#possumswrite

[minisugakoobies]

Timezones | JJK

Pairing: Jungkook x Reader (Gender Neutral)

Genre: a little angst, fluff, hurt/comfort, established relationship, Non-Idol!AU

Rating: T

Warnings: mentions of illness (not specified), mentions of ill parent, a very soft Jungkook and reader dealing with sudden long distance, special guest appearance by Bam, yes there is a noraebang and fried chicken because last week's lives honestly felt like something a fanfic writer wrote, sorry if this makes you sad but I needed to write it

Word Count: 1.4K

Disclaimers: Obviously I don’t own BTS - they just inspire me

Summary: Only thing that keeps us apart / Is a different timezone

A/N: I'm never getting over Jungkook's lives from last week. The absolute boyfriend vibes, combined with me listening to "Timezones" by Måneskin today, led me to write this. Thank you @sugalaritae for lending me your talented eyes!

I didn't specify what country reader is meant to be from, just that their family at one point while they were a child lived several time zones from where they lives now, long enough for them to think of it as their childhood home.

There are some things going on in my life that have inspired some of the plot, so… I hope when the time comes that you have to deal with such things, you have someone like Jungkook here to support you. It makes all the difference in the world. 💕

The notification comes in at a little past noon. You stare at it for a second before tapping the screen. A familiar pair of brown eyes come into frame, blinking slowly beneath a cloud of dark fluffy hair.

"Koo? Why are you awake?"

"Hi, baby," Jungkook grins, deflecting your question with the sweetness of his smile. His head rests on his tattooed forearm as he gazes at you. "Miss you."

The words make you sigh, releasing a tension you didn't even realize you were holding. Carrying your phone into your bedroom, you sink down onto the mattress of your childhood bed. "I miss you, too."

It's been over a week since you said goodbye at the airport. Eight days, six hours, and thirteen minutes, to be precise. Every tick of the clock sends that number higher and higher.

"I was just thinking about you. Wanted to check in. How're you feeling?"

You shrug, burrowing deeper into the pillows. "I'm okay. Woke up late. Just killing some time before the appointment this afternoon."

He hums, nodding. Your boyfriend opens his mouth and then closes it again. You know what he wants to say, but he doesn't need to. You know he'd be here with you if he could.

This trip came up unexpectedly. But that's how it always goes when a parent gets sick. Everything's fine until it's not. It was easy enough for you to drop everything and fly halfway around the world, but Jungkook's just starting his career now, after a long period of false starts and dead ends. He didn't have the time banked and you weren't about to ask him to give up his job to come home with you.

Home. There's that word again. It's disorienting, being back in the place where you grew up, and feeling like you're somewhere new. So little has changed here, yet it feels completely unfamiliar. Home is now several time zones away.

Home is where he is.

Jungkook's voice pulls you back to the tiny device in your hand. "What time is it there?"

"Just past noon." You don't ask him what time it is, fully aware that it's the middle of the night there. "Why are you still up?"

"Eh, got home a while ago from drinks with Jin-hyung and was hungry, so I got fried chicken. Now I'm too full to sleep."

You give him a look. "How many times do I have to tell you, you can put some of that in the fridge? You don't need to eat it all in one sitting!"

Jungkook scrunches his nose in delight at your reaction. "I know I don't need to. I want to."

You just roll your eyes in defeat. It's not a new topic of discussion. Your boyfriend has a big appetite.

There's a gentle clicking sound from offscreen, nails tapping on hardwood, and then a big brown nose pops into frame as Bam puts his head on his dad's arm, wanting to know what he's looking at. Bam's technically your dog, too, since the two of you adopted him when you'd moved in together three months ago, but you're not a fool. He's Jungkook's baby.

"Bammy!" you coo, and Jungkook tilts the phone so Bam can see your face. His tail whips Jungkook's side in his frenzy. "Hi Bammy, I miss you!"

"Bam's been such a good boy, keeping me company while you're gone, haven't you?"

Jungkook buries his nose in Bam's face while planting kisses on the dog's snout, and you laugh when he sniffs the dog. Someone else might find it weird, but you're used to his sensitive nose. He's always sliding up behind you in the kitchen or bathroom and pressing his face against the back of your neck to inhale deeply. You stopped wearing perfume at his request, when he told you how much he loves your natural scent.

Right now, you'd give anything to feel his arms around you and hear that little snff snff up close. Your sigh is a little louder than you intend, because it draws Jungkook's focus away from his dog.

"You okay, baby?"

"I am. Really. I should… I should probably eat something." Food always helps. It's one of the things your father taught you. "Keep me company while I make lunch?"

Jungkook grins again, twirling something in his hand. "How about I do you one better?" he asks, and you realize he's holding his karaoke mic, and likely has been this whole time, just waiting for the perfect moment to reveal it. "Any requests?"

As you warm up your leftover takeout, Jungkook serenades you with a selection of your favorite songs. He incorporates little bits of choreo in some of the performances, like the risqué moves he does while crooning "Unholy" that make you choke on your rice. As always, his sweet tenor makes your heart flutter while he effortlessly riffs his way through a private little noraebang, just for you.

When your lunch is done, you sit in your father's old armchair, tucking your legs up on the sagging cushion. Jungkook's eyes are closed as he sings, and you know he's lost in the music. It's one of the things you love most about him, the way he gives his all to whatever he's doing. No matter what it is, he's always committed. Devoted.

You're so lucky to have him.

"Koo," you finally say when he pauses to pour himself a beer. "Baby. It's so late there. As much as I'm loving this concert, you should get some sleep." As a graphic designer, he works from home, so he doesn't have to wake early for a commute, but he's still human. He still needs sleep.

He fiddles with his frosted mug, pushing it back and forth on the table by where his phone is propped. "I know. I just… I don't like sleeping in our bed without you. It doesn't feel right." He frowns, dark brows knitting together in a look of anguish. "It doesn't feel like home when you're not here."

The last bit of tightness in your muscles dissipates as you melt at the heartache in his voice. "Oh, babe, I wish I could be home with you right now. Take you to bed, wrap my arms around you, and cuddle you to sleep."

"I wish you were here, too." The stars in his eyes seem dimmed by the sadness that hangs there. "And I'm - I'm sorry that I couldn't be ther-"

"I know, babe. I know." He falls silent at your gentle interruption. You've never hated the miles between you more than this very moment, wishing you could hold him close. Knowing he feels the same. "But this, you calling me like this to check in on me, singing to me - this means so much."

"Be better if I could hold you."

"Mmm. True." You smile playfully, chest warming when he smiles back just a little. "But don't worry. Even though you're there and I'm here, I still - I still feel your love." Of the two of you, he's the crier. But you find yourself swallowing thickly around your words. "So thank you."

Jungkook nods, letting his chin fall to his forearm again. "I'm always here, baby, any time you need some love. Time zones can't keep us apart."

"I know." You mirror Jungkook's position, watching his eyelashes flutter as exhaustion finally seems to hit him. "I love you, Koo."

"Love you too. Let me know how the appointment goes."

He yawns, and in the corner of the screen you see Bam curling up next to him on the couch. As soon as you end the call, you know they're going to fall asleep right there together.

"I will. Go get some sleep, babe."

He murmurs something that sounds like a very sleepy goodnight, and then the call disconnects. The screen fades to black, but in your mind you still see his soft smile.

Stretching, you peel yourself out of your father's chair. The appointment you have today is the one you've been dreading, but you'll be okay. In just a few more days, you'll be back home.

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© 2023 by minisugakoobies. Crossposted to AO3. Please do not copy or repost.

#jungkook x you #jungkook x reader #jeon jungkook x you #jeon jungkook x reader #jungkook fanfic #jeon jungkook fanfic #bts fanfic #bangtanarmynet #thebtswritersclub #btscarnivalnet #bangtanoasis #btshoneyhive #possumswrite #fic: timezones #jungkook fluff #bts fluff #jungkook oneshot #diverseinsertknet

[starlostjimin]

i know the feeling too, i've been inside the dark

Pairing: Bang Chan/f!reader Rating: Explicit Warnings: Unprotected sex (in the context of an established relationship; safe to assume proper discussions have been had), body image issues (Chan) Tags: plus size female reader, body image issues, established relationship, unprotected sex, a frankly alarming amount of pet names used, they're disgustingly in love your honour, pwp Summary: Your boyfriend comes home from work frustrated and with a serious case of not-good-enough-itis. You hope you can cure him the way he once cured you.

***********

   The front door closes with a dull thud and you hear two more as your boyfriend’s shoes hit the back of the closet. 

     “Hey babe,” you call from the kitchen. “How was work?” A muffled grumble comes from the living room and you emerge to find said boyfriend face down on the couch, his head buried in a throw pillow. “That good, huh?” you ask, settling on the floor beside the couch and running your hand lightly along his back. 

     “Tmfkjiepafffee,” comes the response, and you can’t help but laugh. 

     “Want to try that again? Maybe in a language I know?” 

     Chan turns his head slightly to the side and repeats himself. “They dropped a surprise photo shoot on me.” He sighed. “It was supposed to be next week, but the photographer had something come up and they had to move the shoot earlier instead of later. So it was all of a sudden today, and I look like crap, and I ate ramen yesterday so I’m all puffy, and this stupid shoot is going to be in a magazine and -” 

     You put a gentle finger to his lips, stopping the avalanche of words before they canbowl him over any further than his thoughts clearly already are. You lean forward and kiss him gently before speaking, your lips dancing lightly over his and lingering a hair longer than was really your intention, always reluctant to pull away from him. 

     “Christopher Bang Chan,” you say, your voice soft. At the surprise on his face, you giggle. “That’s right, I’m bringing out the government name. I mean business, mister.” 

     His eyes soften as he looks over at you, waiting for you to finish speaking. 

     “You, my love, are your own worst critic,” you say. You run a hand lightly along his cheek and down his jaw. “Without even a shadow of a doubt, you’re one of the most beautiful men I’ve ever seen - inside and out.” You add on the last part when you see him preparing to argue back at you. “Even first thing in the morning, when everyone is a little puffy, and your hair isn’t brushed and your face isn’t washed and you have morning breath. You still blow the rest of the world’s population out of the water. It’s a little unfair, to be honest.” A giggle escapes you before you continue. “And before you say I’m biased because I’m hopelessly, overwhelmingly in love with you, did the photographer have any complaints today?” Chan shook his head. 

     “The director of the shoot?” Another head shake. 

     “The stylists? Makeup artists?” Shake. 

     “So is it possible, even just a little, that maybe you’re being too hard on yourself?” 

     “They’re nice people. They wouldn’t say anything. But I know I need to hit the gym harder.” 

     Your head drops back in mild exasperation. Chan’s confidence is never great, but he goes through periods like this where it seems like nothing can snap him out of it. You’re patient, always - you know his job has him in the spotlight and that kind of constant scrutiny would destroy a lesser man - but it kills you to hear him talk about himself this way. You take a deep breath and bring your head up to look at him again. You don’t particularly like using this method, but sometimes it’s all that will nudge him out of this headspace. 

     “Chan?” you ask, your voice dripping innocence. “Do you think I need to go to the gym more?” It feels like a dirty move - you’re definitely heavier than him, your curves soft and muscles undefined. But you are, thanks in no small part to Chan, okay with your body. On your good days, you like it, and even on your bad days you don’t hate it the way you once did. You know what his response will be, and he doesn’t disappoint you. 

     “What? No! You look amazing. I’m sorry baby, have I been dumping on you on a bad day?” Chan’s answer is instant and he bolts half upright, leaning on one arm and reaching the other out to you. 

     “No, you ridiculous man,” you say softly, smiling and taking the offered hand. “But if you can see me that way, when I’m significantly, to use your word, puffier, than you, then why can’t you extend the same kindness to yourself?” You squeeze his hand gently and encourage him to roll over so he’s laying on his back on the couch. “I couldn’t always say this, but you make me feel beautiful.” You climb up to straddle his thighs, leaning forward to cup his face in your hands. “And considering you look like you’re carved from marble, that’s something I never expected or, for the longest time, felt like I deserved.” 

     His fingers trace patterns on your thighs absentmindedly as his face flushes under your gaze. “You’re incredible,” he says. “You fit perfectly in my arms - like you were made for me. And when you laugh your eyes sparkle, and it feels like the sun has come out. Your hair is so pretty,” he lifts one hand to the back of your head and runs his hand through your hair before pulling you down to kiss you softly. “And you have the kindest heart I’ve ever known. I’m so lucky.” His voice catches in his throat and you can’t doubt his words for even a moment. 

     “Your arms hug me like you’ll die if I ever escape,” you say softly, running a hand along his bicep. “When you’re focused on something, you bite your lip in this very particular way. I can’t explain it, but it’s insanely hot. You’ve got this classically handsome face, like some ancient artist should have carved statues of you or something. You don’t have a bad word for anyone but yourself; you’re encouraging and loving and just straight up good to everyone you meet.” Your hands begin to play with the hem of his hoodie, and you shoot a grin at him. “Let me show you how handsome you are?” 

     You feel his agreement stirring below you before you see him nod, his hands reaching out to wrap around your waist as you lean forward and slide his hoodie up his torso. Holding onto you tightly so you don’t fall, he shifts into a sitting position, settling you more comfortably on his lap. 

     “God that’s hot,” you mumble as you pull his hoodie up and over his head. His chest is bare underneath it - he obviously just tossed on whatever he had in his bag after he showered off the photoshoot makeup at the studio. You lean down to kiss him deeply as you run your hands along his chest. When you reach his nipples his breath hitches, and you smile against his mouth. “So sensitive.” Your lips move to his jaw, then his neck, and before he can get a word out they’re wrapped around a dusky bud, your tongue flicking across it. Heat shoots to your core when you hear his gasp and feel his hands tangle in your hair. You nip at him lightly before moving over to pay attention to his other nipple. 

     You’re nothing if not fair. 

     A whine escapes his lips and you can feel his cock twitch below you. You tap his hand lightly to encourage him to release his grip on your hair and slide down to the floor in front of him, tugging on his legs to have him face you. He changed into sweatpants before coming home and you’re grateful for the ease of access it gives you when you hook your fingers over the waistband of those and his boxers and tug them down over his hips, waiting (mostly) patiently as he lifts them so you can free him of his cotton prisons. You slide them down slowly in the front, letting them drag deliciously over his cock before it springs free. 

     “I think I forgot to mention how hot this is.” You nose lightly at his cock, hard and already beginning to pearl precum at the tip. “Let me remedy that.” Your tongue strokes over him once, base to tip, before he’s engulfed in your mouth. 

     “Oh, fuck,” he stammers, and you giggle before relaxing your throat to take him as deep as you can before sliding back again to suck on the tip, working his shaft with your hand as you do. Your tongue swirls around the head as your cheeks hollow, and salt dribbles along it as his arousal grows. You slide slowly down his shaft again, keeping the pressure as tight as you can, and he shudders beneath you. 

     “Y/n,” his voice is practically a whimper as he pulls you up off his cock. You look up at him from your seat on the floor and the fire in his eyes threatens to burn you alive. “Too many clothes,” he growls, leaning forward and pulling your t-shirt over your head. You lift your arms to ease the process for him, and he groans when he spies your breasts unencumbered by a bra. Leaning down and placing his hands on your sides, he tugs you upwards and pulls you into his lap again, kissing you deeply. Your arms come up to wrap around his neck and you cling to him as you grind down on him. His hands on your hips follow your movement until he seemingly can’t handle it anymore and they slide up your torso to cup your breasts, his thumbs grazing your nipples in an echo of what you’d done to him earlier. When he begins to lightly pinch and twist them, you pull your lips from his and throw your head back. 

     “Chan, fuck!” the words fall from your lips much louder than you’d intended, but you decide your neighbours can be happy for you or they can fuck off.

     “Pants,” he says in response, and you lift up onto your knees so he can slide them off of you. You lift one leg, feeling the cool air hit it as he slides the black leggings down, then shift your weight to lift the other one. 

     It doesn’t go as planned. 

     Shaky, your weaker left leg doesn’t hold your weight as well as your right leg did, and you collapse to the side, very nearly kicking Chan in the head as he tries to finish pulling off your bottoms. You erupt into laughter as he dodges before tossing your leggings to the side and leaning down over you. 

     “Sorry baby,” you say through your laughter. “Still think I’m hot?” 

     His smile is equal parts amused and heated as he answers. “The hottest. Now get back up here.” He drops a kiss on the tip of your nose before pulling you back up onto his lap, your heated core pressing against his still desperately hard cock. You roll your hips against him and the smile drops from his face, pure need replacing it. 

     “Please, y/n,” he murmurs, burying his face in your neck and covering it in kisses and light nips. 

     You have no interest in making him wait any longer, since that would also require you to wait. You lift your hips and reach in front of you to take hold of his cock. Angling yourself back just a bit to get the angle right, you slide onto him, your muscles immediately clenching around his thick length. Finally fully seated, you drop your head to his shoulder with a whimper. No matter how many times you fuck, it somehow always feels like the first time all over again - minus the slight awkwardness that comes from learning the particular needs of a new partner. The pause lasts only a moment before you’re moving instinctively, your hips rolling in the particular way that you know sends him over the edge. He guides you with a hands on the front of your hips, somehow making you feel tiny with the way his thumb can still reach your clit as he does so. He presses onto it with a tight rotation of his thumb, and you clench around him, feeling yourself shudder already. 

     “Not gonna last long if you keep that up, handsome,” you say through gritted teeth. 

     “Maybe that’s the plan,” he says, lifting his lips from your neck so he can look up at you, meeting your eyes. 

     “Fuck, you’re so hot,” you whine, another shudder passing through you as he rubs at your clit hard, all facade of finesse gone. 

     “Yes baby, that’s right,” he murmurs as your eyes close. “Come on my cock for me, show me how much you like it.” When your head drops to his shoulder, he presses his lips to your ear. “I know you like how I fuck you. You’re so good to me, love. Do one more thing for me and come on my cock. Please.” Desperation is clear in his voice and you drop down hard onto him once more before giving him exactly what he’s begging for. Your orgasm washes over you, sending uncontrollable shudders through your body as you press down hard into his lap, but you can’t stop moving. You keep fucking him through it, desperate for more and more as you cling to him with every possible part of you. It’s when you start to feel the wave begin to fade, his name drifting off your lips, a soft “Chan,” that his hands tighten on your hips and he drives into you again, once, twice, and you can feel his cock throb inside of you as he finds his own release. You move slowly, milking him through it, and only when he lets out a slight gasp of overstimulation do you stop, collapsing against him. He holds onto you tightly, rotating you both around so you’re laying on the couch again, but taking care to make sure he doesn’t slip out of you. Neither of you are ready for the loss of connection yet, and you both know it. You nuzzle into his chest and he tugs down the blanket that you keep draped over the back of the couch, pulling it over the two of you while you rest off your orgasms. 

     It’s a couple of hours later, you think, when you wake up fully, having spent the last however-long drifting in and out of sleep, pressed tightly against Chan’s chest. You trail a couple of kisses along his sternum as you look up at him, and find him looking down at you with so much love in his eyes you think your heart might burst. 

     “Hey,” he says softly. 

     “Hey,” you reply with a grin. 

     “We’re gross.” 

     “For once, I’ll agree with you.” 

     “Shower?” 

     “In a minute,” you say, slowly sitting up and tugging him up with you. You wrap your arms around his neck and scratch through his hair lightly with your fingernails. A shiver runs through him and you can already feel his cock beginning to twitch with interest again. 

     “Chan,” you kiss his forehead and then his lips, a light brush of lips that is in direct contrast to the neediness of earlier. “I really do mean it, you know. You are incredibly, undeniably, gorgeous as fuck.” Your eyes meet his and you continue. “You’re handsome, you’re built, and your heart shines through your eyes and your every movement. Everyone who knows you has been given a gift from the universe, and I’m the luckiest of all. And I’m going to live to my last moment showing you how much I mean that.” 

     His eyes glisten for a moment and you can see him trying to steady himself. “I love you,” is all he says, but there is so much emotion behind the words you find yourself joining him in trying not to cry. 

     “Always,” the word is followed immediately by another kiss, and then you’re sliding off his lap and running down the hallway with a giggle. “Coming?” you ask, looking back over your shoulder and shaking your hips. You can feel your ass move, but you can’t bring yourself to care when Chan launches himself over the back of the couch and chases after you as you run to the bathroom, incredibly aware that this shower is going to be at least twice as long as usual.

#stray kids fic #bang chan fic #bang chan x reader #stray kids #bang chan #fic #fanfic #possumswrite #pwp #i'm gonna fight christopher if he doesn't stop talking bad about himself i s2g

[hesperantha]

Sweeter

⨳Pairing: Jimin x reader (transmasc) ⨳Genre: slice of life, smut ⨳Words: 2.7k ⨳Rating: grownups only ⨳Warnings: dysphoria, some mention of medical details, established long distance relationship, communication is not their strong suit but they’re trying, they fuck. Mention of both natal and prosthetic dicks. ⨳Summary: Change and distance are hard on your relationship. Jimin helps ease your worries when you reconnect after both. ⨳AN: thanks to @wwilloww and @chemicalpink for beta reading the mxm version and thank you to @itsallabouthedetails​ for fixing this version. I started writing this as a reader-insert, had a doubt, and changed it to Yoonmin. Here’s the original version, finished in celebration of saying farewell to my own huge knockers.

“But they’re great. Fun. Soft.”

“I don’t care, Jimin,” you say, trying to keep the sulk out of your voice. “They’re horrible. They’re everywhere, all the time, and I wish they weren’t.”

Jimin scoffs through the phone.

“Imagine this,” you try again, scrambling for a good metaphor. “Your backpack. It’s handy, right? It serves a purpose. Now imagine you can never take it off. It’s just there all the time. None of your clothes fit the way they should because there’s a giant goddamn backpack under them. It’s heavy. The straps hurt your shoulders. It bounces and slaps against you when you run. When it’s hot out, your back gets sweaty from it.”

“That’s not the same at all,” insists Jimin, clearly missing the point. 

“But it kind of is. To me, anyway.”

“You didn’t used to think so,” argues Jimin.

“False. I didn’t used to think it was acceptable to think so. But fuck that.”

“Is this about the patriarchy again?” There’s a sharp edge in Jimin’s voice, and you’re relieved he has the decency to keep his sigh to himself.

“Newsflash: everything is about the goddamn patriarchy. And also not.”

“Look. I’m not trying to change your mind.” Jimin goes a bit serious, which you hate. “Just trying to understand. Trying to wrap my mind around it.”

“I hate to say it, but at the end of the day it doesn’t matter what you wrap your mind around. They’re not yours to have an opinion on and if this is a dealbreaker—”

“Of course it’s not a dealbreaker! I love you, not your specific parts.”

“Good, because it’s a done deal.” You can’t bring yourself to ask the real question: does this mean we’re done?

“You don’t need to process, do you?” Jimin asks.

“No. I know you do, though.” 

Jimin exhales heavily through the phone.

You continue. “Can I ask you a favor?”

“Of course. Always.” You know he means it. Time and time again Jimin has been there for you, emotionally if not physically, as the two of you held each other through the tempests.

You steel yourself to voice your need: “Process on your own time. Don’t ask me to do it with you. Not this time.”

“I can do that,” he promises before drawing a deep breath. “I wish I could be there. Someone needs to give you sponge baths and help change the dressings.”

“Me too. I mean—I’m honestly not worried about that stuff—I’m probably just going to be bored out of my skull. Crap. Sorry to shit on your hot nurse fantasy.”

It’s enough to pull a dry laugh out of him, so you continue, reeling it back in.

“Anyway, I have friends. And my dad’s coming for a week.”

“Not ideal,” Jimin notes. 

“No, not really,” you agree with a chuckle. “He’s just gonna talk about how it was his fault for signing me up for basketball when I was thirteen. Nevermind that my brother did ballet for all those years and is… the way he is.”

Jimin snorts. “A dudebro pussy magnet?”

“I love you. Thank you for not being a dudebro.”

When you meet him at the airport, Jimin is wearing a backpack, slouching under its weight. 

“I got you a watermelon,” he says, letting one of the straps slip off his shoulder and shrugging it down his arm to hand it off.

“I can’t,” you say, the words strange and unnatural on your tongue. “Not yet. Another week. I’ll wheel your suitcase, but you’re going to have to carry it for me. At least I got cleared to take a bath. Fucking finally.”

Jimin tugs the strap back up, rolls his shoulders, and stands taller. 

He hasn’t looked down yet. He hasn’t seen your shirt lying flat against your sternum, buttons in no danger of flying off. It’s Jimin’s shirt, one you used to wear open because you loved it and that was the only way it would fit. He used to call you cute when you wore it styled with a little knot at the bottom just above the waistband of your cut-off shorts. Then he called you a lumberjack when you tucked it into baggy carpenter jeans, hiding your body from yourself. You had snapped at him, then, unprepared to make a statement but unable to hold it back any longer.

“Good thing I like lumberjacks.”

That was all he’d said, but he’d quietly removed the high heels from your closet and replaced them with a pair of Air Jordans. He’d had a coffee mug with your new name mailed to you while he was in Nairobi.

Now he’s steps ahead, backpack full of watermelon hanging heavy from his shoulders while you walk behind, relieved that his flight landed on time but unsure of how things will land between the two of you.

In the garage, you wheel Jimin’s suitcase to his trunk and he slides in to lift it without saying a word, then goes to the driver’s side.

“Are you okay?” you ask as you get into the passenger side and buckle up. “How was the flight? Have you eaten already?”

Jimin is chewing his lip and looking ahead before he eventually says “You know, I thought you’d be different now.”

“How so?”

“I don’t really know how to explain it. I got used to you being you-shaped. And thought you’d be less you-shaped, but instead you’re more you-shaped and—oh god—I was not prepared for how hot you’d be. Not that you weren’t before. But now, now, it’s like looking into the sun.”

You adjust the seatbelt. The last time you rode passenger in your own car, the seatbelt was still wedged between your breasts, impossible to ignore. Now it’s an entirely different kind of distracting, lying gloriously flat across your shirt and the surgical binder underneath it. When you sneak a glance at Jimin, his smile is so broad you wonder how he’ll see the road.

You look out the passenger window, past the pillars of the garage as they go by, out over the city. When the car turns into the enclosed and darkened ramp and the outside goes black, you catch your reflection smiling back at you. 

At your apartment, Jimin unpacks. Neatly folded dirty clothes get tossed in the wash, a new book is added to the shelf, and then finally, finally, he dares to take you in his arms.

You lean against him, awkwardly turned to the side so your shoulder bumps against his chest. He’s being so gentle—uncharacteristically so—and you don’t know how to tell him that it isn’t what you want. You’re just weighing the pros and cons of playfully slapping his ass to end the hug when he takes a step back. 

“I think this is a good fit,” he announces, holding you at arm’s length. 

There’s a lump in your throat that you will away. You’d told yourself that it wouldn’t matter, that no one’s opinion mattered except your own, but now that Jimin is here with you, you find yourself wanting reassurance again that nothing has truly changed. 

The silence stretches on too long. Becomes awkward. 

“Watermelon?” you suggest. 

“Watermelon,” Jimin agrees, and you follow him to the kitchen and watch him butcher it, wedging the chef's knife in along the equator and splitting the melon into hemispheres. He stands each one upright, red flesh against the white cutting board, and splits them again, standing on his toes for the added power of an extra inch. You watch as the juices run out, red rivulets flooding the white field.

Jimin turns it, slices wedges, pares away the rind, exposing the soft, bright flesh inside. The knife slips easily now, dividing each part into cubes.

“Put the knife down,” you say, finding that soft, commanding tone that makes Jimin go a bit weak in the knees. He lays it to the side, blade facing away.

“Are you okay?” he asks. Are you ready, he means.

You pick up one of the cubes of melon, juices running down your fingers, and bring it to Jimin’s mouth.

“You try it first.”

He takes it from you, soft lips warm against your fingertips. There's a spot of juice at the corner of his mouth that threatens to spill over when he swallows. You wipe it away, then trace along his lower lip. His lips part softly, and you slip two fingers in.

His mouth is wet from the melon, and you know it would be delicious. Jimin closes his lips around the fingers in his mouth, drawing them in so they press against his tongue as his eyes flutter closed.

“God, I love you like this,” you say. Confirming. Just because it has to be said. “You’re so sweet. So pretty.”

Jimin drops to his knees on the kitchen floor, head bowed. Your fingers slip from his mouth, but linger—resting on his lower lip. 

“I’m sorry I wasn’t there for you,” Jimin whispers. 

“Don’t bring ‘sorry’ into it now. You’re here. Right where I need you.”

His tongue darts out to wet his lip, grazing your fingertip. Electric. 

“Where you need me,” echoes Jimin. “You need me?”

“Of course I do.”

“But you said —”

“This. This is how I need you.” He’s so close you can feel Jimin’s breath ghosting against the sensitive skin of your inner thigh through your jeans.

“Open,” you tell him. Jimin obediently does, and you rest another cube of melon on his tongue, pink on pink, wet. “My sweet boy,“ you coo.

Jimin reaches to place a hand on your hip, catching the fabric of your shirt on his thumb so he can slide it up. “Nice shirt,” he murmurs, leaning in to kiss the sliver of skin above your waistband. “Is this yours now?”

“I think we both know it’s always been mine.”

Jimin eases the shirt up further, exposing more of your belly. He kneels upright, nose brushing your navel. He feels you stiffen as his hand skims further up your side.

“Shhhh,” soothes Jimin. “It’s ok. I know it’s not—”

“It’s not that,” you counter. “It’s me. I’m not ready.”

Jimin redirects, kissing the tender place just above the button of your jeans. “Is this better?” he asks. 

You nod, swallowing down the lump in your throat again.

Jimin’s deft fingers unbutton your jeans, tugging them down. His tongue follows close behind, darting out to lick the soft fuzz on your belly. Waiting for a reaction, needing confirmation that this is right.

“Talk to me,” Jimin begs. “Say something. Please.”

“Never needed to say anything before,” you remind him. The edge of need in your voice belies the unaffected, gruff tone you try to take on. You look away, watching juice from the melon drip off the cutting board and pool on the countertop. “I missed your pretty mouth,” you say softly. 

“Keep going,” urges Jimin, tugging your boxers down over your hips and slowly exposing the thatch of hair at the apex of your thighs. 

“Missed your pretty mouth and your pretty dick. Spent a lot of time thinking about what I wanted to do with both of them.”

“Yeah?”

You choke back a smirk. Jimin’s distracting you on purpose, making sure that you don’t spiral into that void of self-conscious, helpless darkness that sometimes overtakes you in these intimate moments. It’s working. “Wanna know what I did when I was thinking about your mouth?”

“Of course.” Jimin sinks lower on his knees, kissing his way slowly around to the inside of your thigh, silently guiding your legs apart.

“I got myself off about a hundred times thinking about it. Didn’t have much else to do, so I took my time. Edged myself until I couldn’t take it, then let myself come thinking about making you swallow my load.”

Jimin’s groan isn’t for show.

“I’m going to fuck your pretty mouth now,” you tell him, steadying yourself with a hand on his shoulder. 

Jimin slicks his lips before parting them slightly, glancing up to make sure you’re watching. 

Your dick is much less than a mouthful, poking out hard and wet between your lips, flushed dark. Jimin loves to tease it, to take his time until you’re begging and whimpering, and you hope he knows this isn’t the time for teasing. 

The noise he makes as he slurps around it is obscene. One last glance upward and he begins to work his tongue in slow circles. He’ll know when—

“Suck it.”

—when to let you take charge, grabbing onto a fistful of his hair, ignoring the grit from another city, another time zone, pulling him in close until his nose is pressed hard against your pubic bone. You hold him there while he sucks hard, letting you rock against him as you chase your release. 

Jimin’s known for years that you’re usually quiet during sex, never one to talk unless he explicitly asks you to, and then rarely more than a handful of words. He’s learned to watch for other cues: the way you sway to keep your knees from buckling, the clench and release of your fingers, the way you breathe hard through your nose, teeth gritted to cut off any involuntary noises you might make. Now Jimin dares himself to pull a sound out of you, to coax a moan, a murmured obscenity, maybe even—if the stars align—a shout of pleasure, joyful and unrestrained. 

His hands grip the soft flesh of your ass as the hard floor bites at his knees. He feels himself drifting away, untethered and free as you use his mouth. Almost too lost in his own pleasure bubbling up, he knows that he needs to stay present, to be there for you the way he can, now, to show you that nothing has really changed.

Once again he looks up, watching you biting down hard on your lower lip, eyes unfocused and far away. Jimin realizes what a miracle it is to finally get this view—unobstructed, beautiful and sharp—he sucks loosely at your dick, tonguing the tip, bobbing his head and hoping you’ll look down and watch him.

You do, eventually, hazy eyes snapping into focus as the fingers in Jimin’s hair clench, pulling tight. 

Your voice comes out hoarse: “I love you. You know that, right? I’m always afraid to say it when you’re like this—don’t want you to think I just love it that you’re willing to suck me off—but you—really, you.” The words slip away as a drop of sweat rolls down your neck, rushing toward the collar of your shirt—Jimin’s shirt—the shared shirt. 

You’re thrusting into his face now, short strokes that smash Jimin’s nose relentlessly against hard bone and soft hair. Finally your body stiffens and stills, your pulsing dick pressed to his tongue as you let out a low groan of satisfaction and relief. 

Jimin sits back on his heels and wipes his mouth as you stagger backwards toward the counter, planting the heel of your hand in the pool of watermelon juice as you catch yourself. 

“Fuck,” you swear, encompassing the sticky hand, the orgasm, the sight of Jimin’s wild hair, and—most of all—the exhaustion that you aren’t quite able to put into words.

“We could do that too,” hints Jimin. 

“I’m old. Gimme a minute.” You pull your jeans back up, to Jimin’s complete dismay.

“Is Ultron charged?”

You look away, biting hard on the inside of your cheek to try to keep your laughter in. “You didn’t see me for weeks, missed the opportunity to nurse me through major surgery, and your first thought is to hop on my bionic dick?”

“Pretty much. Still love me?” Jimin bats his eyelashes ridiculously.

“Shit. I said that out loud, didn't I? Can we not make it a thing that I said it while you were—um…”

“I love you too. Want me to lick that off your hand?”

“No, but I wouldn’t turn down a bath. Just pretend not to look at me or something.”

In the deep, hot tub, you pull Jimin against you, curved spine against flat chest. Closer than you’ve ever been. 

tagging: @diverseinsertknet​

#jimin x reader #jimin fanfic #jimin smut #possumswrite #diverseinsertknet

[hobivore]

FNISS

fniss, noun; giggle

↠ PAIRING: KSJ x reader (m)

↠ WORDS: 1.3K

↠ GENRE: smöt smut

↠ RATING: explicit (18+)

↠ SYNOPSIS: You and Jin go to IKEA. Chaos ensues.

↠ WARNINGS: pwp, terrible puns, semi-public sex, oral sex

↠ A/N: This one’s written for the wonderful @hesperantha​ whom I drew in our possumversary fic exchange. Max, thank you for being my friend and an all-around awesome person and talented writer. This one’s for you, I hope you’ll like it! & many thanks to the equally wonderful @wwilloww​ for beta reading this piece.

P.S. yes, fniss means giggle in Swedish, and yes, it’s also the name of a trash can at IKEA. Enjoy!

© madseok Do not repost, translate or use my stories without my permission.

“Seokjin Kim, I will not hesitate to kill you—”

Jin sighs, melodramatic. “Now you’re the one regretting our relationship? All I wanted was one nightstand.”

You squint at him, following his gaze resting on the small HEMNES cabinet in front of you, before rolling your eyes so hard you’re worried they might fall out of their sockets. “Just—argh,” you throw your hands up, defeated. The sound of his wheezing fills the showroom. “It’s too early for this shit.”

“It’s never too early for Swedish meatballs!” Jin beams. “Or do you prefer Korean b—”

“Do not finish that sentence,” you huff, quickening your pace as you push the cart into an area filled with meticulously designed kitchens neatly slotted into little cubicles. Thin walls separate them, the variety of wallpaper alone almost overwhelming. Minimalistic Scandinavian design, clean and white; rustic, earthy green tones; dark wood to match the cabinets and large ceiling lights. 

“Wait!” Jin jogs after you, catching up with long strides, and you turn around. “Don’t be so in—” he holds up a wok, TOLERANT written in bold uppercase on the label, the pan already shaking with his barely contained laughter. 

You rub a hand down your face. It’s 10:34 a.m. and you’ve been stuck in this maze formally referred to as IKEA for nearly twenty minutes now. Twenty slow, torturous minutes filled with bad puns and the unfortunate butchering of the Swedish language. 

It doesn’t help that you snoozed a few times too many this morning, skipped breakfast, and had to drive through traffic with a way too upbeat and basically vibrating Jin in the passenger seat. 

It’s always those fucking early birds.

For what it’s worth, this early on a Tuesday there’s almost no one in the building to witness your sulking. And Jin, always attentive, had grabbed you a coffee while you were getting a cart. It’d tasted like ass—not the good kind—and paper, but you’d figured you needed every milligram of caffeine you could get if you were to survive the next hour. Or, worst case scenario: next couple hours. 

Normally you would go to IKEA on your own and head straight for whatever items you need while ignoring the rest, load them into your car and leave. But you can’t lift three wardrobes by yourself, so you’d asked Jin to tag along. Something you’re starting to regret more and more since he’d insisted on walking the full route instead of skipping the showrooms. 

“Okay, fine. No more puns.” Jin puts the wok back on the rack. “Do you want to hear an IKEA joke instead?” 

You sigh, knowing resistance is futile, your answer more for show than anything of substance. “What makes you think I want to hear an IKEA joke? No. I don’t.”

“You’re right.” He grins, bright, as he continues: “Because you’ll have to make it yourself.” 

“Jin, please,” you groan, while suppressing a smile at his infectious laughter. You can’t give in or else you’ll be stuck in here until next week. “Focus. Three wardrobes. In and out. That’s it.”

“Alright, alright,” he pulls you in and kisses your temple. “The wardrobes. No fun.” He traces down your face before his soft lips settle along your jaw. You shiver as his hands come to rest on your lower back, fingers slipping underneath your hoodie, heated against your bare skin. 

“Exactly. IKEA isn’t fun. Sleeping is fun. Eating is fun. Sex is fun—”

You cut yourself off as he pulls back all of a sudden, expression quickly changing when the proverbial light bulb turns on inside his head. “No—” you hastily add, floundering, but this time he’s faster. 

“We can make IKEA fun,” he interrupts, face inches from yours, eyes focused on your lips. You’re suddenly too aware of his chest pressed against your own and the way his hands rub small circles into your hips, his thumbs dipping below the waistband of your jeans. 

He’s close enough for your noses to touch now, and you tilt your head, anticipation forming a tight knot in your chest—

You let out a surprised yelp when he grabs your hand and whirls you behind a kitchen island in one of the small decor kitchens. “Good sir,” he sinks to his knees, looking up at you. “May I offer you a blöwjöb?” 

“Jin—” you hiss, both a warning and a plea, watching as his fingers find their way to your belt buckle, coming to rest there, waiting for your permission.  

You glance around the tiny cubicle: the unfamiliar yet familiar furniture, the empty showroom to your right, Jin’s kneeling figure hidden behind the kitchen island. He looks so soft and cosy in his woollen oversized sweater that you have half a mind to kiss him—previous responsibilities and inhibitions long forgotten and replaced by a burning need to hold him close. The promise of what his smart mouth can do is the only thing stopping you from hoisting him up and bending him over the kitchen counter. 

“Jesus—fuck, okay. You’re insane.”

He has the audacity to wink at you before making quick work of your belt and taking your already hardening cock into his mouth, the plush of his lips soft against your skin. 

You kick your head back and swallow a moan, a hand coming up to steady yourself against the kitchen island. Through heavy-lidded eyes you watch him, brushing his hair—it’s getting longer again, you notice absentmindedly—out of his eyes with your other hand. 

He’s showing off now, a slow drag of his tongue along your shaft, explicit, purely for his own twisted entertainment—small kitten-licks at the sensitive head, savouring the precum with closed eyes, until your hand tightens into his hair, your hips bucking of their own volition. “Ah—shit, sorry, can I move?”

“Hmm,” he hums, “be quick. In and out. That’s it.” He winks again. “You know I won’t vomit on your dick.” 

You snort, a hand traversing down his jaw, feeling it slacken as he takes you deeper, drooling. It’s wet, it’s messy, and it’s entirely too loud for the place you’re in. It only serves to fuel your arousal, desperate to be faster; harsh snaps of your hips, chasing your high before anyone can catch you in the act. 

It’s clumsy, overeager, your cock slipping out of his mouth a few times at a particularly unrestrained thrust, hitting him on the cheek. The soft sound of his giggles nestles itself in the space behind your breastbone, filling it with a warmth that radiates outwards until it infuses your entire body. 

“You’re so good for me, baby, fuck—” your hand is loosely wrapped around his throat now, feeling the outline of your cock pressing into your palm, your head spinning as he swallows around you. The movement of his arm catches your eye and you follow it down to where he’s palming himself over his jeans, his hand splayed over his straining bulge. 

“Are you touching yourself?” you ask. He acknowledges your words by sliding his other hand to the back of your thigh, urging you on. You have to close your eyes for a moment, the image of him on his knees, greedy like this, all for you, becoming too overwhelming. 

“Do you wish it was me touching you instead? Slip my hand into your pants, make you come all over my face, make you lick it off—”

He finally moans at that, the vibrations sending a shiver up your spine, balls tightening as your cock grows impossibly harder. Your teeth sink into your bottom lip in an attempt to hold back your own choked-off whimpers, desperation clear in every jittery stutter of your hips. 

When you come it’s with a soft sob, the syllable of his name rolling around your mouth as you spill down his throat and he swallows every drop. 

Jin rises to his feet, wiping his chin with the back of his hand, a smile pulling at the corners of his lips. “Three wardrobes, no puns, I get to fuck you when we’re home. Deal?”

“Shut up, you idiot.” You plant a kiss on his mouth, tasting yourself on his tongue as you linger there for a moment before leaning back and pointing at the storage cabinet against the wall. “You’re the BESTÅ.” You kiss him again. “And yes, you can fuck me. Let’s go.” 

Thank you for reading!

If you enjoyed this fic please consider reblogging and leaving a comment or an ask. Your feedback means the world to me and keeps me going!

↠ Masterlist

#thebtswritersclub #btsghostie #bangtanarmynet #btsgoldnet #bts smut #jin smut #seokjin smut #seokjin x reader #jin x reader #bts fic #possumswrite #possumversary

[dntaewithluv]

Tempted, You Know | kth

Taehyung really is the perfect best friend. Especially when he lets you drag him to a Harry Styles concert last minute. But as the night goes on, temptation sets in and the line between friends and more starts to get a little blurred...

👠 Pairing: bestfriend!taehyung x reader

👠 Word Count: 5.2k

👠 Rating: 18+

👠 Genre: Concert au, best friends to lovers, fluff, smut

👠 Warnings: Explicit language, Y/N gets a little jealous/possessive, consumption of alcohol (neither of them are drunk though just buzzed pls drink responsibly!) Falling puts Y/N through it and Tae is super sweet and comforts her, some sexy dancing times in public, teasing, dirty talk, grinding, hair pulling, marking, biting, scratching, very minor and brief choking, making out, explicit sexual content, mention of oral (m receiving), groping, exhibitionism and mention of having an exhibitionist kink (they're fooling around in Tae's car in the parking lot after the concert), these two challenge and egg each other on a lot (they love to talk shit lmao), fingering, cum eating, mention of getting turned on by Harry Styles songs, it ends soft uwu

A/N: This is what happens when footage of Tae vibing to Woman at Harry's concert lives rent free in your head 🙂 Also another example of me yet again having too many ideas and just deciding to follow the chaos of my brain oops. I didn't see Harry on tour this year so my point of reference is exclusively from the Twitter vids and looking up his setlist and also the concert I went to in 2017 😂 Hope you enjoy this Tae fic that my brain demanded be written and thank you so much for always being so lovely and supporting me 🥰💜 Special shout-out to my Nanowrimo besties for helping me completely change my relationship with writing over the last few weeks and for just being my constant cheerleaders 😭😭💕

Masterlist

Taglist: @taegularities @lavienjin @illneverrecover @thatlongspringnight

“Hello?”

“Tae! My love, my bestie, my soulmate, my favorite person in the universe.”

“Oh no,” Taehyung groaned from the other end of the phone, “what did you do?”

“Nothing! Nothing, I swear. It’s more like I have a favor to ask. Just a little one.” you went on, playing cute as best as you could manage without having him in front of you.

“Oh, that’s it? You had me worried there for a second, not gonna lie. Well, what can I do for you, Y/N? My love, my bestie, my soulmate, my favorite person in the universe.” Taehyung playfully echoed your words back to you, causing you to giggle.

“Soooo, turns out my sister can’t go to the concert with me tonight. Would you pleeeeeeeeease be my angel and go with me? I’ll buy you a drink at the show and love you foreverrrr.”

You knew you were being ridiculous and laying it on thick, but you didn’t care if it got Taehyung to go to the concert with you.

“You know, desperation is not a cute look on you.” your best friend teased, and you pouted even though he couldn’t see it.

“Tae, please. I can’t go see Harry alone. I need emotional support for when he sings Falling, and who’s more emotionally supportive than my best friend.”

You heard a sigh from the other end, “Alright, I’ll go. I don’t think you’ll have nearly as much fun with me there though, I barely know his music. I’ll be there to pick you up in like two hours okay?”

“Thank you thank you thank you! And who knows, Tae, maybe you’ll end up surprising yourself and enjoy the concert after all.”

Taehyung chuckled, and you smiled at the sound.

“Yeah, who knows.”

As promised, Taehyung was letting himself into your apartment two hours later and immediately calling out for you to see if you were ready.

“Sorry, I’m almost ready! Just doing some finishing touches, I’ll be right out!” you yelled back from your bedroom.

You should’ve known your best friend better cause he was already poking his head into the room right as you finished putting in your earrings.

“Whoa. I thought you said we were going to a concert.”

You laughed as you turned from your floor length mirror to face him standing in your doorway, “Yes, Tae, but this is Harry fucking Styles we’re talking about. People dress for these shows. Plus, I’ve been putting this outfit together for months, and I’m really excited about it, so I don’t wanna hear any smartass remarks from you, okay?”

Your best friend held up his hands in defense, earning another laugh from you.

“I was just gonna say a heads up would’ve been nice because now I am going to feel severely underdressed standing next to your gorgeous ass all night.”

You flushed at the compliment, even though it was just Taehyung. The way his eyes seemed to linger just a moment too long as he took in your outfit for the night made your face feel warm. You had on a very low cut and sparkly gold tank that tied in the back with a single ribbon, and flared white pants covered in sunflowers, with glittering gold high heeled boots to complete the ensemble.

“Oh please, Tae,” you scoffed, “like you could ever look bad.”

You were surprised to see his cheeks reddening slightly, he was always so cute when he got flustered. You were just telling the truth though. Taehyung stood there, in a black graphic tee tucked into his jeans and a pair of sneakers, and he still looked like he had just walked off the cover of some fashion magazine. His midnight curls were styled messily and yet, somehow still looked perfect. You often asked him how it felt to be one of God’s favorites, and Taehyung always got embarrassed and bashful every time you did.

He rubbed the back of his neck nervously as his eyes flitted around your room, looking everywhere but at you, “So, uh, should we go? I’m sure traffic is gonna be awful, so I wanted to give us plenty of time to get there.”

You felt nervous too. Something just felt...different tonight. You couldn’t quite put your finger on what it was though. There was a definite question hanging in the air, held in the way you kept looking at each other without ever meeting one another’s eyes.

“Yeah,” you replied after what felt like forever, “let’s go.”

The drive to the venue was spent with you obnoxiously blasting and singing along to Harry’s music from the passenger seat of Taehyung’s car, him laughing and teasing you all the while. Things felt much more normal between the two of you, at least for the moment.

Taehyung kept you tucked into his side as you navigated through the sea of people making their way towards the entrance, and you hated the way you were all too aware of the warmth of his hand across your back. You couldn’t remember ever noticing just how big his hands were.

“Hey, you okay?”

Taehyung’s fingers flexed against your bare skin, prompting you to look up at him.

“Hmm?”

“You just, you’re trembling a little. Are you cold?” your best friend rubbed his hand up and down your back as he asked this, and all you could feel was heat.

You shook your head and let out a nervous laugh, “No, just a lot of people.”

Taehyung nodded and pulled you a little closer, and you could feel your heart hammering inside your chest. What the fuck was going on. This was Taehyung for fucks sake. Your Taehyung. Goofy, lovable Taehyung with his adorable boxy grins. Your best friend, and the person you loved most in this world. Platonically, of course. At least you had thought so...

“Should we get our drinks now or do you wanna go check out our seats first and then come back?”

Taehyung’s voice once again pulled you out of your maddening and confusing thoughts. Maybe a drink would help you stop overthinking and overanalyzing everything, and just let you loosen up and enjoy the concert with your best friend.

“Drinks first.” you answered almost immediately, causing Taehyung to raise a curious eyebrow at you.

“I promised to buy you one, remember? So, lead the way to alcohol.” you instructed as you pointed towards the nearest stand selling drinks.

Your best friend chuckled before continuing to pull you along with him to join the line beginning to form in front of the vendor. You heard the sound of some girls giggling nearby and turned to see them gesturing to Taehyung and whispering back and forth to each other. You weren’t sure what came over you as you clutched Taehyung tighter and leaned further into him, but it shut those girls up, so you were definitely satisfied.

Taehyung had finished his first drink by the time the show started, while you were only halfway through yours. The lights went out, and you gripped the railing in front of you in anticipation. Your best friend stood next to you with his hands in his pockets, but close enough to where his arm still brushed against yours.

You heard the familiar melody of Golden start playing, and you were immediately letting yourself get swept up in the adrenaline that only came from realizing a concert was starting. You were screaming, singing, dancing, all with zero shame. You kept catching Taehyung’s amused grin out of the corner of your eye as he watched you caught up in your own secret little world.

Your drink was completely gone by the time Adore You finished, and your best friend had just disappeared to get his second one. Harry was going off to Only Angel and so were you as you screamed along to the lyrics and danced around wildly. The energy in the room was truly electric, and you felt like you were high off of it, like you were on a different plane of existence entirely.

Taehyung reappeared just as She was finishing up, second drink in hand. You could feel his eyes on you as your hips swayed along to the infectious guitar solo as the song faded out. But you were slightly buzzed and living your best life, so you didn’t let it invade your thoughts too much. You were literally given whiplash when Harry started singing Two Ghosts next, as an intro leading straight into-

“No! What the fuck. He is not doing this!” you exclaimed as Harry Styles had the audacity to sing the opening line of Falling.

“Wait, what’s wrong!” Taehyung yelled, leaning in closer to you so that he could be heard over the roar of the crowd.

“Tae! This is the song!” you shouted back, and you watched as the realization crossed over his face.

He reached for one of your hands before intertwining it with his own and giving you a small smile. You squeezed his hand in thanks before turning back to the performance happening in front of you.

Taehyung gripped your hand extra tight every time the chorus came around as you screamed back the lyrics with everything you had. Tears had been welling in your eyes for most of the song, but as soon as Harry reached the bridge, they began flowing freely down your cheeks. You barely had time to register Taehyung using his hold on your hand to pull you in to where your back was flush against his chest, strong arms immediately wrapping around your front. You half sang, half sobbed along to the final chorus, Taehyung gently rocking the two of you back and forth and pressing a kiss to your temple.

"Awww! I wish I had that!" you heard a girl cry from somewhere behind the two of you.

Something about the idea of her thinking you and Taehyung were a couple had a shy smile threatening to break out across your face. Your best friend released you from his hold as the song came to an end, and you found yourself turning around to face him. Taehyung's hands came up to cradle your cheeks, thumbs tenderly wiping away the tears he found there, "You okay?"

You nodded, every part of you fighting the urge to melt into his touch.

"I'm having fun with you, but I kinda want to punch that Harry guy for making you cry." he told you, leaning down close to your ear so you could hear him.

You giggled at the playful threat, and Taehyung squished your cheeks between his hands in response. He beamed down at you with that boxy grin of his, and you could feel the first sign of butterflies stirring restlessly in your stomach. He was so beautiful. It was something you noticed all the time, but it was more than that tonight. Tonight, he was brilliantly, beautifully, radiant.

Just as a very dangerous thought started to cross your mind, you heard the intro of one of your favorite songs, and also the one that had inspired the sunflower patterned bottoms you had chosen for the evening.

"Oh my God, Tae! I love this song!!" you voiced excitedly before moving to face forward again, putting a little distance between you and Taehyung as you did so.

You made the choice to focus all your attention on Harry's performance, rather than how badly you'd just been tempted to try to kiss your best friend. It wasn't long before you were once again lost in the music, your body moving on its own as you just vibed with the man on stage and the rest of the crowd. You managed to glimpse Taehyung finishing off his second drink before holding out a hand to you. You turned to him, a look of confusion adorning your features.

“Dance with me!” was his simple request as the corners of his lips quirked up into an inviting smile.

You laughed and shook your head at him, “Kim Taehyung, the entire time I’ve known you, I have never, ever, seen you dance.”

“Doesn’t mean I can’t.” he retorted, reaching out to grab both of your hands, “Just means that you’ve never seen me do it.”

You raised a curious eyebrow at him, and Taehyung proceeded to use your connected hands to create a push and pull movement between the two of you in the little bit of space available. You just went along with it, your arms swaying in time to the music playing all around you. Taehyung seemed just as lost in the song as you at this point as he closed his eyes and let his body take the lead. You had never seen your best friend like this, and you couldn’t help the way your eyes were drawn to the hypnotizing motions of his hips. Taehyung was feeling it, and you certainly were feeling something too.

His eyes suddenly snapped open to catch your staring, and the intensity of his gaze nearly had you stumbling backwards. In the next moment, he was tugging on your hands to twirl you into him, with your back meeting his chest once again.

“Told you I could dance.” Taehyung said, warm breath hitting your ear and sending a chill through you.

“You’re shivering again. Sure you’re okay?” he went on, the deep and teasing timbre of his voice almost unrecognizable.

“Tae.” you breathed out right as the next song started, but Taehyung was already letting you go as if nothing had happened.

Your hand shot out to tug on his sleeve to get him to look at you, “Why are you teasing me?”

Something sparked behind Taehyung’s eyes, and you watched a smirk form across his handsome features.

“Why are you?” he challenged back, making your cheeks flare red.

You pouted at him, and Taehyung chuckled.

“You should turn around, you’re missing your concert.”

Your pout changed into a full on scowl as Taehyung directed all his attention back to the stage, and you let your hand drop from his sleeve. Hopefully Harry wouldn’t see your clear resting bitch face that had nothing to do with him performing To Be So Lonely, and everything to do with the way the man next to you was driving you crazy. The two of you had never played this game before, and you weren’t even sure you understood the rules yet. One thing was for sure though, like hell you were gonna let him win.

Woman was next, and that song always brought out your inner hoe just in general. Now that you were hearing it live, still slightly buzzed and intrigued by whatever was happening between you and Taehyung, you were truly ready to act the fuck up.

You started off with subtle movements, just kinda swaying to the music. You gradually started making the motion of your body more dramatic, more sensual, letting your hips do all the work. You could feel Taehyung watching, so you made sure to give him a good show, hands trailing up your body as you did so. You turned to the side to glance at him, proud smirk on your face, only to find him no longer standing next to you. A gasp escaped you as strong hands gripped your waist and pulled you back against an all too familiar chest.

“Now who’s the tease.” Taehyung growled in your ear, teeth just barely grazing against your skin.

Looked like you were figuring out how to play this game after all.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, Tae. I’m just dancing.”

You insisted on playing dumb before swiveling your hips that were flush against him, Taehyung letting out a grunt behind you. You smiled to yourself, repeating the same movement and causing his hands to dig harder into your flesh. One of your arms reached up to wrap around the back of Taehyung’s neck, fingers snaking into his wavy tresses.

“Shit.” the man behind you hissed as you grinded harder against him, “You drive me crazy, you know that?”

His mouth was hot and hungry as it descended on your neck, and your head fell back on his chest at the foreign but euphoric sensation. Taehyung’s body moved in tandem with your own, the two of you in a completely different world than the concert still going on around you. Your nails scratched against his scalp. His teeth scraped against your throat. There was an obvious bulge in his jeans that was growing more prominent with each drag of your ass against his crotch.

“You’re, fuck, so lucky we’re in public right now.” he huffed right by your ear.

You chuckled and pushed back against him, hard, and Taehyung let out a strangled groan, “That hard to keep it in your pants, huh? Thought you would have more self control than that, Tae.”

“Shut up. Like you’re not fucking soaked right now.” he snarled back, one of his hands leaving your waist to begin sliding up your bare back.

Your breath hitched as his warm fingertips danced across your skin and slowly slipped under the ribbon that was the sole thing holding your top together. He gave the faintest tug against the material, and your nails dug into his neck in warning.

“You know, if we were anywhere else but here, I would be finding out for myself right now. Just how wet you were for me.”

“You sound pretty confident.” you shot back, but your own cocky facade was fading fast as his hand on your back traveled higher to press at the base of your neck.

“I know you, remember? And I know I could probably make you cum right here. Bet it wouldn’t take much. You’re already so wound up.” Taehyung went on taunting you, and you had never hated him so much for being right.

His large hand curved around your neck and he gave an experimental squeeze that had you clenching around nothing. Taehyung hummed, lips ghosting along your jaw, "Yeah, I fucking thought so."

His other hand was just starting to dip between your clothed thighs, when you both seemed to realize that the song had ended and Harry was now moving on to Cherry. The abrupt shift in tone jarred you right back to reality. Specifically, to the reality of what you had almost been willing to let your best friend do to you in a very public space. What you had wanted him to do.

Your hands left Taehyung at the same time that his arms retreated back to his sides. You quickly stepped away from each other, and the break in tension had you slowly coming out of your lustful haze.

You grabbed onto the railing in front you, still trying to anchor yourself back to what was happening around you. Taehyung appeared beside you a few moments later, but you couldn't bring yourself to look at him. To face the line you had both crossed, and what that meant for you and your friendship going forward.

You nearly jumped when you felt one of Taehyung's large hands envelop one of yours. He proceeded to tug on your hand, forcing you to finally look at him.

"Come on." he said simply, pulling on your hand once again as something mischievous sparkled behind his chestnut irises.

You laughed, feeling confused, "What?"

Taehyung leaned in closer, and his curls tickled the side of your face.

"Let's get out of here."

Your breath caught as your grip tightened on the railing. Oh the absolute temptation those words held…

"But the concert's barely halfway over." you pointed out, looking up at him.

"Yes, but all I care about and all I can think about right now is finding out how you look and sound when you cum." Taehyung pressed, his free hand starting its familiar journey up your back yet again.

Every time his hands were on you, you felt your brain getting fuzzy all over again. The beginning of Lights Up, thankfully, had the fog clearing slightly.

"Tae, I paid a lot of money for these tickets, and I've been looking forward to this concert for forever."

His hand dropped from your back as he pouted cutely at you. You couldn't help but giggle at the childlike reaction.

"Plus, I think we need to be rational and talk about what exactly this is, going on between us, before anything else happens. So let's just enjoy the rest of the concert, and then we can try to figure out whatever this is afterwards, okay?"

Taehyung sighed before shaking his head as he laughed to himself, "Yeah, okay, you're right. We really should talk about this first."

You smiled at him in thanks, and squeezed his hand that was still holding yours, happy to know you were both on the same page about this and could just focus on the remainder of the show.

"You know, this isn't exactly what I was expecting when you said we needed to talk after. Not that I'm complaining. I mean, this is a fucking fantastic conversation." Taehyung quipped, and you pulled back from marking up his pretty neck.

"Yeah, well, that was before I knew how much I liked kissing you." you countered before moving to pull his earlobe between your teeth.

Taehyung chuckled as his palms smoothed up and down the bare skin of your back.

"Mmm, I like kissing you too." he agreed, repositioning his head so he could connect your lips once more.

You sighed out softly as Taehyung licked into your mouth, his fingers teasing the ribbon still holding your top together. Your hands were making a mess of his already unruly locks, pulling and tugging, urging him to give you more. Taehyung nipped at your already swollen lips, and you rocked yourself forward against him.

"Fuck." he growled, "Did you forget we're literally in a car and still in the middle of a fucking parking lot full of people?"

Once it had been established that you would be waiting for a while to be able to get out of the insanely packed parking area, straddling Taehyung in his seat and engaging in a heated makeout session had presented itself as a pretty good way to pass the time.

"Relax, you baby. It's not like I'm giving you head in plain sight or anything."

His dick twitched beneath you, and you separated from his mouth to flash him a truly wicked smirk.

"Oh, but you wish I was, don't you?" you teased as you slid your hand down his chest before palming him over his jeans.

Something blazed in Taehyung's eyes, hungry and full of desire.

"Just for the record, I have wanted this for a while. Wanted you." he told you, dropping his hands to settle on either side of your waist.

Wings fluttered incessantly in your stomach, and you leaned forward to kiss him, soft and sweet.

"I think I have too. I just don't think I realized how much until tonight. Until I was willing to finally admit it to myself. But I do. I want you, Taehyung."

His entire face lit up with your favorite boxy grin, and you affectionately ran one of your hands through his mussed waves.

"Well, you have me. In the middle of a parking lot after a Harry Styles concert. You fucking have me."

Laughter overtook you, your body rocking forward with the force of it as you attacked Taehyung with kisses all over his face and hair. You could feel him smiling against your skin, and you reached for his hands to guide them back up to the still knotted ribbon. Taehyung's fingers gripped the thin material as he pulled back to meet your eyes.

"Have you always had an exhibitionist kink? Or is that just something I bring out in you?" he queried cheekily, giving the ribbon an experimental tug that had it loosening immediately.

"Maybe I just like the idea of people being able to see that you're the only one who can touch me like this." you said back, voice soft and sultry, and you felt Taehyung jerk under you.

His hands made quick work of undoing the ribbon, and he wasted no more time as his palms slid around to cup your breasts. A breathy moan left your lips, and you arched into his touch. You started moving against him again as he groped and kneaded your soft flesh. His head disappeared under your top a moment later, and you giggled at the way his hair tickled your skin. Your giggles dissolved into whines and cries, however, the moment you felt his warm mouth envelop one of your nipples.

"Tae, fuck."

You tipped your head back as your hands found their way under your top and back into his charcoal curls to hold him against you. Taehyung worked his teeth, tongue, and lips against your perked bud until you were having to bite down on your own lip to muffle all the sounds threatening to escape.

"I didn't realize you had such a marking kink." you breathed out as Taehyung sucked more spots of color onto your chest.

"I don't." he remarked, voice husky and deep, "It’s just because it’s you."

His words went straight to your core, and you started grinding against him with even more desperation in an attempt to alleviate the growing ache. Taehyung moved to begin marking up your other breast, his hands reaching around to grab at your ass to encourage your movements. His tongue flicked over your nipple, and you had to bury your face in his neck to cover up the constant moans and pants that were leaving your mouth.

“God, I love that I can make you sound like that. I can’t wait to see what else I can draw out of that sweet mouth of yours.” Taehyung murmured against you before trapping your bud between his teeth.

He had you so wrapped around his finger that all you could do was frantically clutch at his hair and whimper helplessly as he helped you rut against him. You were literally shivering from overstimulation by the time Taehyung’s fluffy head of hair resurfaced from under your top. You glanced out the window to see that the parking lot was significantly more empty now. 

Taehyung followed your line of sight before using his fingers to grip your chin and turn your face back towards him. He looked absolutely wild right now. Eyes almost completely blown out, pretty lips pink and swollen, and his curly black tresses in complete disarray from your makeout session. The man under you laughed nervously, “Why are you looking at me like that?”

“Cause you look really sexy right now.” you replied, and Taehyung raised an intrigued eyebrow at you.

“You gonna let me make you cum? Right here, where anyone could see us? Or is that exhibitionist kink all talk?”

You knew he was challenging you, and you were quick to rise to meet him.

“I think you’re the one who’s all talk, Taehyung.” you fired back, smug smirk clear on your features.

“Hmm,” Taehyung hummed thoughtfully, “well let’s hope your screams don’t end up getting us arrested for public indecency.”

“What makes you think I’m gonna scream?” you pressed, and the devilish glint in his eyes absolutely terrified you.

His fingers on your chin and the intensity in his gaze pinned you in place while his other hand trailed along the waistband of your pants. With very little effort, he yanked them down to expose your nearly soaked panties.

“Shit. You really are dripping.” Taehyung hissed before cupping you over the garment with his palm, and you sighed out at the contact.

You sucked in a breath when his digits dipped inside to meet your folds a moment later. He slowly slid one long finger inside, drawing out a choked moan from you as he did so. Something about the way he was still making you meet his eyes as his finger fucked into you had fresh arousal coating your thighs and Taehyung’s hand. He glanced down and swore at the sight, adding a second digit and increasing his pace.

“Fuck, Taehyung!” you cried out, your eyes snapping shut in response to the pleasure.

“You’re so tight, fucking hell. Your cunt is just sucking my fingers right in.” he observed, voice clouded over with lust.

He slid in a third finger, and your head fell back at the delicious stretch. The car was filled with the lewd sounds of his digits plunging between your walls again and again as you bounced in his lap. Taehyung must’ve finally picked up on how badly you were struggling because he released your chin from his hold at the same time that his thumb strummed across your aching clit.

A hand flew up to cover your own mouth as your cries grew louder. Taehyung’s eyes were glued to the way his digits disappeared inside you, biting down hard on his own lip in concentration. You were practically thrashing on top of him, your orgasm approaching quickly from the way his fingers were playing you as if he’d done it a hundred times before.

“I’m so close, Tae. Please.” you begged him breathlessly as you lost the energy to hold your hand up and let it drop back down to your side.

“Let go for me, beautiful. Wanna feel you.” Taehyung coaxed, his thumb relentlessly stroking your bundle of nerves as his digits reached that spot inside of you that had your eyes rolling back.

“Oh, fuck, Tae, I’m-”

His free hand clamped over your mouth just in time to silence your scream as you came undone. Taehyung continued to fuck you through it, and tears slid down your cheeks from the overwhelming stimulation. When he finally withdrew his fingers from you, you just slumped forward against his chest, breathing heavily. You heard Taehyung humming as he sucked his fingers clean, but it barely registered in your post orgasm state. A moment later you felt his strong arms enveloping your figure and holding you close.

“You gonna make it?” he asked you softly before pressing a kiss into your hair.

“Sure.” you mumbled back, “Right after I pass away.”

Taehyung laughed out loud at that, jostling you in his lap, and the sound made your heart feel impossibly warm.

“Well, you were definitely right about one thing tonight. That concert totally changed my perspective on Harry Styles.”

You used what little energy you had left to lift your head to gaze up at him, “So, what you’re saying is, you’re a Harry stan now?”

“I wouldn’t quite go that far, but I am grateful to him and his music.”

Taehyung beamed down at you, and you smiled back shyly.

“Although, I don’t think I’ll be able to listen to that Woman song without getting turned on.” he continued, giving you a knowing look.

“A Harry song is gonna make you pop a boner? Well, looks like my work here is done. I’ve converted you.” you quipped back, earning a poke in the side from Taehyung.

“Want me to finger fuck you until you cry again?”

You pouted up at him, “No, I wanna go home and cuddle and then go the fuck to sleep.”

Taehyung chuckled and shook his head at you.

“You’re lucky I have a soft spot for your cute ass.”

You leaned up to press a kiss under his jaw.

“Yeah, I’m the luckiest.”

#bts smut #taehyung smut #networkbangtan #thebtswritersclub #bangtansorciere #bts #taehyung #possumswrite

[lavienjin]

knotty or nice | ksj

synopsis: you only see seokjin once a year, so you have to make sure your visit counts.

p: seokjin x reader

wc: 6.8k

genre/rating/au: 18+ | sugar daddy, est. rel. au | smut, fluff

warnings: dom seokjin, sub & bratty reader, pwp, dildos, masturbation, voyeur, size kink, there's a camera involved, lots of dirty talk, deep throat, hand kink, unprotected sex, overstimulation, breast play?, blindfold, light bondage, breathing control (asphyxiation), jin has a potty mouth and he's mean :(, lots of name calling :), multiple orgasms, multiple sex scenes, rough sex, delayed orgasm, facial, cum eating, creampies (yum), aftercare, the ending is mushy and cute :)

a/n: happy birthday to the love of my life ♥ thank you so much to @chelsea-chee for helping me out ;;

posted: 9 dec 2021

m.list | ao3

Every year around the holidays, without fail, you and Seokjin would meet up for a Christmas Rendezvous. It's the only time the two of you can see each other since he's so busy running his million-dollar business while you're busy doing… stuff. Not only was this a moment you've been waiting all year for, but you're determined to convince him to purchase a property in your city so he can drop in any time he wants without needing to rent a hotel.

This year, for your meeting, he’s chosen a fancy hotel by the mountains for you to enjoy the sights, though you doubt you’ll have time to check out any of the fancy amenities listed on the website. You and Seokjin tend to overplan, only for the both of you to never leave the comfort of your rooms because you're too busy tangled up in each other's arms.

When you arrived at the hotel, the concierge mentioned that there’s something waiting for you in the room, and sure enough, upon you walking in, you’re greeted by a giant stuffed teddy bear resting against the headboard on the bed with a note tucked between its paws. It’s black, plastic eyes shine in the dim winter sun, and it stares at you like it knows what horrors it's about to witness.

“Ready to play?” the note read in Seokjin’s bubble-like handwriting.

You bite back the smile of excitement. He mentioned in your texts leading up to the event to expect something special, because there’s an additional cause for celebration that’s not just his birthday plus the holidays.

You wanted to let him know that you’ve arrived, so you decide to send him a text that includes a photo of you and your gift. The problem is… the teddy bear is so big that you have a hard time fitting it in the frame for your picture. After a few tries, the only decent picture that comes out is one of you lying on the bear’s soft brown stomach with its nose peeking from the corner. Well, you’re sure Seokjin will get the ‘picture.’

You: I’m here ♥ Thanks for the bear.

It hasn’t even been a few seconds until you see that your message has been read, and the emergence of the three little dots that’s indicative of his reply.

SJ: Good. In the top drawer of your nightstand, you’ll find a blindfold. SJ: I expect that when I come into the room, you’ll be nice and ready for me.

Turning towards the nightstand, you open the first drawer per Seokjin’s instruction and you find the familiar black satin fabric. You begin to discard your clothing and loop the blindfold around your head, but just before you place it over your eyes, you pause. Seokjin didn’t mention when it was he’s coming over. He just expected you to wait.

Well, that's not fun! Based on the website of the hotel, apparently there’s a hot spring somewhere in the lower levels that you wanted to dip your toes in. Since you can’t leave the room unless you’re looking for punishment, you decide to explore the room you’ll be occupying instead.

Judging from the large window in the bedroom that overlooks a crystal blue lake, this seems to be the “scenic room”, and you can’t help but stare in awe at the rippling water that looks like diamonds in the setting winter sun. To the right of the lake lies a mountain range, and you can see the few brave skiers going down the slopes, looking like miniature figurines in a diorama.

There's also a breakfast nook on the other end of the room. You don't recognize the lush flowers they've provided in the gorgeous dark green vase, but you can smell the sweet floral notes from where you're standing.

You hum as you walk towards the large door you saw on your way in. Behind the door is a bathroom, and it is already bigger than the living room in your apartment back home. A black marble bathtub lies in the centre of the tile floor, and not only does it look like it costs more than your one year of rent combined; it's big enough to fit the two of you with plenty of space to spare.

You have no doubt that he spent a pretty coin to reserve this room. But what surprises you most is how Seokjin found this area in the first place. From what you can tell, when he told you where you’ll be staying together, the town doesn’t seem to be listed in any map, which was why he had you picked up in a limousine that was filled with your favourite snacks and drinks for the lengthy trip.

As you make your way back to the bed, the realization hits you.

You forget who it is you’re dealing with! There's a good chance that Seokjin’s family owns this place, and not just the hotel either, but the entire area surrounding it. You definitely wouldn’t be surprised if that’s the case. That slim black card in his wallet was his father's gift to him when Seokjin was only 10, and it has paid for a number of things in your life: from something as “trivial” as your college tuition, the expensive outfits and lingerie you brought with you, and down to this gigantic bear in your hotel room that takes up half of the king size bed.

Currently, you’re debating whether you should move all your outfits from your suitcase atop the chaise lounge to the antique wooden wardrobe on the other side of the room. Seokjin did mention that you’re going to be here for at least a week, although judging from your previous escapades, you’ll probably spend New Year’s wrapped up in his arms again.

You just started to unzip your suitcase when your phone chimes. It’s another message from Seokjin!

SJ: Shame. You’re not ready to play.

“Wait… what?” You stare at your phone at the weird message. You're decoding the meaning behind the text when you receive another one.

SJ: I won’t repeat myself for a second time. Get ready. Now.

Well, there’s no sense in arguing, though you are interested as to where Seokjin might be watching from. It’s not until you undo the last few buttons of your blouse that your eyes land on the bear. What are the odds that those beady eyes are actually camera lenses?

You quickly stripped yourself of your clothes until only the red lingerie is all you’re left in. Then, placing the loop of the blindfold between your lips, you crawl on the bed on all fours until you’re staring eye-to-eye with the bear. You squint at what you thought were soulless plastic beads. After closer inspection, you find it; the faintest blink of red that disappears as quickly as it comes. You were right. There is a camera hidden behind the left eye of your gift.

Two can play at this game. And if Seokjin wants a show, who are you to deny him one? Smirking, you tower over the plush before planting a kiss on the lens.

“Can you hear me, baby?” you test.

The ding of a message from your phone is proof that he could.

The smirk you wear stretches wider across your cherry-tinted lips. Time to enact your plan. You pull the bear by its legs so it lies horizontally on the bed. Shifting up, you straddle its face before lowering your hips until your clothed core meets the cold tip of its nose.

Oh. That feels good.

“Baby…” Throwing the lens a smirk, you secure the blindfold around your eyes. “I don’t want to wait," you pout, "So, I'm going to play right now."

As soon as you finish your sentence, your phone on your nightstand beeps again. Something tells you that hidden inside that text notification is a command for you to stop whatever you’re doing, but since he’s not here…

You rock your hips forward experimentally, shuddering when the bear’s nose bumps your clit. “Oh fuck…”

With quiet pants, you repeat the action, back and forth. Back and forth. The candy-cane patterned panties you’re wearing gradually grows wetter, your arousal seeping into the cream muzzle of the bear.

In response to your rebellion, the buzzing from your phone increases to a point where it vibrates itself off the nightstand. Still, you don’t stop, and instead, it fuels you to grind faster, harder, until you feel the telltale tingling in your spine.

Your hands grip the sides of the bear, using its ears as leverage to steady the head. You hope he's enjoying the view. “Seokjin, baby, are you watching?” you smirk.

The thrill of potentially disobeying him is exhilarating. Within the realms of technicality, you’re not breaking any rules. Seokjin just said to put the blindfold on and wait, which is exactly what you’re doing right now… just with the added bonus of possibly making yourself orgasm.

The embers quickly spread across your body, and the grip you have around the bear grows tighter. You can’t stop your moans, and they tumble out with careless abandon, growing louder and louder as your orgasm approaches.

“C-Can you hear me? I’m… ah, so fucking close! Baby, baby…” Your body is a forest fire. All your senses are heightened to that one specific point in your body. The world no longer exists, just you and a taut string, ready to snap at a moment’s notice. You’re close… so close. “I’m gonna—”

“Stop.”

The rocking of your hips freeze instantly at the familiar command that often haunts your dreams. In your blinded state, you swivel your head this way and that, trying to pinpoint where his voice is coming from. There’s no way he’s in the room… is there?

“S-Seokjin?” you call out meekly.

His voice sounded so cold, so furious.

At the silence that greets you, you try again. “Jin? Baby? Are you here with me?”

You don’t dare move, or even breathe, as you wait. Then it comes, the unmistakable click of his tongue, followed by the dull thump of his expensive leather shoes against the carpeted floor of the room. Shit.

"O-Oh, when did you get here?" You smile at the direction you think he's coming for.

He ignores your question. “What do we have here?” Seokjin asks instead. Though his words sound amused, you have a feeling he’s anything but.

Swallowing the lump in your throat, you attempt a cheery attitude. “B-Baby… I’ve missed you so much! Are you finally here to play?”

Seokjin chuckles, but it’s not the high-pitched laughter you’re used to. No, it’s the one he reserves for when he’s disappointed in your antics; like he can’t believe your audacity.

You gasp when the familiar curl of his fingers wrap around your throat, his forefinger and thumb tilting your chin to the side. His other hand lands on your thigh, drumming his fingers on your skin.

“Bad girl,” he tuts, trailing his lips from the nape of your neck to your shoulder. “I told you explicitly what to do, and here you are disobeying me. What's worse is that you ignored my calls and texts with the phone I gave you.”

The hand on your thigh trails up and up, skirting around the lace edges of your underwear. “What should I do with a baby that can’t even listen to simple instructions, huh?”

You stay completely silent, a small hint of fear diluting your excitement.

Seokjin grazes his teeth along the shell of your ear. “What’s going on now, pet? Too scared to say anything? You were so loud before. Answer me. What shall I do with you tonight?”

“Wanna see you…” you whimper instead of answering his question.

Seokjin laughs in disbelief. “What makes you think you deserve to see me? No no. Not after that stunt you pulled that forced me out of my meeting. Decide on your punishment, baby; I’m giving you this chance because it’s Christmas, but also because I don’t think you’ll appreciate what I have planned for you.”

You attempt to quiet down the loud pounding of your heart with an inhale. It’s mercy, especially from him. “Spank m-me,” you manage to utter.

He hums against your skin. “Spanking? Isn’t that too boring? We’ve done that plenty of times before and it’s clear you don’t learn your lesson from it.” Seokjin pauses, and when you don’t object, he continues. “Well, since you don’t seem to have any other ideas, let’s go with my plan then.”

The cold air whooshes around you when Seokjin departs from your back, and upon release, you slump forward onto the bear. Whatever it was he has planned, you’re not sure you’ll survive.

When he returns, not long after you hear him sticking something to the floor, Seokjin removes the blindfold carefully, making sure it doesn’t tangle with your hair. You can’t help but smile, even when he’s upset with you, he’s still trying to make sure you’re unharmed.

“Okay, angel, seeing as you’re so eager to cum, get on the floor and show me.”

It takes you a few moments to adjust to the bright light. When the room no longer blinds you with white, you find yourself face-to-face with Seokjin. There's a flush of red across his cheeks and ears, a beautiful contrast to the navy vest he wears over his white shirt. God. You must look completely disheveled compared to him.

Seokjin's lips curl into a feline smile. He tucks your hair behind your ear as he whispers, "Are you done staring? Don't forget what you're supposed to do, pet."

Embarrassed, you pretend to not hear him, and instead your eyes find a dildo placed on the floor.

You purse your lips as you survey the toy. It looks pretty standard, although it’s a bit bigger than the normal dildos you’ve seen in sex shops. You’re not too keen on the silicone’s bright neon pink shaft, and the veins protruding along the sides look more comical than anything. But this is the task that Seokjin has assigned you to and even with your hesitance, you’re not about to say ‘no’.

After removing your panties, you take another glance at Seokjin, who smirks at you, before positioning your hips so that the tip of the dildo kisses your hole.

“Come on, get on with it.” Seokjin taps his foot impatiently on the carpet. “Put on a good show for me.”

After taking a deep breath, you slowly lower yourself onto the silicone toy. As the toy disappears inside you, a gasp leaves your lips at the slight burn from the stretch. Yeah, this was way bigger than any of the dildos you’ve tried previously; and maybe it’s because of your position, but the tip reaches further than what you’re used to as well.

“Oh… god…”

You’re filled to the brim, and you’ve barely taken up half of the toy. Thankfully, the cold silicone begins to warm up to your body’s temperature, and you moan as the first bursts of pleasure erupt in your head. You’re moving slow, allowing yourself to get used to the girth, but Seokjin seems displeased, his mouth turned downwards at your efforts.

With a click of his tongue, he rises from the bed to sit behind you on the floor, bunching the black satin fabric in his hands. Your vision disappears when he secures the blindfold over your head again.

After he makes sure that the blindfold won't come loose, he moves your hair to the side and plants a kiss on the nape of your neck, murmuring, "Do you love me?"

You sigh happily, leaning towards his touch. "You know I do. What's up with the question?"

Seokjin chuckles. "Oh, nothing at all." His large hands take hold of your hips, massaging you gently. You squeak when his grip turns forceful, his dull nails digging into your skin, but it doesn't compare to the scream you let out when Seokjin slams you down to the hilt.

“Fuck! Seokjin!” Your walls clench at the sudden intrusion, pinpricks of tears collecting in your eyes when he yanks you up. Your legs shake so badly that if it weren't for the tight hold he has over your hips, you'll surely buckle forward.

Seokjin seizes your jaw, his fingers digging into the flesh of your neck as he rasps harshly, “Didn’t I tell you to put on a show? Huh? Fucking hell. Are you too stupid to understand simple instructions now?”

"N-No…" you sob. "S-Seokjin… I can do it myself."

Using your hips, he pushes you back down onto the dildo, ignoring your whimpers and pleas. "I don't think so," he coos mockingly when your hands scratch over his palms as you beg him to stop. "I think after a year apart, my baby is too stupid to do anything without my help."

Seokjin doesn't need both hands to force you to ride the dildo, and he spits out taunt after taunt, each one meaner than the last. The other hand on your neck holds your head in place, and your neck is surely riddled with half-moon indents by the power of his grip. You’re left speechless as you're made to ride the dildo, there are only half-syllables of his name escaping every so often with how mushy your brain’s turning. With the brutal pace he sets, the burn from your walls stretching open takes a bit to fade into pleasure, but when it does, you're moaning loudly, slamming your hips down repeatedly on your own.

“That’s better,” Seokjin praises, removing his hand from your body to smooth out your hair. You whine when his large hand presses on your upper back, pushing you forward until your chest is parallel to the floor. “Okay, angel, keep riding that dildo and give me your hands. Don’t stop. Good girl.”

Seokjin secures your wrists behind you with a long piece of cloth. You continue to move per his instructions, but at this point your thighs are burning, especially without the support from your arms.

That dreaded click of his tongue reaches your ear again, and so you try to keep up with the momentum, but it’s only for a few more seconds until you falter again.

The grip around your hip tightens again, his nails digging into your skin. “Aww… what’s wrong, baby? Didn’t you want to cum?” Pleased with the results after testing the knot a few times, Seokjin picks you back up from the floor like a rag doll, and begins to move your body for you again.

Your limbs are screaming, the soreness spreading from your thighs, down your legs, turning them numb. Yet you follow his heed, bucking your hips with Seokjin as your conductor. “G-God… Too big…” you whine.

Seokjin sushes your complaints by slipping two of his fingers past your lips. “You can take it. That’s it. Good girl. Keep going.” he praises, kissing your shoulder. Saliva drips from your lips and down your chest as you swirl your tongue around his digits.

Without warning, Seokjin’s hand leaves your hip to draw circles on your clit, his praises unending as you move faster. You garble his name as your eyes flutter shut under the blindfold. The soreness in your thighs is forgotten as you chase your high, climbing higher and higher with each second that passes you by.

Seokjin rips his fingers away from your mouth to unclasp the bra you’re wearing. His wet digits swirl around your nipple, rolling the sensitive bud between his forefinger and thumb, and your spine curves from the dull pain.

“Look at these gorgeous tits,” he groans, pinching your nipple not unkindly. “Your nipples are so fucking hard. Do you feel good, baby?”

“Very… good,” you gasp. “I’m close—”

Everything inside of you is hot – an unchecked flame spreading like wildfire as you keep edging to the brink of madness. The tingling in your spine returns; a delicious warning to your downfall.

“Cum for me, baby. Soak this carpet, yeah?”

“Fuckfuckfuck, Seokjin!” you screech.

Your body shakes with the force of the orgasm, the spine tingling sensation causing your head to swim like you’re thrown into another dimension. Yet the blinding light doesn’t cease because Seokjin’s still going; his hand returning to your hips as he forces you to pick up the pace again.

“Shit… Seokjin… I can’t…”

He laughs aloud at your words. “You can’t? My little fucking brat… Didn’t you say you wanted to cum? I’m giving it to you right now and you’re telling me you can’t?”

No, no, no. Not like this. You’re going to break if he keeps going. Yet your body continues to absorb every brutal impact; every drag of the toy against your walls, and soon the familiar knot returns to your stomach.

“Fuuuck!” you scream. Your bound hands shake behind you in an attempt to break free, but Seokjin’s rope tricks keep the knot from getting undone.

It’s a little bit faster now, the way in which the light blinds your vision. Within a few more moments, you’re soaking the carpet below you again, your high cresting over you and reaching its peak. You think you screamed his name as you came, but you can’t be too sure – not when the world is spinning, and your blood roars loudly in your ears.

You’re whimpering as you come down from the intensity. You’ve tried everything under the sun with Seokjin, but you’ve never had two orgasms in a row – not at the same degree. Seokjin’s large hands cup your face as he removes the blindfold from you, kissing your hair and murmuring sweet praises in the process. With heavy lids, you look up at his handsome face, and you smile at the pride that shines in his eyes. Looks like you did good.

How long have you been leaning on him? You quickly scramble away from his chest, but your body feels like it weighs a thousand pounds, so you simply flail before landing back on his sculpted chest with a thump.

With a quiet chuckle, Seokjin massages your back as he gently removes the dildo from underneath you.

“Ah… fuck…” you hiss at the soreness that’s beginning to settle.

“Was it good?”

“Very,” you hum, kissing him along his jaw. “Is that all you have planned for me tonight?”

Seokjin scoffs as he gathers you from the floor and lifts you up. “Of course not. That's just the beginning. Are you ready for more though?”

“Always. What do you take me for?”

“That’s my girl.”

He lays you gently on your tummy after discarding the stuffed bear to the floor. His hands massage your palms, making sure he hasn’t cut off any blood flow. “How are your hands?”

“Sore, but okay.”

“Would you like me to take them off?”

“Not at all. It’s the only way for you to keep me still, right?”

“I guess so,” he chuckles. “I’m going to move you to the headboard, unless of course… you can do it yourself?”

You take the challenge with a firm nod, and though your legs are jelly from your adventures on the floor, you manage to lift yourself up and crawl to the headboard before dropping your weight onto the mountain of pillows. It wasn’t graceful by any means, but it got the job done.

Seokjin whistles at your feat as tosses his vest away and undoes the first few buttons of his shirt, and you have a sinking suspicion that the missing tie in his ensemble is the exact same one that has bound your wrists together. And judging from how his hands return to his sides, it seems like you’re the only one that’s going to be naked tonight. Darn.

“Eyes up here, baby.”

To be honest, you hadn’t realized you had thrown all your focus on the sliver of honeyed-skin, but at his words, your eyes jerk up to meet his, and you find yourself staring at that irritating half-smirk you’ve come to love.

“Wasn’t staring,” you mumble.

There’s a hardness in Seokjin’s gaze, causing the air to still. “I don’t remember teaching my baby to lie.” Even though he spoke in a whisper, there’s a hidden threat underneath the words.

Shit.

“I mean… I didn’t…” you fumble.

“No, no, you clearly did.” Seokjin shifts to loom above you before pressing his thumb on your bottom lip. “This filthy fucking mouth,” he growls.

You start to mumble, but Seokjin pushes his digit past your lips and hooks his thumb on the inside of your cheek, causing it to bulge and force you into silence. His other hand reaches over to unzip his pants, freeing his girth of its confines. You’re transfixed, unable to take your eyes off the leaking head. He pumps his length a few times, and your mouth begins to salivate at the thought of his taste again. Oh, how you’ve missed him.

Without removing his thumb, he stands over you and jerks himself in front of your face, the tip of his dick bumping your cheek every so often. You struggle against your binds, your mouth wrapping itself around his thumb as you whine around it.

“You're making a mess of my finger,” he groans. “Are you that hungry for my cock, baby?”

You nod fervently without looking up from the sight of his purple-ish head.

“Okay then, open up.”

Just after your lips part as you release his thumb, Seokjin rams his dick all the way inside, knocking your head backwards against the headboard. But the dull pain on your head is nothing like the burn in your throat. Seokjin’s big, and your small throat has a hard time accomodating to his girth.

“Shit… so fucking tight. Just for me.”

His cock sits heavy on your tongue, your jaw aching from having to keep your mouth open. You try to breathe but the air seems intent on not entering you. Oh god, did he get bigger?

“Ah, isn’t this much nicer?" His voice distracts you from your predicament. "You’re so much quieter with a cock in your mouth.”

Seokjin tangles his fingers in your hair, angling your head slightly upwards so he can easily thrust into your throat. Even though he’s going slow, tears begin to collect in your eyes as you struggle to breathe.

He then wraps his fingers around your throat, squeezing hard enough that it cuts off your air flow. As you choke and gag around him, Seokjin groans loudly above you. “Fuuuck, I love how tight you got. I can feel the outline of my dick around your throat. Is it hard to breathe, baby? Huh?”

“Mmph!” you whine around him. Your fingernails dig into your palms as lights begin to dance in front of your eyes. Just as you think you’re about to tap out from the lack of oxygen, Seokjin removes himself from your throat, relieving you of much needed air as you sputter and choke.

You’re inhaling lungfuls of air, until your heart is no longer running like you just finished a marathon.

“Fuck,” you cry weakly.

Seokjin tips your chin up with his finger. “Still want more?”

“Please,” is all you can muster.

With a whispered ‘okay’, Seokjin returns to straddle you and places the tip of his cock on your lips. You open your mouth dutifully, maintaining eye contact as you go down on his length. He waits patiently until your nose brushes against the dark hairs on the base before he begins moving.

Seokjin tangles his fingers in your hair to keep you steady, and so you don’t knock your head against the headboard. When you give him the slightest nod, he’s merciless; driving his hips forward, and groaning loudly every time you swallow around his length. Though there’s a curtain of tears that block your vision, you can still make out the twist in Seokjin’s face as he loses himself in bliss.

His balls slap against your jaw and you want nothing more than to play with them, but you’re only left wanting, with your hands unable to hold on to anything aside from the sheets below you. You focus on hollowing your cheeks, and with it you’ve earned yourself a deep thrust and Seokjin’s loud grunt of your name.

“Baby, baby,” he hisses. Seokjin’s close; you can tell by the way he falters in his thrusts. “Shit…”

Just before he explodes, he yanks your head back to unsheathe himself. His other hand wraps around his length, his body jerking as his orgasm overtakes him. You barely manage to close your eyes before the first spurts hit you; the warm fluid decorating your forehead and cheeks in white. As Seokjin’s ragged breathing slows down, you peek when you don't feel anymore spurts on your face, but you shut your eyes immediately when it turns out he hasn't spared them.

“You – ah – look so pretty with my cum all over you like this,” he smiles through quick inhales of air.

You attempt to lick at the drops that land on your cheeks, but they’re unfortunately too far from your tongue. “Wanna taste…” you pout.

“Dirty girl.”

You can’t help but grin at the pride in his voice. Seokjin scoops up his cum with his fingers as he mutters, “Open wide.” You stick your tongue out and he presses his cum-stained fingers to your mouth, and your lips close around his digits automatically as you begin to suck. When his digits are clean, Seokjin wipes the cum from your eyes with what you assume is a handkerchief he retrieved from his pockets.

“Such a beautiful cumslut,” he hums as he cleans your face. “Would you let just anyone make a mess of you?”

“No,” you mumble, opening your eyes when he's done. “Just you,” you whisper absentmindedly, staring in awe at his dick that hasn’t lost its rigidity.

Seokjin follows your gaze and beams when he realizes what it is you’re staring at. Gripping the base of his dick, he taps the tip of his dick on your lips. “Do you still want more? Are two orgasms not enough for you?”

You nod enthusiastically, spreading your legs outward to prove your point. “I don’t think one is enough for you either,” you tease.

“You're absolutely right,” he beams. Seokjin traces your cheek absentmindedly, and there's a strange tone in his voice when he murmurs, “My cock-hungry whore. Is that what you are?”

That’s a new one, and you’re surprised to find how much you love it.

“I am. I’m your cock-hungry whore,” you pant, your eyes falling to his length again. Perhaps it’s the trick of the light, but you swear– no, you know for sure that he’s bigger than before.

Seokjin grabs your legs and kneels down between them, situating the tip over your entrance. But instead of entering, he purposefully slides up, bumping into your clit and causing you to shiver.

“How much do you want me? It seems like you’ll do just fine with the dildo. Should I just bring that back?”

As you chase after his length with your hips, you let out a high-pitch whine, your cunt leaking more juices with every drag of his fat cock against your swollen folds.

“A- A lot… I want it,” you beg.

“Oh?” Seokjin whispers. “I don’t know… it doesn’t seem like you want me that much,” he teases.

Every time the tip of his cock bumps your clit, you’re permitted a small sliver of heaven, one so out of reach with the way he’s teasing you.

“Beg for it, baby. Or else I’ll really get the dildo and fuck you that way instead.”

You’re squirming; kicking the sheets underneath you. If he doesn't stop teasing you, you swear you're going to explode.

“Fuck! Fine! Seokjin, please. Pleasepleaseplease. I need your cock so bad,” you rasp. “Hurry up and fuck me!”

“As you wish.”

Seokjin sinks into your heat after your cry, and the both of you moan in unison when he fills you to the brim. If you thought the dildo was big, it was nothing compared to Seokjin. Every time he buries himself inside of you, it’s like you’re about to tear into two. Yet the usual burn from the stretch doesn’t last as long, and you’re soon thrown into the depths of pleasure.

“Fuck!” you hiss repeatedly.

“Oh, fuck,” he repeats, and he splays his hand on your stomach, pressing lightly at the slight outline of his cock. “I’m always amazed that this tiny pussy can take me so well. Can you feel how deep I am inside of you, angel?”

You claw at the sheets underneath you as he begins his punishing pace. “Yes, fuck! So deep…” You blink the tears away at the sight of Seokjin above you.

Even in the throes of pleasure, with sweat slicking his forehead, he looks like a god. It’s not fair that he’s still clothed; you want nothing more than anything to rip his shirt away. Once again, you attempt to free yourself from your bindings, and once again… you fail.

“What’s wrong, baby?” Seokjin asks with a teasing lilt.

“Want to touch you,” you whisper breathlessly.

With a chuckle, he shakes his head. “You don’t deserve to touch me. Just lie there and be a good hole for me.”

“Seokjin…” you wail. “Need to touch you.”

“Nope.” He proceeds to exit out of you and flip you over, so that you’re lying on your stomach again. “You’ve not been good today, pet. So you don’t get what you want.”

Seokjin grabs your bound wrists and yanks them upwards, bringing your body up into the air. With his knees, he pushes your legs out further. Without your hands supporting your weight, you’re relying heavily on your thighs and the hold that Seokjin has.

It hasn’t even been a few seconds and your thighs are already burning, but thankfully, that feeling quickly goes away, replaced by the pleasure that his cock brings upon entering you.

This time, his thrusts are slower, and he prioritises going deeper into your heat. It’s more intimate, a complete one-eighty to the rough pounding you just received, but you’re not certain that you can cum from this alone.

As if he’s reading your thoughts, Seokjin’s hand snakes around your waist to return to your clit, massaging the bundle of nerves gently with figure eights. You sigh, feeling so full and whole with him so deep inside you.

“I wanted to be mean, but you just looked so lovely,” he admits, his voice wistful and soft. “I don’t think I have it in me to go hard on you anymore.”

He doesn’t go any faster than he needs to, paying close attention to every sound you make and adjusting his speed then. It doesn’t take you long to reach the apex again, the climb much easier after you’ve experienced it once before, but still, it’s not enough to pull you over the edge.

“Jin… Jin… Need you faster," you wail.

“Yeah, baby, I got you,” he grunts.

He releases you from his hold and pushes your face to the bed, his thrusts punishing as he slams repeatedly into your cunt. You’re screaming his name, chanting it like a prayer, even though your throat is sore from overuse. This is what you need; the feel of Seokjin driving his dick deeper within you, pushing you over and over to the brink.

“Seokjin—” you cry, soaking the sheets below with your tears.

You’re so close, so so close.

“Cum for me, angel. One last time. Cream my cock, yeah?”

The orgasms you’ve had previously doesn’t compare to the one you’re experiencing now. This isn’t an ember, but a white blinding light, consuming you from the inside out as you come undone with a silent scream, your mind filled with a pleasant buzzing that renders you completely speechless. Yet Seokjin isn’t done, and he continues to pound into you, growing faster and deeper as he chases his own high.

“Fuck, baby. I’m gonna cum, gonna fuck you full of my seed.”

You whine at his brutal pace, raising your hips higher. "S-Seokjin!"

“That’s it, take all of me. Oh God… Shit—I’m cumming—"

Seokjin lets out a long moan as his orgasm takes over. His dark hair falls over his eyes, and he grabs your ass tightly as he fills you up with his warm seed.

Wholly overwhelmed, you only mumble something unintelligible when he slips away. The bed dips when Seokjin returns, and all you feel is a warm damp cloth between your legs. When he's done, he tosses the rag away before he gathers you in his arms. When Seokjin undoes the knots, you sigh, feeling pins and needles settling in, as Seokjin massages your wrists.

“I love you,” he mumbles as he lays you back down on the bed, bowing his head to claim your lips.

You return his kisses slowly, opening your lips to let his tongue glide inside. “I love you too,” you mumble back when you part. “I can’t believe it took you this long to kiss me.”

Seokjin laughs, the sound muted and quiet, but still warm. “What can I say? You were a total brat today. I told you one thing and you did the complete opposite.”

You scoff, bringing your hand to your chest. “Technically, I didn’t break any rules. You never said I couldn’t touch myself. I just had to sit pretty and wear a blindfold.”

“Yeah? Well, look at where that ‘technicality’ got you, brat.

Seokjin scoots you over to lie next to you, and you’re both silent except for the sound of your breathing. Turning over to your side, you slide over into his awaiting arms. “I have a question for you…”

“Shoot.”

“Was this anything like what you had planned today?”

You can feel his chest rumble as he laughs. “Nothing ever goes as planned when it comes to you.”

You chuckle along with him. “Not even the dildo?”

“Oh, that one was planned, although my original idea was to be a bit nicer to you. God, you bring out the 'mean' me,” Seokjin pouts.

“Speaking of, where did you get it anyway? I’ve never seen a hot pink dildo that big before. Holy shit, it’s almost as big as you.”

Seokjin doesn’t say anything, and after looking up from where you lie on the crook of his neck, you spy that he’s smirking. And the realization slowly dawns on you. “No fucking way…”

“You said you wanted my dick as a Christmas present, so here it is,” he shrugs.

“So, you’re telling me… you molded your dick and… wait what? How does that work?”

He laughs, filling the room with the sound of Christmas bells. “I think the words you’re looking for are ‘thank you’.”

You roll your eyes, knowing that he can’t see. “Thank you,” you repeat coyly after him.

“You’re welcome.” Seokjin squeezes you in his embrace. “One more thing? You’re moving in with me after this weekend. I’ve prepared an apartment for the two of us close to where you work so we don’t have to only meet once a year.”

You pry yourself away from his arms. “Wait what?” Leave it to Seokjin to leave the details to something this extravagant at the last minute. You can’t believe what you’re hearing. Does that mean you don’t have to part with him at the end of your holiday? “For real?”

“Yeah,” he beams. “Surprise."

You look into his eyes, staring at the familiar warm irises for a few seconds before you bring his face in and smash your lips to his. Stupid, impulsive Seokjin. You still can't believe he bought an apartment for you so the two of you won't have to part.

"Is that the cause for celebration?" you mumble into his lips.

"Yep, that's the big surprise. There's no more after that."

"Got it," you whisper, pulling your weary body up to straddle his waist. "I promised you a show, didn't I?"

Seokjin raises his brow as your hands begin to undo the rest of the buttons. "Oh? Is there more?" he asks as you part the white fabric to his sides.

"Of course. That's just the beginning," you parrot with a wiggle of your eyebrows, leaning down to kiss his collarbone. He's finally exposed, thank god. "The question is…" your nail drags from the centre of his chest down his torso, "are you ready for more?"

Seokjin laughs from underneath you before flipping you over, his arms landing by the side of your head as he smirks down at you. He looks deep into your eyes, fitting your chin between his forefinger and thumb, and you see the mischievous fire blazing in his eyes.

With his lips curling into a smile, he whispers, voice so angelic to hide the sins he's about to commit–

"Always."

moon's notes: woooooo! i wrote this thinking about my biggest fantasy :) i hope you enjoyed it because i had a great time writing this :DD let me know what you think!

#seokjin ff #seokjin fics #bts fics #bts ff #ksj ff #ksj fics #jin fics #jin ff #jin smut #seokjin smut #bts smut #bangtanbathhouse #bangtaninn #btshoneyhive #btswritingcafe #btscreatorscorner #seokjin x reader #jin x reader #bts x reader #possumswrite

[minisugakoobies]

Day 5 ❄️ JHS

Kinks: praise kink, Christmas cookies

Pairing: Hoseok x Reader

Genre: holiday, smut, Brother's Best Friend!AU

Rating: M (18+)

Warnings: swearing, kissing, just some good ol' fashioned fingerbanging in the kitchen, a bit of exhibitionism, praise kink, maybe a touch of sub/dom between reader and Hoseok, once again I am writing Stoner!Hobi with the addition of stoner himbos Joon Tae and JK, egregious use of the word 'cookies' as metaphor for reader's 🐱

Word Count: 3K

Disclaimers: NSFW, obviously I don’t own BTS - they just inspire me

Summary: Your brother’s best friend Hoseok really likes your cookies

A/N: I wrote this one in one shot, in a fugue state after watching Hobi's 2022 MAMA performance. Please picture that Hobi here. 🥴

Please don't be a silent reader 🥺 I'd love to know what you think! 💕

Day 4 ❄️ Kinkmas Masterlist ❄️ Day 6

Grey snow slushes under your boots as you slowly make your way home from the bus stop. Another double shift down. Working as a server around the holidays is miserable. Between the irate shoppers making non-stop demands and the incessant Christmas music blasting through the overhead speakers, it’s enough to turn anyone into a Scrooge. 

But it’s fine. You’ll live. Just a few more days and the holidays will be behind you. And so will all these double shifts, hopefully. You’ve been saving up so you can have enough for the first and last month’s rent on a tiny little studio apartment a few blocks from here. A fresh start to the new year, in a place of your own. Where you can enjoy some peace and quiet for once. 

A place free from the chaos that greets you as you slip your key into the lock of your current home and swing the door open. Smoke floats past you into the hallway. Scrunching up your face, you peer past the clouds to find, as always, your twin brother and his friends crowded around the living room tv, absorbed in a mission in some stupidly loud, obnoxiously violent video game, laughing and shouting and throwing elbows (and occasionally, a fist or two). 

“About time you got home,” your brother calls out as you peel off your boots and puffer coat, hanging the latter on the broken rack by the door. Namjoon said he’d replace that four months ago when he and his friends broke it during a particularly raucous game of flip cup. You know he’s waiting for you to do it. You’re always the responsible one around here. 

“I told you I was working a double,” you remind him, rolling your eyes. He never listens. 

The others gradually realize you’re standing there. It’s like watching the world’s slowest wave undulate around the room. First Jungkook spots you from beneath his bucket hat and lifts a hand. A few seconds later, a very sleepy-eyed Taehyung notices Jungkook’s hand in the air and raises his own. Then Hoseok, the only member of the crew sitting quietly, splayed across half the couch in his oversized tee and dark joggers, rakes his eyes over your tired frame and gives you the chillest of nods, head barely tipping as his lips quirk in a silent smile. 

Ignoring the fluttering in your stomach, you nod back. “Hey guys.” You’re too exhausted to even bother to ask them to keep it down. They would, politely, for about five minutes, before the chronic blowing through their veins made them forget. So why bother. 

You shuffle into your bedroom, strip off your uniform, pull on some fleecy pants and a long-sleeve tee, and slide on a pair of cushy slippers. The act of physically removing your day brings a sense of relief, helped along by the comfy clothes. You’d love to climb directly into bed, but you can’t. Not just yet. 

Your brother and Jungkook are locked in a double headlock when you emerge from your bedroom. Probably arguing about something that one of them did in the video game. It’s never anything serious with those guys, but it does get messy sometimes, and as you stroll through the room towards the kitchen, you quickly grab the lamp from the end table and place it on the ground before Jungkook’s arm can knock it over.

Money’s been tight for a while, not helped by the rise in rent, the rise in utilities, the rise in everything basically, so between that and the little nest egg that you’ve been stashing away, you’ve had to get a little creative with your Christmas gifts this year. As in, you’re creating them from scratch. You connect your phone to the little speaker in the kitchen and put on a relaxing playlist as you wander around the small space, pulling out ingredients and tools until you have everything you need to make your favorite cookies.

The music drifting from the speaker isn’t enough to drown out the noise from the living room, but it doesn’t matter. You fall into a trance, measuring and mixing, turning mere ingredients into food, into love. Everything else falls away. Nothing else matters but this. Baking brings you zen. 

Unfortunately, your activity does not go unnoticed. The scent of baking cookies fills the air, and before long, you have visitors. Invaders, more precisely. On the hunt for your goodies. 

As you pull the first tray out of the oven, a head pops in the doorway. A hat, really, pulled down so low you see nothing but pink lips adorned with a silver ring. “You makin’ cookies, Noona?” 

“Uh-huh.” 

“Is that gingerbread?” a low voice drones behind Jungkook, as Taehyung follows him into the room. “Smells so good.” Namjoon is right on his heels, mouth hanging open a little as he spies the rows of perfectly baked gingerbread people resting on the warm tray. 

“Yes, it is, but these aren’t for you, so hands off, okay?” You raise an eyebrow, looking at all three men. They nod, and you turn away to put another tray in the oven. “These are for my friends. If you’re nice, maybe I’ll whip u- HEY!” 

There are three gingerbread people missing when you turn back, and all three men are chewing while exhaling loudly, trying not to burn their mouths on the hot cookies as they devour them. As they all reach for a second, you grab a spatula and swiftly slap their hands. 

Whack whack whack!

“Mmph!” Taehyung protests, rubbing his hand. He chokes down what’s left of his cookie. “That hurt, Noona!” 

“Well, maybe listen next time and you won’t get smacked!” You brandish the spatula like a wand, pointing it at each. 

A gentle chuckle sounds from the doorway, where Hoseok is propped against the frame, laughing at his friends’ pain. “Tell ‘em,” he says, crossing his arms. “They gotta learn.” 

You bite back a grin, rolling out more dough. 

“Sorry, Noona,” Jungkook mutters. “But can’t we have a couple? ‘M so hungry.” 

“That’s because you’ve been smoking all goddamn night,” you grumble, pressing the cookie cutter in. “Namjoon, if you don’t get your friends out of my kitchen right now, I’m going to try making real gingerbread people next. Starting with you, Jungkookie.” You shoot Jungkook a look, the one that he always tells you reminds him of Namjoon, even though you’re fraternal twins and don’t look a thing alike, and he holds his hands up in defense. 

“Come on. Be happy she only used the spatula, she’s lethal with that rolling pin,” your brother informs his friends as he shepherds them out of the room. “Yo, Tae-yah, you still got that hookup with that girl at the dumpling shop?”

Hoseok remains behind, studying your work. You don’t mind. Of all your brother’s friends, he’s usually the most respectful, quietly observing the mayhem around him. You’re used to the sensation of his eyes on you. 

Sometimes it’s what you think about, late at night, lying under the sheets, hand down your panties, biting your tongue to muffle your cries. Those dark eyes, watching you. 

“These are for your friends?” Hoseok finally speaks, pushing himself off the door frame. Hands in his pockets, he strolls towards you, still watching as you prepare another batch.

“Yeah. Not a lot of money for gifts this year, so…” you shrug. The heat from the oven has turned the tiny room into a sauna. Your fleecy pants feel like a terrible choice. Wiping the sweat from your brow with the back of your hand, you look up at Hoseok, and he laughs. 

“You’ve got a bit of…” He trails off as he steps closer, and your breath catches in your chest as he raises a hand to brush across your forehead. His gentle fingertips come away with flour on them. 

“Th-thanks,” you stammer, quickly busying yourself with the dough again, cutting out enough to finish filling the tray. 

“So can I have one then?” 

“Uh…” Loud yelling from the living room tells you that your brother and the other two have started their game again. 

Hoseok leans against the counter, heart-shaped mouth set in a soft smile. “You said they’re for your friends. We’re friends, right?” 

Friends. Right. That’s what you are. “Yeah, sure.”

He beams then, a brilliant smile that flashes across his face in an instant and then disappears. Even though the cookies are identical, he takes a moment to examine the selection before picking one. 

“This one looks perfect,” he announces, and you hum distractedly, moving cooled cookies into containers. Even though you’re not looking at him, you know exactly when he bites into the cookie, because he lets out a loud moan. “Mmmmm!” 

You hum again, trying to ignore the fact that his effusive response went straight to your gut. You continue to pack the treats away, filling the tins you’ll be giving to your friends.

“Didn’t know you had this talent,” he muses, chewing thoughtfully. “Why’ve you been hiding it?” 

“I haven’t been hiding it,” you laugh, cocking an eyebrow. “I just haven’t had much time to bake lately.” 

“Yeah, I noticed you haven’t been around much,” he states, and you hope he doesn’t see the way you freeze momentarily at his words. “You’re working yourself to death. You gotta take time to relax, you know.” 

“Oh? Never heard that before, thanks for the advice,” you grin. “I just gotta get through the holidays and then I can relax.”

“In your new place, right?” He reads the surprise on your face. “Joon told us you’re moving out.” 

“Yeah, I am. I just need my own space.” 

He nods.

After sliding the last tray in the oven, you help yourself to a cookie. 

Hoseok grins. “There you go, that’s more like it. Enjoy a little treat. They’re really good.” He tilts his head. “Can I have another?” 

You have just enough cookies to fill all the tins you’d purchased, just enough batches for all of your friends. But what’s one more?

“Yeah, okay, but that’s it.” 

Again, he deliberates before choosing one. As his teeth sink in, he lets out another groan, and you clench involuntarily at the way his voice drops into a low rasp. “Fuck, these are so good!”

Is this what he sounds like all the time? Maybe it’s a good thing he’s always so quiet when he’s here. Because you’re wet enough that you can feel your underwear sticking to you as you start to clean up.

“Seriously, what do I have to do to get one of these tins?” he asks, tapping on a lid. 

You nearly bite your lip in half as you keep all your suggestions at bay. “Listen, if you really want some, I’ll just make another small batch, okay? I think I have enough ingredients left…” 

“Mmmm, you’re such a good baker! The best!” Hoseok moans around a mouthful, and you’re not sure if it’s his husky tone, or the words themselves, but something hits you like a bolt, and you swallow thickly. 

And then you whimper. 

Your eye is immediately drawn to Hoseok, like your body wants you to see his reaction even as your brain is cringing. He pauses with his hand to his mouth, little gingerbread legs in the air, and stares at you for a moment before he blinks. 

“Uh, this batch will just take a minute,” you inform him, nervously grabbing your spatula again for something to do. 

Hoseok just nods. “It’s nice of you to make some more. Thank you.” He shifts a little, comes closer so you’re between him and the counter. 

“Oh, that’s - sure. You’re welcome.” Waving your spatula to emphasize that it's nothing, you start to measure your ingredients again, hyper aware of his nearness. If you turned your head right now, you know you’d see those dark eyes watching you. It’s so tempting, but you keep pouring your flour. 

“You’re such a sweetheart, you know that?” he says, but it’s really more of a purr with all that bass rumbling through his voice, and again you feel that pulse of arousal hit you, and this time you clearly whine. 

Again, you glance directly at Hoseok as the sound fades, and can’t move as his eyes slowly wander down to your breasts and back. 

“You’re always so good to us when we’re here. Always taking care of us. Don’t think I haven’t noticed.” He moves towards you, slow and sure, his arms coming up to grip the counter on either side of you, caging you in. “Like tonight, cleaning up so we don’t break stuff. Or feeding us, even when you say you won’t. Such a sweet girl.” You’re gripping the spatula so hard, you think it might crack. If you leaned forward just the slightest bit, your nose would brush his. “Such a good girl.” 

For once, you’re thankful for the loud commotion in the living room, because it means your brother did not just hear you moan, “Fuck, Hoseok,” in the kitchen.

You’ve never seen such a wicked smile from your brother’s best friend as he gently peels the spatula from your hand. “You like it when I call you a good girl?” 

What is happening to you makes no sense. You spend all day getting called ‘good girl’ by patronizing customers and sexist assholes. And yet when Hoseok rolls those words around his pretty pink tongue, you become a whimpering, wet mess. 

Maybe it’s because he seems to mean it. Or maybe it’s because it’s him. Either way, you let out a strangled noise at his question, and his grin sharpens. 

“That’s what I thought.” His lips hover over yours. “Can I kiss you, sweet girl?” 

The only way to answer him is with your own lips, tilting your chin up to meet his mouth. The kiss is soft, lingering, like he’s taking his time studying your lips the way he’s always studying you with his gaze. Then he slides his tongue out, tapping at your bottom lip, and you let him in, let him press his body against yours, nearly gasping when his hard length pushes against your hip. 

“Hoseok, you want some dumplings? We’re getting some!” 

As if your brother’s voice were a bolt of lightning striking between you, you and Hoseok split apart. Hoseok looks at you for a moment, chest rising as he catches his breath. 

“Nah, man, I’m good. Got a sweet treat instead,” Hoseok shouts back. You roll your eyes and he smirks.

“Aw, did you get a cookie? That’s not fair!” Jungkook exclaims.

“Shut up, you had one too, dumbass!” With that, you hear the recognizable sound of your brother and Jungkook wrestling again. 

A sudden yank on the waistband of your pants draws your attention. Hoseok tugs again, and then he slips his fingers beneath. 

He doesn’t move his hand, just slides it into your pants, and stares into your eyes. You hold your breath as you hear another shout. 

“I want another cookie, Noona!” Taehyung yells. “Aren’t they good, Hoseok?” 

Hoseok crooks an eyebrow, just the slightest bit, and you nod. His fingers dip between your thighs, and when they find the wetness there, he hisses. “They’re so good, Tae-yah!” he declares, middle finger disappearing between your folds. 

Your hands grasp at his biceps as you pitch forward, moaning at the sudden intrusion. His finger is long enough to curl perfectly into your most sensitive spot, and he employs a rapid tickling motion that makes your knees buckle. 

“Hoseok, holy fuck!” 

Is this really happening? Are you really letting your brother’s best friend fingerfuck you in the kitchen? Where anyone could walk in and see him knuckle deep in your throbbing cunt? 

Yes, it is. And you know what? You deserve this little treat.

“Ah, sweet girl, I just love your cookies so much.” Hoseok licks his lips as he adds a second finger. “Can’t resist.”

Taehyung calls again. “Can I please have another?” 

“Focus on the game, hyung, damn!” Jungkook yells, but not a second later adds, “Can I have one too?”

The thrusting of Hoseok’s fingers makes it hard for you to think straight. Everything about this moment makes it difficult, honestly - the way his arms flex under your fingers, the way his cock keeps bumping against your thigh, the way his eyes haven’t left yours for a second. 

“Tell them no,” Hoseok whispers, thumb ghosting over your clit before he presses into the nub firmly enough to make your hips buck into his hand. “No more for them!” 

“N…” Hoseok pushes against your clit again and you see stars. “No, no cookies for you!” 

There’s a burst of laughter from the living room that perfectly covers the wail you let out as Hoseok fucks you with three fingers, hard and fast. 

“Good girl,” he whispers, free hand cupping the back of your neck to kiss you. “So sweet, so good for me.” And with that praise, you come with a muffled cry against his lips. When your cunt stops clenching around his fingers, he removes them, and brings them to his mouth to suck them clean.

You groan, lightly pushing on his chest. He laughs, taking a step back, and you suck in a deep breath, trying to regain your composure. “Don’t make me grab the spatula.” 

“Think you’ll do any baking in your new place?” 

Caught off guard by the question, you furrow your brows. “Probably?” 

“Good. You better text me if you do.” His gaze roams your body again, and you swear you feel an aftershock from your orgasm. “I definitely want more of your cookies.”

Masterlist ❄️ Find me on AO3 ❄️

© 2022-23 by sunshinerainbowsbts/minisugakoobies. Crossposted to AO3. Please do not copy or repost.

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#hoseok smut #jung hoseok smut #hobi smut #bts smut #hoseok x you #hoseok x reader #jung hoseok x you #jung hoseok x reader #bts fanfic #hoseok fanfic #jung hoseok fanfic #12 lays of kinkmas #possumswrite #bangtanarmynet #btscarnivalnet #btshoneyhive #btswritingcafe #thebtswritersclub

[starlostjimin]

Title: special delivery Fandom: Stray Kids Pairing: Han Jisung/f!reader Rating: PG WC: 583 Warnings: minor language, CRACK, fluff, lame pickup lines, extreme cheesiness ensues A/n: So @matchy6812 sent this prompts list and said she'd REALLY LIKE a skz fic for one of them because I make my hyperfixations everyone's problem. This is 99% crack so uh...have fun!

*****

“Hey, I’m putting in the pizza order,” y/n called over to Felix just as he started screaming at whatever computer game he happened to be losing at on the other side of the room. “Do you want anything specific?” 

“Yeah, put something stupid in the delivery instructions. I could use a laugh,” he said as he slammed his laptop shut. “This stupid Overwatch update is ridiculous,” he grumbled, going off on a mumbling rant y/n didn’t understand. 

Something stupid….y/n thought. Remembering a post she’d seen floating around the internet somewhere, she grinned and began typing in the special instructions box. 

Send your cutest delivery boy :) 

She added the last few items to the order and put in her payment information, then clicked the big, beautiful “place order” button that would bring pizza and cheesy bread into her currently sad, pizza-less world. “Thirty minutes, Felix,” she called out. “Wanna play Mariokart while we wait?” 

Her best friend’s face brightened at the suggestion. “Finally, a game I can win. Against you, at least,” he said with a wink. 

“Dream on, Lixie,” y/n said, turning on the Nintendo Switch and dropping onto the couch beside him. 

*****

Thirty minutes later on the dot, there was a loud rap at the apartment door. Y/n dropped her controller and jumped to her feet. “Thank every god ever,” she said happily. Heading for the door, she swung it open –

To find the cutest delivery boy she’d ever seen. 

Fuck. 

“Hi,” he said. “I’ve got your pizza here. Uh, we saw your delivery instructions, but I’m the only one working tonight. Sorry about that.” He chuckled and tried to balance the delivery bag on one arm as he scratched at the back of his head. 

Y/n lunged forward to grab the wobbling bag. “Oh no, uh, mission a-accomplished, I mean, uh, thanks for the pizza?” Heat rose in her cheeks as she repeatedly cursed herself while the delivery boy - whose name she hadn’t bothered to get - regained control of the delivery bag and started pulling out the steaming boxes. 

Luckily - good or bad, y/n didn’t know - Felix arrived at that precise moment. 

“Are you guys alright over here?” his voice was less worried and more amused, as he took in the guy standing in front of both of them. 

“Can you - grab - the stuff -” y/n said, her voice staccato as she attempted to regain some semblance of dignity. Felix obliged quickly, reaching around her to take the boxes of pizza and bread from the man standing in the doorway. 

“I’m gonna go put this on the table. Take your time,” Felix said in a singsong voice. 

“I’m gonna kill him,” y/n muttered under her breath. 

“I’m Jisung,” the delivery driver suddenly said. 

Y/n’s gaze snapped up suddenly. “Y/n,” she said. “Thanks for the pizza. And uh, for filling my request. Very well.” 

Jisung grinned. “My pleasure,” he said. “Though not as much as texting you later would be.” 

“That was horrible,” y/n groaned, though a grin spread across her face. “You’ll have to make it up to me later. I think you’ve already got my number.” 

“I’m not really supposed to use it that way, but what the boss doesn’t know won’t hurt him,” Jisung said with a wink. “I’ve gotta get back but uh…yeah. Later. I promise.” 

10:00 pm.

Unknown Contact: I don’t normally deliver to the same person twice, but a promise is a promise ;) 

#stray kids #stray kids fic #han jisung #han #han x reader #jisung x reader #stray kids fluff #felix is there too #my writing #possumswrite

[wwilloww]

the art of war | jhs

PAIRING royal Hoseok x reader

GENRE royal au. arranged marriage au. enemies to lovers. friends to enemies to lovers.

RATING 18+. EXPLICIT.

WC 5.1K

SUMMARY The bells are tolling and you've just been married to a man you despise on Christmas Day. On your wedding night, locked alone in a room with him, tensions are rising. And so is the past.

WARNINGS enemies to lovers and banter during and before sex. use of she/her pronouns to refer to reader. multiple orgasms. fingering. praise kink. handjob. unprotected sex. creampie.

AN HAPPY BIRTHDAY @xjoonchildx!!!!!!! while this was supposed to be a drabble, the muse (dearest Hobi) has been singing especially so recently and I couldn't help myself... ANYWAYS. I am wishing you the warmest, most joy-filled birthday and year ahead of you, you deserve the entire world. Sending so much love.

And a special thank you to @dntaewithluv who read this and somehow convinced me adding 1k extra of foreplay would be a good idea.

THE ART OF WAR

The wedding bells have long since stopped their tolling, but you swear that your ears are still ringing. From the choir of twenty, from the glockenspiel that rung out above your heads as you ran from the church, from the far-too-raucous reception.

Far-too-raucous because you couldn’t comprehend how anyone could be celebrating you marrying a man you couldn’t stand in a sham of an arranged marriage. Well, your mother wouldn’t call it a sham. She would call it one of her best business moves. You, on the other hand, had a very different sentiment about it all.

You watch as Hoseok, your now husband—! the word sounds so foreign on your tongue—shuts the door behind him and throws you a small smile. It’s not the first one you’ve received from him tonight, though the others read more like the others are looking, grin and bear it, while this one seems more an accident. More, I’m so tired of this bullshit. I know you are too. But a moment after the soft expression fills his face, he’s quickly rearranging his features to something stoic, cold.

Still. Though the kind gesture shocks you and runs like ice through your veins, you don’t return the smile.

Instead, you turn towards the vanity that sits in the corner of the room.

Before you in the mirror, you hardly recognize the scene: you, in a white poof of a wedding dress, every inch the daughter of a duchess. And Hoseok, behind you, Hoseok, in his wedding regalia, the sword still tucked into his belt, Hoseok, loosening his collar. You watch as his long fingers reach and bend, his touch gentle but commanding.

But there is a small part of you that does recognize this, that remembers this, from some long forgotten daydream. A daydream of you and Hoseok, together.

You and Hoseok hadn’t always been bitter. There was a time when you were children, teens even, when you would have called him your friend. Your best friend.

There was a time when you two would crawl under the bed when your parents came calling that it was time to go, desperate to spend “Five more minutes!” together. There was a time when he used to climb the oak tree in your backyard after scaling the stone wall, and slip in through your window. A time when you would lay, side by side, staring up at the yellow paper stars that you never bothered to take down from the ceiling as you grew older. You’d tell him it was too high to reach. But when the taller boy offered to take them down for you, you’d shake your head and say you’d do it yourself, secretly happy to have avoided the funeral of your favorite decorations.

Those stars still hung above your bed in your parents manor, though these days their gaze felt more like a bad memory than anything twinkling and good. Maybe it was time to take them down after all.

As you and Hoseok had grown out of childhood, things changed. There was never a specific point that you could locate as the beginning of the end. And there were good years too, years teetering on the brink of tension and unspoken words. Years where you had grown so close that the others thought of you as destined. You would ride into the forest together in the middle of the night, stealing horses from the stable, only to go skinny dipping in the moonlight. You would write letters to one another, letters you still kept tucked beneath your bed, too afraid of what you would lose if you threw them out.

But as you neared your eighteenth birthday, Hoseok had grown more withdrawn. He would disappear for long hours into his room. And soon withdrawn became coldness as you found him shutting doors quickly behind him with a hard look in his eyes, like he had something to hide.

And the truth was, you did have something to hide. You’d taken up an interest in the art of war, particularly hand-to-hand combat. As a young woman in this day and age, it was forbidden for someone like you, especially someone of noble birth, to participate in such a craft.

When you had finally mustered up the courage to tell him that you were no longer meeting up for midnight rides because you were training instead, he had said something that had your blood running cold.

“War will never be for women.”

“War ought to be for no one,” you had spat back quickly. “So who’s to say it can’t be for me!”

The conversation had devolved into harsh words and harsher sentiments. That was the last time you both had spoken for years.

Until one morning your mother had waltzed into your room with what she had called “thrilling news.”

Thrilling news that had landed you in a white dress with Hoseok at the end of the aisle, his gaze locked on you as the bells tolled and you walked towards your fate.

At first it’s just a glance. Hoseok looking over his shoulder at you as you tinker with the bow on an unopened wedding gift, left on your vanity. It’s just one glance.

But one glance turns into a second. His gaze skating over you as you begin to undo the intricate updo that you had insisted on earlier but now regret.

“You missed one.”

“I didn’t.”

But before you can really argue with him, before you can really absorb what he’s said as an insult about your personal ability to undo your own hair, he’s gliding across the room and plucking a pin out of the back of your head.

You hold your breath in shock. His fingers linger.

Your eyes catch in the mirror and hold for a second that stretches into eons. And then you come back to yourself. You don’t thank him. You simply snatch it out of his hands with a little huff and go back to what you’re doing.

But to your dismay, he doesn’t move.

“Is that the best excuse you could come up with to get me to touch you?”

You stand up so fast your chair falls down behind you as you whirl around to face him face to face.

But you didn’t expect him to be this close, you didn’t expect him to be chest-to-chest with you. Didn’t expect his lips to be inches away from yours—

“How dare you—”

“Is it that hard to pay attention when all you’re thinking about is kissing me?”

You’re furious, flames roving through your chest like a slow burning wildfire, and he’s so close and his breath is mingling with yours, the smug bastard, his eyes ablaze with the same fire you feel—

And before you know what’s happening, your lips are crashing together. Later on, when you can’t tell up from down, you won’t be sure whether it was you or him that began it all. But in that moment, you’re pretty sure it was you.

He doesn’t hesitate before wrapping his hands swiftly around your waist, tugging you with a little huff of air to his front where you can feel something hard and very large pressing into you.

It happens all at once.

Like two stars colliding, you are hurtling towards one another at the speed of light, missing one another in your pointedness but scathing one another in your proximity.

But you keep circling back. Slower, more curious, each time.

His lips slow against yours, his breath intertwining with your breath, his heartbeat beating at the same pace as yours. He whispers your name against your lips, and for a moment, you taste sweetness. That is, until he bites down on your lower lip.

You gasp, but the inhale is not all pain.

A spark rushes through you, smothering your skin in goosebumps.

“Fuck, Hoseok,” you curse, and he grins against your lips.

You tighten your grip on him and dig your fingernails into the back of his neck, trailing them below the nape of his collar, leaving red streaks in their tracks.

But instead of gasping, just as you had, he sucks in a shaky breath and whispers against your lips, “How did you know I like it a little painful?”

A cold chuckle leaves your lips.

“A good guess.”

He kisses you again, quick, furious, all teeth and tongue and it’s then that you feel him, him grinding against you.

That’s when the reality of the situation hits you.

This is not two mere strangers — or, you have to remind yourself, two mere friends. Both of those ships had sailed a long while ago. You are something else now, something entirely foreign. And something tangled up in one another, flames stoking higher with each breath, each tangled limb and—

Somehow you’re both flustered and furious in the same moment. You pull back from him, and he looks surprised, though he quickly masks the look that darts across his face.

“What—“

“I ought to get ready for bed.”

He watches as you turn from him and make your way to the mirror in the corner, tugging at the many bows and clasps that keep you tied up in this ridiculous excuse of a dress.

“For bed.” He grins.

You glare at him in the floor length mirror, but the implication of his words warms you from within.

You have duties to perform tonight, there’s no doubt about it. And you’re not particularly adverse to the idea either, not when he looks as radiant as he does tonight, not when he kisses the way he kisses. But it’s the principal of it all, all the years of resentment hanging between you like spidersilk.

Your fingers fumble as you try to reach around back and unbutton the intricate dress and you can feel him watching you, can hear the way he chuckles smugly as you struggle.

After several minutes of trying without any luck, finally, you give up with a huff.

There’s no way you’re getting out of this on your own. You grit your teeth with the way you’re about to debase yourself, shame trickling through you like molten iron.

“Can you—” you close your eyes and take a deep breath. “Can you please help me?”

They were supposed to send someone to help you out of this godforsaken dress, but— your face reddens as you realize that there was someone knocking on your door while you were tangled in your husband’s arms. And that you had been far too distracted to realize what the sound was. It pains you to ask for his help.

“Pleading looks so good on you.”

“I’m not pleading,” you scoff. “You try getting yourself out of a cage of a dress.”

He chuckles darkly but approaches you from behind, his gaze challenging yours in the mirror.

“Alright. If you’re going to beg.”

“I’m not begging!”

“If you insist.”

His fingers are cold when they skate across your neck and your gaze shoots up to meet his in the mirror. He stands tall behind you, his hair dark and falling into his face, his eyes even darker, even as they catch the reflection of the hearth in them.

“It does look good on you,” he says, and you’re not sure if he means the dress or the begging. Maybe both. But as you fight the urge to roll your eyes, you watch the way his gaze narrows on the skin of the nape of your neck, as it trails down your back. And as he begins to unbutton your dress, one by one, he takes his sweet time, like he’s unwrapping some kind of precious gift. Your brow furrows in confusion.

He’s not supposed to enjoy this.

You’re not supposed to enjoy this.

And yet you do, the way his fingers grace across your skin, the way your skin warms beneath his touch. You enjoy it. You find your eyes fluttering closed, and lose yourself so entirely that soon he’s saying,

“I’m done.”

He’s still holding your dress up, in some attempt to preserve a semblance of your modesty. Though you’re not sure there’s much of it left after your earlier tryst.

A tryst you have no explanation for.

You finally nod and he lets go of the fabric. The thick winter dress falls in a heap around you, revealing the thin but warm slip they’ve dressed you in beneath. It’s the equivalent of being naked before him. He begins to look away but you’re quick to say:

“Are you so afraid to look at your own wife?”

A sly smile flickers at the corner of his mouth and his gaze darts back to rove over your body. But where they linger are your eyes.

“Are you so eager for my attention you have to ask for it?”

You finally turn towards him and stare at him for a long moment.

This is when it begins. This is when it's supposed to begin, when it's supposed to happen: your wifely duties.

Awkwardly, you reach for him.

“What are you doing?”

“I have a duty.” You say, your chest warming, your hand tracing up his torso. But as your words fall on his ears, his gaze immediately hardens. Before you can reach his chest, where you want to trace over his heart, his hand snatches your wrist.

“No.”

“No?”

“I’m not going to force you to do anything,” Hoseok says sternly, his brow pressing. He gently places your hand at your side and retreats to the other side of the room. “Absolutely not.”

The care with which he says it surprises you—and yet not at all. From beneath the hard exterior, you see the young Hoseok you once knew, once loved, poking through.

“But we should—”

“We should do nothing tonight.”

“But, but they’ll come—in the morning, to check.”

Hoseok’s eyes light with recognition.

“And you care that—? Ahh.”

You frown. “What?”

“I see.” He steps towards you, his shirt fluttering open with each step forward. You can’t help it when your gaze flickers downwards.

“You can just say it,” he says.

“Say what?”

“That you want me.”

“I don’t want you,” you scoff. “I only—”

He raises an eyebrow.

“I only want you in the way a wife wants her husband on their wedding night.”

“Is that so?” Hoseok asks. “And in what way is that?”

You immediately warm at the question. It feels like he has you pinned against the wall, even when he’s half the room away. As he steps closer to you, you find yourself holding your breath.

“Kiss me,” he orders. “If you’re too afraid to put it to words.”

And so you do, and just as before, it is furious.

Lips press, teeth nip, lobes bitten, and you know you will look a mess in the morning. He kisses down your neck, biting and sucking gently at the tender skin there and you cry, “You’ll leave a mark!”

“Then they’ll know you’re my wife.”

The thought brings heat to your abdomen, as the idea of wandering out the next morning looking absolutely ravaged plays in your mind. But was this how tonight was supposed to go? You had no qualms about giving yourself to your husband, but now, now, you were giving yourself willingly, eagerly, even. Your mother had instructed you on how these kinds of marital duties were to be performed, but this, lips locked and hands roving greedily over one another’s bodies: this is no duty.

This is passion.

Even if anger still simmers in your stomach.

He is kissing you, so deeply you think he might consume you whole, kissing you like you are the only person in the world. And right now it feels like it. The world outside quiets as you kiss him back, letting the noise of society, along with all the expectations and obligations fade away until there is nothing but Hoseok. The shape of his hands pressed against your back. The warmth of his thigh between your legs. The movement of his lips, inflamed and… needy?

Hoseok, Hoseok, Hoseok.

His hand glides up your back and tangles with your loosened hair as he presses you to his chest.

He walks you backward, his leg slipping between the heavy, warm fabric of your slip—too warm despite the winter chill—somehow managing to not trip you. The mattress of the bed hits your knees and you find yourself sitting, looking up at the man who is now your husband, towering above you. And right in your face:

“Is someone a little desperate?” You chide, running a finger along the bulge in his pants. “It doesn’t suit you.” Though that’s half a lie, because as you look up at him, your mouth waters, struck by the absolute depravity that he looks down at you with.

“I know what might suit you,” Hoseok cuts back, unerred by your half insult as his hands rove over your body. “My desperation, stuffed in your mouth, shutting you up.”

Your eyes widen at the prospect.

“Try me.”

He grins and bends down to kiss you again, interrupting your hands reaching for his pants. You are eager to unwrap him, but he is eager to take his time with you.

Things begin to devolve in the best way possible. Hoseok loses his shirt, then his pants. “I want to see you,” he murmurs as he kisses you, and soon you have lost your slip too, limbs tangling in the sheets, and soon his cock is in your hand, and you squeeze ever so gently, just to watch his eyes flutter closed.

“Let me—” he begins as his hands trail down your body.

“You don’t know—”

He scoffs. “I think I know you well enough to know exactly how to make you come undone,” Hoseok says, and something switches within you. It’s the first time he’s mentioned anything of your past, of knowing you before your wedding night, of all of the tension strung up around you.

“Don’t presume to know me,” you say. “You don’t. Not any more.”

“Is that a challenge I hear?” Hoseok asks, his brow raised.

You look up at him through your lashes, but before you can roll your eyes, he grips your chin gently, forcing you to look at him.

“Are you challenging me?”

“Maybe I am.”

It becomes some kind of competition, the both of you rushing to make the other one drown in their own pleasure before the other.

And it’s true: it’s hard to stay in control like this, with his fingers dragging through your folds, circling around your clit, his mouth pressed up against your ear, whispering sweet nothings, chiding you, urging you onward. But you cling to any semblance of control you have left, wrapping your hand around his length, running gentle, teasing touches along the soft skin of his cock.

That’s when he says it.

“You’re so good for me.”

And you come a little bit more undone beneath him. Your touch falters, your breath hitches.

“Oh, does she like being praised?”

You grit your teeth to keep from nodding.

“No—”

“I love the way you touch me,” he whispers against your ear, his fingers slowing against you, building into a gradual, unerring rhythm. “It’s like you know exactly what I need, what I want.” He nips at your earlobe. “So good.” He slips a finger within you and you gasp. “So good, just for me.”

On the final emphasis, he thrusts a second finger into you and begins pumping in and out of you. The final emphasis has you clenching around him.

His.

Even as you try to push the idea of him away, his body is wrapped around yours. His body is everywhere, atop, beneath, beside you. And you don’t want the distance, you don’t want any space between you at all.

As he draws one orgasm from you, then a second, you cling to him, hands tangling in his hair, pushing it out of his eyes, and threading around his limbs and his back, pulling him closer. And after you’ve come a second time, the two of you lay there, staring silently at the ceiling—starless, blatantly starless—as you catch your breath. The only sounds in the room are the crackling fire and the sound of your in-synch panting.

“I don’t think you could make me come again,” you challenge, and that’s enough for him.

He rolls on top of you with a cheeky grin and nips at your ear.

“As you wish,” he murmurs, and it’s not the fight you want, it’s not the fire you were asking for, but it’s good enough, because he’s sliding his hand down your torso again. As you buck your hips up to meet the touch of his hand, his cock aligns with your center, pushes in just enough.

The both of you freeze.

Eyes lock.

“We don’t have to—”

“No, please—”

The desperation in your voice surprises you, and you swallow hard as he looks down at you.

“‘Please?’” he repeats back to you, a genuine question in his voice. “You want this?”

You nod quickly.

“Then tell me.”

You repeat your previous sentiment with a sly smile. “I bet you can’t make me come on your cock.”

“I can,” he says, capturing your lips in a kiss. “And you know that. Tell me what it is you want.”

“Fuck me, Hoseok.”

He takes his time, teasing your opening with the head of his cock, sliding it through your come and the arousal already spilling again from you as your core aches with need.

“Please, Hoseok,” you beg.

“You’re so pretty when you beg for me,” he smiles. “So messy when you’re needy.”

He lowers his weight atop you as he glides his cock to your opening and pushes in an inch. You gasp, and before your eyes flutter shut at the wide stretch, you can see the pleasure that washes across his face. It’s divine. The mixture of concentration and pure desire that dances in his eyes, the way his gaze bores into yours before he bends down and presses his lips to the concha of your ear.

As he pushes into you all the way, you think you hear:

“Forgive me,” whispered in your ear.

“No,” you whisper back.

But he’s already moving, his face pressed in concentration, that look you know too well. So serious, so firm, you think, How am I going to live with this every day? Not because you don’t want to, but because in that moment you’re filled with so much need for him that you’re not sure what it will be like to want him when your marital duties have been filled and completed and you’re stuck in a house with a man who despises you as much as you despise him.

Though, when you think about it, this hardly feels like spite.

Not with his cock moving like this, not with his hips thrusting like that, rolling so smoothly into you.

It’s so surprising, how goddamn good it feels and all you feel is anger bubbling to the surface. “Fuck you,” you groan, your fingers tightening around whatever parts of him you can reach, nails digging into his skin.

“Darling, you already are,” he spits back through gritted teeth. “And so many would just kill to be in your place.”

When he flips you over, pulls your hips towards you, and begins rolling into you again, it’s entirely different. Something about the angle, your face pushed into the soft material of the mattress, your ass jiggling with each slap of his balls against your clit, it has you tumbling forwards towards delight so quickly you can’t breathe—

“This isn’t right,” you gasp and he stills, looking down at you in concern.

“What’s wrong?”

“How good it feels.”

You can hear the grin spread across his face as he begins again, his hips rolling slowly into you.

“Darling, this is exactly how it’s supposed to feel.”

“How—?”

He repositions you then, so he can look in your face, pulling you on top of his lap, before slippiing into you again.

“You’re supposed to feel good,” he says, as he begins pumping up into you. “And whoever told you you shouldn’t was lying.”

His tongue pokes out between his lips as you begin to move too, chasing your own pleasure now. He nods encouragingly as you drag your hips up his cock. Your breath hitches as he reaches up and slides his thumb across your lower lip before slipping it into your mouth.

“Tomorrow, this will be my cock on your tongue,” he whispers, and you swallow around his digit as he presses down on your tongue, your eyes wide as you bounce on his cock. “Fuck, you look so good,” Hoseok curses.

He removes his hand to kiss you, growling against your lips. His fingers dig into your ass as you fuck him. Once, he brings his hand up and slaps your ass and the sound that leaves your lips is ravished.

“Ah,” he coos. “I think I know exactly what it is you like.”

You ride him, bouncing up and down on his thick cock until you wrap your hands around his shoulders and press your chests together.

“That’s it. Fuck yourself on my cock,” he says.

He’s so close. There’s something even more intimate about this, as your breath mingles and comes in pants, both of you relishing in the pleasure of the other’s body.

“Shit, shit, shit,” you curse as he hits a particularly soft spot within you, and you cling to him even tighter.

Your pace slows, and rather than hurtling towards desire, the both of you are relishing in it.

Slowly, Hoseok lowers you to your back, leaning over you.

Hoseok is determined to—what, you’re not sure at this point, but determined he is, knowing by the set of his jaw and the way his eyes won’t leave yours. Perhaps he is simply determined to draw as much pleasure as possible from your body, because with a quick movement he tilts your pelvis upwards, and the new angle, oh. You can now feel the ridge of the head of his cock pushing into you, and as it does, it catches on a bundle of nerves within you that makes you cry out. The second thing this does is that the base of his cock now presses against your clit every time he slams into you.

There is pleasure everywhere, like swimming in some deep well of warmth.

“You’re close,” he murmurs, rolling his hips into you. “Come for me, will you?”

And it’s a request, not a command.

“Come for me,” he hums against your lips. “I want to feel you around me.”

His voice is like a deep melody and as it resonates through you, you find yourself hurtling towards the edge of your own pleasure, warmth radiating from your abdomen, and the most delicious tension strung between your limbs.

“Please,” he whispers, and that’s enough for you to break into pieces, your orgasm crashing like the far waves of the kingdom through your entire body.

He’s not far behind you, and through your pleasure you can feel his cock twitch within you. He hisses, and holds himself back from you, his eyes fluttering shut. And suddenly you realize, you want his pleasure. You want his pleasure, not for the sake of winning some competition, but simply for him.

But without thinking, you reach up for him, wrap your arms around his back, and press him to your chest. He comes with you, body trembling, words spilling from his mouth that have no meaning, no rhyme or reason. But you catch it again.

“Forgive me—”

And you realize that the anger within you has been entirely replaced with the lingering numbness of absolute pleasure.

You’re sure it will return in good time, yout think.

So instead, you let your nails drag softly up the back of his neck before tangling in his hair, pressing his face into your neck. He peppers the skin there with the softest of kisses, his body still intertwined with yours.

And you lay there for what feels like eons, his weight pressing down reassuringly, the chill of the window finally seeping into your consciousness.

And suddenly, he is standing, slipping from you, his warmth removed.

“You’re leaving,” you say, your voice flat, monotone. Not stay, not, please. A simple statement of fact.

Hoseok freezes. He turns on his heel to face you.

“There is a winter storm raging right outside that window. And while you might be sweaty and hot and all worked up right now,” You flush at the implication, “I promise you that the cold will creep in. I was merely about to warm the fire.”

“Ah,” you say, turning on your side, away from him.

But a touch and a gentle tug brings you rolling back towards him. He looks upset, and before you can stop yourself, you’re reaching out to press at the frown lines that decorate his brow.

“You’re angry.”

“I’m not angry that you’d think the absolute worst of me,” he says slowly. “I’m only concerned that you’d think, and think so readily, that I’d be this quick to abandon you.”

He rolls into bed, pulling you on top of him.

“I’m hardly finished with you, how could I go?”

He kisses you then, and it’s not like the other kisses. The others were fire, burning towards something larger. This, however, is different. He kisses you to kiss you, for the pleasure of it all, for the feeling of your body warming against his skin, for the knowledge that you, you want to kiss him.

And what you found, at the end of it all, is that the anger in you is a dying anger. One like a star, burnt out and blackened, striving for the life that it one was, but ultimately hurtling towards a darkened coolness. And in the place of this old, stupid, anger, is rising something new. Attraction. Respect, even.

It frightens you.

©wwilloww Do not repost, translate, or use my stories without my permission.

THANK YOU FOR READING!

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#hoseok smut #hoseok x reader #bts smut #j-hope x reader #j-hope fluff #house of ddaeng #ksmutclub #possumswrite #anashobibirthday #arranged marriage #arranged marriage au #enemies to lovers #bts e2l #e2l #mxr #hoseok enemies to lovers #f2e2l #friends to enemies

[hesperantha]

in-flight entertainment

Pairing: Yoongi x reader (f implied)

Genre: fluffy fluff

Warnings: reader gets drunk in an airplane. mentions of vomit.

Wordcount: <1k

Summary: Maybe the fourth mini-bottle of tequila was a little bit too much. Good thing this stranger's got a very enticing and comfortable shoulder to sleep on for the rest of the flight.

AN: infinite thanks to @miscelunaaa . Written for the talented, kind, hilarious, and always extraordinary @augustbutwinter on our possumversary. Here’s to many more screeches from the dumpster!

The goddamn seatbelt light is on again.

Not that it matters. Even if you wanted to get up, it would involve waking up the snoring grandpa on your right, watching him clack his dentures around and shuffle to his feet, groaning as he makes his way out to the aisle for you to get by.

You’d have to be pretty desperate, anyway. Thirty-eight minutes into a five-hour flight is not the time to break the seal. Pretty desperate, indeed.

The light dings back off and you hit the button to call a flight attendant.

It had been different when you said yes to your best friend and agreed to be her maid of honor. It had been a time of joy, of excitement. You hadn’t spoken it outloud, but you’d had a secret hope that you’d be the one to catch the bouquet, that your boyfriend would propose on the spot, and that you’d get to show off a shiny new rock on your wedding-manicured hand.

Ex-boyfriend, you remind yourself bitterly. He’d broken it off well before the wedding, packing up his bags and going to stay with a friend. Sidepiece. Whatever. Whisky helps. So does rum. Tequila helps most of all, so that’s what you order when the flight attendant comes over. Tequila and orange juice. Two bottles. The first is gone by the time she makes it down the aisle for a trash sweep, so you order a third and fourth. No orange juice.

One hour and sixteen minutes down, and the wedding is still an ocean away.

The man on your left, between you and the window, pulls his phone out of the pocket of his hoodie and changes the song. You can hear it through his AirPods, over the roar of the engine. You can’t tell what song it is but it seems awfully hype for the expression on his face, slack and relaxed.

You ruefully think that you’d be relaxed too if you didn’t have this horror-show of a wedding to deal with. You’d be like Mr Hype Guy, all chill in his comfy hoodie, listening to his tunes without a care in the world. He probably doesn’t need a shot of tequila to get through the flight without crying.

He’s probably not thinking about how much it’s going to suck—having to put on a happy face and dance in your ugly lavender dress with some stranger in a tux and watch your best friend marry the man of her dreams.

You crack open mini-bottle number four and down its contents.

Mr Hot Guy glances over at you, then back out the window.

Lucky fuck. He’s probably one of those nice guys—like the future Mr BFF—one of those guys who meets his perfect woman and hangs on for dear life, knowing how fucking goddamn lucky he is. Knowing how precious a thing like true love is. How fleeting. How—

His hoodie is soft against your cheek. It smells nice. Like fabric softener and cedar.

Against—

You sit up with a start and wipe the drool off your cheek. There’s a wet patch on his shoulder and it’s from your mouth, which doesn’t make any sense because your mouth is dry as cotton now.

He shifts in his seat.

“Feeling better?” He asks.

“Oh god,” you groan. “I am so sorry. Here—” You try to blot at the wet patch on his shoulder with the tiny napkins that came with your first drink.

He takes them from you. “It’ll dry. Trust me, this thing’s seen worse. Let me tell you about the time I thought I lost it. Which, sad. And then I went back to the same pub and it was still stuffed in the booth a week later. So now I know my favorite pub doesn’t clean anything worth a damn and I can never eat there again.”

The contents of your stomach give a nasty churn.

“And this other time,” he continues, “this one time my best friend used it to clean up when he was watching his girlfriend’s dog. That dog got into a full-sized ham. Ate the whole thing. Barf everywhere. And this dumbass — what does he do? Well, he doesn’t want to use his girl’s nice towels to clean it up. So he grabs my sweatshirt out of his car and uses that. She never knew a thing.”

Another churn has you vaulting over the sleeping grandpa and into the aisle, dashing to the bathroom to empty the contents of your stomach into the miniature toilet just as the fasten seatbelt light comes on again and the pilot announces the beginning of your descent.

You see him again at the rehearsal. He winks at you, pats his shoulder teasingly. Stands opposite you, hands over the ring. He holds out your chair for you at the rehearsal dinner and whispers in your ear.

Staying at the same hotel, it’s easy to make excuses to follow him back to his room, to watch him strip off that cozy hoodie. To let him take you in his arms and into his bed.

The next day, decked out in your lavender abomination dress, dancing with him doesn’t seem like a chore at all. He looks damn good in a tux, after all. Even better than he did in a dubious hoodie, which should have been impossible.

At the end of the night, he kisses you before he raises his glass to toast the happy couple. “Let me tell you how I knew she was the one for him: As you probably know, they have a dog...”

#yoongi fanfic #possumswrite #thebtswritersclub #yoongi x reader #yoongi fluff

[miscelunaaa]

spin cycle 19 | jjk

pairing: jungkook x female reader

genre: drabble series, slow burn, idiots to lovers, fluff, lil bit of angst, eventual smut

summary: This random guy has started doing laundry at your favorite laundromat each week (at the same time as you, no less!) and to be honest, it’s going to be a problem. You’re just not sure how yet.

rating: 18+ for eventual smut

word count: less than 500

warnings: Swearing. Confessions. Kissing. Fucking finally.

notes: I’m feeling punchy!! We’ve all had a really long week! I reclaimed my buffer last night! So idk have an early chapter let’s gooooo party party yeah. See you Monday!

my masterlist | my disclaimers | read on ao3

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He finds you sitting on the floor, in front of the TV, the controller sitting unused in front of you as you scroll through something on your phone. How is it that you can still seem so intimidating even in such a casual environment?

Curse his shy demeanor. He could have asked you out to dinner by now, if he had Namjoon’s confidence.

You look up when you hear him shuffle on the carpet. For the briefest moment, you hold his gaze, and he feels like he’s on fire. But then, you say:

“Oh, hey, I’ve got your hoodie. Do you want it back now?”

Without a second thought, he answers: “Sure.”

You rise from the floor and walk back to your room, pocketing your phone as you go. Jungkook’s not sure if he’s supposed to follow, but he does anyway. He doesn’t want to walk in on Namjoon and your roommate doing anything weird.

His hoodie is draped over the back of your desk chair, and you fold it with practiced ease. There’s something so easy about being around you,

“Wait, if you don’t want it now, we can just set it by your coat? It’s kind of warm in here, I guess.” It’s the way you’re biting your lip after you say the words that has him making a potentially regrettable choice.

“I like you.”

Kook, you absolute fuckwagon! Why would you—

“You like me?” Your voice is small, fragile even, as it meets his ears.

“Um.” He rubs the back of his neck. He can feel his heart pounding, a rushing sound running through his ears. “Yeah. I—wow—”

“I like you, too.”

He almost misses the words. They’re so quiet. The only reason they register at all is because his heart goes from running away to coming to a full stop. He’s reeling.

“What.”

He says it as a statement, not even a question. What are words again? What are statements? Questions? What are—

“I like you, too. I, um … I think you’re cute. I’d like to get to know you better.”

You’re fidgeting nervously, your hands twisting around each other like Jungkook’s own thoughts have twisted about themselves. Somehow, you find it within yourself to keep speaking.

“I’m not mad about the thing a few weeks ago. I was—I overreacted. My ex was an asshole and when we broke up he said some shit and I was in my head but I’ve been seeing my therapist again and it’s better and I’m not mad and—”

You stop suddenly, biting your lip hard enough that he’s concerned you’ll bleed. Jungkook wants to bite it instead, but gently, as it deserves to be treated. Just a nibble. Just a taste is all he wants.

“I’m sorry, I’m rambling. I—”

“Can I kiss you?”

The words are so quiet when he says them, but you look at him and nod, and suddenly he’s closed the distance, pressing his own lips to yours.

Thank you for reading! Drop me an ask and tell me what you think. Find me in various places at my carrd :)

©miscelunaaa 2022. My work is only found on this blog and under my ao3 pseud. Do not, under any circumstances, copy or repost my work.Thank you.

posted: 5.13.2022

#btshoneyhive #jungkook fanfic #jeon jungkook fanfic #jeon jungkook fanfic #jungkook x reader #jungkook x female reader #jungkook fic #jeon jungkook x reader #jjk fanfic #jjk x reader #jjk x female reader #jjk fic #miscelunaaa #possumswrite #I am very tired and I think we could all use a pick me up #happy Friday where ever you may be even if it's Saturday may the energy still be Friday

[illneverrecover]

forever young pt 2 (m)|ot7 bts

➛pairing: zombie!BTS x scientist!reader // side focus Seokjin x reader ➛genre: zombie!AU, apocalypse!AU, technically idolverse!AU, loosely inspired by Warm Bodies. Humor, action, eventual smut ➛word count: 3397 ➛rating: M ➛warnings: graphic descriptions of violence, descriptions of gore (hopefully not too graphic), mentions of death, cursing, dubious science, poorly timed jokes. will add to warnings as additional chapters come out. ➛summary: Creating the world’s first immortality serum has been your greatest scientific feat - until it was stolen and sold on the black market. Oh, and also it turned whomever injected with it into the living undead. Whoops. ➛notes: I’m kinda embarrassed at how long it took me to get out a part two, but life has been in the way. Between moving, career woes, and flying to L.A. for Permission to Dance, it’s been a crazy few months. I originally planned for this installment to be a bit longer, but with how I have the scenes broken up, it was going to end up being a monster - so I decided to split it. This means either a long third chapter, or mayhaps a 4th chapter (or an epilogue) to wrap up the story. This is edited, but unbeta’d, because I need instant gratification. Thank you to my possum clique for motivating me and basically being the main reason I got this done. You guys are the absolute best. 🖤 Also, bonus points to anyone who picks up on who Dr. Choi and subject A3 are based on. I was a bit in my mysme feels while working on this. 😉   ➛tagging: @erotikkook (from the fic exchange!), @ditttiii​ @thatlongspringnight​  ➛song: Have We Met Before - Sarah Barrios and Eric Nam & Epilogue: Young Forever - BTS

Ch.1

“So what have we learned about the undead?”

Dr. Choi nods excitedly before moving into the center of the conference room, eyes bright. “So much, actually. We were able to get several samples to come back with us for research purposes - some of them even came voluntarily,”

The director's eyebrows furrow as he glares at the young doctor. “What do you mean, ‘voluntarily’? This is an outbreak - they are all mindless, flesh eating-”

“But they aren’t! That’s what I’m here to explain.” Dr. Choi interrupts. 

The director looks irritated at the chastising, but doesn’t speak on it. “Continue, then.”

Now that he knows he has everyone’s focus, Dr. Choi begins to speak. You try to pay attention to what he was saying, but honestly find yourself distracted by his appearance. He was truly selling the ‘mad scientist’ aesthetic; fire engine red hair shining and disheveled, neon yellow and grey striped glasses resting on the bridge of his nose. He was young - probably younger than you, though you’ve never confirmed - but his reputation as a researcher had preceded him. He was supposedly a genius. 

By the time you refocus, he’s in the middle of a spiel. “-we’ve found three types so far, though we’re still investigating this more, as we believe there’s likely a trickle down effect.”

With a click, an image pops up on the screen behind the animated scientist.

A surprisingly handsome face of a young man awaits, his skin pale but not mottled; his eyes such a rich brown they almost looked red, which was framed by long, silvery hair. He looked… normal.

“This is subject A3. A3 was directly injected by one of the vaccines that became available on the black market. Not only does he still use his frontal cortex, he also speaks, makes decisions, and is capable of rational thought. He’s the one who actually came to us,” he pauses then, seemingly satisfied with the gasps of the crowd, “Voluntarily. Said he knew something was wrong and wanted to help.”

Dr. Choi lets that sink in, before going to the next slide.

“Here, we have B26. B26 was bitten by someone who was injected, which infected her in turn. She has some motor function and a baseline of rational thinking, but not as much as those in category A. She is easily influenced by others, and seems to be controlled by her hunger more than the previous group as well.”

Your eyebrows tighten, mind racing. He hadn’t mentioned the feeding status of category A. Realistically, you know that they would have to eat to survive as an organism - whether a living or undead one, the basic instinct is hardwired into humans. But since Dr. Choi didn’t mention it, did it mean they didn’t need to eat as much? Or could control it better?

“And finally, here’s the one that the director has been waiting for - bachelor C17.” The projector whirs and a ghastly image floats on the wall. It was completely different from the others, a haunting shell blanking staring on the screen. “This is what we’ve all been picturing since this all went down.”

A zombie. Truly undead, mindless, former human. 

“He’s the worst of what is out there. No rational thought, no communication skills. The current running theory is that this type is formed when someone is bitten by the previous type similar to B26. We can’t know for sure without trials since he can’t speak, but it’s the logical conclusion.” 

Silence stretches out over the room.

The director clears his throat, shuffling papers nervously before shifting his gaze back. “So what… what does this mean?”

A cheshire grin breaks on Dr. Choi’s face, and you can’t help but notice how handsome he is, despite the situation. 

“I was hoping you would ask me that!” he exclaims, pushing up his glasses with a single finger. “It means that we have different types of the undead, depending on how they were infected. Which also in turn means that if we’re going to fix this, it’s not going to be easy. We won’t be able to just create a vaccine or a cure all, since there’s different stages. At this point, we don’t even know if the other stages are even treatable…” 

His brow pinches for a moment, a slip of the assured mask, before he takes a deep breath and seemingly soothes himself. “But! We have plenty of willing volunteers, and a few that are so flesh hungry that they have no idea what's going on. With them, we can figure it out.” Dr. Choi proudly grins, nodding at the other scientists. 

“And, with a few more of you, I think we can do that even faster. We could really use some of you from research, and some geneticists as well. If you’re interested, please let me know.”

You’re not sure what’s said after that, the room breaking out into a cacophony of noise as everyone speaks at once. There’s an underlying current of tension that seems to be rising, and it makes you feel like you're going to crawl out of your skin. This is your fault. Well, kind of your fault. And the least that you can do is put your nervous energy to use and help fix it. 

Standing abruptly, you move to the front of the room, sliding past bodies until you see the fire engine hair of the man you’re looking for. 

“Dr. Choi? I’d like to volunteer for the research team.” 

Her. Always in the back of his mind, even when he’s hungry, even when he’s scared. Her. Her.

You. 

The memories play like a reel in his mind, snippets forming a montage of the most beautiful person Seokjin has ever seen. If he closes his eyes, it’s almost like he can feel the softness of your skin underneath his touch, taste your mouth on his own. 

He needs to find you.

It took some convincing to get the guys to agree to continue with the original plan of going to his brother’s restaurant, but they eventually caved. It was hard to miss the logic of having a safe place to hide out from the prying eyes of the public and regroup. Seokjin knew they needed a plan, but wasn’t sure how to bring it up. 

“We need a plan,” Namjoon sighs, resting his head back against the soft leather of the couch. They were all in various forms of draped in the sitting area of the bar at the back of the restaurant, far away from any window or door that could expose them. 

Seokjoong had been nowhere to be found when they arrived, and Seokjin tried to ignore the pang that rang in his chest at the discovery. He was safe, he had to be. If there was anything the Kim brothers shared other than their questionable sense of humor, it was practicality. His brother had always had a plan B, always a pulse on an active escape route. 

A common trait acquired after years of living with their parents. 

“Can’t we just… go find her? I feel like our memory powers will kick in and then we can just follow them to her.” 

“Memory powers?” Yoongi snorts. “What, so we’re gonna sniff her down like a bloodhound? What is this, Homeward Bound?”

Jimin rolls his eyes, leaning forward to stare at the blond. “No!” He pauses, pulling a plump bottom lip in his mouth. “Well, I mean, I guess technically? But when you say it like that, it sounds stupid.” 

Seokjin hears the faint whisper of “because it is stupid” before Namjoon clears his throat. “Actually, I think there might be something there.” With his knitted brows and his jaw ticks, the classic Namjoon brainstorming face blooms in full effect. “Think about what we know - we know that when we eat the brain of someone, we acquire their memory. But it also seems we pick up something else as well, something deeper.”

He lets it sink in, eyes scanning the room. Namjoon was always good at getting the guys to see where he was coming from, a mixture of logic and empathy solidifying in the perfect delivery, just like a leader should. 

“We pick up their language, their knowledge, their emotions. It’s like we absorb this small piece of them and it becomes a part of us. Based on what we all… experienced back in that alley... it leads me to believe that if we came across or interacted with someone from her life, it might activate some more memories that will show us the way.” 

Nodding, Seokjin claps a hand on his thigh. “It makes sense to me. Well, nothing that’s happened really makes sense, but it’s as good a theory as any that we have at this point.” 

Comfortable silence settles over the group as they contemplate what has been presented. It was logical, in the way  something is logical in the middle of the zombie apocalypse - meaning that mostly, there was no reason not to. 

“I don’t really get it, but I just really need to know that she’s safe,” Jungkook murmurs, meeting Seokjin’s gaze. “I want to protect her. She seems important.” 

“She’s a scientist.” 

All eyes flick to Taehyung, who looks surprised to peer up from picking his nails to find all the spotlight on him. “What? I pay attention. We all had the same flash of memory from this guy we ate. Don’t you remember all the white coats, the beakers, sealed glass rooms with all that equipment… they’re scientists. I think that guy must have worked with her or something.” 

Namjoon blinks. His mouth opens, briefly, before closing. 

“Whoa, Taehyung. Damn!” Hoseok laughs, the sound echoing around the empty restaurant. “You’re a genius.” 

A smug smirk pulls at Taehyung’s lips, his chest swelling with pride. “I’ve been trying to tell you guys this for years-”

“But what kind of scientist? Do you think…” Jungkook swallows, doe eyes wide. “Do you think she could help us?”

Seokjin isn’t sure what he means at first - what kind of help could they possibly need? - but realization sinks in after a moment. 

Help with their condition. 

There’s a part deep in his gut that bristles at the thought, as if he was well into the acceptance phase of the grief process wheel of his new undead life. But that’s preposterous, right? They were artists, idols - kings at the top of the modern world who wanted and asked for nothing. Why wouldn’t he want to go back to that?

Yes, Seokjin thought, shaking his head. Why indeed. 

“There’s only one way to find out,” Yoongi drawls, leaning forward to rest his elbows on his knees. “Even if she’s not the type of scientist that can help, she might know someone who does. Either way, it gives us another reason to find her.” 

As if they had even needed another reason. 

Seokjin suddenly stands, barely able to hide the bounce in his step. “Well, then let’s get going. Who knows where in the city she’s located, and the sooner we find her the better.”

“Does this mean we’re going with my plan?” Jimin perks up, eyes bright at the possibility of receiving praise. 

All eyes fall to Namjoon, a habit that was long ago formed and wouldn’t be shaken by anything as minor as the living undead taking over. 

He takes a deep breath, eyes closing briefly before he swipes a palm down his face, nodding to himself. “Yes. Why the hell not?”

It was as good of a vote as any. 

“So, what do you have so far?”

You were following an intern as she chased down Dr. Choi, asking questions at the speed of light. You knew he was giving a brief to the volunteers the next morning, but your burning curiosity (and possible guilt) couldn’t stand the thought of waiting. 

“You saw what I have so far. There’s a bit more nuance to each subject level but that’s about it.” Dr. Choi pauses his march to grab at a clipboard on the wall, scanning it before tapping something onto his watch. “We’ve taken samples - blood, sputum, urine, follicle -  but nothing has been processed with them yet. Still testing out batches and possible antidotes.” 

You nod, mentally going through the process you’ve done millions of times. This next phase was an important one, and it was exactly your in. 

“Dr. Choi, I work in the virology department and have been working here for 6 years alongside Dr. Han and Dr. Soo. I volunteered already, but I’d like to ask to be assigned to the task team who’s trying to create a cure. I think my expertise-”

“Whoa, slow down there, Angel. I know who you are and I’ve heard lots about your areas of expertise,” he smiles at you, though you swear you catch his eyes dragging down your form through the glint of his glasses. “You’re in. That’s exactly where I want you.” 

Relief floods your veins, and you shake loose a breath you didn’t know you were holding. “Thank you.”

The young doctor gives you a wide grin, mischief dancing on his face. You couldn’t help but feel that there was something that Dr. Choi knew, but wasn’t sharing. He gave off a mysterious air about him - like he’s guarding a secret, but he’d tell you if you amused him enough. “I’ll introduce you to the rest of the team and show you around.”

The afternoon passed quickly once you were shown your new work space - a cozy desk in an identical all white lab to the one where all of this started. It reminded you of Kihyun, and had you wondering where he was. You had been so preoccupied with the outbreak that you had forgotten he hadn’t shown to work that day, and it’s been radio silence since. 

Luckily, your thoughts had been interrupted by the introductions of the rest of the team, several other scientists from the virology floor present, alongside some fresh faces you hadn’t seen before. After hearing the alphabet soup of titles that followed each of their names, though, you were assured that you had a quality team to work with. 

The only problem now - was where to begin.

“So, do we need to go over the rules again? Or are we good?” 

An exasperated sigh tickled the back of Seokjin’s neck, Hoseok so close that Seokjin could almost swear he could taste what he had for lunch. 

“I asked ONE question, and suddenly I’m not good!” he whines, shuffling over a step to stand beside the elder at the bar. 

A chorus of giggles came from the couch occupied by Jungkook and Taehyung, and a familiar feeling bubbled in Seokjin’s heart. It was nice to see a flash of them back to their normal selves - all of them, he notes with a quick sweep of his gaze. Even Yoongi was getting back to his normal sarcastic remark quip speed, the initial effects of the virus almost all but forgotten. 

If it wasn’t for the brain in the teal cooler on the floor between them though, it would’ve felt like a normal day out with his brothers. 

Jimin clasps a hand on Hoseok’s shoulder, nodding once before meeting Namjoon’s stare. “We’re good, hyung. We will stay close, stay quiet, and be quick and stay hidden,” he ticks off on his fingers as he speaks, left with a single pinky raised. “Oh, and watch for the signal.” 

Jungkook giggles. “Safety first, safety second, coolness third.”

Namjoon gives a nod of affirmation, scanning each of their faces before continuing. “Exactly. We have to be careful. We’re faring better than some of the others out there, but we’re still not… human. We have to keep a low enough profile to be able to follow clues.” 

“So, don’t be perceived, and don’t get killed, basically.” Taehyung jokes, a weak smile on his face. He doesn’t like showing it, but Seokjin knows just how much of a worrier Taehyung is - how anxious he must be. 

While it was Namjoon’s job to lead all of them to battle, it had always been Seokjin’s unofficial role to help boost morale; to keep them happy even during the darkest of days. He always brushed it off as the rightful duty as the eldest, but the truth of it is that he couldn’t stand to see them in any kind of distress. Because of this, he had learned subtle ways to cheer them up. You know what they say - when you do your best work, they won’t even be sure that you did any work at all.

“We won’t get killed, Taehyung, because we have a list of rules.” Seokjin winks, bumping the shoulder of the younger man to get him to meet his stare. Ignoring the leader’s groan of annoyance, he continues.  “And also, because we’re going to do this together. And we’ve gotten through all the shit life has thrown at us as long as we were together, with a 100% success rate.” 

The boxy grin Taehyung rewards him with is genuine as chuckles break out over the group. Satisfaction builds in Seokjin’s gut, and soon his cheeks are wide with a smile of his own. 

“He’s right,” Namjoon says, ruffling Taehyung’s fluffy mop of curls. “We’ve always gotten through things together. And that’s how we’ll get through this, now.” 

Another pang resounded in Seokjin’s chest, though this time he could name it as it passed through him, recognizing the familiar vice around his heart.

The love for his brothers. The bond they share.

He could feel himself grow sentimental, briefly considering sharing his emotions with the group - before Jungkook popped his head around a corner, calling them with a collective shout of “hyung”.

“I think this also might help us get through it,” he chirps, opening his hand to show a key and electric fob dangling from a ring around his pointer finger. “Literally.” 

Jungkook’s triumphant laughter has them all excited and on their feet, Seokjin grasping the key to take a closer look. “Oh shit - for the town car? Where did you find this?”

Seokjin knew his brother usually drove himself to work, and only utilized the family driver when he was extra busy, planning to meet with family after a shift, or when he was entertaining someone important and wanted to show off. Darting around Jungkook, he headed for the office without awaiting the younger’s reply. 

“Was it in here?”

“Yeah, I found it on the hook by the door and I remember seeing the town car outside, so I figured we could use it.” 

Seokjin quickly takes stock of the room before him, scanning until he sees the familiar family calendar hung up on the wall. Rushing over, he looks for the dates, trying to confirm something that he was already suspecting. “It looks like Seokjoong was going to meet up with our parents later this evening, and was going to send the car to bring them here. Since his car isn’t around, maybe he decided to drive to them when everything went down.” 

It was the logical conclusion. His brother wouldn’t want his family to be in danger in any way, and it would be faster and more secure to go to their country home than to stay in the city. Relief floods Seokjin’s veins, and he leans his head against the wall for a moment to collect himself before turning back to Jungkook.

“Good find,” he praises, following him back into the hall. “It will definitely get us there faster and safer.”

Jungkook gives him a wide grin, clearly satisfied with the praise. As they rejoin the rest of the group, Seokjin holds up the keyring again for them to see. 

“Looks like we’re on our way to meet our dream girl,” he sings, jangling the key obnoxiously while the others groan.

“Don’t forget the whole ‘finding a cure for being a zombie’ thing, too.” Yoongi adds, observing the eldest sharply. There was something going on with Seokjin - something that only he seems to be picking up on - and it was only a matter of time until he got to the bottom of it.

Rolling his eyes, it was Seokjin’s turn to scoff as he marched towards the back door of the restaurant. “Yeah, that’s what I said. Let’s go, I’m driving.” 

#ot7 x reader #thebtswritersclub #bts x reader #seokjin x reader #bts zombie AU #thekimlinenet #bangtanarmynet #btsbookclub #ksmutclub #noonasinnetwork #btscreatorscorner #possumswrite #zombie bts #ot7 smut #ot7 fic #kim seokjin #king seokjin #my writing #fic: forever young #fic: fy

[dntaewithluv]

To Dye For | myg

A hair dye mishap leaves your boyfriend, Yoongi, furious and frustrated. The only f word you’re feeling though is feral.

🍊 Pairing: boyfriend!yoongi x reader (summersweetheart!yoongi x reader)

🍊 Word Count: 3.8k

🍊 Rating: 18+

🍊 Genre: Established relationship au, fluff, smut, humor

🍊 Warnings: Explicit language, explicit sexual content, internal mention of masturbation (f receiving), very detailed descriptions of wet ginger Yoongi so read at your own risk, making out, looooots of hair pulling, dirty talk, mild degradation, praise, fooling around in the shower but with clothes on, oral (m receiving), deep throating, face fucking, cum swallowing, biting, marking, scratching, brief oral and fingering (f receiving both), unprotected shower sex (y’all be safe out there please), rough sex, sex against a shower wall, multiple orgasms, creampie, jikook make a little appearance at the end, internal mention of exhibitionism and oral (m receiving) the dark and wild line was not intentional but I loved it too much to take it out oops lol, also in this fic the physics of hair dye running in the shower do not apply okay thanks 😂

A/N: Life is hard enough as a Yoongi ult, but the orange hair has really just pushed it to a whole other level for me. This is technically the couple from Summer Sweetheart, but it also can be read as a standalone established relationship au. All you really need to know is that OC works at a country club and thirsted over pink haired Yoongi playing golf all summer and then they hooked up and also he calls OC sweetheart a lot. I really enjoyed writing this little self indulgent fic, even though this Yoongi was killing me slowly the entire time oof. I’m hoping to post at least once if not two more times before the end of the year, but thank you so much to anyone who has checked out any of my fics this year. Getting to be a part of the reading and writing community on here has definitely been a highlight for me. Also special thank you to my possums on discord you all inspire and motivate me every single day 🥰 I hope you enjoy this orange Yoongi fic and thank you again so much for all your love and support this year 🥺💜

Masterlist

Taglist: @lavienjin @nglmrk @thatlongspringnight​

“Yoon!” you called as you stepped into your boyfriend’s giant and luxurious bedroom, “I’m home!”

You didn’t see any sign of him, but then you noticed that the door to the master bathroom was shut, and you could see light peeking out at the bottom.

“Baby?” you tried again, walking over to the door.

“Hey, sweetheart! Sorry, I’m just finishing up in here, I’ll be out in a few minutes.” came the response from the other side of the door.

You frowned even though you knew he couldn’t see it, “I can’t believe you’re really making me say goodbye to the pink. Do you not care about my feelings at all?”

You heard Yoongi chuckling softly from inside the bathroom.

“Oh my God. You’re pouting out there aren’t you?”

“No.” you mumbled back, your frown deepening.

“Liar. I can hear it in your voice. It’s just hair, baby.”

“It’s not just hair. It’s the cotton candy daydream that I spent an entire summer fantasizing about. Those pink locks got me through some of my darkest times, I’ll have you know.” you corrected him matter of factly, and the bathroom immediately erupted with the sound of Yoongi’s laughter.

You could even make out him gripping onto the counter, and you could clearly visualize in your head the cute way his shoulders must’ve been shaking.

“Your dark times were literally thirsting over me playing golf outside the window every day, and wishing I would come over there and fuck you senseless. And then one day, I did. And also many, many, many more times after that. Or did you forget?” Yoongi teased you, and you could literally hear the smirk in his voice.

“See? Exactly! There’s history there. I can’t believe you wanna fuck with history.” you went on, determined to die on this hair hill.

“Tell you what, sweetheart. I need to wash this shit out, and then I will come out there and prove to you that I’m just as fantasy worthy as a blonde. Let you take this new hair for a ride. See how it looks stuffed between those pretty thighs of yours.” Yoongi proposed, his voice dropping to a low rumble that had heat immediately gathering in your core.

“Okay,” you said finally, “I guess I can give it a chance.”

“Mmm, there’s my good girl. Why don’t you just go wait on the bed for me, and I’ll come join you in a minute.”

You nodded even though he couldn’t see you, and then walked back over to sit on the edge of his bed. You heard the water in the shower running a moment later, and you just tried to focus on its dull roar to distract you from how turned on you already were and how bad you wanted to touch yourself while you waited for your boyfriend to come out.

You knew better though. Yoongi was already planning on pleasuring you, so you knew it wouldn’t bode well if he caught you getting started without him and without his permission. So, you just forced yourself to sit in agony for what felt like several hours even though you knew it was really only minutes. The water shut off, and you prepared yourself for the Yoongi that was about to walk out. Now that you really thought it, he’d probably look ridiculously hot as a blonde…

“SON OF A BITCH!”

You almost jumped out of your skin at Yoongi’s sudden furious outburst, but then you were on your feet in an instant and racing back to the door.

“Yoon? Baby, are you okay?” you asked, worry creeping further into your tone with each word.

“No, I’m not fucking okay! Those fuckers are dead!” he roared from the other side.

“Who?”

“Park Jimin and Jeon Jungkook! Those assholes convinced me to try a new hair dye and now...now.” his words trailed off into a growl, and you weren’t becoming any less confused with each new response.

“Yoongi, I’m coming in ok-” you were cut off just as your hand closed around the door knob.

“No! Please do not come in here. They fucked with my dye and it looks… They fucking know I have a meeting with an important client tomorrow too, I am going to kill them.”

“Yoongi, this is ridiculous. Now, either you’re coming out or I’m coming in. I’m your girlfriend for fucks sake. I can handle a little hair mishap, and I’m sure it’s not nearly as bad as you're making it out to be.” you insisted, getting ready to turn the knob.

Famous last fucking words.

You released the knob and stepped back as the door slowly swung open to reveal your distraught boyfriend. Yoongi stood there in a black tee and matching sweats with his arms crossed and what could only be described as his angry kitty expression adorning his features. His freshly dyed locks dripped water onto the tile below. Your jaw had dropped the second the door opened, so now you were just standing there gaping at him. Yoongi groaned in frustration before turning away from you, “See. I told you it’s awful. Ugh. I can’t believe they would pull this shit the night before this meeting.”

Awful wasn’t exactly the word you would have used. Although, blonde definitely wasn’t the word either. Instead, Yoongi’s hair was a bright, vibrant, blazing, orange. And it really, really suited him. You had been so stubborn about losing the pink that you hadn’t even opened up your mind to the possibilities. To this…

"Yoon, baby, it really isn't even that bad." you told him, reaching out to put a hand on his back.

Yoongi's shoulders visibly slumped and he let out a long sigh.

"Please don't lie to me. You can be honest, I know it looks terrible." he grumbled back.

"Okay, I'll be honest." you started as your hand dropped from his back, "But you have to turn around and look at me first."

Your boyfriend reluctantly began to turn his body to face you, a scowl still prominent on his face. The sight of his sunset hair, absolutely drenched and slicked back to expose his gorgeous forehead, had your knees going wobbly.

"Fucking hell, Yoon." you breathed softly as you drank in the absolute orange dreamsicle of a man in front of you.

He chuckled nervously, "Alright, well, that's a little harsh don't you think mmmf!"

The rest of his response was swallowed by the unhinged way you suddenly threw yourself forward and crashed your lips against his, fingers instantly finding their home in his soaked tangerine tresses. Yoongi groaned, large hands sliding up your back as you desperately chased his mouth like it was your only source of oxygen.

It took him a second since you had caught him off guard, but then the kiss was quickly shifting with the way Yoongi was taking charge. His tongue dove in to consume more of you, and you let out a small gasp as he began pulling you further into the bathroom with him. Yoongi growled at the way you were relentlessly twisting and tugging his orange strands, his teeth nipping at your bottom lip in response.

The two of you continued your heated and messy makeout as your boyfriend kept walking both of you backwards. Your lips disconnected for a brief moment when Yoongi's back met the door of his huge glass shower.

"So," he started, panting slightly, "I'm guessing that was a good fucking hell then?"

A giggle escaped you, your head swimming with nothing but Yoongi and only Yoongi.

"Yes. Very good. So good in fact, that before I see those gorgeous new locks between my legs, there's a different view I need to experience first." you said as you gave him a knowing look.

Yoongi hummed, tonguing the inside of his cheek, "And what view is that, sweetheart?"

"The one where I get to look up at your pretty face and see you fall apart while I choke on your cock." you replied nonchalantly, tongue darting out to wet your lips.

Your boyfriend’s eyes darkened significantly before one of his hands was shooting up to grip your chin, and you shivered at the way his burning and hungry gaze pierced straight through you.

“Such a filthy fucking mouth. Mmm, just begging to be stuffed full of me. Want cock that bad do you, sweetheart?” Yoongi taunted, the sexiest smirk painting his features.

You sighed dreamily as you twirled one of his newly dyed strands around your finger.

“I don’t know about you, baby, but what I could use right now is a shower.”

In the next moment, Yoongi was pulling the shower door open and yanking you inside, lips immediately descending on your neck to imprint his desire across your skin. It all happened so fast, it was literally making your head spin. The orange haired demon was so focused on marking you up, that it provided enough of a distraction for you to push him up against the shower wall. Yoongi haphazardly turned the water on, and it took no time at all for both of you to be standing there in your now soaking wet clothes. Your boyfriend sucked hungrily against your throat, and the pleasure made you forget yourself for several seconds.

One of your hands slipped into his drenched sweats to wrap around his cock, and Yoongi hissed into your neck. You carefully lowered yourself to your knees on the floor of the shower, tugging down his pants and wasting no time before taking him into your mouth.

“Shit, sweetheart.” the man above you snarled, “I’ll never get over how good it feels to have your mouth wrapped around me, fuck.”

You gripped his hips to push him further against the wall as your lips slowly took him in bit by bit. You kept going until you could feel him at the back of your throat, fully hard inside your mouth now. Yoongi made a grab for your hair, and as soon as he made contact, you started bobbing your head. He moaned above you, his fingers digging in and gripping tight.

He let you continue at your own pace for a little longer, but then he gave a snap of his hips that nearly pushed his dick down your throat, making you choke and gag around him. Obscene noises accompanied the constant stream of water from overhead as Yoongi mercilessly fucked your mouth.

“Fuck, sweetheart. Such a good girl. Always take everything I give you. Let me ruin this perfect little mouth every time. Always look so gorgeous with your mouth full, shit.” your boyfriend praised you, and you moaned, the vibration making Yoongi lean his head back against the shower wall.

You were entirely transfixed by the way his drenched locks stuck to his skin, eyes screwed shut as warm water cascaded down on him. His thrusts grew sloppier, and he panted desperately, the muscles in his neck visibly strained from your ministrations. The stream from the shower mixed with the tears leaking out of the corners of your eyes from the way Yoongi was still driving his cock to the back of your throat.

“I’m, fuck, close. You gonna be good and swallow for me, sweetheart?”

His eyes opened to find yours as he gazed down at you. You nodded, looking back up at him and groaning at the sight of his completely soaked and fucked out state. Yoongi ran a hand through his hair, his chest rising and falling rapidly as he neared his high. You swallowed around his length even though your jaw was already starting to ache, but it was enough to send Yoongi over the edge, a long drawn out moan leaving his parted lips as you felt him release down your throat. You made sure to swallow all of it down before pulling off of him and sputtering as you forced air back into your lungs.

“Well, I was right.” you croaked out, “the view from down here was fucking fantastic.”

Yoongi snickered as he looked down at you affectionately. With one hand holding onto the wall to steady himself, he stepped all the way out of his sweats before kicking them off to the side, his sopping wet black tee following a moment later. Your brain always short circuited for a second every time you got to see your boyfriend naked. Water ran over his long sunset tresses, trickling down his broad shoulders and chest. You watched the droplets journey down all his deliciously defined muscles, and it was taking everything in you not to demon crawl across the shower and jump his fine ass.

“Oh, sweetheart, you’re soaked. And your clothes are all wet too.” Yoongi quipped before holding out a hand to help you back up.

Cocky bastard. You lived for it though, you really did. He made quick work of undoing your white button up and slipping your bra down and off your shoulders before both garments were joining the pile of discarded clothes in the corner of the shower. Yoongi’s wet and warm lips were wrapping around one of your nipples a moment later as he backed you against the nearest glass wall. You found your hands tangling back into his hair once again, a sigh of pleasure escaping you as his tongue flicked over your perked bud.

“Fuck, Yoon.” you moaned, and Yoongi hummed around your nipple before grazing his teeth against it.

He pulled off your chest with an audible pop, and you didn’t miss the devilish glint that flashed in his dark orbs. Yoongi slowly began to mirror you from earlier, positioning himself on his knees in front of you and pulling down your sodden skirt and panties. He let out a growl before throwing one of your legs over his shoulder and burying his head between your thighs, sinful tongue dragging tortuously from your entrance all the way to your clit. You whimpered as your hands scrabbled helplessly against the glass, trying to find something to keep you anchored and upright, but finding nothing.

Thankfully, Yoongi’s tangerine head was surfacing a moment later, but the way he sensually licked any trace of you off his lips had your body threatening to try to collapse again. You squeaked and had to reach out to grab onto his shoulder for support when you suddenly felt two of his long fingers entering you. He slowly withdrew them a moment later, and let your leg slide back off his shoulder.

“Just had to make sure you’re ready for me, sweetheart.” was his simple explanation as he got back to his feet.

“Always, baby.” you said back before reaching out to guide him to line up with your entrance.

You groaned at the stretch as he began to push past your walls, and Yoongi hissed at the way you clenched around him. He pinned your hands above your head when he had buried himself to the hilt inside you, intertwining your fingers against the glass. He ducked his head to claim your mouth and squeezed against your tangled hands before drawing back out to leave just his tip inside. He swallowed the broken cry that left your lips when he slammed all the way back in.

“Fuck, how do you always feel so incredible. It’s like your cunt was made just for me. So good, sweetheart, shit. So tight.” Yoongi huffed out as he worked to set a steady pace.

The impact on the glass wall from each of his thrusts echoed impossibly loud in the shower around you. You kissed each other messily, tongues brushing with zero coordination. Yoongi dropped your hands in favor of positioning one of your legs to wrap around his waist, his fingers flexing around your hip and digging in hard enough to leave their mark for at least the next few days if not longer.

He started fucking into you faster, and your hands wreaked havoc on his soaked orange strands. His face burrowed into your neck, adding to the color he had already left earlier.

“Oh my God, Yoon, fuck!” you cried out from the force of his hips repeatedly ramming you into the wall, his cock reaching the deepest parts of you and undoing you from the inside out.

“I might have to, fuck, thank those idiots. They might have actually done me a favor, oh God.”

You laughed, but it quickly morphed into a moan at a particularly deep thrust from Yoongi, “Fucking shit. Yeah, they fucked with your hair dye, and we fucked ferally in the shower. Really, everybody wins if you think about it.”

Yoongi chuckled, slowing down his pace for a moment.

“So, you really like the orange then?” he asked, pulling back from your neck to look at you.

You hummed and threaded a hand through his drenched locks while looking back at him fondly.

“Yes, my sexy little tangerine.”

Yoongi scowled at the nickname, earning a series of giggles from you.

“Never call me that again.” your boyfriend grumbled.

“Hey, I still called you sexy.” you countered, pouting cutely at him.

You watched in confusion as the sour look on his face transformed into a devious smirk.

“If you can call me anything, then I’m not doing my job right.”

You inhaled sharply at the sudden sensation of his free hand making contact with your neglected clit. He used two fingers to slowly rub at your bundle of nerves, tongue poking the inside of his cheek as you whimpered at the stimulation.

“Yoongi…”

“Cause, sweetheart, the only thing I should be hearing,” he started, his voice low and deep as he increased the pace of his fingers slightly, “is you screaming for me when you fall apart on my cock.”

He added a third digit to attend to your clit at the same time that he resumed vigorously fucking you into the shower wall.

“Shitshitshit.” you hissed, your hands abandoning his hair to desperately clutch at his back that was flexing with the effort of his movements.

You chanced looking at him, and the man truly looked feral. His eyes were dark and wild, his breathing heavy and stuttered, and his hair kept falling into his face. A guttural growl rumbled in his throat, and you weren’t sure if he was still mad about the hair dye, or if he was just that worked up from your spontaneous shower sex. Maybe a mix of both. You were gonna be reaching your release within the next few minutes either way.

Yoongi’s skilled fingers furiously strummed at your aching bud, and your cunt squeezed him like a vice in response.

“Fuck. Getting close, sweetheart? I can feel you, shit.”

Your boyfriend’s thrusts were growing sloppier as your walls continued to spasm around him. All you could do was give a nod of your head as your legs began to shake, and you could literally taste your orgasm.

“I’ll fill you up so fucking good, sweetheart. I want you to cum all over my cock first though.” Yoongi snarled as he used all of his energy to get you to tumble over the edge.

Your whole body was quaking in his hold, and the scream you let out as you came reverberated off the glass walls surrounding you. Yoongi fucked you through it, grunting with the exertion of holding out for so long.

“Fuck, sweetheart.” he swore under his breath, dick twitching inside you before you felt him painting your insides white.

Yoongi’s head rested on your shoulder, and your chest heaved as you leaned your head back against the wall and struggled to come back down to Earth.

“We should probably really take a shower now.” Yoongi mumbled against your skin, and you let out a breathless laugh.

“Yeah, we probably should.” you agreed before burying your face in the tangerine locks that had set off the course of events in the first place, content to stay in the moment for a little longer.

“Mmm, my sexy little tangerine.” you murmured into his hair.

Yoongi groaned softly, “Last time I’m letting you get away with that, you brat.”

You giggled because you both knew that wouldn’t be the last time.

“I told you we were gonna kill that meeting!” Jungkook announced excitedly as soon as the four of you had been seated for your celebratory lunch following the meeting the next day.

“I really think Yoongs’s hair was our good luck charm.” Jimin added, and Jungkook snickered in amusement.

You just rolled your eyes at the two of them, and Yoongi gave your thigh a knowing squeeze under the table.

“I know you two idiots fucked with my hair dye.” your boyfriend piped up, and you shivered slightly at the threatening aura in his tone.

Jimin scoffed before turning to smack Jungkook’s chest with the back of his hand, “Dumbass. I told you Yoongi was too smart for that shit. We should’ve pranked Tae instead.”

“Min, he literally bought blonde hair dye and ended up with orange hair. Anyone could’ve figured out we messed with the dye. You, should’ve came up with a better prank.” Jungkook shot back, poking his friend square in the chest with his pointer finger.

The blonde haired man glared back at him, and you and Yoongi turned to each other and chuckled quietly at the scene playing out before you.

“Hey. Jeon, Park.”

The two men directed their attention at Yoongi, fear immediately starting to fill both of their eyes, and it took everything in you to stifle your laughter.

“I really should be thanking the two of you, actually.”

You watched as genuine shock registered on both of their faces.

“Yeah, thanks guys.” you echoed, and now they just looked genuinely confused.

“You’re thanking us?” Jungkook finally spoke up, still looking at the two of you, dumbfounded.

“That’s right. Turns out orange hair on me makes Y/N here go feral. I had some of the best shower sex of my life yesterday, so cheers boys.” Yoongi boasted as he casually slung his arm around your chair and tongued the inside of his cheek.

God, he was so sexy. You wondered how willing he would be to let you suck him off under the table with Jungkook and Jimin still sitting there…

“O-Oh well then you’re very welcome. G-Glad it all worked out.” Jimin voiced nervously.

Yoongi leaned across the table, hand sliding from the back of the chair to rest at the base of your neck.

“Don’t you ever fuck with me again though. Is that understood? Park? Jeon?”

The two men nodded without hesitation, terror appearing in their eyes once again.

Oh, you were definitely about to go under the table and make sure none of you were ever allowed back at this restaurant again. All because of your sexy little tangerine. You had truly never, in your life, been more fond of the color orange.

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