a crush on. Fact is, that your brother would murder you if he ever found out. The thing is, Jungkook had similar feelings toward you.
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Tag list; @kooliv @sexymenandcuteanimals101 @tatyhend @idontevenknow75 @dunixxd @saweetspoiled @shescharlie @telepathytae @jeikeisblue @ellesalazar @jungwonnnie @jungshook7 @zerocge @dodoneck
227 notes · View notes
readyplayerhobi · 4 years
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Behind The Mask Masterpost
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; Metal Band!Hoseok x Reader
; Genre: Fluff, angst, smut
; Synopsis: The daughter of a wealthy CEO and the drummer of a metal band have nothing in common and your parents would simply die to find out you were involved in him. But after a lifetime spent appeasing them, you’re more than happy to please yourself, and be pleased in turn.
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Behind The Mask
Little Drummer Boy
Save A Drum, Bang A Drummer
285 notes · View notes
dawnagustd · 2 years
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party time || jhs
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Part of the Jack N’ Jill Series: Encore | Danger! | Party Time
⇢ Drabbles: Kink Hours Drabble
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❃ Festivaled Away: Hope Fest hosted by @bangtanbathhouse​ 
    ⤞ Ticket: Early 2000s Block Party     ⤞ Main Event: No Underwear     ⤞ Games: BDSM Chambers/Sex Rooms | Humiliation | Clothed Sex | Makeshift Restraints | Edging 
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 ❂ Lovers Through the Ages    ⁂ Hosted by: Professor Naia through @bangtansorciere​ 
⤐  AU Type: A Modern Love ⤐  Themes: Secret Relationship | Forbidden Love ⤐  Kinks: Public Sex | Exhibitionism | Doggy Style | Praise Kink | Mutual Orgasm | Mutual Pleasure | Overstimulation / Edging | Clit Torture | Spanking | Body Worship | Orgasm Denial | Crying / Dacryphilia | Pain Kink | Losing Mind to Pleasure | Restraints | Dirty Talk | Bimbofication | Corruption Kink | Multiple Orgasms | Nipple Torture
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⤞ title: party time ⤞ pairing: lead rapper!hoseok x drummer!female reader ⤞ genre: angst | smut | supernatural | secret relationship | friends with benefits | rich kid!reader | bad boy!hoseok | rock band au | early 2000s setting | forbidden love | undead/zombie au ⤞ summary: Why run away from bad, when it feels so good? ⤞ word count: 4.7k ⤞ warnings: strong language | alcohol consumption | cigarette & weed smoking | mentions chemicals & hazardous areas | mentions arson & other criminal activity | some dark humor | neither of them are completely human anymore | mentions death | strict parents | jealousy | explicit sexual content | consensual knife play | standing doggystyle | dom!hoseok | sub!reader | body worship | public sex | teasing | exhibitionism | finger sucking | spanking | cum play/eating | degradation | light brat taming | clothed sex | gagging | bondage/restraints | nude photography | erotic humiliation | overstimulation | sadism & masochism | crying | nipple play/pinching | multiple orgasms | forced orgasms | corruption |  unprotected sex | fingering | edging | hair tugging/pulling | voyeurism | throat grabbing | big dick!hoseok | orgasm denial | bimbofication | hoseok with painted nails | toxic behavior | clit play | marking | rough/passionate sex | limit testing | name calling | creampie | This story contains dark themes. If you know you are not comfortable with any of these warnings, please do not proceed. It is my job to warn you, but yours to read responsibly. Also please remember that this is fiction. Infections, STDs, and other health risks do not happen unless I write them in. ⤞ rating: R/18+ ⤞ a/n: Heyy!! It’s here!! As promised, it’s short lol. I wrote this during the peak of my pmsing lol so I apologize if it’s not giving what it’s supposed to. Thanks so much @jjksblackgf​ for reading a portion of this for me and to @raplinesmoon​ for volunteering her time to me. Well, I’ll stop chatting and let you all get to it. Also, I reviewed this but there still may be mistakes. Please let me know if I missed any warnings.
Playlist | Main Masterlist | Kink Hour Drabble | Danger!
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The “move bitch!” hits harder when you actually need someone to get the hell out of your way. Whatever Ludacris was on when he recorded the song playing through the speakers, is the same mood you’re in tonight
You’re usually the most rational person of the group; your friends blame your strict upbringing for that—but tonight it's the hell with it. You’re pissed off, restless, and a little horny. Just having a little trouble adjusting to this change mostly. 
You still bleed, but your heart no longer beats. Wounds heal quickly, but you don’t eat or sleep. And most importantly you lack two things—a soul and self control.
“Hey Mandy,” you chirp, sitting on the couch you let your friends “borrow” from your parents’ living room.
Every weekend this is the hotspot for young adults, especially when Hoseok throws a party. This asylum shut down in the 80s, but Hoseok and his friends claimed it as theirs a few years back. Now it’s used as a hang out spot, and a place cops don’t dare to enter at night. There are people spread out everywhere, even on the neighboring deserted streets. 
Your band got off stage an hour ago, but music still blasts through the old ward speakers. The members and a handful of groupies usually chill in the lobby—where they drink and do all of their other extracurricular activities.
This place is a hazard, but it’s the only escape some of you have. Your parents would have heart attacks if they found out their precious daughter was here with the guy they told her to never see again. But they were foolish to think you’d ever leave Hoseok alone.
They were right about one thing though—fucking around with him did lead to you digging yourself a grave. However, the unknown chemicals floating around in the basement didn’t want you to leave this world so soon.
You have no idea how or why you’re still living or breathing—but you feel great. As long as no one triggers any negative emotions.
Like the bitch sitting on your man’s lap, for example. She looks at you with disgust covering her features and gives you a forced smile. “Hey?”
You nod and turn your attention to the man of the hour.
“Hoseok.”
“What’s up, ma.”
You ignore the sting that comes with the dry greeting and shift the conversation to a more interesting topic.
“Hey Mandy, what kinda car you drive, babe?”
The slut nearly shakes loose her updo while whipping her head in your direction. Her prideful smile is only seconds from being wiped away.
“The pink Benz. Like the one from the new Chingy video,” she boasts.
You can see Hoseok and the rest of your friends becoming alert because they already know something’s up.
“Hm, that’s cute. Not pink anymore, though.” You take the joint from Yoongi and take a hit, leaning back on the sofa with a long and very much needed exhale.
“Please, girl. You see the body work on my baby. Why wouldn’t it be?” She laughs and looks around at her crew, oblivious to the horrible news she’s about to receive.
“It’s on fire, sweetheart,” you inform.
“WHAT?!”
She jumps up in her little jersey dress and white K-SWISS, then runs outside screaming. Her little clique follows closely behind. Your smirk widens and Hoseok gives you a look.
When she’s out of sight, conversations carry on like nothing’s happened.
“What’s wrong with you?” he asks, taking the joint from your hand. If only he knew the types of things your body goes through when he speaks to you in that tone.
You usually don’t allow your emotions to control you, but it’s hard to watch the person you’re fucking show everyone else attention except you. You know it’s for the best, to keep the peace between him and the band, but sometimes it’s just a slap in the face. Do they think you’d rat them out before one of their little groupies? You have no reason to; you’re just like them. Sure, they may be better at handling this new life than you, but they also aren’t tested every day by a man as hot as the one sitting next to you.
Maybe you should just blame it on the way he behaved on stage tonight. The way his body moved to the music was sinful, but the growling was fucking demonic. How you managed to get through that performance with him acting like that will always be a mystery.
You assume you were mesmerized, so caught up in his aura to realize that your thighs were rubbing together—just like one of the whores drooling at his feet.
So, yeah you get jealous whenever he acts like that in front of them, but what are you gonna say? What can you do about it?
“Nothing.”
You try to get up so you can leave the party, but Hoseok is too stubborn to just drop it. When you feel his cold hand wrap around your arm, you fall back into the couch and allow him to slide closer to you.
“No kiss tonight?”
“Hoseok, my parents have been calling me,” you lie. “And I’m wearing lipstick, and people are watching us—” 
He scoffs. “Pretty, but full of shit. I see how it is.”
“Excuse me?”
“You’re a liar. A horrible one,” he tells you.
“I am not—”
He reaches in his pocket and pulls out your little flip phone, tossing it on your lap carelessly.
It almost slides to the floor, but once it’s secured you open it and examine your screen. 
“Not one person has hit you up since you told me to hold your phone 4 hours ago,” he informs and your cheeks begin to burn with embarrassment.
“Fuck, am I really that lame?”
“You are…” his fingers begin to draw small circles on your skin. You panic because this party is huge. Someone from your school could be here, private university isn’t that big. Or one of your friends could see and would want to kick you out of the band, “but it’s sexy…and I like it.”
Of course, when you try to pry away he squeezes a little tighter.
“Am I taking you home or are you staying with me tonight?” 
You look at the time and the bright “1:00 AM” mocks you. There is no way you can walk through the front door at this ungodly hour—high as a kite, dressed like what your mother would call a whore, wobbling because Hoseok’s bent you over twice on the way there.
“No, I’ll stay,” you sigh.
“You don’t sound happy about it.” He lifts his eyebrows and it disappears behind his bangs. 
“I’m just not looking forward to arguing with them, you know. All they do is argue, and when they aren’t, they’re ganging up on me.”
“Ah, let’s not think about all that shit right now; it’s bad for my soul.”
The eye roll comes naturally because only he can tell a bad joke and get you to smile. 
“You’re dead. You don’t have a soul, Hoseok.”
“Half dead, actually. My dick still works and I could’ve sworn my heart skipped a beat when I saw you in that skirt tonight.” His smirk should annoy you, but his dimples make you squirm in your seat.
“Are you sure it wasn’t because I was bending over?”
“Could’ve been…”
His words trail off and he becomes distracted by something or someone across the room. You look in the same direction and to your disappointment there’s a girl dancing promiscuously to Dirrty while taking off her clothes.
It’s about more than you can take, so you try to stand. However once again, Hoseok snatches you right back. “Slow your roll, baby.”
You huff when your plan to escape fails.
“Where are you running off to?” he questions with amusement present in his voice.
His painted nails trace the hem of your skirt, caressing your thigh to calm you down. You hate that it works, and bite your lip to stop yourself from relaxing your muscles. But it’s only seconds before you lean into his touch.
“I need to leave.”
“And miss the show?” he chuckles while pointing at the woman twirling her hips. His lips press against your ear and he whispers, “I rather see you doing that, you know.”
“You’re a pig,” you scoff and he squeezes your thigh as a warning.
“And what does that make you?” 
You gulp as his soft kisses make their way down your neck. Your clothing is bunched in your hand as you fist them tightly. Your breath hitches when his teeth graze your skin. Curious eyes begin to watch the act unfold and as soon as he starts, he suddenly pulls away.
You release the breath you were holding and suffer silently with disappointment.
“It’s attention that you want, isn’t it?” You don’t even have to answer for him to know that it’s true. He laughs, his whole body shaking so much that everyone around, including you turns to look at him. Instantly, he stops and looks directly at you. “I’m gonna leave the room and only one person’s going to follow me—it better be you.”
Your panties are soaking by the time he throws back his drink and stands up. Hoseok begins to walk away and people in every direction look on to see what your next move is. Before he can even leave the room, you’re grabbing your bag and following him out of the lobby into the asylum’s dark and eerie halls.
You have tunnel vision as you bypass all the envious eyes and side jokes. Only one thing is on your mind because you already know what time it is. There’s only one person more spiteful than you when you’re angry and that would be a pissed off Hoseok. No matter what he has planned, it’s going to be bad—but it’s still going to feel so damn good.
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“You look so beautiful when you cry.”
Hoseok circles the table, his shoes thudding against the grimy floor each time he takes a step. He searches for the perfect angle, the best moment to snap a photo of you squirming and moaning in agony.
All you want is for him to touch where you need to be touched. However, all he’s done for hours is taunt you with broken promises.
“Say cheese, baby.”
As if you could do anything with your panties shoved in your mouth. 
The more you struggle the tighter your bindings become. You’d think the old cords and tubes just lying about would snap easily, but Hoseok took extra measures to make sure you couldn’t move.
“So…beautiful.”
He aims the camera at your wrists so he can capture the way the cords dig into your skin, only temporarily scarring your flesh. The sight of you tied to a gurney, defenseless and at his mercy excites him in ways only you can understand.
You share a fetish for pain—he to inflict and you to receive.
You have a whole catalog of private photographs to show the lengths you’ve gone to fulfill your twisted fantasies.
He’s always said he struck gold when he met you. Girls would laugh and call him weird for the things he liked, so when he met someone who wasn’t afraid of the dark side, he couldn’t resist tainting you and making you his.
“Now this is art,” he whispers while inserting two fingers into your pussy. You attempt to scream his name, but it only comes out as a muffled cry. “So wet. I bet you wanna come so bad right now, huh?”
“Mmhm!” 
Your eyes are blown out and beads of sweat form on your skin. Hoseok twists and curls his digits inside of you as he moves them in and out, making legs buckle and threaten to give out at any moment.
Your body works desperately to gain more friction, and just when he hits the right spot—his movements stop and he pulls out of you. 
“Not right now, sweetheart.”
The tears sting as they form in your eyes; denial seems to be the theme for tonight.
Hoseok laughs while he sucks your juices from his long fingers, and teases you for thinking he was going to let you come so easily.
It’s been hours of this—him torturing and capturing his favorite moments on camera. Your body’s so worked up and overstimulated. Though, since you’ve crossed over your tolerance is higher, and you can withstand so much more. 
Neither of you can ever resist the urge to test your new limits nowadays. Even if it means dragging it out for long periods of time. The results are always worth the wait.
“So delicious,” he comments, and you can only stare ahead at the wall as embarrassment washes over you.
His mouth is filthy and his desires are sadistic. You had no idea that either would turn you on strongly.
Hoseok snatches your panties out of your mouth and tosses them across the room. He walks over to the window, looking over the crowd before he returns to your side. 
The first blow he delivers comes without a warning, and so does the second. You’re sure everyone can hear your screams, but it’s become too much to contain them anymore. 
He stops for just a moment, only to ask you a question. His hand still rests on your ass, attempting to soothe the skin he’s abused only seconds before.
“Now you wanna tell me what’s been up your ass lately?”
His chilling touch does little to tame the heat rushing through you. Your dormant heart begins racing for the first time in what seems like forever, the throbbing nearly as intense pulsing within your core. You clench your fists as tightly as the bindings that strap you to the gurney.
“It’s nothing, Hoseok. Please, just—ahh!” you wince. “Fuck, this isn’t fair.”
“Liar, liar…if you lie to me again your ass will be on fire,” he chuckles.
The moonlight that shines into the darkness enlarges his silhouette, making him appear twice his size. The hollowness of the room allows his voice to project and ricochet off the grungy walls, giving you chills and shakes.
A sigh leaves your lips as the stinging subsides. Although the ghost of his touch still lingers in the reddened marks that resemble the shape of his palm. You cave and submit to the pleasure, moaning while his hands continue to roam all over your body.
“It’s them. Isn’t it, baby?” Hoseok leans over your body, pressing his ear against your back so he can listen to the sound of your blood pumping through your veins again. “Jealous, aren’t we?”
Shamefully, you confess.
“A little bit.”
He shushes your whimpers and strokes the hair out of your face. You feel the cords grow slack around your body, and you relax under his gentle touch. However, your reverie is short-lived because your punishment is right around the corner.
“Well sweetheart, if you wanna be a whore…” He growls out his words as he tugs your hair. The back of your head collides with his shoulder and you can only stare at the stars through the hole in the roof as you wait, your legs trembling with need. 
He collects arousal from your inner thigh and brings it to your swollen lips, smirking when you absentmindedly dart out your tongue to taste yourself on his fingers. “Oh, I don’t have any problems treating you like one.”
Hoseok moves swiftly when freeing you from the device he’s created to restrain you. He pulls you to your feet with your hands still tied behind your back, and you require his support to stand properly because your legs can no longer keep you up on their own.
“Come here,” he commands, and he drags you towards the glassless window.
He uses his body to pin your lower half against it, and his grip on your hair to keep the upper portion from toppling over. “Hoseok…”
He ignores you and continues to yell in your face.
“This is what you want, right?” You hear his zipper sliding open, and seconds later the blunt tip of his dick touches your ass. “You want everybody to know you’re getting fucked, don’t you?”
You bite your lips raw trying to suppress your moans, but he squeezes your cheeks and forces you to let them out. The people below are clueless to what is happening five floors above them, but you’re sure before this is over they will be well aware of what is going on.
“Answer me!”
“Yes, Hoseok! I do. I fucking do,” you say while looking him in the eyes. 
He shakes your head slowly, and the tone in which he speaks is condescending.
“Shut up, you know what you want.” He lets go of your face so he can position himself at your entrance. Desperation leaves you trying to push back on his erection, but he wants to move at his own pace tonight. “You’re just a dumb little whore who’s needs me to make decisions for her. Isn’t that right?”
“Hoseok, please.”
“Uh-uh, not until you accept it,” he tsks.
You turn to him again. “I am, okay. Is that what you want to hear?”
“Still with the attitude, I see. But no worries…I can fix that.”
He chuckles and tilts your head downward to look at the people below.
“That’s a long way down, isn’t it?” he asks, and you respond with a nod.
You gulp. “Yeah, it is.”
“It’s a good thing that you trust me, huh?”
“Mmhm,” you moan once he starts to probe you with very shallow and tiny thrusts. You almost allow your mind to slip away, but his previous statement comes back to haunt you the second you remember your fear of heights.  “Wait. What are you talking about?...Ohh, shit!”
Without another word, Hoseok impales you with every inch of his dick—leaving you gasping, panting, and balling up your fists to cope with the intrusion. 
He curses as your walls squeeze around his girth, making him twitch inside of you. You both fight through the sensitivity in silence.
“Better keep your back arched if you don’t want to fly away from me,” he warns, voice dripping with amusement. His impatience grows, and he can no longer stand there buried in your warmth. Hoseok’s pace starts fast and strong. Your eyes roll back as you get lost in the feeling. 
Even though you can’t move, you still feel like you’re floating away from yourself each time he plows into the depths of your womb. “You probably wouldn’t even care, would you?”
The skin slapping noises echo through the room and drowns out your soft incoherent babbling. Your vocal cords are totally trashed after a night of singing and screaming his name over and over. You mumble responses in hopes that he can hear you, but he’s quick to tell you that he can’t.
“Speak up, bitch. I can’t hear you.” He pinches your nipple through your shirt, growling in your ear when your cunt clenches around him like a vice as a response. “Well, fuck me. So your pussy talks, but you can’t?...It’s a good thing you’re pretty.”
“Come. I need to—”
“What was that?”
“I said I need to come,” you rasp, but once again your request is denied.
“Sorry, I don’t speak whore. Try again.”
You can’t do anything but sob. Mascara runs down your cheeks, and leaves a bitter taste on your lips. “Hoseok, please. I can’t.”
“I don’t give a shit!” 
Nearly at the speed of light he snatches your hair, his hunting knife coming out of nowhere to lay flat against your jugular. Your gasp seems to travel through the open air, and alert several people surrounding you. Hard bangs are heard on the door behind you, but Hoseok just keeps going, slowing down his movements momentarily.
“I knew this would get you to speak up. You were gonna come all over my dick had I not stopped,” he grunts in your ear. “Shit, you feel so fucking good.”
“Hoseok…”
“Shh. Don’t talk, just listen…and comprehend if you can,” he interrupts.
Your eyes close, trying to focus on anything other than the intense feeling in your core. You’re exhausted, overstimulated, but still begging for more like you aren’t already fighting to keep it together.
“Tell them,” he requests.
“Tell them what?”
“To fuck off. You’re fucking your boyfriend.” The sharp blade moves across your throat slowly, and then over your shoulder. Your body shudders when it travels down your spine, stopping at the lower portion of your back where your hands are bound. 
Your scalp stings from all the tugging and pulling, but isn’t enough to pull you away from the high you’re trying to reach. Hoseok is like the devil in your ear, feeding you whatever he needs to so he can have his way. “Do it,” he encourages.
“But—”
“But, nothing. You said you wanna be a whore. Well, whores don’t give a damn about who knows…or who sees. Tell everybody or I’ll stop. You want that?”
“No!”
His smile widens at your reaction, knowing he’s got you where he wants you. “Then tell them who you belong to, and stop being such a pussy.”
He slams into your sensitive heat, making you yelp out his name. 
“Hoseok!”
Pleased with the way everyone is now paying attention, he cuts your bindings, instructing you to hold onto the ledge and continue calling his name. He fucks you from behind and abandons his blade so he can tease your bundle of nerves beneath your skirt.
“Please don’t stop,” you beg and he promises that he’d never.
His painted nails dig into the sides of your throat as uses you like a toy and pulls you back on his throbbing cock. You’re covered in his marks already, but he still takes the opportunity to leave more with his teeth. 
The feeling in your center begins to build up again, and you’re certain you’ll go insane if you don’t reach your high this time. Hoseok’s moans and growls fill your ears, drowning out the squelching and lewd sounds coming from between your thighs. Whatever song is playing, it seems to be one that he favors because his thrusts aren’t missing a beat as he plows into you.
“Fuck, Hoseok.” This time he doesn’t need a warning because he can’t take the way you’re squeezing around him. “Please?”
Finally, he caves.
“Yeah, baby. It’s okay.”
You don’t wait for him to tell you twice. Your orgasm hits fast and hard; you have to reach behind you and grab his hair to ground yourself, leaving scratches on his arms in an attempt to cope with how deep his dick travels into your womb. 
Feral noises leave your lips when an intense wave of pleasure takes over you, and the feeling leaves you floating on air as your body attempts to come down from an overwhelming high. However, Hoseok isn’t done with you yet.
“Just one more,” he moans, but you shake your head. He continues pounding into you, and sobs begin to tear from your throat. 
“Too much, Hoseok,” you whine, but he’s only moments away from pleasure.
“I know, baby. I just can’t get enough, sweetheart. Just one more,” he begs, returning his attention to your sensitive clit. “Please.”
“Okay…!”
As soon as he gets the greenlight his only mission is to release his load, and rob you of the last bit of strength you have left. Within seconds you both are howling out each other’s name, and everyone who is witnessing the sight before them are left speechless. 
Hoseok’s seed fills your womb and soothes you until you are no longer tense with oversensitivity. Your head lolls back on his chest and your body goes limp in his strong arms.
He gives you a few seconds to pull yourself together then slowly slips out of you before he turns you around.
“Is there something you wanna say to me?” he asks, forcing you to look at him. You nod your head, and Hoseok asks you to elaborate. Your post-orgasmic high allows you to tell him without any fear or shame of rejection.
“I’m tired of sharing you,” you confess.
“Sharing me with who?”
You roll your eyes in pretend thought. “Mandy, and whoever else sits on your dick when I’m not around. I get it, you like brats, but why am I not enough?”
Hoseok kisses you before you can continue your rant of self destruction. He holds you and caresses your body in a way that brings you comfort and peace—something you’ve been craving for so long. He stares at you after your lips part, but you’re too afraid to ask what he’s thinking.
“If you haven’t realized, I’m a little fucked up,” he says after what feels like an eternity. 
“So am I, Hoseok.” You look down at yourself and then back at him. “If you haven’t noticed.”
He scoffs. “Yeah, I guess you’re right about that.”
“But ever since…you know. I’ve never felt more alive. I’m becoming less afraid to be myself,” you admit.
“A crazy bitch who burns people’s cars to a crisp?”
“Shut up.” You throw a light punch to his arm, but he acts as if it did severe damage by clutching it and whining. “It was in the heat of the moment.”
“Literally,” he adds, and you both start laughing. His smile is everything, and you wonder if it’d be too much to tell him that. Hoseok senses your conflicting thoughts even amidst the jokes, and pulls you deeper into his embrace. “I’m yours, okay. I only did that shit tonight to piss you off…because apparently that turns me on.”
“I hate you. You’re such an asshole,” you cry, but still hug him tighter. “Our hearts are beating.”
He sighs. “Yeah, they are.”
“Does that mean?...”
Hoseok pulls away before he answers. “No, your marks are disappearing already.”
You look down when he touches your wrists.
“Oh.”
“I’m sorry,” he says to you.
Immediately, you shake your head. “This isn’t your fault, Hoseok.”
“I was talking about tonight. Seeing you mad is sexy, but I don’t like hurting your feelings or making you feel like you aren’t enough for me,” he admits.
You tell him it’s all forgotten and his grin returns. This time you don’t hesitate. 
“I like seeing you smile.”
He nearly chokes on his saliva. “Please don’t make this weird.”
“Shut up! It sounded smoother in my head, okay. Forget it,” you laugh, pulling away to give the bird to whoever is shouting at you from the ground.
Hoseok wraps his arms around your waist and looks out into the night with you, using the position to kiss your cheek.
“Thank you. No one’s ever said anything that nice to me before,” he says after a while.
“Wanna hear some more?”
He scoffs. “Fuck, no.”
You giggle and focus on the city lights in the far distance, a thought running through your mind suddenly.
“So what now?”
His lips pout and he shrugs. “Depends on what you mean, I guess.”
“Like are we going to stay here or…”
“We?” he repeats and you nod.
“Yeah, we.”
“Us?”
“Hoseok,” you warn.
“Okay, okay,” he laughs, earning a glare. “Chill. I haven’t really thought about it. What do you wanna do?”
“Well, Mandy is the mayor’s daughter and I kind of just destroyed her car so….”
“I guess we have to leave town then,” he suggests.
“We?”
Hoseok nods and ushers you towards the middle of the room to grab your things. “Yeah, we. Did I stutter? We die together, we ride together. Simple.”
“No matter what?” 
“Through everything,” he assures.
You stare at your feet, and you can feel as he begins to sense that something’s off. “Even if one of us got angry and busted the other’s car windows?”
Hoseok’s entire mood changes, and he removes his arm from around you.
“Run.”
You smile nervously. “Can I call you later?”
“Get out!”
You leave without another word, but your smile doesn’t fade. No one would ever have the balls to pull something like that with him, but you aren’t everyone. 
And that’s exactly why you were able to walk out of there alive—partially, at least.
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inbtswethrrust · 6 years
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guess i'll go sit with drum boy, at least he'll know how to hit
Pairing: Hoseok/Yoongi Rated: T Author: jflawless Length: 3k
hoseok is the drummer in a shitty band and yoongi likes him anyways
READ ON AO3
Reccer’s Note: IM IN LOVR”!!! WITH THIS FIC!! ITS SO FUCKING GOOD GUYS ITS SO ADORBALE IM IN LOVE I LOVE YOONSEOK I LOVE JFLAWLESS, PUT THEM TOGETEHR WHAT DO U GET? A MASTERPIEEEECECE - N
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taeflwr · 3 years
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drummer jungkook
like or reblog if you save plss!
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huoguobae · 4 years
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drummer boy hoseok
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planmun · 3 years
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