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“Jungkook was sent by the Ravens of the Black Forest to kill the Queen of the Night Queendom. He hadn’t expected to find love when he climbed the high walls of the Queen’s castle and pressed a sharp blade against her throat.” 

Pairing: Bandit!Jungkook x Queen!Reader

Genre: Fantasy, e2l!AU, Smut, Romance

Warnings: LOTS of plot & worldbuilding omgmg, an assassination attempt, gags, ropes as bondages, switch!Jungkook, domish!Reader, knife play, blood play if you squint, choking, multiple orgasms, dirty talk, rough (angry) sex, crying kink ᵇᵉᶜᵃᵘˢᵉ ˡᵉᵗ'ˢ ᵇᵉ ʰᵒⁿᵉˢᵗ ᶦᵗ'ˢ ᵐᵉ, mutual striptease, food play in the form of feeding (bruh it’s hot), they share a bath all nakedy 👀, Kook is such an angry boy in the beginning, lmao this whole story is sending me down a spiral tbfh

Wordcount: 20k

a/n: This is without doubt one of my fave stories I have written so far. I love the world I created so much. I hope you guys enjoy reading it just as much as I did writing it! 💜 also I know it’s long, but please give it a chance, it’s really good :(

~ Go to Index ~

A cold blade against your throat wakes you. Your reaction is instant. You were prepared, waiting impatiently for the day to come. 

Your murderer is beneath you in an instant. His own blade is pressed right under his eye, your fingers have a tight grasp on his throat. 

He wiggles and growls, dark eyes glued to your face.

“Uh-hu”, you warn, pressing the blade tighter to his skin. 

He grunts and eyes his shiny demise. 

“Fuck”, he presses out, forsaking his fight against you. 

“Better." 

You tilt his head up, nails bruising his skin.

"Now tell me. Who could be so reckless to attack me in my bedchambers?”

“You have to kill me before I talk”, he spits. 

You study him. Strong body with muscles that strain against his dark clothes. Pretty face with a chiseled jaw and soft cheeks, there is dirt and sweat on his skin. He is panting heavily, chapped lips parted. His nails are dirty and broken. That means he climbed up your walls. Logical. Your castle’s wolves would have found him otherwise. Clever. Means he knew the grounds and your customs. 

“You climbed. Impressive. That would have been a high fall had you slipped. Fatal even." 

He growls and sits up, getting himself pressed down again. 

"It would have been worth it”, he spits.

He is angry and filled with hate. It is directed at you. Interesting. People don’t normally look at you with such hatred. Which can only mean one thing.

“Ah!” he gasps, back arching in pain. 

You slashed through his shirt, cutting his skin in the process. He wiggles, finally showing you his strength. But you pin him down by his throat easily, ripping the shirt open with one hand. 

“I knew it." 

He snarls angrily, swallowing heavily because breathing is becoming terribly difficult. 

"You are one of them”, you say, studying the raven tattoo on his right pec, “The Ravens of the Black Forest." 

He growls and fights harder. You figured him out. 

"Will you stop fighting against me?” you hiss, finally putting real pressure on his throat.

His eyes widen, fingers clasping your wrist. 

“Tell me your name." 

"Never”, he chokes out. 

You squeeze harder, making his eyelids flutter. 

“You’d rather die than tell me your name? Your conviction is remarkable.”

His body twitches, his lips opening and closing in search of air. You laugh. 

“Remarkable really. Such devotion could be useful. Also…" 

You drag the knife over his cheek softly.

”…it would be a waste to kill such a pretty face.“ 

You release his throat. He coughs and wheezes. 

"There, there you’ll live. It will bruise but you will live”, you soothe him, patting his chest.

He calms down slowly, staring at you with widened eyes. 

“Why would you spare me?" 

"Because I am not the monster you think me to be." 

He tries to sit up. 

"Stay”, you order, pressing the blade right against his throat. 

He falls down on the mattress, licking over his lips nervously. 

“That’s better”, you smile, “now, I’ll give you one last chance to tell me your name before I call in my warriors and tell them to throw you into a cell to rot." 

"Call them”, he hisses. 

You lower your eyes in anger. 

“Valkeria! Auralia!” you call them, “your silence won’t save you stranger”, you tell him. 

“My Queen you called upon us”, Valkeria asks, grasping her sword. 

“A confused bird has found its way into my bedchamber. Take him back to his cage." 

"Yes my Queen." 

The stranger leaves with an impressive struggle. Your warriors have much to do. 

"You won’t get through with this! You hear me? They will come looking for me!” he screams. 

“Gag him too, he is oh so noisy and I am trying to sleep." 

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the dragon’s princess ⤑ jhs | m.

⟶ 𝑠𝑢𝑚𝑚𝑎𝑟𝑦:  with your mother’s death, and your father remarrying, came your abandonment in a tower - under the pretence that you’d be saved by a prince when you were older. now, it’s been over a decade and the princes come in droves to save you from the dragon that guards you. but you don’t want a charming prince. no. you prefer sweet ferocious dragons. one sweet, ferocious dragon in particular. fantasy au. royalty au. fairytale au. childhood friends to lovers au.

⟶ 𝑝𝑎𝑖𝑟𝑖𝑛𝑔: dragon shifter!hoseok x princess!reader

⟶ 𝑔𝑒𝑛𝑟𝑒: angst • fluff • smut

⟶ 𝑤𝑜𝑟𝑑 𝑐𝑜𝑢𝑛𝑡: 23.5k

⟶ 𝑤𝑎𝑟𝑛𝑖𝑛𝑔𝑠: child abandonment, fairytale cliches: evil stepmother, abandoned princess, protective dragons and saviour princes, mentions of violence/action, mentions of death, brief descriptions of drowning (v v brief), alcohol consumption, soft dom!hoseok, sub!reader, slight body worship, hoseok, of course, has a dragon cock, hoseok is a tease, fingering,  unprotected sex,  first time sex + virgin sex, marking/mating, creampie, kidnapping,  reader makes reckless decisions (DON’T randomly jump out a window in a spur of a moment decision)

⟶ 𝑎/𝑛: LOOK IT’S A SEXY COMEBACK!! hello ladeez n gentlenutz, I have missed you all! It’s been SO long since i’ve written (only 3 months really but it feELS LONGER) so anyway, here we are!! I hope you enjoy!! dedicated to miss bette aka peanut aka @ddaenggtan​, i love and appreciate u so much okay thank you xxx

❥ thank you to @honeymoonjin​, @hobisbeautifulass​, @shadowsremedy​ and @jungtaeyoongles​ and of course miss bette, but you’ve already been tagged uwu, for being sweet babies and reading this and giving me the much needed validation to keep me inspired and writing this fic, i love u sexy losers

❥ happy birthday to my love, my sunflower, my king jung hoseok. i love u to the end of the worlds and further

⏤ part of the @ficswithluv​ ‘The Luv Library’ project

Your footsteps crunch along the ground as you make your way back to the tower you’ve called your home for the past decade. Leaves crackle under the soles of your sandals, the sound entwining with the gentle rustle of the trees as the soothing cacophony of sounds eases your soul. A soft wind flitters past, the light gale wisping through your hair, causing a few strands to dance in the squall. It shouldn’t take you long to reach home - you’d only been out foraging and hunting for supper. A victorious smile creeping onto your face, your eyes glance down at the wicker basket nestled next to your hip, the handle resting in the crook of your elbow.

An array of mixed berries, fruits and vegetables sit in the basket, nestled next to the cloth-covered slab of boar meat - and a few different herbs stalks taking up the rest of the space. Your grin widens as you silently praise yourself over your success. The boar meat especially gets you excited - it’s Hoseok’s favourite. Once again, you internally cheer, as you imagine the inevitable look of excitement on your dragon’s face when you tell him about your catch. Boar meat was rare to come by - well, somewhat rare - considering it was a fool’s folly to hunt for one without someone to accompany you. However, today, you’d managed to stumble across an injured one and tried your luck - and as it turned out, your luck had won out. Though, you do chalk most of it down to Seokjin’s archery training. The elf had tried his hardest to impart onto you some of his skill; and apparently, he’d been successful, since you’d managed to skewer the boar with one, well placed shot to the head, consequently putting it out of its misery.

You continue your way back home, practically moving on muscle memory alone - you’d walked this same path more times than you could count - the trek ingrained into the soles of your feet. The dense thicket of trees, while almost identical to each other, doesn’t confuse you as they used to and you find yourself easily navigating through the forest. It doesn’t take you long to reach home, and moments later, you approach the giant tower nestled within the dense canopy of the enchanted forest.

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17 going on 27

summary; one second, you’re sobbing at prom because the most popular guy in school dumps you due to your relationship being a little prank to break your heart. the next? you’re a creative editor at Ego, the hottest young adult fashion magazine. as you try to figure out what’s the deal with this sudden time skip into adulthood, you come across relationships and friendships that are made to be cherished and made to be broken. pairing; photographer!jungkook x editor!reader (f) genre/warnings; fluff, crack, future enemies to lovers, teenage and adulthood angst, time skips from high school!au to late twenties!au, 13 going on 30!au, all your romantic movie tropes come to life! a really big mess honestly, various movie and music references, mentions of sex, use of alcohol, everyone give jin and jimin a big ol hug, language, a surprise guest from the queen of england w/c; 22.6k a/n; it’s that time of the year baby! the time of the year where i binge watch the good ol’ early 2000s romcoms that make absolutely no sense! a huge thank u to @eerieedits​ for making this beautiful banner. vivi got the whole delia’s/claire’s vibe down to a t! 

if you enjoy this fic pls consider giving it a like and a share✨✨✨

  Keep reading

Harvest Moon.

Chapter 1  Chapter 2  Chapter 3  Chapter 4  Chapter 5   Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Lee Hi didn’t take the news well.

I stayed a half dozen feet away, leaning heavily on Miyeon , watching as Jungkook tried to reason with her and it was obvious , even from the distance that she was very vocally protesting the arrangement.

“She is right though, Seul. It’s dangerous for you to be travelling up front. Especially seeing as you’re hurt.” Miyeon said hesitantly. Next to us, her alpha Hoshi let out a little huff of disagreement.

“There is nowhere safer than by Jungkook’s side.” He said calmly and I hesitated.

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covenant.

↳ your best friend’s engagement forces you to reevaluate your own feelings.

◇ hoseok x reader ◇ smut | angst | werewolf!au | f2l!au ◇ 16.4k [1/1]

⇢ arguably also an arranged marriage!au, ft. kinda sorta dumbasses to lovers? a very, very late bday fic for the most beautiful man in the universe and my favorite funky lil dancer. ♡

notes: i started this in my drafts well over three months ago and all it said was “this ain’t gonna be on time for hobi’s bday i can feel it” and damn if past!me wasn’t right on the money!!! this has undergone three edits, going from 14.6k to 16.4k somehow, and i am going to lose my whole damn mind if i don’t just post it so here it is! hope you enjoy!

warnings: dom!hobi, alpha!hobi, bit of dirty talk, oral (f receiving), some grinding against hobi’s thigh, knotting, hobi’s got a big dick idk, also he’s in heat!!! but things eventually get really soft bc i love him and am a Soft Bitch™ 🤷🏻‍♀️

It’s going to rain.

You can smell it in the air and feel the damp chill against your skin, permeating through every layer of your clothing. The surrounding forest and all its occupants seem to be collectively holding their breath, waiting for the first drops to come. Even your footsteps, soft as they are against the loamy earth, sound much too loud in the hush that’s fallen. Dark clouds gather overhead, looming like an omen, and you silently reach into your purse to check that the umbrella you’d stowed this morning is still there. Vaguely, you wonder if it’s big enough for two.

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Garden Of Pink Petals (M)

– A dying planet reaches out to save her soil from infertility. Straws are drawn and seven men accept the burden to take care of the planet’s soil and in return, the planet provides them with mates. Old tales indicate that seven women were to arrive and fulfil the ache in their hearts for eternity. –

⤷ Part of Alien Garden Series

Pairing – Alien! Taehyung x Human! Reader

Genre – Alien AU, Sci-Fi, Strangers To Lovers, Smut, Fluff

Summary – [A goofy alien with pink petals is here to turn your world upside down and show you his garden if only you would accept his hand.]

Warnings – big alien dick aka big dick! taehyung, no tentacles (I’m sorry), unprotected vaginal sex (Use Condoms in real life!), creampie, cunnilingus, vaginal fingering, handjob, blowjob, tae’s cum tastes good, lots of talks about flowers and petals, your nickname is petal, the flower is used as an aphrodisiac (it helps you take alien dick), tae is very smitten with you, very tiny mention of impregnation kink, lots of kisses, soft sex, lovemaking and slow fucking, lots of pink if that triggers you idk

Word Count – (5,8k)

Author note. Fun fact my sister came home with a black cherry flavoured lollypop after I just finished writing this lol. What are the odds for something like this to happen? Anyway ignore my mistakes I’m lazy to reread but eventually, I will! And please enjoy my alien lovers!

Menu: Masterlist l Be part of my permanent taglist to recieve a notification when I upload a new fic or send an ask!

The black soil leaves a dark trail on your thigh, the tiny little particles of the earth glide along your skin leaving a wet feeling behind. There’s a heat seeping through your skin from where a large hand maps out your nude legs, ending in long fingers and blunt fingernails. It’s hard to feel anything else but there’s a sudden wave of wind that makes your long hair tangle into knots in the base where your scalp meets the roots. The man laughs when you frown and try to comb through the untamed locks of hair. Your whole body freezes as your eyes met. With your full attention obtained. There’s a white circle bleeding into his irises and once his gaze locks on yours the colour changes to light pink with orange undertones.

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HOLD ON TIGHT — (18+!)

“And stop calling me by that nickname,” you add then, trying to forget about the sound of his voice pronouncing those four letters.

“Why is that? It fits you, you’re the prettiest person at the whole convention, if you ask me, doll.”

🎮 SYNOPSIS: You can't believe your eyes when you spot your rival at the video game convention that you have been looking forward to for months. You want to be furious, really, but what happens when he's suddenly totally kind and a little too flirty with you, after he realises the both of you are unintentionally attending the event in matching cosplays?

🍭 CONTENT INFO: felix x afab reader, enemies to lovers, rival felix, best friend hyunjin, smut/a little fluff, they are all gamers and nerds lol

👾 CONTENT WARNING: reader is cosplaying in a dress and wearing makeup, jealousy (reader), topics of unrequited feelings (not between felix and reader), smut tags under the cut

🔮 WORD COUNT: 8.5K

💜 SMUT: semi-public sex (bathroom), slight dom/sub dynamics, breast play, fingering, oral (f receiving), unprotected piv, choking, praise kink, voice kink, name calling (doll, darling, baby, good girl, good boy)

“Hyunjin, pay fucking attention.”

You’ve had it today. Usually, you try to stay calm during games but your best friend has been harassing your last nerve for the past thirty minutes. The fight at work some hours ago adds to your tense aura, technically close to snapping by now.

“Chill, dude.”

His voice is quiet but sincere, traveling to you from across the room. Although you teamed up in an online match, it is nothing unusual for the both of you to meet up on Friday evenings, celebrating another end of a hard week of work with your favourite games, some delivery food and beer.

Since your job has been even more exhausting than your best friend is behaving right now, he allowed you to choose today’s dinner—pizza from your favourite place down the street.

“Watch out, it’s five_star_m1chelin at it again,” Hyunjin adds to the conversation, for once giving you a useful hint.

You’ve been thrown into games with this user tons of times before, it’s getting ridiculous. Sometimes he’s part of your team, sometimes he starrs in the rival group—just however AI decides to place him. Perhaps, he’s one of the few who has a similarly high elo rating in comparision to Hyunjin and you but nonetheless he annoys the shit out of you constantly.

Unfortunately, this has to happen on top of all bad things occurring to you this week—your boss yelling at you for something that your clumsy colleague did wrong, your heater acting up and making you sit here under four blankets in April since temperatures decided to drop down to five degrees again and Hyunjin going on a date with a cute girl he met in an art gallery. Yes. You may have a tiny little crush on your longtime friend but you have gained level platinum in hiding your feelings for him.

And additionally to that big lump of shit making your everyday life harder, user five_star_m1chelin is occupying your free time now with his stupid comments. The words stay written, until one of the other mates of your team decides to switch to voice chat—including the opponent group.

There is one tiny problem about it.

You feel pathetic even admitting it.

But apart from his absolutely disastrous behaviour and persistence in winning—even if it meant he had to betray his own grandmother—your rival’s voice has an addicting charm to it. You could listen to it twenty four hours, seven days a week. If it wasn’t filled with so much bullshit.

You have no idea what he looks like, most times of the day you don’t even care about it—but the deepness in the words spilling from his lips make your head spin around in circles.

“You good, bro?” Hyunjin asks when he notices you zoning out, after he makes sure to hit the mute button.

“Y-Yeah. Sure. Just the usual.”

“They are annoying, I know. Do you wanna play something else?”

What Hyunjin can’t achieve voice-wise, he makes up with so many other factors—his plump lips basically draw your eyes on them, his bleached messy hair makes you want to tousle the peach-coloured strands, his pretty elegant fingers create unholy scenes inside your head–

“Earth to Y/N.”

His words are followed by a snapping sound, his middle finger colliding with the palm of his hand.

“No,” you start, needing another second to reminisce what Hyunjin asked mere moments ago until the information floods into your mind again.

“Let’s play one last round.”

Hyunjin chuckles and you hate him for that. You do. For two main reasons—you are in a bad mood right now and everyone experiencing opposite feelings automatically turn into your enemy thanks to your hot-headed nature and, apart from that, it reminds you of how adorable you find your best friend all over again.

“Ah, yeah. The famous promise that no gamer has ever kept.”

You don’t even pay attention to your best friend’s words anymore. Your head is a mess. Threatened by all the overwhelming thoughts running speed marathons in there. Nice. What was supposed to be a fun, chill Friday night turned into another episode of stress.

But today the one last round quote actually becomes true, when your rival’s comment turns into your final straw that makes the tower of annoyance crash down into a million tiny pieces.

five_star_m1chelin: why does this game always let us play against a bunch of noobs lmao

The audacity this guy has is unbelievable. Fucking unbelievable.

“For fuck’s sake, I’ve had enough,” you say immeditaly before the screen darkens, only enlightening eight letters in a bright purple reading GAME OVER.

“Y/N, calm down. It’s just a game.”

Hwang Hyunjin, you better shut your mouth or the rest of the pizza will be flying into your beautiful doll face.

You, somehow, manage to regain sanity once you take a deep breath and turn off the computer in front of you. A large sip from your beer, as you empty the bottle, eases your mind further.

“Y/N, listen,” your best friend starts again. “I know it’s been some rough days for you. Let’s just take it easy and make the best out of this weekend, okay? You have been looking forward to the video game convention for months now.”

Yeah, until Hyunjin decided to invite his new flame from the art gallery date and include her in your longtime planned schedule.

This saturday was supposed to be filled with bestie-time—overpriced, greasy fast-food, sneaking in liquor in your bra, dressing up in matching costumes and getting as many free goodies as possible, all whilst test-playing the new DLCs and versions of your favourite games.

Hyunjin has noticed that your mood has shifted to something else—where once was anger, there is a shade of disappointment and sadness decorating your face now.

“Hey, angel, why don’t you show me your costume, hm? Did you manage to make the last adjustment?”

A smile welcomes your mimics now, especially when Hyunjin gets up from his assigned seat and takes a few steps towards you. His hand finds your own, fingers entangled with each other, as he helps you get up.

“Yeah, I did. I can show you.”

He softly nods, while his body disconnects with yours again when you walk towards your wardrobe. You get hit with a wide selection of clothes—all unorganised. Skimming through the different fabrics, your fingers catch the material they have been searching for—a dark, deep purple dress, shimmering even in the dim shade of your fairy lights that are shrouding your room in a warm colour.

The dress feels both so soft on the inside and a little scratchy on the outside, thanks to the billion particles of glitter attached to it. Hyunjin’s eyes widen, once you pull the costume out and carefully lay it on your bed so it doesn’t get creased.

“Woah, the colours are astonishing,” Hyunjin whispers as he takes in the full glance of the dress.

“Should I put it on?” You ask then, finding his gaze.

He nods, hastily, eager to see what it looks like, before he rushes towards the door, “Just tell me when you’re done.”

Oh, you get the hint now. But it feels very weird making Hyunjin leave your bedroom when the both of you have seen each other in swimsuits plenty of times. There’s no difference to underwear, right?

“Don’t play dumb. I’ll be quick. Besides that, I need someone to tie the strings at the back, I can’t reach them.”

Your best friend nods, before he turns around on his feet again but decides at the last minute to direct his head in another direction—out of respect.

Little has he realised that, now in front of the wardrobe, he can see your reflection very clearly thanks to the large mirror. But luckily, you’re standing the other way around, so he only has to withstand the picture of your bare back and your bottom covered in your panties, granting him a good view.

Fuck. Hyunjin would be lying if he said he wasn’t attracted to you, physically. But, unfortunately, that’s all there is for him. You’re his best friend and he wants the connection to stay this way—sadly, his emotional desire for you isn’t strong enough for something serious to happen and according to the suspicions your shared friend Minho has (that you may have a little crush on the tall, peach-haired guy) makes him feel uncomfortably awful.

The more he thinks about it, the more he is drifting off in his own thoughts, regretting having invited Eunji to your long awaited convention weekend. He wasn’t really aware of it, not really taking it seriously and he hopes it’s not as deep as Minho makes it seem.

But all his doubts, all those contemplations vanish away when you turn around and he copies your motion. The glitter fills his whole vision and Hyunjin is at a total loss for words—the fact you’re cosplaying one of his favourite characters out of the game you have been playing for years makes this even better.

“You look… unbelievable.”

A smile finds your face, as you thank him for the compliment. You try everything to not let his words get to your head. Especially when you catch a glimpse of your own figure in the mirror, realising you really look as beautiful as ever.

Hyunjin’s eyes stay glued on yours, until a vibrating sound echoes from across the room. Your best friend walks towards where his phone is located, catching it between his fingers as his view lingers on the bright screen.

Your heart breaks a little when you grasp that the smile that’s on his face now seems so much realer. Fuller. More meaningful.

“It’s just Eunji asking where and when to meet tomorrow but I will just pick her up and we can collect you at the subway station. Is that alright?”

Perfect. Fucking perfect.

“Sure,” you exhale, taking a few steps towards your wardrobe again.

Once you’re out of Hyunjin’s sight—his whole face attached to his display—you get changed again, hovering the thin fabric over your head but struggling at the task of untying the strings at the back.

“Do you need help?” Hyunjin offers when he hears your grunts, turning around in the process.

“No, I don’t. I can do this myself.”

Your words leave your mouth harsher than intended and necessary. A well deserved scoff hits you next, followed by your best friend mumbling, “Jesus Christ, you’re extraordinarily bitchy today.”

This time you don’t answer.

“You should get going, Hyun.”

He gets the hint this time. Although, not completely. He simply believes it’s the piled up stress taking over your last nerve as he doesn’t realise what big role he plays in this chaos—unintentionally.

So, he walks towards the door of your room, softly laying his hands on your half-naked back, untying the strings in one swift motion and you let him.

“See you tomorrow afternoon,” he says, while his palm collides with the door knob. “Sleep well.”

A few minutes pass by, as you clean up the space in your bedroom—getting rid of the empty beer bottles and paper boxes. You have toned down the intensity of your fairy lights by a few levels, before you rush to the bathroom to begin with your nighttime routine.

Once you’re back in your usual habitat—in front of your computer—with a nice, hot cup of herbal tea, your eyes witness an unread private message from a few minutes ago.

When you take in the letters of the username that sent it to you on Discord, your eyes widen.

No way.

You gasp. Then you scoff.

And then you reread the text once more.

five_star_m1chelin [23:17]: sorry for the message earlier, this wasn’t supposed to be sent to the group chat

What is his intention behind that? On one hand it’s not that deep—it’s just a game as Hyunjin says—but on the other hand you feel like he owes you way more than this.

So, you decide to reply.

you [23:31]: and this makes it better?

The guy behind the other display really didn’t mean it this way—even though it’s absolutely hard to believe. But, well, as cliché as it sounds for a gamer and young guy working in IT business, his interactions with the opposite sex are rare. He always thinks that teasing gets him somewhere but he leaves out the misunderstandings texting generates in his calculations.

A quick sound tells you he sent another message.

five_star_m1chelin [23:32]: no, no but I still wanted to apologise in general. I can be a bit rude sometimes.

Oddly enough you relate to this a lot—especially on days like these when the glass is half full, waiting to be spilled all over the surface it’s standing on, once another droplet gets connected to the liquid inside.

You hesitate. You don’t really get where this conversation is supposed to get you. But, probably, it’s not even that deep. He just had the decency to apologise for something he did. You should really stop overanalysing every word people use around you. It’s not that deep, you are totally sure.

Until the screen reads ‘incoming voice call’.

For fuck’s sake, what does he want now? This is getting weird.

However, you pick it up without batting an eyelid.

“Hi. It’s me,” the deep voice echoes from your speakers.

“Yeah, no shit,” you reply impulsively.

The guy takes a few seconds, before a shy, almost embarrassed chuckle escapes his lips.

“Ah, yes. I’m already regretting this.”

You roll your eyes at his words.

“So you confess that you just called to annoy me more?”

He snickers once more, this time a little less timid.

“N-No, I wasn’t really thinking if I’m honest–“

“–nothing new.”

He lets out a breath, poking his cheeks from the inside with his tongue but you can’t see him. Fuck, there’s something about you being so direct, not thinking before you speak sometimes that makes him lose his mind.

“I deserved that a lot,” he says.

But you’re not in for a nice chitchat, especially not with him. Although it’s not a secret that you could listen to his voice on repeat, like a new song you are obsessing over, destined to shoot to the top of your most played tracks on Spotify.

“Listen,” you begin again, this time actually trying to sound nice, “I had a rough week and I really need to get some rest. I also have plans with my friend tomorrow and have to get up early.”

“That Jinnie guy?”

Yeah. Your bestie has the cringiest username out there. Jinnie_piscesboy. He created this account when he was thirteen years old, though, so he is excused.

“Yeah, him.”

“I’m Felix, by the way,” the male voice says. For some reason it fits him. You start wondering what he looks like again, until you regain power over your brain and you tell him your own name.

“Y/N…” he repeats with a husky whisper, as if he didn’t mean to say it out loud and forgot to mute his speaker for a second.

Fuck. You’ve never expected a sound so pretty to spill from his lips. The way he repeats the syllables makes your head dizzy. If there is such a thing as being attracted to someone’s voice, you sure are when it comes to him.

“Well then, Y/N,” he speaks again, making you absolutely insane just with a few words. “Sweet dreams.”

Not quite in favour of the last piece of sanity in your body, you fall asleep to the sound of his voice this night, as the deep melody still lingers in your ears.

🎮

As expected, you wake up a little too late but still manage to meet Hyunjin and Eunji at the subway station on time. It’s two o’clock in the afternoon and they are already holding hands, expectantly waiting for you at the platform. Well, Hyunjin at least. Eunji has a very bored expression on her face. Although you can’t lie, she is very pretty. You get why Hyunjin might find her attractive.

“Oh, we brought this for you,” your best friend says, as he pushes the plastic cup of fresh iced coffee into your hand. You don’t question that he decided for a cold drink during these temperatures.

“Thanks,” you say, before your gaze switches towards the girl beside him.

“This is Eunji,” Hyunjin says then, pulling her towards him as he places his big hand on her shoulder and she whimpers a little at the sudden contact.

That’s when the spirals of absolute bullshit start running around in your head. You wonder if he has touched her like this before, if they shared a kiss or if his name spilled from her lips when he was possibly deep inside–

“You good?”

You hastily nod at your friend’s question, as you correct the way your long coat is sticking to your figure. The combination of iced coffee and a costume revealing so much skin underneath that thin jacket isn’t the best idea of the century, you must admit.

“Yeah, sure. Should we go?”

It’s once you’re inside the cramped wagon, that you realise that neither Hyunjin nor Eunji came in a cosplay to the event. Sure, your best friend never agreed on putting on some outfit like you did, but something tells you he didn’t do it because of her.

You saw the look on her face when she took in a glance of your glittery makeup. You’re not judging her, she seems like a decent girl but you’re not entirely neutral here. At least you notice your emotions before they can be set free this time.

It is definitely called luck that you purchased the full-day tickets in advance, when you spot the ridiculously long line of people waiting in front of the venue. Once you're inside, the three of you rush towards the cloakroom, letting the employee stuff away the clothing you don’t need.

And that’s when you notice the look on Eunji’s face—an uncomfortable mixture of surprise and judgement, as if she’s both admiring you for your bold outfit choice but is silently evaluating how her respect for you decreases with every square centimetre of skin that you are showing.

What a pity. You really wanted to like her.

“You okay, darling?”

If she wants to play this game her way, you are happy to adapt.

“Y-Yeah, it’s just… aren’t you cold?”

Translate as you look like a slut.

“Nah, I’m feeling quite hot, if you ask me.”

Hyunjin suppresses a chuckle. You, on the other hand, celebrate the mischievous smirk this situation causes to appear on your glittering face.

“Should we check out a few games?” Your best friend asks once the conversation comes to a stuck.

Eunji nods but you can see it in her eyes that she wants to say more.

You’re soon learning she’s not a girl’s girl. She is not here for support and it’s nothing personal towards you. The way her eyes travel down the form of so many other cosplayers, especially female ones in tight and revealing outfits.

Maybe you’re not doing her justice and creating an opinion too soon, but everything about her makes you uncomfortable.

This is beyond being jealous of her. If you think about it, you don’t really care about Hyunjin dating her anymore.

But what is a real thorn in your flesh is her general behaviour and attitude.

You wonder how Hyunjin picked her up at an art gallery when she has to make stupid comments on everything that crosses her vision. But maybe that’s just another cliché that fits. An hour may have passed by now, but the tension grew so much thicker, you want to cut it with a knife.

Although, the annoyed look on her face and the proud one on Hyunjin’s, whenever someone greets you and asks for a picture—probably adoring the same character of your favourite video game—gives you an intense confidence boost.

“We wanted to check out the merch counter, Eunji is searching for gifts for a few friends,” Hyunjin announces then and you wonder if that’s a hint that they need some time alone.

You don’t feel angry anymore, not even disappointed. It simply leaves you… sad. As if he is betraying you which he technically isn’t.

“Sure, I will get in line for the new DLC then. Whenever you’re ready you can just look for me and save some time this way while I’m waiting for you guys.”

Hyunjin pulls you into a quick but still tight hug, as he whispers, “You’re the best.”

And you want to combust at the furious look Eunji is throwing your way with a thousand tiny splinters. This is some kindergarten bullshit here. It’s getting ridiculous. You may have a small crush on your best friend—although you start doubting it more and more as if the feelings are slowly fading away—but you don’t have a chance with him anyway.

She should notice by now. It’s so incredibly obvious how deep you are in the friendzone, if there was one.

But for once you try to ignore all these thoughts since they aren’t getting you anywhere. You’ve waited for the video game convention for so long, she is not gonna ruin it.

Luckily, the line subsides faster than you expect, probably because the organiser put some logic in it, when they decided to create two of them. You’re getting so hyped up that you have completely forgotten about your two companions, when it’s finally your turn.

A little later you sit down next to the person who has been waiting in the other line, now occupying the computer next to yours, both at the same table, chairs mere centimetres apart.

You admire the look of his face and it sounds ridiculous but it’s as if his beauty is shining through the whole room, enlightening the venue in a warm light. His long blonde strands cling to his neck and the hairstyle reminds you of Hyunjin, although you have to admit it looks a little better on this guy. You take in every particle of his charms and elegance.

Until he opens his mouth to do some smalltalk with you, while the screens are loading.

“Finally, it’s been such a long time since they announced the DLC. I seriously can’t wait for the new version in a few years.”

The odds are so small. So pathetically small.

But out of all people, you are sure it’s five_star_m1chelin sitting next to you now.

You would recognise that voice out of a million others.

“Also, your cosplay is extremely beautiful.”

Yup. It’s his definitely voice. Doing parkour in your silly little head.

“Thank you, Felix.”

He stares at you.

You look back at him.

Until it clicks.

Felix.

Felix.

You dumbass said his name out loud.

“Y/N?”

Of course he recognises your voice in an instant as well. Not surprising.

But, however, what does surprise you is his next sentence.

“Excuse my choice of words but you’re even hotter than I have imagined you.”

There’s a part of you that wants to react in a way that shows him how annoyed of him you are. Until you realise… that his weird type of compliment actually does something to you. It boosts both your mood and confidence. And you’re done judging people on small little aspects.

“Thank you. You too.”

It’s just now that you realise, when taking a closer look at his own costume, that he is cosplaying the character that is being shipped with your own.

Oh, what a coincidence. This all feels as if you’re suddenly part of the video game—unreal and too good to be true. So good, that you almost forget who is sitting next to you here, until one of the organisers tells you your turns are over.

“Do you… maybe wanna grab something to drink together?”

He scratches the back of his neck while proposing his idea, getting all shy for a moment and you almost find him adorable. Almost.

🎮

It’s been a few hours now, the venue gets emptier and emptier with any minute but due to it being Saturday, the convention will at least be going on until midnight and Felix and you still have so much to explore.

By now, you are a team that works well together when it comes to other fans of your favourite video game wanting to take pictures of the couple you’re cosplaying. You could basically get hired for an acting job for the next version they will publish in a few years.

And from time to time even—you are sure it’s not the gin tonic that Felix paid for telling you this—it feels as if he is looking at you a little too long to solely blame it on your marvellous makeup skills…

“Look,” Felix exhales once you enter the next hall of the convention, as he points at a wheel of fortune, shining in all the colours the rainbow has to offer. When you spot the purple part, you realise it’s the exact same shade like your costume.

“Let’s go, we should spin it.”

Unfortunately, you’re never really lucky when it comes to games like this and today isn’t any different. So, Felix’s turn follows after. He positions his finger at the edge of the plastic surface, before pushing once and watching the colours spin at lightning speed. Your eyes follow the motion attentively, until it comes to a halt.

“Oh, we’ve got a first price winner!” The employee squeals, either indicating this hasn’t happened that often yet or she’s simply overdoing her job. In your opinion.

Felix gets handed a stuffed animal in the form of a baby chick. The way too big eyes are basically staring right into your soul but for some reason, you find it absolutely adorable. Almost as adorable as–

Wait, what?

“It’s for you,” Felix says then, dragging you out of your daydreams.

“Oh– thank you.”

He is cute. You can’t deny it anymore. In a way that is so opposite to how he has behaved online it makes you doubt they are the same person.

“No need to thank me, doll.”

He doesn’t look at you when he casually throws the nickname into the conversation. God, that guy has so many facets it makes your head spin all over again. Almost as fast as the fortune wheel when he spun it a few minutes ago. Almost.

Your face heats up so much but you’re sure, if Eunji was here she wouldn’t be able to accuse you of being cold again.

Speaking of the devil, it’s at this second that her and your best friend decide to come around again, showing up after what has been a few hours.

“There you are, Y/N. We have been looking for you,” Hyunjin says, relieved, as he pulls you into a hug. You can bet that Eunji has the same expression on her face again.

“It’s a big venue, isn’t it?”

Hyunjin nods, as he lets go of you, now standing beside his little fling again.

“Oh, sorry,” you speak, realising you haven’t introduced the guy next to you yet.

“This is Felix.”

The blonde men look at each other but you notice that Felix’s face is filled with a little more friendliness. Hyunjin isn’t judging him or anything, it’s rather as if he hasn’t… expected you to go and find someone else which is very weird considering he is here with Eunji and has basically ignored you for half of the day.

“Nice to meet you,” the smaller one says to your best friend, a smile being shooted his way.

It’s as if something in Hyunjin’s head clicks but the Hyunjin that he is, he needs another second to jump to a conclusion.

“You have a voice that… sounds so familiar. Do we know each other?”

Felix chuckles then, squeezing his lower lip between his teeth like on autopilot, before he finds the gaze of the other one again.

“Yes. It’s five_star_m1chelin. Nice to meet you.”

You can practically see a lightbulb shining above Hyunjin’s head now, as he puts two and two together.

“I’m Hyunjin– oh, this is Eunji,” he introduces his girlfriend or whatever then.

She just waves in his direction and you can read it in her expression—she’s impatiently waiting for your best friend to grant all his attention to her again and leave the both of you alone.

But Hyunjin’s mimics have changed a bit, too. You’re done reading too much between the lines, drawing conclusions where there aren’t any but when Felix lays his hand around your hips—which he has already done before, when waiting in line for your drinks—your best friend’s eyes shoot down to the spot where your bodies connect so innocently.

You get aware of it for a second, until Felix pulls you even closer and you almost drop Bbokkari—the plush chick—in the process. But he catches it, giving it back to you before his lips align with your ears, as he whispers, “Be a little more careful, doll.”

You instantly nod, until you realise again that you are still very much in public and very much standing right in front of Hyunjin and Eunji.

“Actually,” Hyunjin suddenly announces, “we were thinking about leaving. We’ve seen everything around here and we’re getting a little tired.”

You nod, once again, a little surprised about the abrupt plan of your friend.

“Sure, I guess… we will stay a little longer,” you say as if it’s a question but, luckily, Felix is on the same page as you.

“Okay, then I will bring Eunji home. I’ll call you, Y/N.”

There’s something in Hyunjin’s face as if he wants to say more but he can’t because the presence of his girlfriend or God knows what is holding him back from it.

Nonetheless, you exchange a hug—a little more rushed than usual—and tell them to stay safe and text once they’re home. You watch them leave the hall until they are out of sight.

“It seems as if you’re a little jealous, doll,” Felix says then, nonchalantly reaching for your hand as if he has done this a thousand times before.

You have learnt by now that the freckled boy is very touchy but you don’t mind at all—even though you usually don’t like it. It just feels so natural with him.

“But not as jealous as he is.”

You decide to ignore the second part of his sentence. It may seem weird and unforeseen, but after today it doesn’t really matter to you anymore. Hyunjin can go and spend as much time with Eunji as he wants—you’re glad to be here with Felix.

He’s actually giving you a good time and he’s listening to you. Felix doesn’t make you feel like a second choice and you would have never expected that the guy that used to get in constant fights with your last nerve would ever make you feel so… safe and wanted.

The last thing you want is Felix to think that there is something going on between you and your best friend. Yes, until twenty four hours ago you were convinced that Hyunjin is the man of your dreams but the more you spend time with Felix, the more those feelings seem to vanish.

Of course it’s a little early to jump to any emotional conclusions.

You may be delusional, but that’s where you draw the line.

However, you can say that Felix brightens up your mood a lot more than Hyunjin has achieved in all these past weeks.

Maybe, and just maybe, you have never had a crush on the latter but just fell in love with the idea of it—driven by familiarity.

Or maybe, and really just maybe, the chemistry between Felix and you is much more intense. You’re like two opposites finding each other, completing each other without being two halves. You may be wired differently—the sunshine boy (that is grumpy online) and the grumpy one (that is—mostly—a sunshine online)—but this only makes the attraction stronger.

But, again. There’s no need to interpret every detail now. What you are sure of is that Felix is making you feel good and that’s a reason enough to be honest with him.

“I am not jealous.”

He chuckles a little. As if he doesn’t believe you but also as if he doesn’t really care. Felix is here with you and the fact you have been spending the whole afternoon and evening with him, is enough he needs to know.

“And stop calling me by that nickname,” you add then, trying to forget about the sound of his deep voice pronouncing those four letters so sensually, you’re embarrassed. After all, you’re still in public and he basically has you wrapped around his fingers with one stupid syllable he has used a few times tonight.

“Why is that? It fits you, you’re the prettiest person at the whole convention, if you ask me.”

God, Felix, stop. You’re close to shattering the world record in developing a crush on someone within a few hours.

Calm the fuck down.

“I have never expected that you are capable of saying nice things from all the things you have said online,” you reply then, somewhat gaining control over both your thoughts and the conversation.

“I only say nice things when I truly mean them.”

Yeah. You have lost said control again.

But there’s no time to think anyway, when Felix grabs his hand and guides you towards another hall, finding something that amuses him.

“Another wheel of fortune,” he says, wiggling his eyebrows in your direction like a child.

“The odds for you winning again are so low,” you challenge him unintentionally. Maybe you are just not neutral regarding your bad luck with games like these.

“Don’t underestimate me, doll.” Felix counters then. He looks at you, pretending to be hurt until the both of you start laughing.

“How about a bet?”

“Sure,” you answer. “What shall we bet?”

Felix acts as if he is contemplating what to say but something in his expression tells you he has already got an idea.

“If I win the first price again, I’m taking you home tonight. How’s that sound?”

Oh, God.

You remember you are still very much in a public place and there is no reason for him to make your face heat up like fire just with a simple, not so innocent proposition.

But why should you play pretend when that’s all you have been craving this whole day?

“I’m all in, pretty.”

You swear you can see him blush at the nickname, his freckles almost hidden behind a pink layer. Almost.

“Good luck,” you say before Felix positions his hand at the wheel again, giving it a little nudge as he watches the colours merge into one another. When the spinning motion comes to a halt, the both of you have your eyes practically glued on it, patiently waiting for the result.

“What a pity,” Felix says when he realises it wasn’t enough. The employee gives him some type of candy as a consolation prize.

“I would have loved to take you home,” he adds.

Felix unwraps the plastic around the lollipop, before he guides it towards your mouth. As if he has flipped a switch on you, your lips part obediently, inviting the sugary treat in. When the flavours hit your tongue, they turn from sour to sweet.

The tension between the both of you grows thicker within half a second. Felix watches the way the candy disappears inside your mouth, until you open it a bit, entangling your tongue around the blue confectionery. He pulls the lollipop out, as it leaves you with a loud ‘plop’.

“What a pity indeed,” you say, licking over your sugar coated lips with your tongue that still has the blueberry taste on it.

Felix tries the candy then, squinting a little when it turns from sweet to sour.

“Hm, I guess those are the rules of the bet.”

His gaze is still fixated on your lips and the thin layer of sweetness on them.

And then the realisation hits you.

It’s not as if anyone is holding the both of you back anyway—you can decide how tonight will end regardless of what you agreed on two minutes ago.

“Well,” you start then, snitching the candy out of his hand, as you place the candy between your lips again. This time it doesn’t taste as sour. You guide your mouth somewhere else—right beside his ear.

As if you could get caught for what you’re about to say.

As if the venue isn’t getting emptier with each second.

As if the both of you have cared for the past hours in case someone sees you shamelessly flirting all in public.

“You simply said, you will take me home if you win,” the words leave you in whispers, although still audible for him.

“You can still take me somewhere else.”

Felix can’t help himself but blinks his eyes repeatedly when your sentence registers in his head. Then, the freckles hide behind a pink curtain again.

“Are you real or are you a dream?”

The little chuckle that follows from him is absolutely cute.

“I mean, there aren’t as many people here anymore. We can probably search for a more quiet place.”

That’s how you find yourself in one of the more spacious bathrooms a few minutes later, after you practically sprinted there and hastily locked the door behind you.

But before you’re able to start with anything, Felix reaches for your hand—as if he is about to make the most romantic gesture but it turns out he is just guiding you towards the bathroom counter this way.

He aligns his lips with your ears, just how you had been doing mere moments ago. His breath lingers on your skin and it feels as if this is already enough for every cell in your body to scream for more.

“A quiet place it is,” he purrs, “just so you know—I want you to be anything but quiet, baby.”

That’s it. With a single sentence—and everything that has happened so far—he makes sure you are one hundred percent ready to be ruined by him.

The next thing you sense are his lips attached to your bare neck, sensually drawing kisses on them, sucking roughly on your skin. You let out a moan then, out of reflex covering your mouth with the palm of your hand.

But Felix has different plans. He carefully pushes your fingers away, while he is meeting your gaze with his own.

“Didn’t I tell you to not be quiet, doll?”

You nod, looking at him like a fawn that has been caught doing something forbidden.

“Words, yeah? Where are you hiding your boldness now?”

“Felix… don’t tease. Please just keep going.”

His eyes darken, playing in harmony with the mischevious smirk that is appearing on his face.

“That’s my good girl.”

Within a second, he hovers his lips all over your jaw, as his hand comes to help—in other words seizing around your throat all so slightly.

It’s ridiculous and you don't know what to blame it on—the gin tonic you had four hours ago that is probably not even working in your system anymore, the wickedness of being in this semi-public cramped space with him, the matching costumes clinging to both your bodies destined to be taken off.

Or a combination of all of the above.

Nevertheless you are sure about one thing: Felix is making you struggle to catch your breath, whenever his hands explore another part of your body—your waist, your hips, your ass, your tits. Unfortunately still all through the fabric of your cosplay.

You’re so deeply hypnotised, totally occupied in the way he is granting your body so much attention with so little effort.

Until a vibrating sound echoes through the room, coming from your back pocket.

At first you ignore it—concentrating on the pretty boy in front of you instead—but the noise repeats itself a few more times and you’re getting worried it’s important.

“Sorry, I’ll be quick.”

“No worries, darling,” Felix says, as he plays with your hair, watching you touch the screen of your phone.

“It was just a quick text from Hyunjin. I’ll turn it off,” you let him know, as you press the button on your device, before storing it in your back pocket again.

“What does he want?”

Felix wouldn’t usually ask such things but the fact you were practically bombarded with texts from your best friend creates an uncomfortable feeling inside his stomach.

Chill, dude, he tells himself. She isn’t your girlfriend or anything, slow the fuck down with your emotions.

“He says they are home and put a weird emphasis on the fact he is staying at her place.”

Felix scoffs. “No offense but that guy is weird.”

You’re getting second guesses now. Not because of Felix but because of the way this situation might appear to him.

So, you have to come clear about something first.

“I don’t want to make the impression that I’m thinking of you as a rebound.”

Felix’s face softens, as he brushes over your cheek with the back of your hand.

“I know that you don’t. Please don’t worry about it.”

You nod, “So, where were we?”

“Take a seat, baby,” he says, as he grabs you by your waist and places you on top of the counter.

And in less than a second he has got you right under his spell again, when he this time aligns his lips with your own.

You can clearly say—apart from being drunk on arousal—that this is the most passionate kiss you have ever received in your life. Truly hypnotising like a hyperfixation on a video game release you have been impatiently waiting for.

Especially, when he carefully—in order not to wreck your cosplay—pull the part of your outfit aside that is covering your breasts. Well, not anymore. Felix’s lips are wrapped around one of the sensitive buds now, the other once pinched between two of his fingers.

But he doesn’t stay in this position for that long—he wants to explore every inch of your body, all of it. So, in a swift but sensual motion he sinks down to his knees, his head on the same level as your lower stomach now.

Felix’s hands are attached to your upper thighs, as his face is wandering upwars again to be squished between your tits for one last time before he slowly creates a path of kisses, going south.

He looks insanely beautiful like this. Perfect, almost. A really pretty boy between your legs, excitedly taking in the view of your body in the costume of his favourite character. This is truly a gamer’s wet dream come true.

“You’re so breathtaking,” he says then, as if he has been reading your mind and decided to turn the compliment towards you.

You could swear his voice is even an octave deeper now—if that’s physically possible—and you’re melting in every sense of the word.

“Fuck,” you cry out, when his hands slide underneath the skirt part of your costume. They brush over your clothed core next, applying soft circling motion at a steady speed that’s making you unintentionally say goodbye to all logical thoughts that are left in your brain.

“You like that, baby?”

You can’t do much more except for letting out a high-pitched moan, nodding to the rhythm of his movements. Felix uses both his hands to let your underwear glide down your thighs then, revealing your glistening cunt that is waiting to be devourt by him.

“You’re such a good girl, you know that?”

He’s not really waiting for an answer this time. He has indeed been waiting too long. Instead of wasting any more second, Felix dives right in, as the tip of his tongue collides with your clit, before he adds a long, sensual stripe to it.

“You taste so good, doll,” he hums, as his saliva mixes together with your precum, making you even wetter than you already are.

“You like my voice, don’t you?” Felix asks and you’re very much surprised he’s only now dropping that question.

“Y-Yeah– a lot,” you chuckle, feeling caught.

“Hm, I’ve noticed, baby.”

His tongue can’t only be considered heavenly when it comes to speaking, he is in fact more than talented when it comes to those unholy circling motions he provides right where you need them the most.

And as if that isn’t already enough—enough stimulation, sensation, satisfaction—he slowly pushes two of his fingers inside your hole, feeling your walls immediately clench around them.

“Good girl, just like that,” he praises when he witnesses your head falling back in pleasure, your hands holding onto the slippery counter for dear life. It doesn’t take you that much longer to fall apart—especially, when he curls his fingers inside you as his tongue keeps flicking over your sensitive bud, driving you over the edge completely.

Felix’s pace decreases then, while he helps you ride out your high and in an instant he is standing on his feet again, capturing your lips with his own. You taste yourself but you don’t mind, particularly once his moans are transferred towards you and that deep growl makes you almost see stars again, untouched.

“If you were mine, I would make you walk around in this costume every day, fuck–“

Felix’s words are straightforward and you adore it, so you waste no time and find the hem of his pants, pulling them down with the underwear in one swift motion, freeing his hardened length.

“I wanna call you a nerd but I was just about to say the same.”

He chuckles and then kisses you one last time, before he spits in his hand and wraps it around his throbbing cock, smearing the saliva all over it. Felix watches you spread your legs for him and he almost cums there and then but manages to hold himself back.

“You ready, doll?”

His eyes find your own again, putting you into another scene of trance.

“Definitely.”

The tip of his cock grazes over your sensitive, almost overstimulated clit. Liquids get mixed together, combined into one, just like your bodies when he finally pushes himself into you. You need a second to adjust to the feeling and Felix pulls out, just to go all in this second time—now bottoming you out so deliciously, you’re afraid you might drool all over the costume.

“Better hold on tight, baby,” he says, as he grabs you by your hips and starts thrusting into you with a slower, steady pace.

And it seems as if he can’t only go deep with his voice.

You decide to position your arms around his neck, pulling him closer from time to time so you can align your lips with his—the kisses mostly consist of teeth and tongue but you don’t mind.

The scene is so wild, so overwhelming in a good way, you’re for sure you will be thinking of this moment for the rest of your life. A shitty weekend doing a one hundred and eighty degree turn and transforming into the best time of your life anyone has ever granted you sexually—and emotionally, considering how well the annoying gamer of the rival team and you seem to get along in real life.

And, God, the way he is filling you up so deliciously, the way he is playing with your tits again and the way his other hand is drawing those addicting circles on your clit—he’s bringing you closer to that sweet relief within seconds if not less.

“Give me another one, baby, you can do it,” Felix orders, as if he is able to read your mind when in reality he simply feels you tightening around his pulsating cock.

You hastily nod, following his command. Your vision gets filled with stars and the sensation rushes through your body, this time even more intense and you cry out his name over and over again.

“Good girl, what an obedient doll you are,” Felix praises you once again, never stopping with pounding into your aching hole, although you notice him getting sloppier.

“I wish you’d let me cum all over the dress but I think that’s not the smartest idea, baby.”

You chuckle, “Hmm. I-I have nothing to change into here.”

“What a pity,” Felix says, picking up his pace as he is now fucking into you so mercilessly, you keep screaming out syllables that sound like his name.

“What a pity indeed,” you exhale.

“You can cum on my tits, though.”

Felix’s eyes roll back and he is questioning yet again if this is reality or just some fantasy that has been playing in his mind so many times before.

“But only if you ask nicely,” you add, when you notice his fucked out face.

“Fuck, you’re s-something e-else, doll,” he stutters, dangerously close to the verge of snapping.

“But please– let me– let me cum all over your tits.”

You’re done torturing him, Felix has earned everything he wishes for.

“Go on, be a good boy, baby.”

At the very last second, he pulls his cock out of you, directs it towards your tits as he leans over. In an impulsive moment, you reach for his length then, replacing his hand with your own, as you stroke him a few more times until he can’t take it no more.

Hot spurts of cum land on your bare skin then, painting your body so beautifully, Felix reminds himself to take a mental note of the view, storing it in his head to relive this sight whenever he feels the need to.

However, once the both of you have remembered how to breathe properly again, Felix helps you clean up as best as possible and gets the both of you dressed again. He places a soft kiss on your cheek, making you heart skip a beat.

You thought you were wired differently and maybe you are but that’s what makes the both of you complete—physically, mentally, spiritually and you can’t wait to learn more about him.

Felix pulls out his phone from his jeans pocket, unlocks it and basically holds it right under your nose.

“What’s this?”

You are a little perplexed, that’s your excuse for the rhetorical question.

“My phone, duh. You can give me your number, if you like. So I can invite you on a date.”

Felix is glad you can’t hear his heart racing as if it's doing a marathon and trying to win the gold medal.

But the anxiety fades away in an instant, when you smile at him.

“A very odd order of dating events but sounds like a great idea.”

AUTHOR’S NOTE: I swear I blame aespa’s song for this, it has been on repeat for the past week for me 💜 thank you for reading. If you enjoyed this story, please consider reblogging it and sharing your thoughts with me—there are no limits, from keyboard smashes to long essays, every kind comment is dearly appreciated and the number one motivation for authors to keep going.

© j-0ne25 2023 | copying, translating or stealing my work is prohibited

Fey and Wilde

Audacity takes on many forms in vampire High Lord Kim Seokjin. Daring to show his face at the summer court after insulting your honor was one. Finding his way back into your bed in spite of that was another entirely.

Pairing: Seokjin x Female Reader

Genre: Vampire!Seokjin; Fae!Reader; Fantasy; Established Relationship; Fluff; Angst but not really; Smut

Word Count: 16,000+

Warnings: Alcohol; Profanity; Explicit sexual content, Vampire biting, Blood drinking and smearing; Obscene, decadent, and purely indulgent romantic drivel; Purple prose

Related storie(s): Moonflower

Note: This story features a reader-character with brown skin and physical features similar to those of African descent

If you enjoy my writing, please consider buying me a ko-fi

“Join me for a dance then and I’ll explain everything,” he said. Your expression didn’t change.

“I’ll have to decline,“ you said. “I’m not in the habit of sharing dances with partners who gravely insult me with such indifference.”

Predictably stubborn to a fault and he would never expect any less. Instead, he had developed a taste for it, lapped up your incorrigible fey pride as he had every other part of you — the cold, and the soft, and the ever blazing.

“Only one dance,” he insisted. “And if I haven’t convinced you of my sincerity by the end, I’ll leave Southsong and never return. You have my word.” He felt the weight of his declaration lift into the air, the magic of the Feywild snapping it up with hungry satisfaction. It was a gamble to bet everything on a few moments, knowing that he truly would never be able to return if he didn’t convince you. But he was willing to take those kinds of chances if it meant he would win you back. He had to.

Read on AO3

take five (2)

pairing: yoongi x reader

wordcount: 8k

glimpse: dr. min's distraught on how you're still best friends with kim taehyung, aka your ex-boyfriend who's now famous.

alternatively, yoongi gets a dose of his own medicine and he seriously considers going to a cardiologist for his heartaches from chasing after you.

[ a continuation to part one ]

[ angst, so much pining but this time it's yoongi's 24/7 occupation, jealousy n insecurity, eventual fluff ]

notes: i really didn't expect a lot of requests for this piece to have a continuation but alas here it is!! the main theme of the asks i received is to make dr. min suffer and honestly i am not against it <3 once again, this is inspired by yang seok-hyeong and choo min-ha’s dynamic from hospital playlist and u don’t necessarily have to watch it in order to read this!! ok anyways pls enjoy this piece :D

as always, lmk what you think <3 send in feedback n love to my askbox anytime!!

Yoongi has four chances left.

Four is an even number by literal definition but he feels that it's odd. It’s a number that’s unfair and unforgiving and he just realized today how much hatred he could have for a damn digit.

Was it a smart move that he immediately asked you out two seconds after he proposed the offer of getting to ask you out for only five times? Not really. But in actuality, Yoongi would’ve thought it was the smartest move if only you accepted. Yet of course, you rejected him (he can’t blame you) and now he realized how dispensable he really is.

He’s never really chased someone per se. Never really been the type to question nor prod but he feels like he’s the nosiest being ever when it comes to you — you, who isn’t all that crazy for him nowadays.

And he understands! Yoongi truly understands where he went wrong and as much you assured him that he’s not obligated to like you back, he still gave you motive and means and that atleast has to count for something.

He’s paying the price, that much he knows. He’s filling in your shoes and even if you’ve stood countless of times next to him, only for him to look down and see how your work shoes are smaller than his, he feels like it’s an infinite void he’s stepped into.

“You know that Y/N’s my oldest friend, right? Knew her before I knew you?” Jimin asked him as soon as Yoongi spilled the beans on how his interaction went with you, adding in a half-ass apology of how he threw him out of the breakroom.

“Mhmm. Is this the part where you give me the guy best friend speech?” He snickered but he feels the worry in his tummy, not admitting to how Jimin may be younger but he can truly intimidate him from time to time.

“Close,” he chuckled, putting a spoonful of the ice cream you’ve treated him to out of the blue. “But I just want you to know that I know her the most, and I know that she doesn’t forget. Doesn’t really give in that easily. Doesn’t really budge when it’s not needed.”

Yoongi’s lips pursed at that. “How do you want me to take that?”

Jimin’s intentions are pure. Not ill, but rather honest. It’s his way of telling his friend that chasing after his other friend wouldn’t be easy. Not exactly futile but it’s close to it, having had the knowledge that when you give up, you truly give up. “You take it however you want to.”

It’s that small interaction with your closest friend that pushes Yoongi to suck up a breath and let himself be embarrassed, knowing that you’ve done it numerous times before for him.

“Good morning.”

Yoongi chirps from behind you and all the remaining grogginess from your short nap you take before opening gets detached, resisting the urge to yawn.

“Hi.”

Dr. Min tries not to smile when he sees you blink away the sleep-induced tears rapidly but he fails anyway, learning that he has nothing to hide.

His morning routines are different to say the least. He buys his own coffee now and only throws his bag when he sees you within the crowd of a staff greeting him, regardless if you’re the one who catches it or not.

He doesn’t go straightly to his office but instead he aims straight for the breakroom and if you haven’t arrived there, then he’d wait. He knows not to impose on your routine that you’ve set but there’s no harm in trying to slightly impose, just enough to make his presence known.

He waits for five minutes and tries to just casually give you his treat of the morning, just as casual as if he woke up from bed and suddenly decided to buy himself cocoa crepe cake and accidentally bought one more slice, and even more hauntingly, accidentally packaged it up in a lunchbox with your name on it so it would retain its form and coolness.

All accidental and casual of course.

Yoongi, the easy-going guy he is, puts an all too-familiar cup in front of you — something that only Jimin could know how frustrated you get when you try to find it in the chiller aisles.

"The grocery was all out of this. Where did you find it?"

He smiles to himself for yet another job well done, suddenly feeling his skin prick with nervousness when you twirl the cylinder with your fingers.

Oh god, did he give you a damaged one?

Was this not your favorite flavor of pudding?

Better yet, do you even eat it at all?

It clicks in your memory why the expiration date is familiar, the pudding obviously not yet spoiled but it's the exact one you've seen before.

"How much did Jimin charge you for this?"

It's from Jimin's fridge from the grocery trip you embarked on with him just last week ago, remembering snagging the last two packs for each of you to take home. It's routine that the both of you get your groceries together despite living apart — it's routine for him to drive the cart and chuck the items from both of your lists, and it's routine for you to check the expiration dates since he clearly doesn't.

Yoongi can't find it within him to be annoyed that you found him out so quick because the entire situation itself is humorous, sheepishly scratching his nape.

"Thrice the price, I think."

You chuckle in amusement, not entirely sure if it's because Jimin managed to sell your favorite pudding for thrice the price, or it's because Yoongi bought it despite being ripped off. "Is it worth it?"

He knows you only mean the question at surface-level but he can't help to look at it a little more deeply, shrugging as what seems to be the obvious answer.

"Well you're smiling now and you're getting a spoon, so yeah, of course. I think it's worth indulging Jimin the part-time scalper."

It's nice seeing you laugh because of him. He figures that he probably must've hurt you in ways he wasn't even aware of but he tries not to dwell on it, instead looking at you face-to-face.

"Do you want more of those?" he tentatively asks and you're clueless to how his voice became meek, putting his hands behind his back as he practices the smooth flow of words in the back of his head.

You snort at the question despite sounding like a lure, answering truthfully the moment you let the pudding engulf your tiny spoon.

"I'd actually gatekeep it if I had the chance to."

"I called around," Yoongi starts off and all the shakiness has disappeared from his voice, a solid front as he risks one of the four chances that he's entitled to. "I have this close friend who owns a restaurant. He has whole tubs of these and he said he'd give it to me for free."

Your eyes widen considerably and he takes it positively, a huge relief that he has so many connections that are seemingly in his favor each time.

"Do you wanna go to the restaurant? I'll pick it up with you so I can see too why you love it so much."

He sees you eat a spoonful with your eyes twinkling, no joke at all when Jimin swore up and down that this is your favorite. He shoves down the hope he feels because second tries don't always end up victorious because they don't even rhyme at all.

"No thank you," you hum, shaking your head. "But can I have the number of your friend though?"

Yoongi's eye twitches and he tilts his head at your reply that simultaneously involves him and not at all at the same exact time.

"For uh, f-for pudding purposes, right?"

"Gatekeeping your friend now, Dr. Min? Why, is he handsome?"

You joke but the concept of it doesn't sit snugly on his bottom lips because it weighs it down considerably into a frown, his eyebrows scowling as he thinks of a family friend with the name of Kim Seokjin.

The despair he feels is short-lived because it's replaced with annoyance, the tiniest bit of green tinting his vision. "No. Definitely not. He's unattractive. Undesirable. His only personality trait is that he's friends with me. Stop asking."

Dr. Min's answer is too blunt to the point that you find yourself coughing, looking at the cup in front of you while you talk in passing.

"I assume he's friends with Jimin. I'll just ask him then."

Yoongi snaps out of his jealousy-fueled reverie and he physically shakes the thought away from his mind, mumbling at first. "What? No, no, don't do that. I'll just-" he feels for the car keys in his pocket, making a mental note to drive to the restaurant right after closing.

"I'll bring it to you myself tomorrow. No need to ask for his number."

( ♡ )

Hoseok has no interest and didn't really mean to, but he thinks he's unconsciously memorized and met the entirety of all the personalities that the Myers-Briggs Type Indicator could ever come up with.

He thought it was stupid at first but now that there's been five separate clients who went to the front desk to ask for some more magazines while in reality, they were just chatting him up in attempt to have their slot moved earlier, it's not all so stupid anymore.

What he's been doing is giving the same magazines each time with a different page opened, all with a customer service smile saying that it was new.

"Do we have a lot of patients today?"

He almost grits his teeth at yet another client but he's relieved when he looks up and it's just Yoongi, lazily leaned against the counter with a bored look on his face.

"Yeah, like a hoarde. I don't think I'd even be able to use my phone in-between."

"You use your phone during your shift?"

Hoseok merely scoffs despite being flustered that he just admitted to his boss that he's not all that attentive and uses every second of his time in using Excel and arranging patients' charts.

"No you use your phone during your shift. I don't know what you're talking about."

Yoongi doesn't add onto such a childish remark from his childhood friend that only calls him Dr. Min when there's actual people around, unbothered enough that he diverts the conversation smoothly.

"Is Jimin in? All the other doctors are here too?"

"Of course he's in. Of course all the other doctors are in," Hoseok furrows his brows and stops typing on his keyboard that's greased up with his hand sanitizer. "Yoongi you literally own this place why do you — this is routine already. What's with you?"

"Nothing," the guy in question huffs, crossing his arms as he pathetically throws back the question. "What's with you?"

Hoseok's clueless on why Yoongi's chatting him up in the front desk when it's clear that the clients in the waiting room could clearly see their doctor doing everything else besides accommodate them, a little lost for words.

"Long queue for me?"

He exhales at how Yoongi still won't budge and leave his front desk, definitely certain now that once the doctor leaves, he'd be hounded again by impatient clients.

"You have the longest one today. Beat Jimin only by two patients more," he mumbles, making it the official verdict for the little competition that the two owners and main doctors have of which would get the more clients.

"Cool, cool," he's only slightly amused by his win of the day because it's clear that his mind's in other places, looking at his back slyly before turning to Hoseok again. "Assign Y/N only to me today."

His secretary actually deadpans at him as if he's not surprised at all but still insulted nonetheless. "But the clinic's busy," he motions to the hoarde of people that are a mix of appointments and walk-ins. "All the nurses are free game to the doctors because it's hectic."

Yoongi sucks in a faux gasp, motioning to Hoseok to come close to him so he could whisper.

The younger guy rolls his eyes but he knows that Yoongi won't leave him alone until he doesn't, begrudgingly coming closer across the desk.

"I own the clinic."

Hoseok gasps lewdly to indulge the guy, making him roll his eyes in return. He beckons him back closer so he could cup his hands around his ear, eyes wide to make it look like he's never been more serious of anything in his life.

"Do you want me to buy you a collar so you could wear it for Y/N?"

Yoongi would've smacked Hoseok at the back of his head if only you hadn't made your appearance known at the front desk with a frantic gaze, making him straighten his posture immediately.

Hobi smiles at you like he always does and you wave at him before you speak to Dr. Min, unnerved at the daggers they send to each other during the split second you looked away.

"Doc where have you been? Ms. Seri keeps looking at her Rolex."

Right. Seri, of course. Yoongi's reminded of why he came out of the procedure room in the first place with the excuse that he's getting the materials even if you've already brought in the cart.

He's reminded of how he's the best in the game and that's why Seri, his ex-wife's nosy best friend that's just dead-set on dipping her heels in every occasion, was awkwardly left alone with you in the procedure room until you had to excuse yourself because Dr. Min's taking too long.

He walks lethargically back into the room and you have to slow down your pace every now and then because it'd be rude if you walk ahead of the doctor, even if he's intentionally taking ages to stroll.

Botox on the forehead. Enclosed room with Seri and Y/N. Less than twenty minutes.

Yoongi inhales to soldier through it all, carelessly opening the door to see the immediately inquisitive gaze of Seri who looks more than excited to see him again.

"Disinfectant, please."

He wastes no time into making Seri lie down to get it all over with, making you fumble for the pad as you swallow down the guffaw when Dr. Min cleanses the area a little more vigorously than needed, seeing the pinkness that's blooming on Miss Seri's glass skin.

She hums at it but Yoongi knows that she already has a question blooming underneath her tongue, only a matter of seconds before he's cornered.

"How's Jihye?"

There it is.

If you're shocked to hear the name, you definitely don't show it because you barely even flinch. You only have an inkling of who's connected to who, but you don't have the faintest idea how Miss Seri's closely related to Miss Jihye as a token nosy friend.

If Yoongi's annoyed to hear the unnecessary mention of his name, he definitely shows it.

"Marker, please."

He only bites gently as he looks at you with worry that you can decipher, a look that baffles you for all the wrong reasons because he looks apologetic even.

He quietly marks Seri's skin as you hand her the mirror to observe, only leaning back slightly to see the symmetry. It's quiet besides Seri's hums, the default explanation Dr. Min has to do when it comes to botox not being uttered because the girl already knows it enough for the amount of times she's been in this chair

"Jihye and I are divorced now, Seri. You were like the third person to ever know."

He's met with a knowing chuckle because she was indeed one of the first people to ever know, knowing that he wouldn't be surprised at all when someone tells him that she was the one who leaked the news to the press because it's not far-fetched at all.

Seri's more than satisfied with the markings, handing you back the mirror. "Jihye's single. You know that right?"

"Numbing cream, please."

Yoongi isn't interested at the slightest bit and it shows with how his eyes look sleepy, his hand waiting for you to hand him the container as he doesn't even chuckle at the unwarranted input of his patient.

"Hmm, she is? Good for her," he sing-songs but it sounds the furthest thing from entertaining, feeling compelled to slather on a whole lot of cream to the point Seri wouldn't even be able to feel until the next month.

It's clear that he's annoyed and there's no point in covering it up. Even when he was still married, he was already long-annoyed at Seri who does exceedingly well in trying to get under his skin.

She's annoying and he doesn't even know why Jihye still keeps her around. It's not pity that he feels in extension for his ex-wife, but it's just pure-hearted annoyance.

"There's this gala next week, did you know? Jihye's invited and she's also entitled to a plus one," Seri hums proudly even if unprompted. "Not every guest is privy to that."

"Syringe please, Y/N."

Yoongi ignores her all the more as he cusses infinitely in his mind because of all the times he had to cater to who happens to be his ex-wife's friend, it just had to be you who's his assistant.

Yoongi from ten minutes ago would've been happy as he requested specifically for you to Hoseok, but the present version of him wants nothing more than to usher you outside so you wouldn't have to be in the same room and endure a conversation such as this.

"I know there's a gala next week because you're not the first party-goer I've given botox to today," he mumbles as he injects, unblinking when Seri winces slightly despite the numbing cream.

"All the plus-ones are screened beforehand, you know that," she emphasizes and it hurts Yoongi right where it hurts, reminding him well-enough the times he had to walk the red carpet with the woman he doesn't want to do anything with. "Whether they walk the red carpet or not, you can't just bring a random person in there."

Yoongi can sniff from a mile away what Seri's intention is and it frustrates him to no end, a groan brewing at the back of his throat.

"You're trying to get me and Jihye back together and it's a no, Seri," he says it so sternly that it intimidates you even if it isn't directed at you. Yoongi only leans away briefly to cover the next area, looking up at you for a fraction of a second before he injects again. "Besides, my eye's set on someone special already. Lay it off already."

He takes his eyes off of you even before you could register what he said, the blankness in your face wavering at the slightest.

"Is she a model?"

"She could be if she wanted to."

"Dating already?"

"No," he answers straightly and with the way he sees Seri's lips curve as she probably has the intention to relay this to his ex-wife and 99 others, he regrets that he even gave her numbing cream in the first place. "Not yet, atleast."

"Ah, so you're single," she exclaims, her forehead once again being harshly cleansed to remove the markings but she champions through it. "And so is Jihye."

Yoongi reclines the chair suddenly that it almost has Seri recoiling in surprise, removing his gloves to discard them as he points to the door.

"Goodbye, Seri."

Miss Seri rolls her eyes and spares you a glance with her lips pouted as if to get you on her team, directing his gaze to Yoongi one last time to silently signal to you that there must be something wrong with him.

She leaves the procedure room without so much of a fight and it leaves you in the room alone with Dr. Min who's gone silent, sitting on one of the chairs with his brows furrowed in deep thought.

"I'm sorry for that."

It piques your attention instantly because you don't grasp it fully, tilting your head in question. "Why are you apologizing?"

He hangs his mouth briefly, glancing up at you with an inquiring gaze of a puppy who's pondering in misplaced remorse. "Are you mad at me?"

"I have no reason to be mad at you."

You say truthfully as you wipe down the chair, alarming Yoongi slightly because it seems to him that you don't care at all and it worries him to no end.

"A-are you sure?" he asks once again, eyes widening while he tries to look for the barest shift of attention in your eyes.

"Why would I be mad, Dr. Min? I'm not childish to throw a tantrum over your own personal affairs."

Your own personal affairs.

He doesn't know why the mere fact you've stated affects him more than it should. Better yet, it probably wasn't even a dig at him. It's just a casual answer that involved the truth and he's getting butthurt over it because he thought it would affect you.

"Y-yeah. You're right."

He swallows the lump on his throat and he feels the burst of proactiveness in his chest, lips curling as he tries to catch your gaze one more time.

He didn't plan on asking today but he just felt it in the back of his head. He's not entirely sure if it's appropriate for the moment, but it prods at his mind to try.

"If you're not mad, then would you go out with me tonight? I'm closing the clinic at five o'clock exactly."

"No," you chuckle in amusement at the suddenness of the question. "I'm not going out with you, not because I'm mad."

Yoongi tilts his head because this is the rejection he feels for the third time wherein it hits a little closer to him for each attempt that he tries, waiting for your answer still even if you wouldn't reverse it.

"Busy tonight. I need to look for a gown."

"A gown? What for?" his interest grows in your admission, straightening his posture as he knows you're bound to finish cleaning up any second now. "I can come with. I don't complain when there aren't any chairs in the shop."

You only humor him with a snort, exiting the procedure room without waiting for him.

"Next patient, Dr. Min."

( ♡ )

Jimin didn't really know what to do this weekend.

He made no prior plans and his rest day remains unmarked and untouched. He doesn't have the slightest clue on what he should do today, but he knows for sure that this isn't something he'd think about in the first try.

"Hang out with me."

Yoongi says as he's sitting on the other end of Jimin's couch, sprawled while cuddled up to a throw pillow because after all, it must've been exhausting to invite himself over to his friend's house and decide to spend some time with him.

"You already came over, we're already hanging out."

He isn't entirely sure if what he's seeing is correct because as far as he knew, he was the clingier out of the duo. He's the one who comes over to Yoongi's place and buys all the snacks — not this. Not the other way around.

Yoongi must've probably picked up a theme along the way too because he came over wearing matching pajamas and made and off-hand comment of how Jimin's sleep shirt looks ratty, therefore making him change into a set. They're vaguely matching at this point and Jimin just badly wants to know what the hell is going on with his friend's mind.

"No we're not. We're just sitting together on a couch after I had to see you struggling to mirror your phone to your TV."

Yoongi's clingy and if he's entirely being honest, he didn't want to be lonely tonight. Watching replays on his phone didn't satiate him enough and you're not asking him out to go do something in the weekends, so he resorts to the next big thing — crash at Jimin's place so he wouldn't feel alone.

The host huffs because he struggled for atleast ten minutes to mirror his phone, giving Yoongi more than an eyeful of his recent searches and all the photos he's took with neighborhood cats outside the clinic.

"I think your definition of hanging out revolves around talking about Y/N."

"N-no it's-" he stammers over nothing but he gives it up when he's shot with a look that he doesn't sound believable at all, "that's justified."

Jimin decides to let it go because Yoongi dodges the topic of you altogether, probably too sheepish to admit that he only has two tries left and he hasn't made you agree even once, but he knows it nonetheless.

It wasn't embarrassing; if anything, it's adorable. He knows that Yoongi's never the one to chase and it's a little heartwarming to see how determined he is.

Yoongi moves his hair out of the way that's become longer, the blonde being faded at this point. "Why are we watching the gala livestream anyway?"

That gains the younger one's attention instantaneously because he just about remembers to rant, dropping the chip back to his bowl because talking would be the first priority at his list.

"Remember Soyeon?" he asks and the image of the petite celebrity flashes on Yoongi's mind, making him nod. Jimin's relieved to know that they're on the same page because otherwise, he wouldn't have someone to share his sentiment with. "Gave her a rhinoplasty a week ago and I explicitly told her that it would bruise. Like I literally just removed the splint yesterday."

"Yikes," Yoongi winces at the mental image, knowing that the bruising that comes with it isn't subtle at all. "Do you think her team managed to cover it up?"

"The nose? No. Definitely not. She didn't want me to do it subtly," Jimin snorts as he takes a swig of his beer, swallowing bitterly before continuing. "But the bruising? I really wanna see if they did good."

Yoongi turns his gaze to the huge TV in front of him (this has to atleast cover half of Jimin's electricity bill) and sees the numerous faces walking the red carpet, recognizing some of them yet not really all that amazed.

"Mhmm, they really need to pack it in with a sponge. That's gonna take a lot of pressure, especially with the layers they'd need."

He sees people walking left and right and Yoongi's struggling to find interest within it all, only keeping his eyes on the screen to look out for Soyeon because he wants to dish in it too.

His eyesight's clear without the need for prescription glasses yet he feels as if he's being deceived by his own self, unsure if he's even happy to have quite such the skill to spot you in a crowd.

"Is that Y/N?"

The words tumble out of his mouth before he could contain them and he finds himself standing immediately to get closer to the screen, making Jimin fumble for his glasses and do the same.

It's not before Jimin cusses and jabs his finger to the screen that he realizes that it's unmistakably you. It truly couldn't be anyone else and seeing the person right beside you, as much as Yoongi wouldn't want to see him, he's certain that it's you and not anyone else.

"Holy shit."

Jimin's voice borders surprise but he's not in disbelief. He's laughing and chuckling to himself while Yoongi just stays rooted to his position, mouth dry and eyes glazed at the same time.

It's truly you and you're gorgeous in your gown that's silky yet glitters underneath the light. It's clear that you own it right away with how Yoongi knows no one could even come close to giving it the same justice as you.

You're dashing even if the livestream isn't the clearest and it's when you walk away from the red carpet that he's reminded of who you're with, the guy he's seen before wearing a suit that fits the theme of what adorns your body.

"Taehyung's her ex-boyfriend, right?" Yoongi clears his throat and crosses his arms, looking down on his feet as he retreats back to the couch. "What's she doing there with him?"

Jimin looks as shocked as Yoongi is but he doesn't feel conflicted at all. Unlike him, his mind's at peace and it isn't straying to the fact that you're with your ex-boyfriend in a gala that's filled with prying eyes and with no context at all.

Yoongi's no stranger at all to the public eye but something in his stomach just churns that in the first moment you're out there, it had to be with Kim Taehyung the model — Kim Taehyung, the ex-boyfriend.

"I don't know, she told me at first that she wasn't sure if she'd be accompanying him."

And it's true that you've mentioned it in passing to Jimin as you asked him if he knew of any shops with gowns that wouldn't break the bank, with its main purpose only for you to serve as a plus one.

"You knew?" he asks his friend and it leaves a bitter taste in his mouth because he feels like he's the only one who didn't expect you to be there. "You knew that he asked her out?"

Jimin realizes the gravity of the situation but he knows there's no real heat to the inquiry behind Yoongi's wavering voice, avoiding his gaze as he plops himself back to the couch.

"Asked her out to be a plus one... yeah."

"Great," he nods once, looking down on his beer that's just as bitter as he is. "That's great."

It's a tense silence that engulfs them both and Jimin, clearly the one who's suffocating in it, doesn't even know his way out. He's just about to add in a little explanation of how he came to know but he's interrupted before he even gets to open his mouth.

"You know this Taehyung guy?"

Yoongi looks at his knees and he doesn't realize that he's bouncing one, drumming his fingers on his thigh in a tune he can't place.

"Not much, but yeah. She introduced him to me before she introduced him to her parents."

Jimin's only attention in adding the last bit was his fondness because you trusted him enough to be the first of your loved ones to know, warming at the thought that he matters to you in such a way.

But god, in the way Yoongi seems to even dive deeper into his blooming insecurities, he wishes he hadn't.

"Does the press know? Do his fans — do people know?" his voice hushes, "do they know that they're exes?"

It's a valid question born out of curiosity. Anyone who knows you and Taehyung remotely would dare to ask.

"Not sure. They dated even before Taehyung got famous," Jimin somberly answers, meekly scratching the back of his ear. "But after this appearance? I'm sure it won't be long before someone digs something up."

It's a coarse silence that even the bitterness of the beer Jimin kept in stock at his fridge isn't enough to corrode it. All he sees and feels is Yoongi who keeps looking at his hands, his unsureness towards himself reeking.

"Right. Of course."

Yoongi brings his phone and texts you silently when Jimin's attention gets whisked away with Soyeon's appearance on the red carpet, only taking a brief look to see that the bruising on her nose wasn't color-corrected at all.

He thinks little of his dignity because he figures that none would be deducted from him at this point, seeing to it that he's compromising on asking you out even if it's not exclusive to only the two of you.

"Are you free tonight? I'm with Jimin right now and I cooked dinner enough for three. Come hang out :)"

He looks at the screen and Jimin, oblivious to his turmoil, points to where you are at the screen. You're already out of the red carpet but you're visible nonetheless with the wide-angle view of the livestream.

Yoongi could only wait.

You're buzzing with unknown adrenaline from having so many people's attention to you all at once that your shoulders sag in relief once you and Taehyung exited the stream of flashes, the puff of fresh air without being crowded by dozens of media in front of you hitting especially.

"You're my hero," Tae sighs in relief as he puts his hand on the small of your back, "and my hero's phone vibrates so loud that it's making my knee tremble."

He pulls out your phone from his pocket because the free clutch that came with your dress could barely fit your hand, handing you the device from the roomy pocket of his dress pants.

Apparently, you're now his hero because you agreed when called you desperately in need. His manager was forcing him to get a plus-one to the event and coincidentally, you were the first person Tae thought of.

He didn't want to be linked to yet another rumor and he instead just decided to call you in hopes you would agree, even if it was a gigantic favor he was asking from you. You're low-key and unproblematic and most important of all, he's comfortable with you! He didn't want to spend the night of what seems to be an important gala with someone he barely knows.

You're his ex (but they don't need to know) and what someone could say a close friend. It's wholesome. It's heartwarming. Warrants no unnecessary hounding from the press.

You open your phone and Yoongi's text is the first thing that greets you. It's sudden and you don't know what to make of it that you even subtly try to look around to see if he's here somewhere, regardless if he's with his ex-wife or not.

It throws you off your rhythm for a short while but you recover, typing in a quick reply before you shove your phone back to Tae's pocket.

Yoongi watches the livestream until he feels his phone vibrate, sinking into the cushions right when he sees the last sliver of you before the stream was taken down due to a report.

"can't :( i'm doing grocery shopping rn"

( ♡ )

There's a weight on Yoongi's chest that he can't put off.

It's a weight on his chest that he can't remove and it comes in the form of the questions that he formulates inside his head, already out in the open since he can no longer keep them burrowed.

He asks it with little to no urgency, honestly. He's curious but it's in the definition of defeat — asking Jimin as his last resort.

"Why did you not do anything when you knew that Y/N had a crush on me?"

The two of you knew Jimin as someone who had a knack for meddling; meddling in the definition of just teasing the boundary yet not actually intervening. It was his way of reminding the other that he knows it's there and although he won't exactly do anything, it doesn't mean that he's clueless.

In all honesty, Jimin's a little choked up at the question because first of all, he's still surprised that Yoongi came into work because he's figured that since last night of you being involved with Taehyung, he needed a breather of some sort.

Although Yoongi doesn't meet his eyes, Jimin knows he's no longer dancing around the topic. No longer dancing around the subject of you because it's out in the open that he wants you and is hurting.

"It's conflicting on my part. I kinda always wanted to play cupid for the day Y/N had like a legitimately huge crush," his voice gets sheepish, "but when I learned that it's you, I uh, I just didn't know what to do or how that would even go."

Yoongi understands it — not fully, but he does have the faintest grasp.

"Is it because of Jihye?"

"Yeah, kind of like that too," he swallows because if he thinks just far enough, he'd recall the day when he stood as best man at his friend's wedding, never having anticipated that Yoongi would end up loving someone he's closely familiar with all this time. "I just wasn't sure that you'd like her back so with me being neutral, in a way, I'd get to save you from the inconvenience and save Y/N from the heartbreak."

The wording is what makes Yoongi look up, his eyebrows furrowing in genuine confusion as he corrects him.

"Y/N's not an inconvenience to me."

He says it with much sternness and he internalizes it in entirety because it is true. You're the furthest thing away from being an inconvenience to him and it's only now that he realizes how he's made you feel like it in the start.

In a way, Yoongi loathes himself because he didn't take the time to look at you for a second longer.

He didn't allow himself to feel the warmth of the coffee you used to give him every morning for a second longer than necessary, and he didn't even utter a single thanks whenever you'd give him what he requested of you.

It hits him in a way he can't explain because as he peers down on the article on his phone, the very one with you and Taehyung in the thumbnail, his arm felt like giving out when he showed it to Jimin.

HE'S GLOWING: How could Kim Taehyung not when his mystery plus-one is the humblest yet brightest in the room?

Jimin's mouth dries when he sees the fuel to Yoongi's insecurities in the form of an article, skimming past the words before he hands it back to him with the screen turned down.

"Did they make a good couple?" Yoongi pipes in, simply curious with no malice behind his question. "They fit right together, don't they?"

Although Jimin already turned off his phone, he finds himself turning it back on again, being met with the thumbnail that glares at him in high-definition.

He sees Taehyung's hand around your waist and he realizes that it's probably because he's slotted it around too many times before that it feels like muscle memory to do so.

That Taehyung's hand probably made a home out of your waist and takes solace in everything else because after all, you have a history that's undeniable.

You have a history and you're still with him in a way, even if it's not of a lover's concern.

"Yoongs, don't do that."

Jimin scolds him the longer he looks at his phone to the point that he's snatched it out of his grasp, no longer wanting to see his friend bring himself down.

He allows it, staying silent. "Namjoon's in cardiology, right?" he thinks of the familiar face he's seen a couple of times when they were still serving in the hospital. Jimin nods mindlessly but he didn't expect an answer directly.

"Good. I need him to make all these pains stop."

Yoongi thinks it's pathetic of him that there's tears forming at the corners of his eyes, thinks it's even more pathetic that he doesn't even try choking them back down.

"Do you think Y/N will like me back?"

"Yoongi."

He exhales at the sound of his name, nodding to himself before he goes out of the room because his large office seems to close down on him. "You're right. I shouldn't ask. I'm putting you in a tough spot by doing that."

He leaves even before Jimin can squeak, the words he couldn't utter because the one who was supposed to hear them is already put. Yeah. I do think Y/N will like you back.

Yoongi's been working in a daze the whole morning that he breezes through clients and doesn't even realize it. All he knows is that he feels overwhelmingly small and unlike himself and he couldn't bring himself out of it.

It's been his habit to go to the breakroom to linger around you that regardless if you were in there or not, he'd stay there during lunchbreak instead of eating out. His lunch routine would be ordering in and getting you your own meal.

It's engraved into his mind to the point that he barely realizes that when he goes to brew his second coffee of the day, you're already sat on the couch — only sinking in that you were there when he hears you muttering to yourself.

"Hi, Dr. Min."

His mouth is slightly agape to see that you've been there the whole time, bringing down his mug as he acknowledges that you're alone in the room with him.

But the words form on their own accord, and he means it wholeheartedly.

"You looked pretty last night."

To say that you're shocked would be an understatement because you gulp before you know it, eyes widening in realization.

"H-how did you-"

"Jimin gave a rhinoplasty to one of the attendees just a week ago and he wanted to have an I told you so moment with the bruising and all that," he easily explains, giving his coffee an extra stir. "You're also kind of in articles."

"I am?" your head tilts in confusion of why there'd even be articles about you in the first place, the individual you accompanied enough of a reminder to make it dawn on you. "Oh, right. Taehyung told me that would happen."

Dr. Min merely smiles in reply and the lack of a retort keeps you alert, unused to the calm look on his face especially after the mention of Taehyung's name.

You twiddle your thumbs together and the sight of Yoongi like this undoubtedly worries you, the urge to get to the bottom of it overpowering you.

"Are you mad?"

"Why would I be mad at you?"

Yoongi chuckles at the ridiculous question, the abruptness of it enough to make him amused.

"Because I lied to you," you piece together the text he sent you out of office hours, right when you were out of the red carpet. You didn't question it at first but now it boggles your mind, the slightest bit of guilt being planted at the back of your mind.

He shakes his head no, sincerely meaning his sentiment that he isn't mad at you at all.

"You're not indebted to me. You can do whatever you want, I have no right to be mad."

He thinks about how the article's right and how he barely even focused on anyone else that attended just because whoever wrote it knows just how much you shone that night.

He's lost in his thoughts but he keeps stirring his coffee in the corner until there's bubbles at the top with how much he's been doing it, giving you your space.

"Are you upset?"

The question leaves you before you can even process it and oddly enough, you don't regret asking.

"I am," he admits, "but I shouldn't be."

Yoongi has a weight on his chest and he doesn't know how to relieve it at all. He doesn't know how to move around it nor how it even got there in the first place but his palms move automatically, digging into his eyes as he inhales shakily.

"I'm sorry for springing all this to you. God, why am I even sniffling? Sorry, my mind's just a little cloudy right now."

The sight of him being distraught tugs at your heartstrings in a way you've never felt before, a whimper bubbling at the back of your throat.

Yoongi gathers himself enough, just enough to utter his own words without his voice wavering or his eyes watering.

"Please let me down gently."

He knows he basically has no hope at all and he's really trying to come into terms with it. He deserves the pain, he thinks. He's selfish, that much he's sure of, but he pleads that this would be his last time being selfish as long as once you reject him for the final time — it'd be gentle.

"I haven't used my last chance yet and I don't want to expect anything but please, if you're gonna reject me," and the bitter part of his brain thinks you really should, "please go easy on me."

It's a watery silence between the two of you, only being broken when you can't hold yourself back for much longer.

"I haven't used my last chance either," your voice alone brings Yoongi back down, piquing his undivided attention while he tries to make sense of your words. "Do you wanna grab lunch with me right now? Just down the street."

Yoongi's breathless once he realizes the weight of your words, a sudden clarity to his gaze that he nods surely.

"Of course I would."

His voice is still croaky but he clears it to the best that he can, rocking himself back and forth with his feet in place.

It all feels too real when it's just the two of you alone in the breakroom, only a few feet apart but just as close in intention.

"Dinner later? I bought new pots and pans just last week."

The interjection of him using up his last chance to somehow sneak in there that he has new kitchenware makes you giggle, nodding eagerly.

"I'd love that."

"O-okay."

Yoongi knows that he's abandoned his coffee long before he even realized you were in the room, putting his hands at his back as he sheepishly looks at you for what exactly you're going to do next.

"Lunch?"

It's nice. It's more than nice to walk out together side by side. You're toeing around each other when it's clear that the both of you've attempted to cross the boundary for ten times combined, yielding to each other at the last try.

Yoongi tries not to trip on his feet but his eyes widen just the same when he realizes that people are walking with coats and you're not as toasty warm as you'd like with the heating of the clinic, his hands fumbling to make action.

He shrugs off his white coat and stops you at the middle of the street to put it on you because merely draping it on you wouldn't do much justice.

"I don't want you to shiver."

He explains without meeting your eyes but he knows there's warm smile that's been established already, shoving his hands to his pockets as he clenches them out of excitement for yet another tiny victory.

Yoongi feels your hand on his arm, making him peer at you with a curious gaze but he tries not to breathe at all as he walks, too enamored with the way he feels secure.

"I don't want you to get lost."

Mine - m.list

Pairing/Genre: Yoongi x oc, idol!yoongi, actress!oc, celebrity au

Premise: The first time Cara Richie sets foot on the Graham Norton show she’s confronted with questions that have less to do with her upcoming film “Young Rising”, and much more to do with BTS. More specifically with one of their rappers, Suga. Cara is an open supporter and fan of the band, however when Min Yoongi is shipped with the bilingual up-and-coming actress after mentioning her in an interview, things start to get out of hand. Fanart, twitter trends, and stalkers ensue, leaving Cara’s career up to an unknown fate. Then comes the moment the world didn’t even realize it was waiting for: a mixtape from Agust D that raises more questions than answers, especially for Cara.

Warnings: basically pure fluff. a short mention of a stalker. but agh I’m so in love with this story

1. He what now?

2. I’m fine, don’t I look fine?

3. Stalk me all you want, just bring refreshments.

4. Making friends 101

5. Draw me like one of your French girls

6. Airplane pt. 3 if you know what I mean

7. And I am not throwing away my shot

8. Flashing lights and wandering eyes

9. At least the bags under my eyes are Gucci

10. Whiplash

11. Mandu mishaps

12. Skydiving with no parachute

13. Agust D

14. Mienne

Epilogue

the lottery offering

Rating: M Pairing: Jeongguk/You Words: 22,334 Summary:  “I volunteer,” you say softly, gasps rising up from the crowd behind you.  You can hear some of your tribe members burst into tears, some mutterings of thank the gods.  Out of the corner of your eye, you can see Elder Choi smiling smugly.  “Are you sure, child?” Alpha Kim asks gravely, “Are you ready to leave all this behind?  You will not be able to come home.”  You internally scoff.  Home.  This place hasn’t been home in years.“I am sure, Alpha Kim.  I volunteer to be the offering this year,” you confirm, voice unwavering. AN: i’ve been working on this for too long and it ITSELF is too long i literally just wanted to write about big dick jeongguk why am i like this Warnings: jeongguk is an alpha, there’s like a hint of beastiality? you don’t actually get fucked by a wolf though you just want to be lol, lots of gratuitous sex and overall cheesiness because jk is still a goofball, pussy eating, finger, edging, overstim? maybe? or at least a poor attempt at it, blowjobs, vaginal sex and knotting, i’m not sure if i have to warn about anything else, also major warning i read through this SO quick i was tired of looking at it i’m sorry

When one of the Elders asks for you to meet in their cabin after dinner, your heart sinks to your feet.  The Elders, and most of your tribe for that matter, don’t go out of their way to speak to you, so for one of them to call upon you can’t be good news.

You don’t eat much, stomach twisting violently as you sit in a secluded corner, immune to the chattering around you.  Maybe today is the day they kick you out.  It’s no secret your tribe doesn’t like you, your orphanism a major hurdle they’re unable to overcome, considering the scarce resources your tribe are reluctant to share with someone who’s unable to provide.

“Elder Choi,” you knock politely, bowing your head as you pop your head in, “You wished to see me?”

“Ah, yes, Y/N, come in child,” his voice is soft, giving no hint as to what’s to come, “Please, sit.”

You kneel on a pillow at his tea table, accepting the cup from him.  It’s silent as you both drink, your mind whirling as you try to think what’s about to happen.

“It will be your first Lottery tomorrow, yes?” he asks.

“Yes, Elder Choi,” you answer.

Keep reading

Little Wolf, Pretty Wolf, Your Wolf

; Omega!Jungkook x Alpha!Reader

; Genre: Fluff, smut, angst

; Word Count: 22.3k

; Warnings: Stereotyping, blowjob, penetrative sex, unprotected sex, creampie, knotting, sub!Jungkook, dom!reader, impregnation kink

; Synopsis: An Alpha wolf is supposed to be strong, powerful and bold. A commandeering presence that can rule a pack efficiently. An Omega is supposed to be submissive, quiet and meek. A calming influence and a lucky charm for a pack. But you’re not like a normal Alpha wolf. Just like Jungkook is not a normal Omega wolf.

; A/N: I’m very unsure over this story. We’ve been having troubles but I finally got it finished and out! It’s half proof read…I hope you enjoy. If you do, please reblog and leave me comments, feedback or reviews! Or send in an ask, I’d love to hear your thoughts and opinions :)

-

“Now, what you need to remember is that the Ancient Greek’s weren’t one nation like how we think of them today. They were a collection of city states which were called polis back then. In their times, this was considered a nation on it’s own like the Vatican City or Singapore is today. You might realise that polis is actually still used today in words such as metropolis, which basically means ‘mother city’ as it comes from the Greek word for mother, necropolis which translates to city of the dead basically and so forth.

“The notion of ‘nation’ as we understand it is actually a relatively new concept that has only emerged in the last few centuries so trying to discuss things like a ‘nation’ or a ‘nationality’ is hard. Particularly when we’re talking about ancient civilisations.” You carry on talking, hands gesturing to the interactive whiteboard behind you that currently shows a map of Ancient Greece.

Your students are watching intently, some nodding slightly while a few of them jot down notes in their exercise books or read from their textbook. History was one of those topics that many people found boring but it had always inspired a fire inside you. The desire to learn from the past and incorporate it into the future was strong. Over the course of your own education, you’d also felt it was important to teach and mould the minds of the young with the lessons of the past.

It was why you’d gone into the teaching career, despite the concerns of your parents and everyone around you. Alpha’s like you simply didn’t go into teaching, the aura of power and dominance around them normally too strong for youngsters to cope with.

But you’ve always been a little different to the other Alpha’s you’d known throughout your life. Your wolf was always present and willing to protect when necessary but mostly she was content to lay back and watch the world. While most Alpha wolves were tall and extremely well muscled, a genetic quirk that gave them a visual representation of strength along with the metaphysical one that all wolves could understand, you were of average height and just looked in shape.

Your scent was sweet and pleasant to be around, according to your friends growing up you smelled like the tastiest candy with the slightest hint of rose. That on it’s own was unusual because Alpha’s were supposed to smell like…well an Alpha, power with that hint of earth that reminded everyone of the forest. Instead, you just smelled like a candy shop.

While great for the Delta’s, the general population that made up most packs, or Omega’s, the rarest and most treasured of all wolves, it wasn’t really great for an Alpha. You were the equivalent of a teddy bear instead of a grizzly, which didn’t really mix well with people’s expectations.

On the plus side though, it meant that you were excellent at getting through to people because they listened to you first and only if you needed to would you show the aggressive and dominant side of yourself. You may not look or smell like an Alpha, but you were still an Alpha and you liked to make sure some people remembered that.

Keep reading

devil's playthings | myg

⤅ SUMMARY | Yoongi has been widowed for over 2 years now—long past the time of mourning—and has made no move to remarry. Despite all the eligible maidens trying to catch the rugged duke’s eye, he’s stayed stubbornly idle in his search for a wife. For a man at court, especially at Yoongi’s standing, remarrying was essential and highly expected; even though the man had heirs and his lineage was assured, a wife was a political move, and a highly coveted one. None of this slipped the young princess’ mind, her sharp eyes on the much older man. But Yoongi should be careful—“for Satan finds some mischief still for idle hands to do.”

⤅ RATE | 18+

⤅ PAIRING | (dilf)duke!yoongi × princess!reader

⤅ GENRE | royalty au, magic au, forbidden relationship

⤅ SIN | sloth (for the ✥ 7 Deadly Sins collab ✥)

⤅ WARNINGS | age gap, use of sex pollen, mentions of m!masturbation, dirty talk, slight (slight) degradation, marking, spitting, titty fuck, facial, deep throat, oral both!receiving, sixty nine, fingering, unprotected penetrative sex, choking, breeding kink/breeding, spanking, squirting, hair pulling, clit slapping, cervix contact, overstimulation

⤅ WC | 9.3k

⤅ A/N | whoo it's finally here!! No one clown me for making even a royalty au a dilf fic 🤡 I also want to shout out @sunshinekims and @kithtaehyung for lending me their lovely names for this fic <3 and of course @sugasbabiie , who’s enthusiasm fueled me from the start <3 hope you guys enjoy! +

playlist + drabble

“Look who just arrived.”

Your back was turned to the door, where your lady-in-waiting had just discreetly gestured to. You caught the sly giggles of the women who had noticed the figure who had just entered the great hall. Hands held up to their faces to mask their shy smiles at just the sight of the man, eyes darting around the circle to meet another’s, going through the same predicament. The same thoughts running through every woman’s mind. You turned your head slightly, though you knew who it was before you even caught a glimpse of his squared shoulders. This notorious reaction always preceded him, the aura of a room changing whenever he stepped foot in it. The men suddenly became more concerned with getting into his good graces than the ladies they were courting, and the ladies more concerned with getting into something else.

His hair caught your attention first. He’d let it grow out since you’d last seen him, shaping into a framing mullet, with his bangs swooped to the side. The ends tickled his neck, threatening to grow past his shoulders. The suit he wore fit his frame perfectly, hinting at the taut muscles he hid under his prim shirt. It was embroidered down the side, encircling his bicep, and trailing down towards his pants. His hands glinted with every move, bedazzled with the copious amount of rings he always wore. He was a fan of wearing his wealth, the family emblem shining proudly on his pinky ring. His other fingers were covered in expensive jewels weaved into intricate designs, things he could have only gotten imported. Though, the way he rubbed his hands together unconsciously as he entered the lively room was nonchalant in nature, as if the jewels were a boring addition, ignoring all the eyes that turned to admire his figure.

“I heard his son got engaged.” Lady Hoyeon pointedly stated, with a very telling glance.

A gasp. “Before the duke?”

“You all know what he’s like. Is it any surprise that his son will be married before him?”

A wave of agreement rippled through the little circle you were standing in. You all knew the duke, and his notorious reputation. His wife had died many years ago, but the man still refused to remarry. As a favorite of the king, and a man of extremely high status and influence, he had long been the most eligible bachelor of the kingdom. That is, only if he was eligible. The duke had expertly avoided any and all attempts towards an engagement, even those maneuvered by the king himself. He politely declined, stating an interest in managing his estate and focusing on serving his country as a reason. The men around him had started out teasing him, joking about whether he could manage anything before getting someone to see to his business. But Yoongi took all the jokes in stride, silently taking the other men’s jabs with a humored expression. With time, people stopped pestering the seasoned duke, assuming he found more comfort in the occasional dalliances that paid companionship could offer. They left the man to his business, rumors of wild nights heard through his chamber doors spreading through the servants and the nobility overtaking any other gossip about the duke’s reluctance to marry.

But still, marriage was a must. At least at royal court. All the companionship in the world couldn’t replace the giant social hole. And it was becoming unseemly for a man reaching his age to grow older without a partner, without someone to stand at his side at important events, someone to parade on his arm as a compliment to his stature and position. And now, his own son was getting married before him. It was causing a shock, to say the least.

“Well, what did you expect?” Lady Sophie lowered the glass of wine she’d been sipping. “The man lost his wife years ago. Probably doesn’t even know how to love again.”

“What’s love got to do with it?” Lady Kiana snorted, “All he needs is someone to drape on his arm during the day, and someone to keep his bed warm at night.”

“I volunteer as tribute,” Lady Irma muttered from behind her glass, making you all fall into a fit of laughter.

“I doubt your husband would take kindly to that, Irma,” Sophie chuckled.

“Oh, he’d be just fine. He’s been trying to woo the duke with a new estate he purchased off the riverbank, anyway. I think he’s got a bit of a crush on him, if I’m completely honest.” Irma glanced over at the man in question, who had approached Yoongi with a bow and an outstretched hand, that was visually trembling from here. “He’d happily share his wife if it earned him the duke’s favor. And hey, I’ll take it.”

Taehyung was rapidly speaking, from what you could tell, holding Yoongi’s attention for as long as he could. As an older member of the privy council, you know that Yoongi had taken Taehyung under his wing when he had first joined. The young man put Yoongi on a pedestal, never failing to seek out his advice or earn his compliments.

Though Yoongi was quickly scouted out by his fellow senior council member, Lord Seokjin, waving over to him to invite him to where he and Lord Namjoon were drinking with the head mage, Jung Hoseok. With a quick goodbye, he left Taehyung’s side and joined his friends, leaving Taehyung to sulk back into his own circle, earning him a clap on the back from Lord Jimin with a teasing punch from mage Jungkook.

“Are they announcing it tonight? Mini Min and his new bride-to-be?” Kiana asked, looking over at the large feast set up for the event. “At the winter festival, no less.”

“The girl is from the eastern province. Magic and wizardry are highly considered there when planning nuptials.” Irma pointed out. “I’m sure this is about to be the wedding of her dreams, what, with all the celebrations for the patron saint of magic and all.”

“What about you, yn?” Lady Ho Yeon turned the attention on you. “Didn’t you have a brief… dalliance with the duke?” The dramatic way she emphasized "dalliance" with a teasing glint in her eye made the other ladies fall into giggles, earning a curt shove from you. You raised your glass to your mouth to hide the smile you couldn’t help forming.

“And at your age, too. Not to mention your status, your highness.” Irma straightened up and raised her eyebrow very noble-like, to demonstrate. “No wonder you two are trying to keep hush.”

“Well, of course. Those young bucks weren’t going to keep her busy for long.” Kiana added. You rolled your eyes at their insinuations. Yes, you were a princess. But a spoiled one. And that didn’t end at your bedroom doors. Sue you, you liked sex!

You tried hard to hide the grin threatening to expose your emotions, but failed miserably, confirming their words and giving way to the squealing fit that followed.

“Come on, now you must share the details,” Sophie prodded. “You can’t deprive us of that experience.”

“Publically, I have no idea what you all are on about.” You announced, earning you teasing shoves from the ladies around you. “Privately, however…”

The other ladies leaned in with perked ears as you spoke quietly, “Privately, let’s just say I spent two days with him, and needed two more to recuperate.” Irma let out a loud squeal as Sophie faked a fainting. You shh’d them with a laugh, trying to hold back the heat rushing to your face at the thought of those nights. Those animalistic nights you’d spent with the rugged man. One weekend wasn’t nearly enough.

“Our baby’s all grown up,” Kiana wiped an imaginary tear from her eye. “So when’s the wedding?”

“What wedding?” You shrugged. “Last I checked, he was still the Duke.” You tried to school your face back into impassiveness, but the rise of heat to your face wouldn’t let you.

“Yn. You can’t seriously tell me that’s all it was. We’ve seen the way he looks at you.” Ho Yeon’s words were matched with nods from your other ladies.

“Shoot, the other day I thought the room was going to erupt with the way you two were eyeing each other.” Irma fanned her face dramatically.

“I was there!” Sophie corroborated excitedly, ignoring your protest. “I really thought they were going to do it right there, on the ballroom floor.”

“Anyways!” Your voice rose above their giggling and teasing. “You all know how my father would feel about it.” You pouted. “He would never marry off his darling daughter to a man who’s lived at least two of my lives.”

“If only the king knew what the duke has already done to his darling daughter,” Irma snorted, earning gasps from the other ladies as they clapped their hands over their mouths in an attempt to hide their laughter as you shoved her in retaliation while battling to keep a indignant face.

“Not to mention, hasn’t the lord chancellor’s son already shown an interest in you?” Sophie pointed out. Once she’d recovered from doubling over in laughter, of course.

“Of course, a young suitor your age. I’m sure it’ll be an advantageous match.” Kiana added. There was a hum of agreement in the circle. You nodded absent-mindedly, but you had no interest in such a marriage. Your eyes sought out another. And what the princess wants, the princess gets.

“Hey,” Lady Ryen suddenly emerged with a pout, “My husband ditched me for the most eligible bachelor, or whatever. They’ll be announcing their own engagement any day now, the way they’re attached at the hip.”

“Here, take my seat.” You quickly stood up, “And my drink. You’ll need it to survive those two’s flirting all night.” She took the cup from your hand gratefully, seamlessly joining in on the conversation in your place.

Your eyes scanned the crowded room, entertainment meeting your gaze at every turn. The fire breathers in the corner, the elves throwing up a display of magic, the oompa loompas performing with a song. You finally found what you were looking for, beelining for the large table set up against the wall.

“So what was I supposed to do? I told her, I said ‘My lady, that is not my gold trim, but I will take credit for it.’” A loud chorus of laughter followed Hoseok’s words, the mage’s story sending his acquaintances into a riot.

“Now why would you do her like that, ‘Seok?” Namjoon shook his head. “She was clearly into you.” There was an old tradition of an unmarried woman wearing a handkerchief on her belt as a sign of her eligible status. Any suitor that was interested would have to retrieve that handkerchief, typically through a dance, or discreetly, and line it with a gold trim to present to her at the next event. If the maiden accepted the courtship, she would wear the gold trimmed handkerchief on her waist. If not, she would tie a new blank handkerchief on as a signal that she was still available.

And Hoseok had taken full advantage. “What poor, shy bloke did you rob that maiden of.” Seokjin laughed. “Spent his last dollar on that gold trim, and at the end of the night, she ended up in your bed.”

The mage threw his arms up and shrugged. “What was I supposed to do? Not accept her invitation?” Sending the men into another chorus of laughter.

“Well I don’t approve,” Namjoon announced, trying to hide his slight smile behind his glass as he took a sip.

“Well, naturally. Gold trims do bring up a painful memory.” Seokjin snickered. A quick glare from Namjoon, and he burst out into a full on laugh, as did the others. Namjoon couldn’t deny it, though. He bowed his head in remembrance.

“I’ll never forget it. Why you thought hiding the handkerchief in Sophie’s cake was a good idea is beyond me.” Yoongi rolled his eyes.

“Poor girl spent the whole day worrying over it, looking everywhere because she was expecting you to give it to her. Damn near on the verge of tying a new one to her waist. And the whole day, Joon was just grinning like an idiot. Didn’t realize she’d be marrying a fool till she stuck her fork into her slice, and pulled it out like it was a magic trick.” Seokjin chuckled. Namjoon sunk into his seat, a pout on his face.

“The look she gave you. She was so irritated, but you could tell she was trying not to show it. And Joon just looked back with the biggest smile on his face.” Hoseok chimed in. “How you managed to salvage that fumble, I’ll never know.”

“She said it was cute,” Namjoon grumbled, sending the men into a loud teasing frenzy about she was just sparing your feelings and she just felt bad for a tall lanky bloke like you. Let you walk past their chambers at night, though. You’ll know that’s not the case.

A gloved hand suddenly appeared in front of Yoongi’s face holding an intricate, folded white card. “My lord, I was told to deliver this to you.”

Yoongi took the small note from the attendant, dismissing him with a nod of his head. The front of the notecard was intricate in design, but had no indication of who the note was from. He skeptically opened it, resulting in a handkerchief falling from inside and into his lap. He heard loud whoops and teasing from the circle around him, knowing his friends were surely not going to let this go anytime soon. But Yoongi was too busy examining the fabric, the owner dawning on him as he saw your signature rose embroidered into its side.

His eyes quickly flitted to the note, your neat handwriting swooping through the page in calligraphic curves and designs. He didn’t miss the hearts above the “i”s. Another trademark of yours. The content of the note itself, however, had him shaking his head as he fought off a smile.

“Idle hands are the devil’s playthings.”

“Yoongi’s got a secret admirer,” Hoseok’s loud voice caught his attention, a shove distracting his best friend.

“What else is new?” Seokjin shook his head with a smile as he sipped his drink. “Every week, a different maiden throws her handkerchief at his feet. And what does our most eligible bachelor do?”

“Step around it.” Namjoon answered, a loud guffaw of laughter following his words. He exchanged high-fives with Seokjin at their joint wit, enjoying teasing their stoic friend.

Yoongi shook his head with a small smile on his face, letting their words run down his back like water. His mind was preoccupied at the moment, anyway. If it wasn’t your coquettish eyes catching his gaze from across the room, or the clandestine wink you'd send when he’d bow in front of his king, the princess right by her father’s side. It’s sending him your handkerchief, and making your intentions starkly clear. You knew what you wanted. And you made sure he knew it, too. The fiery young princess who wouldn’t let him forget her.

Yoongi’s body was on fire.

He felt as though his skin was crawling with an itch he couldn’t scratch, a taunting in the form of heat and sweat ripping through his body. He tore the buttons off of his suit as he stumbled back to his quarters, dying to do anything to relieve himself. His once perfectly styled hair was falling in threads over his forehead, his skin shining with the thin layer of sweat coating it.

He didn’t know what had come over him. One second, he was sitting in the banquet hall, enjoying his wine and warding off his friends’ teases. The next, Yoongi had started to sweat like a pig, and his skin had felt like a thousand fire ants were marching on it. To make matters worse, a problem… arose in his pants. The tightening of his crotch area making him restless, exacerbating his already problematic symptoms. That’s when he excused himself, turning in early because he wasn’t feeling well. Of course, the men didn’t believe him for a second, Hoseok’s calls of “not staying up too late” making it clear what kind of company they thought he was keeping tonight.

And honestly, with the swollen bulge in his trousers, the idea didn’t sound half bad. With each step he took towards his room, the need for either a douse of cold water or a hand down his pants seemed inevitable. He felt the need to rip his clothes off, and take care of his problem as soon as possible.

Lord, what had gotten into him? There had been no noticeable difference in the evening to cause such a change. The only thing was… the note. Was he really that affected by the young princess?? Did just the thought of you arouse such a passionate reaction in him? So much so that he had to escape the suffocating room and jolly back to his quarters, just to give himself the privacy to relieve himself while picturing you? He wouldn’t be surprised. The hold you had on him was powerful.

Yoongi never thought he’d feel so strongly for a woman again, not after his wife passed away. He was devastated for years, refusing to even look at another woman. He expected to live out the rest of his days alone, in a cold bed too big for just him. He’d accepted that fact long ago.

Until you came along.

You with your pretty eyes, and pouty lips. And getting exactly what you wanted every time. How could he resist you, when you’d bat your eyelashes so nicely? When you’d find him walking back to his room late at night, only to offer him company? How could he say no, when your giggle is all he could think about, when your voice is all he heard?

Late at night, he’d be working in his study, the candlelight his only company. But somehow, his eyes would trail over the page and retain nothing, for your face was all he could see. Your soft touch was all he could feel. Those nights, the duke was knocked off his pedestal by a young princess as he indulged in those thoughts, and became an indecent man. Gripping his aching cock in his hand, and leaning back. The already hot room getting only hotter as his soft pants got louder and louder, until he’d hiss your name and stain his priceless tunic, sweat glistening on his skin when he’d slouch in his seat, heavy pants echoing his sinful actions. How could he abstain from you?

Here’s how: you were off limits.

Not only were you the king’s daughter. The king, his superior, the man he worked for. And more importantly, the man who had the power to take off his head. But you were the king’s young daughter, only newly of marrying age. And he, well. He was your father’s age. The rumours that would spread if the people so much as heard of him courting you, let alone what else you’ve done….

Yoongi couldn’t court you in good faith, not with all those obstacles in the way. No matter how much he wanted to. Though, none of that seemed to bother you. He chuckled to himself as he remembered your stubborn nature. Lying in bed, your body pressed against his that one fateful weekend, the one weekend he let himself indulge in you, the only time he’d allowed himself to be weak. As you swore you’d convince your father. Reminding him of how advantageous it would be, him gaining a wife for social status. A princess, no less.

But there was no way you two could be together. It would never be accepted. He’d come to terms with it, after much grappling and chagrin. But he was weak in his disposition, and one soft blow from you had the strength to change his mind.

Little did he know that you knew that.

Yoongi pushed his bedroom door open with a clang, hurling himself into his room and slamming the door shut behind him. He stumbled over to the dresser, clutching it tightly for balance as he tried to regain his footing. The fire was spreading through his veins now, running through his body with a tingling sensation. Making his symptoms quite clear to him as his cock ached unbearably in his pants, begging to be let out of its tight confines.

And Yoongi wasn’t going to deny himself any longer. Now, in the privacy of his own room, he was free to rip his clothes off, relishing in the cool air that touched his hot skin. He splashed some water onto his face from his basin, dipping some over his hair as well and pushing his bangs back, shaking the water out. His heavy breaths occupied the otherwise quiet room.

In his haste, in his rush to relieve himself of the scorching heat rioting against his skin, and the boner about to pop in his pants, the otherwise sharp duke had neglected to notice a foreign presence in his quarters. Or rather, a foreign someone, perched sweetly on his sheets.

“Poor baby, you don’t look so good.”

Yoongi’s head whipped around at the familiar voice, startled. He thought he was hallucinating, another violent symptom of whatever ailment had gripped him. His mind conjuring up your picture to satisfy his upright cock. And not just any picture. You, sat on his bed, in extremely lacy undergarments that seemed to be half the length of what they were supposed to be, hiding very little from the eye. Lord, he shut his eyes, silently begging to the sky, don’t do this to him now.

You met his gaze with a nonchalant expression, almost bored. Your signature pout was painted on your face, a sign of the times. “What’s got you all hot and heavy?”

Your voice was sickly sweet, and your tone made your question seem so innocent. As if you were asking him about the weather. And not the very intentional euphemism you had actually intended. The naughty glint in your eyes only confirming it.

“Yn- you s-shouldn’t be here—,” his knuckles whitened as he gripped the table harder, trying his best to stand upright and not collapse onto his knees in front of you. But it was getting harder to fight his urges. He needed to release. And he needed to do it soon.

You watched him with your head resting in your palm, eyes following his every move. Your head cocked to the side as palmed himself through his boxers, on the one hand trying to be discreet because you were in the room. And on the other not giving a fuck, because he couldn’t help himself. You almost felt bad for his suffering. Almost.

“Did you like my note?” You ask, with an unconscious bat of your eyelashes.

Yoongi looked at you incredulously. Of course you were going to bring up your other euphemism. Idle hands are the devil’s playthings. The double meaning of your note, both referring to his sloth tendencies in taking a wife, and his reluctance to touch you. What you wanted him to do with those idle hands was very clear, as your eyes narrowed on his long fingers.

And it was very convenient that you happened to be here, in his moment of need, alluding to offering yourself up… Almost as if you knew this was going to happen to him, the note clueing him into your foresight. He looked down at his hands, then his head shot back up to look at you. Then back at his hands to confirm. The small sparkling dust was almost invisible to the eye now that he’d rubbed off most of it. But he still caught a glimpse. Confirming what he suspected.

“The note…” Yoongi’s mind raced. He reached the conclusion much faster than you expected, but what else would a genius yield? His eyes looked up at yours, dark gaze with a glimmer of pleading, “Tell me you didn’t dust the note in sex pollen, yn. And that this wasn’t your doing.”

You blinked at him innocently. But the smirk you were holding back was fighting it's way onto your face. “Oops?” You shrugged. “It must have slipped out of my hands.

Yoongi let out a monstrous groan, both from the pain in between his legs and the confirmation from your words. He couldn’t help but sink down onto his bedroom bench, his back to you. His head was thrown back and his breathy pants filled the air. Yoongi tried to resist and maintain his composure. He really did. He tried not to think about how you were sitting right behind him, almost certainly getting ready to crawl your way over to him. He tried not to think about all the ways you’d touch him and make him feel things he hadn’t felt in years.

But you were making it excruciatingly difficult.

He felt your presence before he heard your voice, your breathy whisper tickling his neck as you leaned in, soft voice like a melody. “Please use me as relief, Yoongi. I’m right here.”

He turned around to look into your sincere eyes. You were on your hands and knees, waiting pretty for his answer. Your big eyes were almost pleading, begging him to use you as he deemed fit. To throw you into his sheets, and fuck you deep into the mattress. To use your body round after round as he worked the effects of the sex pollen off, taking orgasm after orgasm. As much as you’d give. Until he had worn himself out, and his cock deemed it fit. You were willing to indulge him in all those fantasies, just waiting to be covered and stuff in his seed. Reaping the rewards of your sin.

But not just that. You were asking him for more—To use you as fulfillment of his social status, as the object to break out of his indolent rut. You wanted him to take you, and make you his. In every essence of the word. You wanted him to claim you, brand you with not only his hands and marks, but with a gold trim on your handkerchief. With his family emblem shining on your finger. In front of god, in front of your father, and all others who bore witness.

He wanted it too. He wanted you in his bed every night, and to see your face first thing every morning. He wanted to make you laugh everyday just to hear your giggle, and see you smile. He wanted to shower you with expensive things, and gift you anything your heart desired. He wanted you to look at him the way you’re looking at him now. Full of trust and desire. He wanted you by his side, and to stand by yours. No matter the consequence.

Your face was within an inch of his when he’d turned to meet your gaze. The tension that those few centimeters held could be cut with a knife. He hesitated, eyes falling to your lips. Your perfect pouty lips. He decided right then and there that it was time to break out of his idle sin, and indulge in your heavenly gates.

His lips crashed into yours hard, making you moan out at the sudden lustful attack. His hand wrapped into your hair, resting at the base of your neck. Giving him the perfect leverage to pull you closer, and hold you pressed against him. Allowing him to graze your lips with his tongue, shoving his way in before you had a chance to breathe. Your soft hands brushed against his face, trailing down his neck hesitantly, looking for something to hold onto for dear life as Yoongi engulfed you. The little whimpers that fell from your lips as you ardently tried to match his fervor was like music to his ears.

He climbed over you, pushing you back to the head of the bed. He gripped your waist, impatient with your scooting, and moved you up himself. You landed with a bounce against his pillows, momentarily disconnected from his lips. Yours were already swollen, covered in his spit. The way you gnawed at it as you waited for him to reattach his mouth to yours sent blood rushing to his already hard cock. He couldn’t wait any longer, not with you looking up at him like this.

“This lacy shit is cute,” he complimented, touching the fabric with a hand. You gasped as a tearing sound ripped through the air, the once frilly lingerie wrapping your body now in shreds in Yoongi’s hand. You glared up at his cocky smirk. “But it’s in the way.”

The cool air kissed your skin, making you shudder slightly. But you didn’t notice the cold, not with Yoongi shifting and gripping his cock in his hands right in front of your face. “Tits together, sweetheart. You’ve edged me long enough.”

“Now, if you really think about it—umph!” You were in the middle of spitting out an excuse as to why his blue balls wasn’t really your fault. But Yoongi, sensing your brat tendencies, was quick to shove his dick into your mouth to shut you up.

“Don’t play with me,” he growled, tapping your cheek with a few light slaps. You looked up at him with big eyes and a full mouth, patiently waiting for his next command. Once he knew you weren’t going to act up, he slowly pulled himself out. You didn’t wait to be told after, pushing your breasts together obediently. A smile graced his face, and he nuzzled your cheek with his hand at your good behavior.

“What a good girl,” He stroked his cock a few times, looking down at your willing figure. You looked so cute, holding your tits together and looking up at him expectantly. It made him want to brand you.

A glob of spit splattered against your chest and trickled down the valley of your breasts, a slapping sound associating with the second spat that hit your chest. You looked up at the perpetrator, cocky grin plastered on his face as he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “You look so pretty covered in my spit, princess.”

His handsome concentrated face let him get away with anything. And he knew it. He guided his aching monster of a cock, all red and bulbous, in between your breasts. He looked about ready to burst. He threw his head back with a groan as he slid into the cushioned opening you’d made for him, slick from his expectorance and creating an easy slide. He rubbed in your makeshift cocksleeve a few times, finally getting that relief he’d been burning for all night. It felt so good, he didn’t know how long he’d last. Or how slow he’d be able to go.

Your mouth was wide open for the taking, poised and ready for when Yoongi started to pick up his thrusts. Rougher and sloppier with his pace as he gripped the headboard behind you, sliding messily in between your tits and hitting your mouth. Your tongue was out, leading his cock up your chest and straight into your wet hole. Drool pooled at the side of your mouth as you kept your mouth open, but you didn’t care. Holding yourself perfectly still and available for Yoongi to use as he pleased.

He caught a glimpse of you in his haze, his orgasm building up quickly. You had your head bent down, eager to have him deeper in your mouth. He chuckled to himself before giving one hard thrust, surprising you and hitting the back of your throat. You let out a squeal at the intrusion, looking up at him with your wide eyes. Only to stick your tongue back out and beg for more.

“My pretty little cocksleeve.” He cooed, no longer capable of holding back. He was teetering on the edge of release, and your little antics weren’t helping. “Wanna be used by me so badly, hm? And princess always gets what she wants.”

You mewled at his words, your mouth full of cock as he stuffed it down your throat. You were taking small, short breaths through your nose to compensate for the lack of air, but you were starting to feel dizzy. Out of pleasure or pain, who knows?

Yoongi relented soon enough, though. Not being able to hold back any longer, he pulled his dick out of your mouth, a string of saliva connecting from your mouth to him as he stood up to his full height on the bed above you. Head thrown back, mouth ajar, muscles flexed as he gripped the headboard, his other hand pumping himself to completion. With a loud grunt, and an intentional pump, he released his semen above you, leading to a splatter right on your face and chest. You shut your eyes as he came, but your mouth was wide open, trying to catch everything you could. You heard his sigh of relief, prompting you to then open your eyes and meet his. Just to stick your tongue out and try to taste what didn’t make it into your mouth.

“Fucking filthy,” Yoongi chuckled breathlessly. He sunk down to his knees, your body still beneath him. Watching his every move. He leaned down to engulf your figure, big arm placed next to your head as he teased a kiss, ghosting over your lips. Until you whined and pawed at his chest. Only then did he finally press his lips to yours deeply.

Despite having just released, Yoongi felt a strange blood rush to his cock yet again. Almost as though the orgasm just a second ago had never happened. He pulled away from you to look down and confirm what he suspected.

Hard as rock.

He shook his head as he cursed. He’d heard about this, how sex pollen worked. It lasted different lengths for different people. But it about looked like it’s grip wasn’t going to loosen on Yoongi anytime soon.

“Baby,” He flipped off of you, sitting upright and leaning against the headboard. His hand automatically wrapped around his cock, pumping his upright, leaking shaft. “I need you to take care of this.”

As soon as you sat up, his hand guided your head down to face his dick, his thumb swiping against your lips teasingly when you got close enough. You repositioned your body so that you were ass up, on his side, bending down to his will. You were an inch away from him as he stroked your hair, muttering encouragement under his breath.

With your tentative lick to his shaft, he let out a hiss. You slowly wrapped your small hand around him, licking up the side from the base to the top like an ice cream cone. He let out a breathless moan, shifting beneath you. His hand applied more pressure to your head, pushing your mouth towards his dick further. He was getting impatient. You should know; sex pollen escalates quickly, and doesn’t give you a moment to breath.

You looked up at him and met his gaze as you sunk down on his cock, fitting as much of him as possible in your mouth. He cursed under his breath, his face contorting into one of pleasure. You let your drool slobber over him, keeping your mouth wide open as you relaxed your throat, ready to take him deeper.

“Such a good girl, trying to take me all in one go.” He stroked the side of your cheek sweetly as you bent your head down, pushing him further down your throat until you were coughing, having to relinquish him and come up for air. Yoongi tugged your head back as you took a deep breath, making you yelp and meet his eyes. “Aw, princess, can’t you take me? You promised me so many things,” he sighed, “Guess you can’t deliver.”

Your eyes narrowed ambitiously at his sneer, whimpering at the thought of him being dissatisfied with you. In your heart of hearts, you knew Yoongi was only teasing. Pushing your buttons, pulling your strings. His eyes glinted with that mischievous streak. But you also knew Yoongi was uncharacteristically impatient right now, the sex pollen urging him to empty his balls as quickly as possible. He’d tell you anything if it got you back on his cock.

You pushed your hair out of your face as you knelt back down, taking him into your open mouth and pushing him down deep in your throat. You worked through the constriction and tears brimming in your eyes as you swallowed him down. Bobbing your head a few times, encouraged by his grunts and moans, you kept your tears back as long as you could. Only when you couldn’t take it a second longer, did you pull off of him.

Only to switch to his balls instead. You took one in your mouth as your hand worked his slick cock, licking and sucking before switching to the other ball. You moaned as you felt him thrust into your hand, his balls moving in conjunction with his hips and knocking into your mouth. You let it go with a pop, switching back to his cock. This time, opting for long strokes of your hand paired with a quick bobbing of your mouth.

“Fuck, princess, just like that.” Yoongi grunted, his hand tangled in your hair as you sucked him. Hollowing your cheeks, loud slurping noises overtook the room as you quickened your pace.

Yoongi couldn’t take it much longer, his sensitivity already heightened from his previous orgasm. And you. He watched you work hard on his cock, relegating yourself from Princess, a member of the royal family, the divine monarchy, chosen by god to rule. To a mere cockslut at his convenience. A mere whore for him to fuck and use.

“C’mere, baby.” He tapped your ass, nudging your hips over to him. You stopped your actions, confused at first. You thought you were doing something wrong. Until he pulled your legs toward him, and sunk down onto the pillow, gesturing to his mouth. You hesitantly moved one knee over him to the other side of his head, peeking under you to check if that’s what he wanted you to do. Yoongi’s grope of your ass before he pulled your hips down to meet his face gave you your answer.

You let out a moan at the first lick against your wet heat. “Fuck. You got this wet just from making me cum?” Yoongi spread your ass cheeks, fully examining your wet cunt. You whimpered in response, wiggling your hips in self-consciousness. He landed a quick spank to your clit, making you shudder. “You get off on it, being mine to use. Don’t you?”

His words shouldn’t’ve made a tingle go down your spine and send heat straight to your core. But you couldn’t argue—just the thought of the old bachelor doing whatever he wanted to you had you drenching your undergarments. Rushing to your room every night after seeing him, and dismissing your servants quickly before hiding under the covers. Moaning in his name in the confidence of night.

Yoongi didn’t waste a second, dying to quench his thirst of you. He engulfed your pussy with his mouth, wrapping his lips around your hole and sucking. Devouring your pooling cunt. His mouth was relentless, his tongue running over your folds ruthlessly as he lapped up every last drop. Your hand moved up his dick at a steady pace, but you struggled as he munched your pussy with heated fervor.

It wasn’t long before his tongue was prodding at your hole, making you squeal out as he circled our wet opening. You tried to put your mouth on him to distract yourself, moving up and down his cock swiftly, trying to establish a pace. But you had to come back up to moan as his tongue shoved its way inside, thrusting into your pussy. You clenched tightly as his lower lip brushed against your clit with each lick.

Face pressed to your cunt, you couldn’t help but grind your hips down. Earning a swift slap to your ass and a stunt of your hips. “Put your mouth back on my cock, where it belongs. Now.”

You jumped at the command. But he was right—you’d gotten too distracted with his magic tongue (and that wasn’t a result of the sex pollen, you knew…) and started to neglect your duties. You amended quickly, sinking back down on him and working him over. Like an obedient little whore.

He, on the other hand, was revelling in the choked whimpers and mewls that he was pulling from you, lapping at your folds like he was a starved man. And technically, he was. Depriving himself of you for too long, this moment was like taking a sip from the holy grail.

He pulled back to admire your mess of a pussy, tattered and soaked from his ministrations. Your hole fluttered with anticipation. He wanted to make an even bigger mess, though. Wasn’t satisfied like this just yet.

His long fingers trailed over your cunt, feeling their way around before shoving bluntly inside you. His mouth latched back onto your clit as he scissored you open on his fingers, feeling you struggle to keep your hips still. He wasn’t any different—except he wasn’t doing a thing to stop his cock from thrusting into your mouth as your hand hovered helplessly, now useless. You kept your head still, letting him hit new depths in your throat as you gagged around him.

“My perfect girl—fuck—know just what I like,” his sentences turned into loud groans as he approached his end. But he wasn’t about to let you go unscathed. His other hand joined his first one, now replacing his mouth as filthy words spewed from him, rubbing mercilessly at your clit as the other one thrust two fingers into your heat. It was getting impossible to keep your hips still, his angling of his fingers pushing you to grind down on him frantically. With a few more thrusts and stimulation of your clit, you were squirting all over his fingers, spewing your arousal as he worked you through it, drawing as much as he could. He was close to follow after you’d gone through your orgasm, but how he made you cum first after being affected by sex pollen… you would never know.

His thrusts got brutal as your hand wrapped back around his cock, waiting with an open mouth. With one hard thrust and a loud growl, he shot his semen straight past your lips, the head of his dick hitting the back of your throat. His hand had unconsciously wrapped around your head, keeping you still and making sure you took every last drop. Once he was spent, he nudged your chin back to him. You opened your mouth to show him the mess he made inside, made a show of swallowing it, and showing him it was all gone after.

“Baby, you take my seed so well.” He stroked your hair breathlessly. He was accustomed to the tingling feeling by now, the telltale sign of blood rushing back into his cock. Already ready to go again. That little display of yours didn’t help, either.

He tugged you up by your hand, settling you comfortably in his lap. He caught your lips in a searing kiss, the force pushing you back if it wasn’t for his hand resting behind your head, pushing you back into him.

He took the opportunity to flip you over, never disconnecting your lips as he crowded your body with his muscle-y one. “Mm—think you can take my cock in this tight little hole?” He brushed his fingers over your heat teasingly. You let out an indignant whine, in between kisses, nodding fervently. You wrapped your legs around his waist, trying to draw him in.

“So desperate—okay, okay. Relax, I’ll give it to you good, baby.” He detached himself from you for a second to line his cock up with your entrance, getting ready to push him. You let out a curse, wrapping your arms around his neck, as he entered you, stretching your walls in accommodation as he sunk into your wet heat.

“You okay?” He rubbed soothing circles on your hips as you adjusted to his full length buried at the hilt. You gave him a small nod, burying your face in his chest as he started to move again. He pulled out at a slow pace, and pushed back in a little bit harder. He gradually quickened his thrusts, moving a bit rougher and harsher each time.

Until he found his steady pace, pistoning his hips into yours unrelentingly. Your moans filled the room as you scratched at his back, legs kicking from the belligerent thrusts. His mouth had latched onto your neck, nipping and sucking marks into your skin roughly. He’d pulled your head to the side by your hair to give him more access, trailing his branding to areas that would be very visible once you’d put on your gown.

“The whole castle’s gonna know you’re mine.” He growled in between marking. “What you’ve done to me, how you’ve affected me. Everyone’s gonna know about this little stunt you pulled, princess.”

He pulled back to admire the bruises blossoming on your skin, telltale signs of his mouth. Satisfied with the art, his arm reached over your head to grip the headboard behind you, giving him more leverage to angle his hips into you. His bicep bulged above you, hovering over your face as he tightened his hand around the metal. He looked down at you to catch your awed gaze at his muscles, a small smirk appearing on his lips.

“This what you wanted?” His other hand held one of your legs up, giving him a new angle to thrust his hips at. With one hard buck of his hips, he caught your attention, snapping you out of your haze. You let out a whine as your hand clutched his chest in an attempt to steady yourself. His new angle allowed him to jostle your body with each thrust, him towering over you as he delivered your reckoning. “You wanted me to get so worked up I’d fuck you into my mattress?”

You mewled in response. He wasn’t wrong, you both knew that. Shame burned your face as he spoke your intentions out loud. But deep down, you weren’t sorry at all.

“Went through so much trouble, just to get me in this position, little minx.” He grunted as his pace quickened, slapping his hips into yours. His balls hit your ass with each thrust, and loud squelching sounds came from in between your legs.

Yoongi let the headboard go to grip your face in his hand, making you look up to meet his eyes. “You wanted to be my wife so bad?” He leans down, hovering over your lips as his dark eyes maintain contact with yours. “How about bearing my kids, hm?”

You let out an incoherent noise as your hole clenched tightly around his cock. You couldn’t help yourself, or the heat that rushed straight to your core when he said those words. Your grip on his bicep tightened. Yoongi grinned at your reaction, fucking you harder. “Are you desperate for me to plant my seed inside you, have you carry my heirs?”

“Yes—yes—yes, oh—please!” You cried out, wriggling under his touch. You hated that domestic insinuation with anyone else but him. For Yoongi, you’d swell up and carry as many children as he wanted you to, revelling in the fact that that was a branding of its own. You, heavily pregnant with the duke’s children, signaling to everyone that the young princess belonged to him, and him to you. You wanted that so badly.

Yoongi cursed at your desperate pleading, taking a more tactical turn. He pulled out of you, ignoring your cries and sobs. Flipping you over onto your stomach, you let out a muffled scream as he shoved your face into his pillows, pulling your hips up behind you so that your ass was in the air. He rubbed his cock against your folds before shoving it back in. A drawn out moan left your lips as he restarted his previous brutal pace.

“Gonna fuck my kids right into you,” he groaned. “Get you nice and pregnant.” His hips slammed against yours repeatedly, hitting deeper with each thrust. You could feel him getting more determined, the tip of his cock reaching your cervix. Each plunge had him brushing against it, eventually starting to bruise it.

“Gonna parade you all around this castle.” His hand came down to wrap around your throat, gently squeezing as he lifted your head up. “Make sure everyone knows you’re Duke Min’s property.”

You couldn’t speak. Gasping and crying in pleasure, you couldn’t formulate a single sentence. You just let him manhandle you around, sending your body into a jolting frenzy with each thrust of his hips, his hand limiting your air supply and making you feel so good and dizzy. You were drunk off of him, willing to do whatever he asked.

Your hole clenched fiercely as you neared your end. Fluttering and leaking, the warning signs alerted Yoongi to your position. Lucky for you, he couldn’t hold back any longer anyway—not with the way you looked right now. All spread and ready to take his seed.

“You wanna come, sweetheart?” His voice was soft, in stark opposition to the lewd sounds filling the room. Your pitiful nod sent a warm feeling shooting through his heart.

His hand came down to fiddle at your clit, your battered and bruised pussy in his hands as he found the sensitive little bundle of nerves. His long fingers worked at it ardently, rubbing hard circles as the tips of his fingers brushed against your folds.

“There you go,” he talked you through as you reached your peak, continuing his feverish pace at your clit while his cock hit deep into your pussy. You spasmed and clenched tightly around him with a scream of his name, shaking and trembling as your arousal gushed out. His hand grabbed at your cunt, squeezing tightly and milking you for all you were worth. You spilled out all over his cock, completely spent and falling down limply onto the bed.

You whined out as his fingers continued to grope at your folds, overstimulating you to the point of tears. “Keep it tight, just like that.” Yoongi commanded. He wasn’t far behind you, and he wanted to come as you clenched your hole tightly, determined on drawing another orgasm out of you.

With a few more strokes, his hips were stuttering. He buried himself deep into your pussy, focused on shooting his seed as close to your womb as possible. An ungodly amount of cum shot out in ropes, coating your inner walls. His fingers continued to touch you, letting you scream out as another orgasm shook you at the same time as him. Yours drew his out, letting load after load spill out into your cunt. He let out loud growls and hisses as his balls emptied out, his powerful orgasm making him a bit unsteady, he had to hold onto your hips for balance. Or maybe that was just his age…

Once his balls were completely empty and spent, signaling the effects of the sex pollen had finally worn out, he crashed down next to you. You peeked out from the pillow your face was buried in, eyes asking for permission.

“You can relax now, baby,” he chuckled, pushing a stray hair out of your face. His hair clung to his sweaty forehead, wet strands dripping as a result of his exertion. You let your hips drop, finally accommodating your screaming muscles. He pulled you into his side as soon as you did, skin pressed against one another, tangled in the sheets. Just like the last time.

Except this time, it was different.

“You meant it right?” Your small voice broke the serene silence. Yoongi looked down into your big eyes. His beautiful princess. How could he say no? How could he, in good conscious, continue to break both your hearts. He didn’t think he had it in him to resist you again. He was tired of tearing his heart apart and sewing it back together. Putting you both through this excruciating ordeal, just because of a tiny thing like social norms. In this moment, right now, as his eyes trailed your face, he made a silent vow to never deny you again, as long as he lived.

He pressed a kiss to your forehead. “Of course, baby. I can’t live without you.”

Your eyes shut blissfully at his words. You cuddled deeper into his side, shoulders relaxing at the weight of the stress being lifted. You didn’t know what tomorrow would bring, or what kind of riot your union would cause. All you knew was this moment, right here, as you drifted off to a peaceful rest. You, and the man you loved. And the sickly amount of his cum that was leaking from your pussy.

“You what?!”

You looped your arm around Yoongi’s indignantly, the stoic duke not daring to move a muscle. “We’re asking for your blessing to get married.”

If you thought the king was going to be shocked, you completely underestimated him. He was furious.

He rose up from his throne, marching towards the two of you with an accusatory finger. “Min Yoongi, what have you done to my naive daughter?!”

“Daddy!” You pushed your father’s hand away before it touched Yoongi, stepping in between the two. “He didn’t do anything! And I’m not naive.” You protested.

The king took a deep breath. As his youngest daughter, you were used to being in his favor. Doted on and spoiled to no end. Anything you’d ever wanted, your father would get you. Any scandal you caused, he’d take your side. This, however. Was a completely different beast on its own. “But sweetie, he—”

“He’s the one I want.” You folded your arms, pouting. “And I won’t settle for anything else, daddy.”

The king looked at you both helplessly. The whole realm under his fingertips, and yet, here he was, at the mercy of his daughter’s command. He had at least one of those things in common with Yoongi.

The king shook his head as he paced the room. Pausing once, he addressed you again. “You’re sure, sweetie? You’re sure you want to marry Duke Min?”

You nodded vivaciously, tightening your grip on your soon-to-be fiance. “I love him, daddy.”

The king shook his head again. If he could count the times he’d heard those words…

He threw his hands up in defeat. With one last shake of his head, and a resigned sigh, he announced, “Then you two have my blessing.”

You squealed and jumped into Yoongi’s arms, throwing your arms around him. He looked at you with a relieved expression as his arms circled your waist. He turned to address your father, tearing himself away. “Thank you, your highness.” He said with a bow.

“I have to go tell my friends,” you chatted excitedly. With a kiss on Yoongi’s cheek, and a ‘thank you, daddy!’ you went skipping along to spread the news. Almost as if you’d just gotten a new dress.

“You know, Min,” the king started, now left alone with the rigid duke. “When I said you needed to get married, I didn’t mean to my daughter.”

“I know, your highness.”

Past the tough exterior, there was a glint of lighted-heartedness in the king’s eye as he regarded his old friend. “Take good care of her.”

“You have my word.”

And Yoongi was nothing if not a man of his word, as you, and the servants that were unfortunate enough to walk past your room, would find out later that night.

mlist | permanent taglist

Copyright © 2021, taesinferno | tumblr | no reposts, translations, copies, etc.

chasing butterflies | jjk

you never meant to be a jock in school. the volleyball team had just needed people and you were there and then you had a knack for it. you just happened to be good at it and went with it. similar to how you saw jeon jungkook in your friend’s orientation group and thought he was absolutely radiant and just went with it. for two years. you’ve spent the entire time pining from afar, mostly because you always seem to make a fool of yourself when he’s around, but also because jungkook is part of that exclusive crowd, the ones that you never can seem to penetrate: the weebs. that is, until your friends get sick of your hopeless pining and decide to do something about it.

pairing | jeon jungkook x reader

genre/warnings | fluff, college au, coffee shop au, pining, somewhat idiots to lovers, jock!reader, nerd/weeb/otaku!kook, swimmer!kook, jock!jimin, kook smiles a lot, reader is a dumbass, jungkook is a dumbass, everyone’s a dumbass tbh, love confessions, profanity, like a lot of profanity, smut: oral (f receiving), face riding, grinding, hickies, unprotected sex (wrap ur willy before things get silly kids!), creampie, soft!kook except when horny, this is somewhat crack-y, there’s also a very fair amount of secondhand embarrassment in this just fair warning i cringed a lot while writing it

word count | 12.8k | cross posted to ao3

a/n | i busted literally all of this in one day because i couldn’t sleep and had the idea for a coffeeshop au with pining nerd/jock, but i didn’t want to do the trope of pining nerd and i also kept seeing @strawbxxymilk‘s tags saying she was going to fight jungkook, so you can partially blame her for his (love u reni xx) i’m honestly REALLY in love with this fic, it was so much fun to write and even edit, like i honestly have never been happier with how a fic turned out.

If asked, you don’t think you’d be able to point to one exact moment that led to this. You aren’t sure why anything about your college life has been the way it is. You went through almost all middle school and part of high school intending on coasting through under the radar. You didn’t have many friends and you didn’t mind that, citing quality over quantity, and you definitely expected that to continue into your extended school career.

Somehow, though, you ended up on the volleyball team - the captain had seen you playing in a gym class and recruited you. She was adamant that with practice and training, you’d be great, and also they needed at least one more person if they were going to have any chance at competing that year. So you agreed, started practicing, got good, and…kept doing it. You were a talented player, and you made several close friends through the game, ones that had lasted you until even now.

You only got better and better, too, earning you more than one offer from various universities. It was exciting when you finally chose one, and even more exciting that your friend group almost tripled overnight. University teams were large, you discovered, and while that meant more competition, it also meant more friends. More friends that had more connections to people on other teams, in other sports, who were also fun and extroverted and threw really good parties. 

You like to think you’re still that little nobody from middle school. You enjoy your readings and your coursework, and a lot of nights you choose to stay behind in your shared apartment instead of going out. As much as you like to think that, though, you can’t help but face the truth every time you look in the mirror after practice or a game or a workout.

You’re a jock.

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Exchanging Heat (M) | KTH

Author: jinfizz [masterlist]

Genre: fluff, smut, angst, college!au, S2L, mutual pining, slow burn

Pairing: Korean exchange/visiting student!Taehyung x (slight) tsundere!reader

Rating: M, NSFW

Summary: When your roommate drops out right before the end of the semester and leaves you high and dry for next month’s rent, you’re forced to turn to craigslist to find an absolute stranger to save you from financial ruin. The shy Korean exchange student you find to replace her seems nice enough despite the language barrier, but what will happen when the heat cuts off one fateful evening, and you’re forced to turn to each other for warmth?

Alternatively:  “I want to sleep with you.” ‘You what?”

Warnings: swearing (of course), misunderstandings because i’m contractually obligated, angst (but it’s mostly angst related to those misunderstandings and you already know there’s gonna be a happy ending so suck it up), mean people, pining, self-blaming, false accusations, dry humping, really cold weather, lots of swearing, more dry humping, oral (f receiving), unprotected sex (this is fiction, people), creampie, cockwarming, aftecare, so much fluff

Word Count: 25.1k (*nervous laugh*)

(A/N): ok 3 things:

y’all, i’ve been sitting on this idea forever and frankly had a REALLY hard time getting this one out. nonetheless, i still had fun writing it and i finally got the hang of tumblr tags, so hopefully more people than ever will be able to see this and (ideally) enjoy it. 

This fic features a Brooklyn Nine-Nine reference that is not insignificant to the plot. If you haven’t watched that show, what are you even doing? Go! Shoo! Watch it Right Now!

⚠️ The timestamps at the beginning of each section refer to the present: some sections may begin with a reference to the past, but the timestamp refers to when the story resumes in present tense.

Tuesday, November 26, 8:26 a.m.

“You’re what?!”

“I just told you, I’m dropping out,” your roommate enunciates each word slowly, inspecting her nails. “Keep up.”

“Kat, you bitch, I didn’t mean that part,” you fume from your seat on the couch, pinching the bridge of your nose (you resist the urge to address her with even more colorful language) before continuing. “I was referring to the part where you’re leaving tomorrow? In the middle of the semester? What about next month’s rent?!”

“Yeah… my parents really wanted me to move back asap, so they” –she makes air-quotes with her fingers– “‘don’t have to keep paying for something they’re not getting anymore.’ Sorry,” she shrugs.

Keep reading

Only For You || jjk

➥Pairing: best friend!jungkook/reader

➥Summary: It’s the night before your wedding and you should be happy…but a fight with your fiancé leaves you second guessing everything. A visit from the blue-haired boy of your dreams is just what you need to make it right.

➥Genre: best friends to lovers, angst, smut, fluff

➥Rating: 18+

➥Words: 32.8k (I’m so sorry sjskdjks)

➥Content Warnings: small bit of social media au stuff, mentions of cheating, lying, POV switches a few times, jungkook ties his hair up at one point, slight violence (someone gets punched, nothing major), hurt/comfort, jungkook has blue hair, tw: reader slightly struggles with body image (very briefly), so much mutual pining b/w reader and jungkook, making out, grinding, marking/biting, groping, body worship, jungkook is very vocal, oral (f. receiving), fingering, hair pulling, overstimulation, jungkook has a big dick, jk is hypersensitive to the reader, unprotected sex (stay safe out there, y’all), penetration, rough sex, mirror sex to some degree lol, multiple orgasms, cumming inside, praise kink, cursing (fuck is said a lot), dirty talk, aftercare, jungkook is actually the sweetest, reader and jk are so in love with each other it hurts

A/N: It’s finally here! I know I said it’d probably be out weeks ago but grad school happened, so sorry about that! Thanks to everyone who was excited for waiting, I’m really happy that there are people who were interested in reading this 🥺 this story has been probably my biggest one ever as far as plot and world-building goes, and it was fun to bring smau aspects into it. Also Blue Jungkook really threw me for a loop and I needed to write about him 💙

There will be some social media posts (texts, IG, etc.) throughout but it’s not too many. Also, the fiancé has a name, but it’s a random name and isn’t modeled after any other idol, etc. This was just something to make it easier for me to write. The POV switches between the reader and JK a few times, but this will always be indicated by the name in the switch being bolded (i.e. you or Jungkook will be in bold).

As always, special thank you to @dntaewithluv​​ for being one of the most amazing people ever, my biggest supporter here and best friend. You helped me so much when I started to get discouraged during writing this and I love you more than I can express ❤️ also thank you for beta-reading for me, you’re the best~

I hope anyone who reads this enjoys it! There are other drabbles in the Series Masterlist below. Please let me know what you think, if you’d like~

➥OFY Spotify Playlist (songs I listened to for inspo)

➥Series Masterlist

➥All Works Masterlist

⊱──────── ✬ ✬ ✬ ────────⊰

Jungkook and Y/N Instagram Profiles

⊱──────── ✬ ✬ ✬ ────────⊰

“So why are we looking at dresses again?”

You turned to look at your best friend who so graciously accompanied you to your wedding dress appointment. He had his hands laced together behind his head as he leaned back in one of the big, white leather chairs near the dressing room area.

“Jungkook, we’ve been over this.” You had a dress draped over your arm, and a store assistant was making their way towards the both of you. When he didn’t respond, you sighed and continued.

“I told you I just want to make sure everything is perfect. I’m getting married in a week and the last thing I need is something messing up.”

He leaned forward then, clasping his hands together while he rested his elbows on his knees. He had shrugged out of his jacket earlier and he looked so out of place now in the formal bridal shop, wearing his black t-shirt with ripped denim jeans, tattoos on full display. 

You, of course, were used to seeing him like this, but you were still always affected by how handsome he was. Especially now since he recently dyed his hair blue-

You shook your head to clear your thoughts. You were getting married in a week! You didn’t need to sit here and think about how attractive your best friend - your fiancé’s best man - is. 

Keep reading

know your worth | myg

pairing: min yoongi x oc

genre: swordsman!yoongi, fluff, mini angst

warnings: heartthrob yoongi basically, some mentions of sexism, eventual smut!

words: 4, 599

summary: as the chosen one, you've never believed in yourself. enter yoongi

“Your limbs are too flimsy. You’re meant to slice the sword—not swing.” Tone laced with nothing unyielding authority, Yoongi reminds you why you’ve thought about slicing his head off with the sword.

“I heard you the first time.” You grit out.

You turn your body as you jump into an elegant twirl that provides you with the momentum to slice the hundred-year-old sword through the air, position stopping right in front of Yoongi who has nothing but a vacant expression on his face.

“Clearly you weren’t listening enough. You’re still swinging. Tense your arms.” He scolds, tapping your elbow provokingly with the edge of his thousand-year sword. A gift from the previous master himself.

“I am.” You spit.

Your body feels loose, and not in a relaxing way after a calming massage but instead with the echo of your muscles telling you to stop. Hours of practice cooped up in the chambers of the temple seemed futile when you didn’t see an end to your practices, especially given the man who leaves no room for imperfection was the one who kept you on your feet.

With one last push, you tense your arms as hard as you can to ensure that your grip on the sword is tight enough so that when you do slice the sword in the air, you’re able to stop it just enough for him to be satisfied.

Your own standards be damned.

“Stop.”

His curt voice breaks you out of your final effort in appeasing his exceedingly high standards and you freeze in the middle of your ministrations, limbs giving up on your intentions as you droop and let your knees greet the floor.

You’re panting when you hear his feet shuffle right in front of your bent figure, the shadow of his silhouette looming over you as the constant reminder of your failure, the lack of satisfaction that you were able to provide to him.

“Stand up.” He commands.

You want to defy his orders because it’s been hours since you’ve stepped foot into the temple to learn from one of the swordmasters today, and months since he was the one that was appointed to you when the town first found out you were the worthy one to bear the hundred-year-old sword.

When you first found out about your predetermined future, you were baffled, to say the least, because your entire life was spent by your mother’s side curating apothecary for the village folks, occasionally boiling dumplings to be distributed to the poor in your area.

You’ve lived a life nothing short of ordinary, and you were the poster image of mediocre. There was nothing to you that screamed worthy or unique enough to be chosen as the next apprentice. The town you lived in awaited only two things each year, Lunar New year and the announcement from the deities above on who was the next person in line to carry the legacy of your townsfolk’s.

You never paid any mind, purely because you were busy with other things and that you cared for the people around you rather than the chatters of aunties and uncles that would place bids on their sons to be next in line—the title indefinitely guaranteeing a lifetime of fortune.

So when your name was announced as you packed the last bits of dumplings to be distributed, every person in town was bewildered, because you weren’t of royal blood, nor were you in connection with any one of power. You were nobody.

And a woman.

The first time a woman has been called as the chosen one in all the years of history that your town has been aware of and it’s this … nobody.

You definitely felt like an outsider when the council brought you to the temple, secluded far away from your town to ensure that you were immersed in your training and not get distracted by anything else but your duty to fulfill.

Your imposter syndrome only became worse when you somehow ended up with someone as unbearable and unforgiving as Min Yoongi as the person who was meant to determine whether you were fit to represent your town in a year's time.

Were you really worthy?

“I said stand up, _____.”

His deep voice breaks you out of your trance as you make your way up on shaky knees, wobbling as you grip the sword tightly in your fist while you avoided his formidable gaze.

“Why did you stop when I didn’t tell you to?”

He knows the answer to the question, you’re sure he does. You’re sure under the exterior of all the coldness that ebbs away on his skin, the slight wrinkles that come with experience surely held wisdom and observational skills that would rival an average person. He knows.

You remain silent, knowing not to engage in another argument with him.

Amongst all the apprentices that Yoongi had the favour of training, you were by far the most … interesting.

One, because you were a woman, which was already different from every other person that enters the halls to learn from him.

But mainly because you seemed to doubt yourself a lot more than someone who was chosen by the deities should have.

The people that walked through the entrances of the temple usually carried some form of confidence with them, and dare Yoongi say—cockiness, which is why he turned people away when they let their egos get to their head.

The deities choose the worthy ones, but only the worthy ones are chosen by Yoongi.

You don’t know that because all Yoongi is to you is your superior, someone who pushes your body till it breaks and until you can’t breathe. But what you don’t see is what he sees in you. The fight of a woman who cares for her people. Who understands human nature far better than any chosen one has ever felt.

You also were oddly mouthy. It wasn’t … bad. But interesting. Never had Yoongi have an apprentice that was as ballsy to call him an asshole amongst other colourful nicknames as you were. But you were far from conventional.

Maybe that’s why Yoongi calls you out.

“You want to curse at me.” Yoongi muses, his tone far from accusatory but more as if he was stating the obvious.

You snap your head to look at him, eyes narrowing at his figure who holds the sword of his behind his back firmly. His onyx, cat-like eyes pierce through your expression that races with every time he blinks at you, and you try to convince yourself that the race of your heart is because of your intense practice rather than his gaze.

“I want to do a lot of things to you …” You mutter under your breath, loud enough for him to hear.

You don’t realise the double-meaning behind your words until you see Yoongi cock an eyebrow at you.

Your ears burn at the honest mistake, but you don’t fight to take the words back because Yoongi had a way of making you feel small with just his stare.

“And that is?” He pries, twirling his sword with precision and ease as he glides his long fingers against the body of the blade; your eyes trained on the clarity of his actions.

“Let’s start with slicing your head off, yeah?” You grunt.

Amusement dances in Yoongi’s irises as you avoid his heavy-lidded glare, feeling all the more flustered when he takes a firm step towards you, the heat of his body apparent against your own even if you were the one that was sweating.

“Would that help you with your technique?” He cocks his head to the side, tone anything but joking.

You look at him carefully as you observe for any sign of a taunt, but he just gazes at you with his blank stare that frustrates you till no end because while you were an open book with your expressions, Yoongi was just as mysterious as when you first met him.

“I dunno. Will you stop yapping at me if I say yes?” You retort.

Instead of replying, he grabs your wrist in a swift motion, causing you to yelp at the sudden touch.

His hand is hot against your skin, a big palm engulfing your wrist that looks small in comparison to his hand. You feel the roughness of his palm that came from years of practice and familiarity with the sword, and you gulp when he drags it to his neck—eyes never leaving yours.

“W-What are you doing—?” You stutter, but then he grabs the sword in your other hand in a moment of weakness and brings it to the hand by his neck as your eyes widen.

“W-Wait—Yoongi—”

Yoongi doesn’t leave room for you to hesitate or pull away when he voluntarily brings his neck alarmingly close to the sharp edge of your sword.

“Slice.”

The hand that isn’t holding the sword to your trainer’s neck falls limp to your side as you gape at him when you note that his words and expression are dead serious, not an inkling of fear on his face at the prospect of you potentially slicing his head off.

“What? No! Are you crazy?” You try to retract your hand, but his wrist returns to grab at it.

Your face is forced to stare at his when he levels a hooded stare at you, making your heart beat faster, flustered at the proximity of your bodies.

“The motion, ____.” He calls your name, and even as it falls from his lips you feel less worthy; like a stranger in the temple.

“If you swing—you’ll kill me. If you slice above my neck, I live.”

The gamble he offers you is petrifying, and it’s even worse because it’s his life on the line—not yours.

Yoongi always had unorthodox methods of training you but never had he put himself on the line like this just so you would learn something.

“I-I’ll fix my motions—I swear! But I’m not going to … I can’t do what you’re asking me to,” You tell him firmly.

Yoongi’s head leans closer, skin barely touching your blade when he pulls your wrist closer as you see the indent of the sword against his pale skin.

“I tell you what to do. Not the other way around.” He reminds you.

You know there’s no room for argument anymore because if you weren’t going to do anything, you were sure Yoongi would take matters into his own hands.

You wanted to call him crazy for trusting someone like you with a sword as sharp as yours against the delicate expanse of his neck, but you were both flustered and scared at what were to happen if he came closer.

“Why would you do this?” You whisper.

“I’m not skilled enough to do this Yoongi …” You tell him, hand shaking around your sword as you feel a lump form in your throat.

Suddenly, you feel the grip on your wrist loosen; and you’re afraid that your words serve as a reminder to him that he’s wasted nearly a year on a hopeless case like you; that he was disappointed in all the time he’s dedicated to training you for you to be unable to carry out a simple slice of the sword.

“I said, slice.”

His stare is cold, eyes blank, and lips pursed when he repeats himself.

You blink up at him, and if he notices the way your eyes are glassy; he doesn’t comment. But you know his expression is one of patience, but there’s only so much that he can take and wait for, and you didn’t want to test him anymore.

So, you slice.

You slice, and bring the sword back to your side, chest heaving and heart beating rapidly against your ribcage. You don’t want to look at Yoongi, terrified if you’ve hurt him.

You stay still with your eyes shut, sword limps in your arms until you hear the shuffle of feet right next to you, and your sword is retrieved from your grip.

“Good.”

You open your eyes and only then do you realise that you’ve foolishly allowed tears to fall.

“You’re okay.” You breathe out, observing the fact that his neck is clean—barren of any scar and red.

“Would I risk my life to train an apprentice?” He asks.

You open your mouth to answer but snap it shut when he places your sword next to his against the wooden frame. He gestures for you to sit, and you hesitantly do, mulling over his words as he mirrors your position, right across from you.

“You could do it. So why didn’t you do that earlier?” Yoongi asks a question where he expects an obvious answer.

But you didn’t know. You didn’t know why you weren’t able to slice earlier when you were able to put on the spot with Yoongi’s life on the line.

You think of an answer, but it burns your ears—and you would never dare utter it to Yoongi. A man who feels and breathes nothing but his work.

Yoongi raises an eyebrow, awaiting your response as you swallow your words.

“I don’t know.” Is what you settle for.

Yoongi sighs, rolling up his sleeves to reveal his forearms that show the strength he’s trained for over the years that he’s been a thousand-year sword-bearer.

Yoongi had always been cold. A little disinterested and definitely detached from any sentiment that people would usually offer to their apprentices. It seemed that he was only interested in making sure that you weren’t going to embarrass his name after months of relentless training with you.

It’s always been a hard truth to accept, especially when he’s the person you spend most of your time with; nearly twelve hours a day, and the person you want to see you.

But you’re just … his apprentice. A foolish one, one that fails to show the true glory of a trainer like him.

“You do know, ____. Think.” He leans forward, hands placed on the floorboard in between the two of you as he looks straight into your eyes.

You bite your lip, afraid to tell him why. Afraid that your answer will only push him away rather than please him.

“I-I don’t know Yoongi.” You say softly.

Yoongi blinks then lean back—distancing himself from you.

Your eyes dart to the side, avoiding his stare because you were sure you were going to break if you saw the disappointment that mars his expression.

“Then let me tell you.” He finally says after a moment of silence.

Your eyes widen when your head snaps back to look at him.

You’re terrified that he sees through you. That he recognises the dopey look you give him when he isn’t looking, or why you sometimes get distracted, or your palms sweat for a reason that isn’t because of how hard practice is—that he sees your heart, and he’s here to snap you out of it.

“It’s because you’re worthy.” Yoongi whispers, hands reaching out to grab your own, and suddenly you’re pulled onto his lap.

You gasp, attempting to balance yourself as you find a position that doesn’t strain your thighs and one that isn’t mortifying.

“Y-Yoongi … what—”

“Do you know why you’re here, _____?” He asks, eyes searching for your own.

His expression is still the same. It’s still very much Yoongi, but it’s softer, more mellow. Like he wants you to not be afraid of what’s to come.

“The deity’s chose me …?” You say hesitantly, voice soft and hesitant.

“It’s because I want to keep training you.” He tells you.

His confession knocks the breath out of your lungs as your eyes widen. Your hands that were locked between his starts turning sweaty, and you want to curse at yourself for displaying obvious signs of nerves when Yoongi is debatably the most observant man out there.

“But I’m slow … and I can’t nail your techniques like a true sword-bearer … and I argue with you—”

He interrupts you with his own set of words, accompanied by the soft look from earlier.

“And that’s okay. You’re not here to be judged by my pace or standards. It’s not fair for you and you won’t get anywhere if you want to nail my techniques my way.” He whispers.

You blink, feeling your heart constrict at his honest words.

“B-But you’re always yelling at me.” You pout.

Yoongi wants to rub his thumb between your furrowed brows, but he knows that you needed to be trodden lightly with and that he was sure you were going to faint if he did anything more than just have your hands in his own.

“And that’s because I see what you can do ____,” He tells you, “You’re always giving up because you think you can’t do it. That’s what frustrates me. That you can’t see how great you are at sword-bearing even when your body fights against you to continue.”

You stare at him in shock when he releases your hands to only reach up to grab your cheeks, forcing you to stare at his face.

You’re sure your face is burning, and you can’t even avoid his gaze because he’s dead-set on making sure your eyes stay on his when they chase yours that run away.

“Look at me, ____.”

You reluctantly avert your eyes to his, and you see every pore up close, you see the gentle whip of his long eyelashes and the pout of his lips that look too inviting.

You briefly see his gaze drift to the bottom of your face, where your lips are, and you feel your heartbeat erratically against your chest.

Yoongi looks good when he trains you, eyes scrunched and focused as his black hair remains tousled when he demonstrates positions for you to mirror. But he looks breathtaking up close. The usual blankness of his face looks less intimidating closer like it was your blank canvas to paint—a face where you were in charge of what was to be expressed on it.

“Stop doubting yourself or your skills.” He tuts at you, and you burn under his attention.

“I want you to continue fighting the way you have always fought here. The fire that you have in you? Yeah, don’t let that burn out because you’re more than just the chosen one _____. You’re … you’re talented. No one can convince you but yourself, so I need you to start trusting yourself more because once you’re done with training it’s just going to be you against the rest. I won’t be here to remind you anymore.”

You’re stunned to silence with the honesty of his words. You know that Yoongi doesn’t say this, in fact—it’s the first time you’ve heard such earnest words from the man himself throughout the long months you’ve spent training under him.

Even the other residents of the temple have told you that Yoongi wasn’t the most expressive person, and even if they didn’t tell you—you weren’t blind to how he treats you or people.

The way he looks at you makes you hope, and it’s a dangerous feeling given your position and how weak your heart is compared to a man like Yoongi.

You snap out of your daze and push him off, scrambling to your feet as you grab your sword to leave—tears in your eyes because you feel like a fool for thinking anything more than what he’s offered you.

Yoongi had been nothing but honest with you … and you weren’t in the right to ask of anything else.

Who were you to?

“____.” He calls out when you reach the entrance, and you feel his imposing presence behind you.

“I’m sorry Yoongi but … I can’t.” You tell him shakily, gripping the frame of the door, back faced to him.

“I won’t force you, ____.” He says, curt.

You turn around, heart dropping at the change of his tone. When you see his expression return to the blank expression that he usually has, you have to stop yourself from being disappointed. Realising that what he told you when he held you; was probably to keep you on your feet and determined.

“You don’t get it, do you?” You exasperate.

He furrows his brows, attempting to read you. But your heart is confused and so is your mind.

“I’ll train hard. I know that …” You clear your throat, attempting to level your words out.

“I won’t ask for more. I’ll do better.” You say firmly.

Yoongi doesn’t say anything but pulls you closer by the elbow until you’re pressed against his chest.

“I don’t think you get it, ____.” He says slowly.

You open your mouth to respond, but he’s faster with his response.

“What did you think I meant just now when I told you to stop doubting yourself?” He asks.

“Yoongi, what are you—”

He shushes you with a finger to your lips, and you blush at the touch.

“Answer my question.”

You sigh, slapping his finger away from your mouth to glare at him. But Yoongi simply offers a small shrug of his shoulders in response.

“Look. I know I’ve been slacking off and this is you trying to be nice … which I appreciate, a lot. Really. I do. I know you don’t do …” You gesture to your bodies, “… all of this. So I’ll work harder. You don’t need to—you don’t need to walk on eggshells with me.”

Yoongi blinks.

Not once, but twice.

You gulp, afraid you’ve said too much but you’re helpless against his tight grip on your body so that you’re unable to run away, away from his gaze that you still can’t read.

But then he laughs, and you’re confused at the sound because Yoongi rarely ever displayed any emotion but stoicism when he was with you, and you think you’ve heard him laugh a total of three times throughout the past few months you’ve trained under him.

“Why are you laughing?” You pout.

Yoongi looks at you fondly and sees a fighter but also a woman, a woman who is yet to understand social cues or affection may be because of the way you were brought up—but also maybe because of how Yoongi is by nature.

So instead of explaining in words, where you can misinterpret it, he reaches for your chin gently to turn your face to him so that you see his gentle gaze—and he kisses you.

On the lips.

You’re too shocked to kiss back, your arms staying awkwardly by your side until Yoongi slides a hand down to your hips and squeezes them that you reach your arms around his neck.

You close your eyes and allow yourself to feel his lips against your own, soft, hot and gentle. It was everything like how you dreamt of when you selfishly allowed yourself to indulge in your fantasy—it was now served as a reality and it was so much better than you could ever have thought it to be.

The kiss was so … Yoongi. He wasn’t rushing, he savoured every taste of your lips against his like he had all the time in the world like he spent years planning this very step with calculated precision because Yoongi was not the type to half-ass anything.

It’s until you feel your lungs fighting for air that you pull away, mesmerised by the string of saliva that connects your lips and the swollen pink flesh of Yoongi’s.

“W-What—”

“This is me, ____.” He says against your lips, as you feel your heart race against your chest.

“I believe in you.”

Somehow, you understood. Those four words were enough for you to know where his heart truly laid, and where he stood with you.

“I just … wow,” You breathe.

But then, with all your doubts overcome with joy, you throw all shame out of the window and pull him by the collar until his mouth is on your own again.

This time, with you leading the kiss, you kiss harder even with the inexperience. Yoongi was your first kiss but you knew that you wanted him, that your heart was his even against your better judgment.

You feel him lick into the seams of your mouth, hands reaching down to pull your hips flush against his pelvis, backing you up until your back reaches the frame of the door.

All you feel is Yoongi. You smell him, the slight tinge of perspiration with the scent of nature that surrounds the temple. He tastes just like everything you’ve been waiting for and more, and he only proves how much he was yours as you were his when he grabs your hand to interlock it with strands of his dark hair.

He leaves open-mouth kisses against your lips, breathing heavily with want when you let out small whimpers of desire.

“You really know how to put on a show, huh?” He whispers.

You grin up at him, reaching for the buttons of his shirt, offering him a tempting smile that he grins fondly at.

You’re just about to slip his shirt off when the door slams open.

“Yoongi! ____! We were—”

Before you can even yelp, you shove Yoongi off of you until he drops on his back on the floor, a loud groan reverberating through the walls of the training room as you attempt to straighten your unruly appearance.

You were sure that your lips were swollen and that you were flushed with the way your lips made a home out of Yoongi’s, but you hoped that the three men by the door were dense enough to not catch what was going on.

“A warning would’ve been nice, yeah?” Yoongi grunts, glaring at you when you snap your gaze away from him to offer a meek smile at Jimin, who is all but grinning maniacally at you.

You feel like you’ve committed a crime, but in reality—there was no restriction in making out with your trainer … nor were there any when it came to dating but you knew the mirth that danced between the eyes of the men and you weren’t looking forward to what was to come.

“Sorry to disturb, hyung. It seems that you were … occupied.” Jungkook speaks up, snickering when he catches a glimpse of Yoongi’s shirt halfway off, exposing the firm slope of his abdomen and chest.

You absentmindedly ogle his body, heat surging through your body until you remember that there were people who would call you out.

“Noona, your …” Taehyung gestures to your cheeks and you mortifyingly reach for your cheeks only to feel the heat.

“What did you guys want?” Yoongi grunts, pushing himself off the ground and hastily buttoning his shirt as he takes a position next to you, his presence more engulfing now after you’ve had your taste.

You see Jimin’s eyes dart between the two of you quickly, a cheeky smile adorning his face before he speaks up.

“Dinner’s ready.” He tells you, pushing Taehyung and Jungkook out the door.

Only when he’s halfway out does he say:

“It seems like you had yours already.”

When they’re out of your vision, you groan, burying your head into Yoongi’s chest; absolutely mortified at the two of you being caught.

Yoongi rests a gentle hand on your lower back, and another reaches to hold your chin gently.

“This isn’t over.” He whispers against your lips.

You feel giddy when you walk into the dining hall, his hands intertwined with your own.

all you’re giving me is friction | ksj x f.reader

Summary: You’ve graduated! Congratulations - you’ve got one thing checked off your parents ten year plan! Now all that’s left to do is start your dreary office job, drag yourself up the ladder to CEO, marry your (as yet unknown) dream guy, and carve out some time to pop out a few kids before your ovaries shrivel up… Except all of that sounds horrendous, and you’d much rather spend the next three months at Hoseok’s beach house with your closest friends - relaxing, partying, and sleeping late while you still can. And it would be your last perfect summer break, if it weren’t for the most irritating man on the planet (and his chickens) living next door.

➾ pairing: surfer!seokjin x lifeguard!f.reader

➾ genre(s): lovers to enemies (lite) to lovers, angst, smut, fluff, happy ending

➾ rating: explicit, minors DNI

➾ warnings: cursing, incessant talk of the bloody ocean, reader is a total idiot, seokjin is nauseatingly in love but he’s also hot so he gets a pass. no use of y/n or variations thereof. reader and jin are not always kind. briefest mention of historic alcoholism (parent), side yoonmin, pet names - mostly baby. kissing, SO MUCH KISSING, author uses weather as a plot device

➾ smut warnings: oral m & f receiving, PIV, handjobs, fingering, barebacking (but reader has an iud). author prefers the word cunt over pussy, sry. minor smut tags: face sitting, taking pictures, briefest mention of consensual!! somnophilia (ksj rec oral)

➾ word count: 28.3k (complete) (i am so sorry)

➾ written for: catch of the century collab - thank you so much to @raplinesmoon​ @joheunsaram​​ and @kithtaehyung​​ for letting me join in (and massive apologies for posting this 2 days late)

➾ thank you to: my loves @ugh-yoongi​​ @the-boy-meets-evil​​ & @effortandmore​​ - without you three i would never have finished this fucking beast, you are the best! shout out to my uncle (who ofc won’t see this bc he thinks tumblr is a type of glass) who answered my surfing questions (cause, yanno, he surfs) and didn’t care enough to ask why.

➾ authors note: i am dehydrated and it’s 2am. pls throw my body in the ocean. phew - this one really ran away with me. i really hope you like this <3 reblogs are much appreciated & asks are welcome!

ps: i edited one of the smut scenes in church, do u think i’ll go to hell?

pps: all my italics disappeared??? i wanna say i’ll go through and fix that but it’s late af rn. tomorrow, maybe

➜ 14

Hoseok’s place is a no go zone. Which would be fine - if you hadn’t already driven for five hours with Taehyung and Jimin snoozing in the backseat from the very start, and were just fifteen minutes shy of arriving when Yoongi got the call. 

Keep reading

Little do You Know | OT7 | Series Masterlist

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READ ON AO3

Pairing: Bangtan (ot7) x f!reader 

Summary: In a world where idols and actors can’t date, whether it be because of contracts, lack of time, or the dangers that involve having your personal life leaked, the market opened up for a new work field. Playmate Agencies emerged to supply the entertainment world with highly trained companions for hire. Bangtan is looking for new playmates. And you just happen to be the one all of them choose. 

Genre: Fluff, angst, smut, playmate au, idol au. 

Warnings: Not a Poly!BTS au but there will be future member x reader x member scenes (threesomes/foursomes/so on). Lots of porn with lots of plot. I know it goes without saying, but I’m gonna say it anyway! This story follows Bangtan schedules from 2021/22 (covid is not a thing), but this is obviously a work of fiction, so I’m not claiming that this is how certain events went down in real life, or that some attitudes would be the ones of real life people! Other idols/actors will be mentioned in this story. This is not a SMAU, but there will be social media posts (texts/news articles/magazine covers/ twitter posts etc) throughout the fic; all of the edits were made by me, with the exception of some manip and photo montages (couple/ “ships”), so if any of those belong to you, please let me know and I will credit you, or remove the picture. 

Taglist: Open! 

Updates: Every monday, wednesday, friday, and every other saturday.

ONE ━━▼━━ TWO ━━▼━━ THREE  ━━▼━━ FOUR  ━━▼━━ FIVE  ━━▼━━ SIX  ━━▼━━ SEVEN  ━━▼━━ EIGHT  ━━▼━━ NINE  ━━▼━━ TEN  ━━▼━━ ELEVEN  ━━▼━━ TWELVE  ━━▼━━ THIRTEEN  ━━▼━━ FOURTEEN  ━━▼━━ FIFTEEN  ━━▼━━ SIXTEEN  ━━▼━━ SEVENTEEN  ━━▼━━ EIGHTEEN  ━━▼━━ NINETEEN  ━━▼━━ TWENTY  ━━▼━━

TWENTY ONE  ━━▼━━ TWENTY TWO  ━━▼━━ TWENTY THREE ━━▼━━ TWENTY FOUR  ━━▼━━ TWENTY FIVE  ━━▼━━ TWENTY SIX  ━━▼━━ TWENTY SEVEN  ━━▼━━ TWENTY EIGHT  ━━▼━━ TWENTY NINE  ━━▼━━ THIRTY  ━━▼━━ THIRTY ONE  ━━▼━━  THIRTY TWO  ━━▼━━  THIRTY THREE  ━━▼━━  THIRTY FOUR  ━━▼━━  THIRTY FIVE  ━━▼━━  THIRTY SIX  ━━▼━━  THIRTY SEVEN  ━━▼━━ THIRY EIGHT  ━━▼━━ THIRTY NINE  ━━▼━━ FORTY  ━━▼━━

FORTY ONE  ━━▼━━ FORTY TWO  ━━▼━━ FORTY THREE  ━━▼━━ FORTY FOUR  ━━▼━━ FORTY FIVE  ━━▼━━ FORTY SIX  ━━▼━━ FORTY SEVEN  ━━▼━━ FORTY EIGHT  ━━▼━━ FORTY NINE  ━━▼━━ FIFTY  ━━▼━━ FIFTY ONE  ━━▼━━ FIFTY TWO  ━━▼━━ FIFTY THREE  ━━▼━━ FIFTY FOUR  ━━▼━━ FIFTY FIVE  ━━▼━━ FIFTY SIX  ━━▼━━ FIFTY SEVEN  ━━▼━━ FIFTY EIGH  ━━▼━━ FIFTY NINE. 

Season 2 

SIXTY   ━━▼━━ SIXTY ONE  ━━▼━━  SIXTY TWO    ━━▼━━SIXTY THREE  ━━▼━━ SIXTY FOUR  ━━▼━━ SIXTY FIVE   ━━▼━━ SIXTY SIX   ━━▼━━ SIXTY SEVEN    ━━▼━━ SIXTY EIGHT    ━━▼━━ SIXTY NINE    ━━▼━━ SEVENTY    ━━▼━━ SEVENTY ONE  ━━▼━━ SEVENTY TWO  ━━▼━━ SEVENTY THREE  ━━▼━━ SEVENTY FOUR  ━━▼━━ SEVENTY FIVE  ━━▼━━ SEVENTY SIX  ━━▼━━ SEVENTY SEVEN   ━━▼━━  SEVENTY EIGHT   ━━▼━━  SEVENTY NINE   ━━▼━━  EIGHTY━━▼━━  EIGHTY ONE ━━▼━━  EIGHTY TWO ━━▼━━  EIGHTY THREE  ━━▼━━  EIGHTY FOUR  ━━▼━━  EIGHTY FIVE  ━━▼━━ EIGHTY SIX  ━━▼━━ EIGHTY SEVEN  ━━▼━━ EIGHTY EIGHT  ━━▼━━ EIGHTY NINE  ━━▼━━

NINETY  ━━▼━━ NINETY ONE  ━━▼━━ NINETY TWO  ━━▼━━ NINETY THREE  ━━▼━━ NINETY FOUR  ━━▼━━ NINETY FIVE  ━━▼━━ NINETY SIX  ━━▼━━NINETY SEVEN ━━▼━━NINETY EIGHT  ━━▼━━NINETY NINE ━━▼━━ONE HUNDRED  ━━▼━━ONE HUNDRED AND ONE  ━━▼━━ONE HUNDRED AND TWO  ━━▼━━ ONE HUNDRED AND THREE  ━━▼━━ ONE HUNDRED AND FOUR ━━▼━━ONE HUNDRED AND FIVE  ━━▼━━ ONE HUNDRED AND SIX  ━━▼━━ ONE HUNDRED AND SEVEN ━━▼━━ ONE HUNDRED AND EIGHT  ━━▼━━ ONE HUNDRED AND NINE  ━━▼━━ ONE HUNDRED AND TEN

ONE HUNDRED AND ELEVEN  ━━▼━━ONE HUNDRED AND TWELVE  ━━▼━━ONE HUNDRED AND THIRTEEN  ━━▼━━ONE HUNDRED AND FOURTEEN  ━━▼━━ONE HUNDRED AND FIFTEEN (FINALE)

More coming soon! 

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💜

party on you (explicit)

genre: SMUT SMUT SMUT with an extremely small side of fluff lol

pairing: hoseok x reader

summary: the only thing stronger than your social anxiety is your big dumb crush on hoseok - and you're certainly not expecting it when he tells you the real reason he threw this album release party.

word count: 9.8k

contains: explicit sexual content aka PORN !!!! idol-verse, literally takes place at the JITB album release party, friends to lovers, erotic hand holding, they're both cute and dumb, a studio hookup 👀 dirty talk, thigh riding, cunnilingus, a single pussy slap lol, taint touching (?), HOBI EATS ASS, multiple orgasms, overstimulation, throat fucking, reader gets a facial, and a lil bit of cum eating, it's cute 😌

A/N: so, hi, i went to hobipalooza lmao. this is actually lowkey a songfic ??? charli xcx was one of the earlier acts on hobi's stage and. my god. seeing her live was a religious experience, and when she performed party 4 u i was like hnnnhghg this should be a fic. and now it is !!!! and i hope u enjoy 🥺🥺 i tried some new stuff in here, both soft and freaky lmao so i'm nervy to share!!! as always your support and feedback means the world to meeeee ok ilysomuch bye~

read on AO3 !

~*~

You collapse back against the cushions of your couch with a soft whine of distress.

The whole thing is really so ridiculous. You told yourself when this started that you could be chill about it. People get crushes every day. It doesn’t have to be a huge fucking deal. You’re a sane, rational adult, perfectly capable of admiring a man quietly from afar while doing your best to be a good friend to him.

And, yes, maybe also obsessing a little too much over what to wear when you hang out, and what to post on Instagram in case he might see it, and dear god, how long his hair is getting. All normal crush things.

But now, as you press your phone to your chest with both hands and sigh forlornly, you wonder if it might actually be possible to yearn yourself to death. To like somebody so much that your heart just fucking explodes. If anyone could be capable of inciting spontaneous combustion, it is absolutely Jung Hoseok.

And he wants you to come to his big fancy party– has specifically sent a day-of reminder text, like you didn’t already receive a formal invitation weeks ago.

You purse your lips, fighting to keep a smile off your face despite being alone in your apartment where no one can perceive you. Hoseok is always so good at keeping in touch, even when he’s in an insanely busy season of his life. You can picture him now, probably bustling around his place in a robe, getting ready while simultaneously sending everyone their own personalized message.

Everyone– when you last chatted about the party, he rattled off enough of the guest list for you to know that easily half the industry will be there tonight. And even Lizzo has gushed about how great of a texter he is. You try to ease yourself off the ledge with the comforting thought that this has to be just one courtesy text of dozens, his pretty painted thumbnails working overtime to send gratuitous emojis out to every idol in the city.

And somehow also to you. Because your big fat crush made you stupid enough to say yes to what is arguably your worst nightmare: A party full of cool famous people, where you will know no one except the guest of honor.

Skipping the party is not an option becomes your internal refrain as the hours tick by. You have to remind yourself of this even more emphatically when you wind up on the floor of your bedroom, having tried on every article of clothing in your closet and having decisively hated it all.

Skipping the party is not an option, you think again, grabbing your phone to check the clock. Your heart sinks when you realize how much time you’ve wasted being an anxious wreck– you had planned to be ready to leave five minutes ago, not laying half-naked on the floor, hair and makeup still undone.

But skipping the party is not an option. A pre-party cry, however, might be on the table.

Pushing yourself up to sit on your heels, you force the tears back while you aimlessly sort through a pile of clothes. You’re barely looking at what’s in front of you, but you pause to do a double-take as your hand passes over a particularly enjoyable texture.

When you manage to extract the item, you realize it’s a dress you’d forgotten about entirely– something a friend made you buy a lifetime ago that you’ve never worn because you’ve always been uncomfortable with how short it is. But it’s smooth baby pink satin, and as different from your usual as it may be, you recall not being mad about the way it stuck to your curves like water.

Fuck it. You’re already late, and if there’s ever a party where you can take a fashion risk, it’s one thrown by Hoseok. You can only imagine what he might have on tonight; it honestly wouldn’t surprise you if he showed up in the same fucking dress.

The thought of seeing him is enough to make your heart leap in your chest, and you do your best to speed through your usual makeup and hair routine despite the way your hands are starting to tremble. By the time you grab your purse and make it out the door, you’re thirty minutes late. That thirty minutes quickly stretches into a full hour before you’re stepping off the elevator onto the 19th floor of HYBE headquarters, feeling like an asshole.

Gorgeous idols and various other famous people stream in around you, dressed in clothes that appear casual but you’re sure cost double your monthly rent payment, looking less than unbothered about showing up late. You do your best to slip in unnoticed and stick to the perimeter of the massive room, feeling like an absolute fraud.

Thankfully it’s only a few steps before you find a table taken up entirely by pre-filled flutes of champagne, and you eagerly grab one, mostly just grateful for something to do with your hands.

It occurs to you how little you know about celebrity culture, because the party doesn’t even seem to have started yet: early 2000s R&B is bumping through the speakers, and it feels like every few minutes the elevator chimes to let another group of people trickle into the space. You find an unoccupied section of wall to lean against as you sip your drink slowly, hoping that if you try hard enough, you might actually manage to become one with the wallpaper.

Tipping your head back for another sip of champagne, you nearly choke at an unexpected voice from over your shoulder.

“You look like you hate parties as much as I do.”

You manage to not inhale your drink, instead giving a polite smile as your eyes drift across the crowded room. You’re too nervous to immediately steal a glance at whoever is speaking to you, though you’re sure it just makes you seem rude. “Hate isn’t exactly it.” You have nothing against parties, or people who enjoy them. “I just… haven’t figured out what I’m supposed to be doing, exactly.”

“I think talking to people is generally expected,” the voice quips. “So, hey, you’re doing great already. Keep it up and they might even think you’re an extrovert.”

You exhale a soft laugh, a slight heat of embarrassment creeping up your neck.

“But Hobi said I didn’t have to meet and greet if I didn't want to. So I’m taking that as full permission to enjoy free alcohol and read webtoons on my phone.”

Your gaze snaps over at the familiar nickname, and your mouth goes dry as you realize you’ve been casually conversing with none other than Kim Seokjin, who is absentmindedly fiddling with the thin green strap of the bag slung over his shoulder.

Fuck. Embarrassing yourself in front of random famous people was exactly what you were trying to avoid when you picked this wall to lean against. You’d figured the other members would all be out mingling in the center of things, not hiding in a corner. Who knew celebrities were just like you?

“I-I’m sorry,” you stammer, immediately dropping your gaze to avoid making eye contact when Jin looks up. He probably assumed you’d sidled up next to him on purpose, like some kind of creepy fan. “I’ll leave you alone, I actually really didn’t mean to–”

You glance up again only to realize Jin is laughing, shoulders shaking slightly.

“Wow, I’m so bad at this. That wasn’t me telling you to fuck off. I was just trying to sympathize.” He gestures lazily towards the stage at the front of the room. “Thankfully it looks like you don’t have to suffer my conversation any longer.”

A Jack in the Box graphic has started to flash, projected onto the screen. After a few seconds, the image stills, and a spotlight clicks on, following Hoseok as he emerges from backstage. You lean forward to set your drink on the closest table so you can join in the applause for him.

Hoseok looks as effortlessly cool as he always does, but even more so tonight, like someone has cranked his charisma up to the max setting. A real fucking popstar, a rockstar, even: baggy clothes, multiple layers of necklaces, chunky black boots, dark hair pushed back with a few strands falling into his eyes. He somehow even manages to make wearing sunglasses indoors look cool– probably because they’re immediately offset by the wide, sweet grin of his mouth as he addresses the crowd. You can hear that he’s nervous by how hard he’s trying to keep his voice even, and it’s enough to make you feel the flutter of butterfly wings in your throat.

As you pick your drink back up for another sip, you can’t help but wonder if Jin can literally see the hearts in your eyes, or a nervous little teardrop floating above your head like an anime character. You do your best to hide your smile behind your glass.

“J-Hope is pretty cool, huh?”

You bite down on your bottom lip, answering Jin’s question with a shy nod.

Hoseok descends the stage as the lights lower, and then the album intro is starting and there’s no more time for conversation. You watch from across the room as he drops down on the large built-in stairs next to Jungkook, who immediately wraps a supportive arm around his waist while Hoseok laughs like he’s embarrassed. You’ve always been in total awe of the way Hoseok can light up and command the energy of a room easily, then squirm away from it at the next second.

Jin gets waved over and gives you a small nod as he departs, and then you’re alone again with the champagne in your hand and the wall against your back and Hoseok’s music thrumming through your nervous system.

The album is nothing like you expected– you didn’t know what to expect, really– and you absolutely love it. You’ve always felt like you have a stupidly limited vocabulary when it comes to talking about music, particularly around Hoseok, but even you can manage to string together the thought that these songs are fucking special.

But then again, so is he.

In what feels like the blink of an eye Hoseok is taking the stage again to giggle through his thanks, bent slightly at the waist in overwhelmed appreciation, and then the pop playlist is switched back on and the lights are dimmed and you suddenly feel your palms start to slick up against your champagne flute.

You can’t help but wonder what the fuck you’re supposed to do now.

The obvious choice would be to finally go talk to Hoseok, but of course, he’s the man of the hour, so every other person in the room seems to have the same idea. You choose to hang back and watch as he weaves through the growing crowd, putting on a bored expression to pose for pictures, laughing excitedly as people shake his hand and speak to him in hushed tones, and flashing thumbs ups and peace signs left, right and center.

It looks exhausting, you think to yourself with a small smile. And this is why you’re not famous.

For the second time tonight someone manages to sneak up on you, and this time it’s accompanied with a gentle call of your name. You nearly drop your drink as you whip around.

When you find yourself face-to-face with Park Jimin, it takes a few seconds for you to remember how to close your mouth. What is going on?

“I thought that was you.”

You double-blink, unable to find any words at all. You have never met this man before in your life. Seen him dozens of times on your TV screen, sure, but certainly never formally introduced.

“I’m Jimin,” he says, and you have to swallow the urge to giggle in his face because, yeah, no shit.

“Hi, Jimin.”

“Hoseok is going to be excited that you’re here.” Jimin scrunches his face up a little, like he knows he shouldn’t be telling you this. “He kept asking me if I thought you would show or not. He really wouldn’t shut up about it.”

You find yourself stammering again, trying to figure out how the hell to respond. Why, out of everyone on the guest list, would Hoseok be concerned about you? And he’s talked to Jimin about you enough for him to know who you are, that he can recognize you on sight alone? Your head starts to spin, despite the fact that you’re only halfway through your glass of champagne.

“Since you don’t like parties,” Jimin says, like it’s common knowledge, as if it’s totally normal for this very busy and famous kpop idol to keep tabs on your socialization preferences.

You nod dumbly. “I, yeah. I’m just not very good at them.”

Jimin nods, pushing up the sleeves of his white Chanel sweater. “You just have to get comfortable with talking to people about boring shit. Did you try the food?”

You shake your head– the very thought is enough to make you feel a little sick. “I get, like, a nervous stomach?” You hate that it comes out like a question when it clearly isn’t.

“Aish, you and Hoseok are so alike,” Jimin rolls his eyes, hands on hips, but you can see he’s smiling a little. “I haven’t been able to get him to eat anything all day. And we ordered so much food, I don’t even know why. Like half the people in this room aren’t on fucking diets.”

“Jimin-ah!”

Both of your heads snap up at the sound of Namjoon’s voice from the other side of the room, distorted slightly by the thudding bass.

“Ahh, they’re doing pictures,” Jimin says with an exaggerated sigh, like it’s just so hard being desirable and photogenic. “Do you want to get a photo?”

You shake your head as emphatically as possible. “No, nope, absolutely not.”

Jimin pauses, squinting at you for a second in a way that makes you think that if you were closer friends, he’d be dragging you across the room regardless of your answer to the question. You watch as he clearly attempts to restrain himself.

“Well, don’t drink too much on an empty stomach, okay? I’ll make you a to-go plate of food before you leave.” He starts to walk backwards away from you, raising his voice a little so you can still hear him. “And please talk to Hoseokie when we’re done! Maybe then he’ll calm the fuck down!”

You can’t hide the smile that blooms across your face, and Jimin wiggles his eyebrows for emphasis before turning around and pressing his way through the crowd to the photo wall.

The members take turns passing Hoseok around, punctuated by the snap of the camera: pinching his cheeks, leaning into him, clinging to his shoulders, wrapping an arm around his neck. You laugh out loud when Taehyung hikes a leg up high on Hoseok’s hip and tips back, a hand draped across his forehead, eyes shut, so fucking dramatic.

Hoseok stares down the camera like a professional, only to immediately dissolve into giggles between shots, tongue poking out between his teeth like he can’t quite handle all the attention. It’s enough to have you nearly fighting for your life.

The members crowd in for a few group shots, posing cutely until Jimin finally waves everyone back off to the dancefloor. He keeps Hoseok behind with one hand gripping his bicep, and your heart drops into your stomach when Jimin leans in to whisper something in Hoseok’s ear.

Oh, fuck.

You try to calm yourself down, reasoning that he could be talking about any number of important things, but then Jimin pulls Hoseok’s sunglasses off his face, turns him unmistakably in your direction, and gives his shoulders a hard push. It’s clear Hoseok doesn’t quite know where he’s going as he stumbles forward and squints at the party lights, so you throw back the last of your champagne for some assistance, set the empty flute on a table, and force yourself to be brave.

You run your palms nervously over the sides of your dress, trying to focus on the feeling of smooth satin as you cross the room to meet him.

“Hobi.” His eyes find yours and you watch as his face, still in party mode— all perfect straight lines and severe grace and supermodel apathy— softens, brightens.

“Oh thank god, you made it,” Hoseok huffs a disbelieving laugh. “Come here.”

He pulls you in for a hug, not the lazy one-armed greetings you’ve seen celebrities give each other all night but a real, solid embrace, both arms crossed firmly over the small of your back. You press your nose into the crook of his neck, the thin fabric of his tank top brushing against your skin. Heat radiates off of him in waves, and he smells so good, like expensive cologne. It’s dizzying.

“Hi,” you murmur, and it’s punctuated with a soft giggle when you realize you’re speaking directly into his collarbone. You move to extract yourself, but his grip tightens.

“Five more seconds,” Hoseok says with another half-laugh, and you gladly allow yourself to melt back into his arms.

He sounds slightly hoarse, you notice, probably from talking all night. You think for easily the millionth time that you have no idea how he does it, but this moment of softness makes you wonder if being the life of the party is a little more difficult than he lets on.

Hoseok hums a little, and the feeling rumbles through your chest, buzzing all the way down to your fingertips like an electric current. When he finally releases you, it’s with a soft sigh, something that almost sounds like reluctance. Your heart backflips at the thought.

The lights flash waves of rainbow color over his face, each one painting his perfect features with a slightly different energy: pink, blue, orange, green. You momentarily forget how to talk, but Hoseok doesn’t miss a beat.

“Are you having fun?”

You nod as decisively as you can. “I’m just awkward, but that’s not your party’s fault.” He giggles, gaze flitting nervously around the room, as you continue. “Seriously, it’s a great party. And I’m not just saying that because you have free booze.”

“Did you want more?” He asks quickly, then seems to think better of it. “Or, well, how much have you had? Do you need water?”

You smile a little despite yourself. “I’m fine, Hobi, thank you. You have better things to do tonight than look after me because I nursed a single glass of champagne. And besides, Jimin already tried to mother hen me earlier.”

A look of serious anguish crosses Hoseok’s face, and he glances back over his shoulder, but Jimin has evaporated into the crowd of beautiful people. “God, I specifically told him to leave you alone.”

You shrug. “It’s not a big deal. He was sweet.”

Hoseok’s gaze lands back on you, and it feels like your chest lights up from the inside out. You almost can’t look directly at him– it’s not unlike staring into the sun. You blink up at him once, twice, more than dazed, and then he laughs again, nose scrunching slightly as if to cringe at himself.

“Agh, I feel awkward. I don’t know what to say.”

You’re smiling, too. “That’s okay,” you say, because it is. You’re perfectly content to just stand here with him, unconcerned with the chaos of the party around you.

“I’m really glad you’re here.”

“Me too.”

“And– well, I guess you’ve never been here before, right? Can I give you a tour? I can take you downstairs and show you my studio.”

Your cheeks start to burn from all the questions, from how fixed his gaze is on you. It’s overwhelming. “Hobi, this is literally your party. You should stay here. I was doing fine holding up the wall over there.”

“Come on, I really want to. Please?” He leans in towards you slightly, glancing around as if to make sure he’s not being overheard. When he speaks into your ear, his voice drops to a lower register for privacy, and you can’t ignore the chills that dot up your spine. “I can’t talk to one more person that isn’t you right now.”

You nod, every nerve ending in your body now hyper-aware of how very close he is to you. “If you’re sure. I’d like that.”

“Thank you,” he says softly, and you breathe a soft giggle at how ridiculous it is that he’s the one thanking you at this moment. Before you even realize what he’s doing, his hand finds your hand, delicate fingers intertwining with yours. The skin of his palm is soft and warm. “Let’s go.” He chases the words with a gentle squeeze.

Hoseok leads you into the elevator and presses the button for a lower floor. You’re a little surprised when he slumps back against the wall with a heavy sigh as the doors close, still holding your hand.

“Oh, I’m tired.” He says quietly, almost like he’s talking to himself rather than to you. “It just hit me now. That was a lot.”

You squeeze his hand back, and his eyes flutter open to look at you. You press yourself up against the wall next to him. “You sound like me after any social event. And here I was thinking all night that you made it look so easy.”

Hoseok smiles. “I’m good at faking it. But I always collapse after stuff like this.” His eyes drift away from you and he stares into the empty space in front of him, his expression darkening slightly. “I just really hope they liked it. It’s so hard to tell what people think, or who’s only bullshitting you when they tell you it’s good. I’d rather they be honest with me.”

“Well, if it means anything, I loved it.” You say softly, your eyes searching his face. “And I’m not a bullshitter.”

Hoseok blinks, then nods once, his eyes not meeting yours. “You’re not. I appreciate that.”

The chime of the elevator seems to snap him somewhat out of his headspace, and he tugs on your joined hands to pull you through the doors as they slide open. “It’s just at the end of the hall.”

There’s something about Hoseok that comforts you all the way to your core, laps gently at the edges of your shyness until it recedes a bit. He just makes you feel like you can say anything without fear of judgment. Conversation comes easier with him, like this.

“How do you feel about it?”

“The album?” He asks.

You shrug. “Everything.”

“I’m very nervous,” Hoseok answers immediately with a bright peal of laughter, squeezing your hand again for emphasis. “I’m working really hard but… it all feels like uncharted territory. It’s so different to do it alone.”

His eyes jump from studio door to studio door as he leads you down the hallway. “I don’t know if people are going to like this side of me or the things I have to say. I don’t know if anyone will still care now that it’s just me. And ugh, I’m so unsure about the music festival. I’ve never done a whole show on my own before. I practice so much every day and I still don’t know if I can do it. Or if it will be any good.”

When he stops you outside of the final door at the end of the hallway, he seems to remember himself. “Wow, look at me. You were probably only being polite and I threw so much at you. This is just what goes around in my head. Every day and every night.”

“You sound stressed,” you say softly.

Hoseok purses his lips for a second. “I guess. I just really want to do well. I don’t want to disappoint anyone. I would– what?”

It isn’t until he asks the question, regarding you with a confused expression, that you realize you’re shaking your head. The smile that has crept across your face is a mixture of disbelief and appreciation.

“I’m sorry,” you’re practically laughing. “Please, keep going.”

“No, no, what is that face?”

You chew on the corner of your lip, trying to figure out the best way to word it. “I just… I don’t want to dismiss your concerns, because I absolutely understand all of them. And I would be shitting a brick, no question. But you…” Hoseok’s eyes widen a little as you pause, drinking him in, the way concern tugs down the corners of his mouth. “You just have no idea. No idea what it’s like to watch you from out here. And I wish you could see yourself the way I do.”

He pauses as if to consider your words. “What do you see?”

You don’t even have to think about the answer. It feels as steady and honest as the beat of your heart behind your ribs. “I see a fucking star. I see somebody who was born to do exactly what he’s doing. And, I mean, I think being nervous is a good thing, and I don’t say this to try and invalidate how you’re feeling at all. But I don’t see any possible future where you don’t succeed, Hoseok. It’s just... not an option. You’re going to get up there and kill it, I know you are. Because it’s you.”

Hoseok’s hand slips out of yours, and you can feel the warmth of his palms as he presses them to your waist to pull you close. Anticipation sparks through you. His eyes search yours intently, like he’s looking for something. “You really feel that way?”

“Completely. There’s no doubt in my mind.” Your gaze drops to his mouth, the way his full lips are parted slightly, and it occurs to you that maybe you’re talking about more than one thing now. “It feels predestined, to me… I don’t know. Inevitable.”

Hoseok makes a soft noise as he continues to close the distance between you. “Inevitable?” You tilt your chin up towards him, every cell in your body humming. “Like this?”

The way he kisses you is so gentle and sweet, you swear your heart leaps into your throat. You allow a second, maybe two, to move your mouth against his and get lost in it, and then you force yourself to break away, your mind reeling.

“I’m sorry,” he says automatically. “I’ve been wanting to do that all night.”

“Hoseok,” you murmur, eyes squeezing shut as you attempt to navigate the discomfort of being vulnerable. “I– you should know that I really, really like you.”

“Really?”

The shock in his voice makes your eyes snap open again, and you can’t help but make a face of utter disbelief. “I thought it was obvious.”

“Looks like I’m not the only one who doesn’t realize how other people see me. You’re actually very hard to read.” Hoseok slips one hand off of your waist to push down on the door handle behind you, then gestures for you to step through. He keeps talking as he follows in after you, letting the door shut behind him. “I second-guess myself all the time with you. Jimin is so fucking tired of hearing about it.”

“Wow,” you say dumbly. “I had no idea.”

“You didn’t even text me back about tonight! I had no idea if you were coming.”

You start to laugh as the realization washes over you: you’d been so busy sighing forlornly and stressing about what to wear, you’d forgotten to actually reply to his messages.

“Okay, this time was actually an accident. But…” You sweep your gaze over his studio, trying to think. “I don’t know, I just always feel like I’m bothering you. Your life is so big and important. Even now: you should be upstairs being the star of your own party. Not down here with me.”

Hoseok shakes his head immediately. “I don’t want to talk to anyone up there the way I want to talk to you. I was such a wreck today when you didn’t answer.”

You can’t believe what he’s saying, even as he takes a step in towards you, his mouth invitingly close to yours again. “Why? I am quite literally the least important person on the guestlist.”

“Because,” Hoseok pauses for a second, then sighs. “I like you, and I was scared that you’d decided not to come, when I…” He’s practically grinning, and the tell of his scrunched up nose makes you realize– he’s embarrassed. “I threw this whole party just to have an excuse to see you.”

Your jaw drops open. “You what?”

“Please don’t make me say it again.”

“Hobi.” You both start to laugh as you stare in disbelief, trying to process the most ridiculous statement you’ve ever heard in your life. “You could have just called me.”

“I tend to overthink these things.”

He’s close enough that you barely have to move to slide your hands up his chest and grip the lapels of his white button-down.

“I think I can help with that,” you murmur, and then you tug him back down into a kiss that makes your head spin.

The sweet nervousness of your first kiss has been replaced with urgency now, Hoseok’s mouth moving over yours like he’s hungry for it. You tug gently on your fistfuls of his shirt to move him towards you, stumbling backwards until you find purchase against the door of the studio.

Hoseok moves skillfully, tongue licking into your mouth while one of his strong thighs shifts to tease your legs apart and press between them. The quick succession of the two is enough to make your breath hitch, and it seems to encourage him more. The rough denim of his jeans grinds into your center, and your already-short dress has ridden up enough that the pressure drags hot sparks right over your core.

Your jaw goes slack as your focus slips, and you tip your head back against the door with a soft whine, circling your hips for more friction. “Fuck, Hoseok.”

His lips drop down to the exposed skin of your neck. The warmth of his mouth has your back arching, your nipples rubbed into stiff peaks under the thin fabric you couldn’t wear a bra with.

“You look so fucking good tonight,” Hoseok groans. “Driving me crazy in this little dress.”

There’s the soft brush of a hand on your thigh, and he teases the hem of your dress up higher and higher as your hips keep moving; his tongue darts out to lick a languid stripe over your collarbone. His other hand slides up from your waist to cup your breast over satin, deftly rolling the bud of your nipple between his long fingers, pinching with just enough pressure to coax a moan out of you.

“I like the sounds you make. Don’t want you to be shy with me.” Hoseok murmurs over your skin before he starts to suck deliberately at your neck, right on your pulse point. You couldn’t stifle the sound his mouth pulls from you even if you wanted to.

With all your attention drawn to grinding your clit against his leg and the warmth of his palm cupping your breast, your grip on the fabric of his shirt has loosened. Moving in a haze of pleasure, your hands fumble at his denim jacket, attempting to push it down his shoulders. Hoseok pulls back slightly when he realizes what you’re doing, though his fingers still lazily squeeze at your nipple.

“Let me just– hang on–” Hoseok untangles himself from you entirely with a sheepish grin, and you take the moment to collect yourself, your chest heaving in shallow breaths. You can feel the way your panties are soaked through as you press your thighs together, desperate for continued friction.

He’s moving quickly as he slips out of his oversized jacket and button down beneath it. You can clearly see the wheels in his head turning as he lays the pieces over the back of his desk chair, then immediately scrunches his face up as if to think better of it.

“Agh, sorry, sorry, one second–” Hoseok shakes out the jacket, then the shirt, folding both in quick yet precise succession before stacking the neat rectangles together and gently setting them on the small couch next to his desk.

Even in the dim studio lighting you can see his face is flushed pink with embarrassment as he returns to press you back against the door.

“I just– I don’t want wrinkles,” he says softly, and you’re very grateful that you no longer have to suppress the urge to take his face in your hands and kiss him.

“I like you so much,” you giggle into his mouth, and it’s punctuated with a squeak when his hands slide down to firmly grab your ass. The fabric of your dress is so thin that it hardly feels like it’s there at all.

Hoseok must have the same thought, because he releases his grip only for as long as it takes to push the skirt of your dress up over your ass; now there’s nothing separating his fingers from your skin when he squeezes you again.

“Like you,” he agrees, his voice husky. “Want to taste you.” Your core aches for his touch, clenches around nothing when he releases his grip and cracks a hand over the soft flesh of your asscheek.

“Please, Hobi.”

You find his mouth with yours again for a needy taste of a kiss, tongues sliding together. Your arms wrap around his shoulders in an attempt to pull him impossibly closer.

In one swift move he presses you flush against the door, and his hands slip to hitch your legs over his waist before moving back to your ass, hoisting your hips up to properly straddle him. You whimper at the grind of his erection through his jeans, right over your rubbed-sensitive center, and at the thought that he could fuck you just like this, up against this door.

Hoseok’s mouth doesn’t leave yours as he turns and carries you the short distance across the room, hands sliding to your hips so he can set you down on the desk. His lips are full and kiss-bitten red when he pulls back to look at you, pupils blown dark with lust.

“Sure this is okay?”

You meet his gaze, reaching up to dust strands of hair out of his eyes. His mouth chases the heel of your hand so he can press those soft lips into the center of your palm, chaste and sweet. 

“It’s so much more than okay,” you murmur.

He’s smiling as he leans forward for another kiss, only pulling back to press his forehead to yours once you’re both breathless. “I have wanted to do this for so fucking long. You have no idea.”

His hands hook under the backs of your thighs to scoot you gently forward until you’re perched at the very edge of his desk, and then he sinks to his knees. Your legs that were slipped around his waist find new purchase thrown over his shoulders and you tense a little when your high heels scrape over his back.

“I can take these off,” you start, but he’s already shaking his head as his palms encourage your thighs apart.

“I like it.”

You’re nearly gasping for breath with anticipation as his long fingers slip under the band of your panties and you lift your hips up so he can pull them down. You manage to extract one leg to drape back over his shoulders, leaving the lacy fabric to dangle off the other as you open up for him.

Hoseok’s thumbs press to either side of your pussy, gently spreading your lips apart to admire how soaked you already are. Anyone else examining you like this would have you squirming away self-consciously, but there’s just something about Hoseok that’s different. You want him to know every part of you fully, intimately.

“God, you are so gorgeous.” His breath is hot over your skin, makes your cunt tighten needily as if to beckon him closer.

You lean back to brace your forearms on the desk behind you and Hoseok’s gaze jumps up to meet yours. He doesn’t drop eye contact as he leans forward to press an open-mouthed kiss to your slit, both of you groaning at the contact.

His mouth moves just as it did against yours, and you let your eyes flutter closed as pleasure sears through you like a hot knife. Hoseok grunts a little, low in his throat when he adds tongue to his kisses, licking softly but deliberately to part your slick folds.

“Hobi,” you whine, rolling your hips up into him as he starts to apply more pressure with his tongue. “Fuck, ah, feels so good.”

Hoseok pulls off of you with a throaty gasp, like maybe he was so focused on eating you out that he didn’t quite remember to keep breathing. When you look down at him, his lips are wet and glossy, spread in a wide smile. “You taste so fucking good.”

You don’t even have time to ask for more before he’s hooking his biceps around your thighs and tugging your hips towards him, pulling you even closer to bury his face between your legs. This time he licks a stripe straight up to your swollen clit, pulling the bud into his mouth to suck on.

“Oh my god,” you gasp, digging your nails into the desk beneath you as sparks shoot through you and your clit twitches in his mouth.

Hoseok hums steadily around you, as if to once again encourage you to be vocal. He starts to nod his head as he sucks, his nose pressed flush against your pubic bone. Your hips fall in time with his rhythm, grinding back down on him.

“Yes, yes, yes,” you whimper. “Shit, Hobi.” Your voice catches on a dazed, disbelieving laugh. “You’re gonna make me come if you keep doing that.”

He doesn’t let up, squeezing his grip on your thighs that much tighter when you start to quiver beneath him. Your arousal coils tight and hot in your core as he works more not-so-shy noises out of you, breathy moans, needy whines.

You cling desperately to the edge of his desk, teetering equally on the edge of your own release. The wet slick wash of his tongue is lush, decadent, lapping at your clit between pulses of suction, and it’s all too fucking much.

“Yes, Hoseok, fuck!”

You cry out, your heels digging into the hard plane of Hoseok’s back as he works an intense, shuddering orgasm out of you. Your cunt throbs over and over as you come, a rush of arousal painting the crux of your thighs.

When you catch your breath it’s in uneven, shaky gasps, and the movement of your hips sharpens into jolts as you become hypersensitive to Hoseok’s mouth. He releases you almost reluctantly, still hovering close, continuing to dart his tongue out to gently lick up your folds.

“I don’t want to stop,” he says with a shy, blossoming laugh, the light catching the shine of his lips and chin when he glances up at you.

You’re dazed, beyond blissed out, unable to believe that any of this is real. You like him so much.

“Can I keep going?”

Just that sentence is enough to make you tighten all over again with anticipation. “I–” you laugh a little too despite yourself. “I want that. But I think my clit needs a second.”

Hoseok’s touch is featherlight as he circles a digit lower, over your entrance, as if to ask permission. “What about here?” Your pussy lips twitch even under so gentle a touch, but you ache for more; you like that it’s overwhelming.

“Yeah, yes. There, please, fuck,” you babble. He’s added a second finger to tease now, and you whimper when they finally press together into your sensitive cunt.

Hoseok is watching his fingers intently, and you can hear the way your pussy squelches as he pumps them slowly, can feel the tremors of your orgasm still shuddering through you, causing slick to drip from your center. You can only imagine what his view must be like, how you must look: dripping, needy, trembling for him, fingers gripping the desk and head lolling back.

“So pretty,” he murmurs, his voice low and soft, and then he dips his head down to lap below your entrance, tasting the juices that have leaked out of you. He pulls back to smack his other hand over your whole cunt, light enough that you barely feel the tap, but just the visual of it makes you squirm beneath him.

“So cute,” he smiles. His fingers rub circles into your front wall, becoming more insistent, and you breathe in shaky waves as you start to grip tightly around him.

“Hoseok,” you breathe, letting your eyes drop closed. Arousal blossoms through you like a heavy weight, your second climax already building, when you feel his other hand cup the join of your ass and thigh.

A soft whimper spills out of you as Hoseok starts to massage below your entrance, thumb working at a new bundle of nerves, like nothing you’ve ever felt. It’s pleasure that makes you hot all over, makes the muscles in your legs shiver and tense when it’s paired with the crook of his fingers still working your pussy.

“Fuck,” you pant, “Hobi, what are– that feels so–” You’re starting to lose a grip on your words, sentences going incoherent as your head spins. It’s hard to think over all the sensation, the way your body is lit up like a live wire, and the sound of your cunt gushing around him as he fucks into your g-spot.

“Has anyone touched you here before?” He asks softly, thumb tapping at the thin bridge of skin between your pussy and your ass. His head dips down for a chaste kiss there, then a second, adding a languid lap of tongue.

“N-no,” you whimper, toes curling in your shoes as he continues to drag his tongue over this delicate, sensitive place. “Keep going.”

Hoseok pulls back, a string of saliva still connecting him to you, and he lets it loose with a swipe of his hand over his mouth. His fingers slip out of you as he pairs a question with a smile. “Turn over for me?”

Your legs would be shaking even if you weren’t in fancy party heels, and you do your best to be graceful as you unsteadily spin, one arm keeping the fabric of your dress hiked up over your hips.

“Brace yourself on the desk,” Hoseok instructs, and you do, leaning forward until your stomach and forearms are flush with the wood, your bare ass hanging off the desk, presented for him. You spread your legs apart again and can feel the way your pussy drools arousal down your thighs. “That’s it,” he coaxes.

His fingers massage firmly into the flesh of your asscheeks, and your back arches up as you groan at the feeling. He spreads you just a little, enough for cool air to tease at your slick center; your hips wiggle towards him on instinct.

“Pretty back here, too,” he murmurs. “Tell me how it feels, okay? Won’t do it if you don’t like it.”

You clench for him in both places, even your fists grip tight in the fabric of your dress. “I’ll like it. Please, baby.”

“Baby,” Hoseok repeats back with a shy exhale. “I like that. I like you.” He leaves a sweet kiss pressed halfway up your thigh.

“Hobi–” you choke out a whine of his name as his breath ghosts over you, hands still firmly keeping you spread. His tongue returns to your perineum again, licking a hot, slow stripe that keeps moving up, up, until you feel the tease of warmth and wetness over your ass. “Oh, fuck.”

You’re so sensitive here, just the lightest drag of his tongue over your rim makes you moan, feet kicking listlessly as pleasure shudders through you.

“It’s good–” you manage to whimper, voice muffled slightly as your forehead drops against the desk, too, your whole body pinned down by his mouth. “–ngh, really good, Hobi.” Your cunt throbs when he does it again, as he falls into a consistent pace of long, steady laps that set off fireworks behind your eyes.

The ache in your core begs for touch, friction, and you oblige needily, tucking a hand under the weight of your hips pressed into the desk, a sweat-slicked palm for your mouth-wet clit.

Hoseok doesn’t miss a thing. It’s only for a second that he pulls off of you, but you whine at the loss of his tongue, sated slightly by the gentle brush of his lips over the small of your back. “Gonna get yourself off while I eat you out?”

You grind a circle down with your hips, hissing at the white-hot pulse against your hand. “Yes, baby, please.”

He doesn’t need any more encouragement to dive back in, fingers gripping harder to spread you and tongue licking deliberately, tracing patterns that work more arousal out of your pussy. You’re unraveling fast from humping against your palm, hips jolting forward to make your clit twitch and backwards to press towards Hoseok’s mouth.

You’re already wound so tight that you’re too desperate for words, reduced instead to little breathless gasps– “ah, ahh”– as you speed up the rub of your hand, your hips. Hoseok’s tongue never falters, firm pressure laved over and over your sensitive, flexing ass.

With a soft hum of effort, you feel him press a little harder, tongue barely dipping in past your tight ring of muscle, and the sweet stretch of it is the final push you need.

You roll your clit just right over your palm a final time and then you’re shaking and moaning as everything starts to pulse. The all-over clench pushes a fresh wave of fluid from your cunt, rolling down the backs of your thighs, fat droplets of arousal that Hoseok chases with sloppy kisses as the waves of your orgasm shudder through you.

It takes a moment before you can say anything, do anything, limbs too heavy and brain too fucked-out dumb. You do your best to slide gracefully off the desk, but your legs shake with aftershocks that betray you, and you stumble.

Hoseok is quick to wrap his arms around you and guide your hips down to the floor next to him. You collapse in a heap of giggles, him tangled over your waist, the skirt of your dress still pushed up, your bare ass on his studio carpet.

“Are you okay?” Hoseok laughs, and you bury your face in the fabric of his tank top as an answer, not convinced your coherency has returned to you yet.

“Too good,” you murmur, words slurring. “Fucked me too good.”

“You’re so hot.” You can tell he’s blushing just by the tone of his voice, and you start to come to a little, slow-blinking back to reality and rolling over to look up at him. His dark eyes shine as he smiles. You don’t want to come all the way down from this dazed, happy place yet, you realize, and you curl a finger into the loop of his jeans, tugging him closer.

“My turn.” Your hands start to fumble to undo his belt buckle. His jeans are oversized, but not enough to obscure the print of his hard cock pressed against his thigh.

“Let me take you home,” he says softly, running a fingertip along your jaw. “This should be– I want you to be comfortable. I want it to feel good.”

“It all feels good,” you say earnestly, sitting up to tug at the button of his jeans, undeterred. “And you can take me home. But you’ve been so good to me, Hobi.” You manage to work his fly open, and you lift your gaze to meet him. “Let me be good to you.”

You resume your work, wriggling Hoseok’s jeans down his thighs until his hands cover yours and he takes over, stripping himself of his shoes as well. He reaches back between his shoulder blades to pull his tank top over his head, and your eyes sweep over his body, taking in his lithe figure and smooth, hard muscles. You trail the tips of your fingers down the defined lines of his chest.

“Fuck,” Hoseok starts to smile self-consciously, one hand drifting over his dick straining against tight black briefs with a slightly darker spot in the center where he’s left a kiss of precum on the fabric. “I don’t have any condoms here.”

You sit up on your knees in front of him, considering this. “Use my mouth.” The high of your orgasm has subsided enough now that you’re not quite shameless anymore, and heat blooms in your face as you continue. “Like, fuck my throat.”

He tries and fails to suppress a groan, and his delicate hands reach to cup either side of your face, thumbs rubbing circles into the hinge of your jaw. “You–” he laughs softly. “You can’t just say things like that.”

“I mean it,” you say simply.

“But you really want to?”

You nod, half play-acting your shyness now, letting your lashes flutter as you blink up at him. “I’ve done it before. I like it.”

“Fuck,” Hoseok breathes. “I want to do everything you like.”

“Please?” You ask sweetly, and Hoseok is already getting to his feet, one hand still cupping your jaw.

“Pretty,” he murmurs, tongue darting out to wet his lips. “So pretty when you beg to suck my cock.” You’re smiling, your fingers slipping under his waistband to slide his briefs down his legs.

“Take your dress off, baby,” Hoseok instructs as he steps back to finish pulling off his underwear. “Don’t wanna ruin it.”

You do as you’re told, staying on your knees to pull it over your head, your heart squeezing again when he takes it from you and treats it as gently as his own clothes. It’s oddly domestic to watch him fold the smooth fabric with shaking hands, naked except for his jewelry, his hard dick leaking against his stomach.

When he turns back to you, you take the opportunity to properly admire him. His cock is as flushed and gorgeous as the rest of him, thick and dripping wet from his tip. You duck down to press a kiss to the sensitive spot under his head, then slide your lips up to gloss over his slit, slicking your mouth with his precum.

You look up at him, hands gripping the backs of his thighs; Hoseok’s eyelids are heavy with lust as he watches you work, tongue toying at the corner of his mouth. He groans a little as you pop just the head into your mouth and swirl your tongue over it, tasting the salt of him.

His hand slides to the back of your head, tangling in the hair at the nape of your neck, and his adam’s apple jerks in his throat as he swallows.

“Tap my foot if you need to stop.” Hoseok’s voice is quiet but firm, and his socked toes wiggle, brushing against your knee pressed into the carpet. “Okay?”

You hum your acknowledgement and maintain eye contact as he holds you still and slides his cock into your mouth. He starts off at a gentle pace, and you hollow your cheeks around him, pressing your tongue flat so it drags over his shaft as he starts to pump in and out of you.

As much as you want him in control, there’s a part of you that can’t help yourself– you lean forward, eyes fluttering closed, wanting to prove to him how much you can take. The head of his cock starts to stretch down your throat and you focus on breathing steady through your nose, your muscles jumping around him in a half-swallow.

“Fuck,” Hoseok groans, his voice dark and rough-edged. You can feel drool starting to leak out of your mouth, and the mess just makes it better. “You take it so well.”

His hips keep rolling, withdrawing his cock into the heat of your mouth only to push it back down the tight clutch of your throat. It gets easier as he starts to move faster, the weight of him pressing bright on your gag reflex in shorter and shorter bursts. It’s just enough to make tears well up in your eyes. They eventually spill over, staining your cheeks until your face is slick and wet, like the sounds of him hitting the back of your throat, all of it obscene and hot.

The hand in your hair tightens as he pulls you all the way down on his shaft until your nose is flush with his abdomen and your throat bulges, filled with him. He holds you there, eyes roaming hungrily over your face.

“You look so sweet with my cock down your throat, baby.”

The hum of agreement you try makes you gag a little, and he quickly releases, pulling out to let you gasp for air. Your tongue lolls out of your mouth as you smile up at him, dazed, and catch your breath.

“Was that too much?” His brows pinch together slightly with concern. You wipe a hand over your nose and shake your head.

“I want more, Hobi,” you purr, moving your face back towards his dick. You lean forward to lazily drag your tongue up his shaft for emphasis. “Want you to come on my face,” you admit as you fix your gaze on him.

You swear you feel his knees almost buckle when you take him in your mouth again.

“You are so fucking sexy,” Hoseok practically growls, hand returning to the nape of your neck. He pushes himself back down your throat and starts to pick up the pace. You want him all and take it easily now, drool slicking your neck and chest when you swallow around his length.

“Oh my god,” he gasps, and you can feel his cock twitch on your tongue as he fucks roughly into your mouth, chasing his orgasm. “Oh my god.”

Hoseok’s grip on your hair goes slack and he pulls out, hand pumping fast over his drool-glossed cock. He tips his head back, exposing the column of his throat with a heady whine when he starts to come. You’re up on your knees and ready for it, nose bumping his fist, face presented for him to paint. Warm spurts of cum hit your cheeks, tongue, lips, and you giggle a little as you try to hold still, as he makes another throaty grunt of effort and release.

“Shit,” he hisses as the movements of his hand slow, as he works out the last of it, stray drips already trailing down your neck, between the valley of your breasts. “Fuuuck.” His breathing is ragged, and you press a wet kiss to the tip of his dick as he recovers.

He’s clearly already focused on the mess he’s made of you, spinning in a dazed semi-circle before reaching to grab a box of tissues off of the desk. His bare knees thud on the carpet as he sinks down next to you.

You’re surprised when he leans in to kiss you, humming softly against your mouth, tongue even darting out to lick at the cum that drips off your lips. You smile into it, teeth gently grazing over his bottom lip.

“Hi,” he huffs a laugh as he leans back. “Was that okay? Not too much?”

You shake your head. “I liked it,” you say again, though your voice comes out a little hoarse. “Wouldn’t have asked for it if I didn’t. I like you. I–” your breath hitches slightly with nerves, and it’s funny to you, that it’s easy to ask him to fuck your throat, but hard to talk about the bigger feelings underneath. It’s more intimate, somehow, to be earnest. “You always worry so much about everyone else. I just want to take care of you.”

“You can.” Hoseok’s voice is gentle and warm. “We both can.” He pulls a tissue loose from the box, hovering close to you. “Let me clean you up.”

You’re too blissed out to stop yourself from giggling. “You have a whole party to get back to.” You nod dumbly at the verity of your own statement as he uses tissues to wipe cum and drool off your face, tear stains and smudged makeup from your cheeks.

“This,” he swipes a thumb down over your bottom lip, chases it with another quick kiss, “was so much better than a fucking party.” He adds the last of the dampened tissues to the small pile he’s made on the floor, tilting your jaw with his hand to inspect his work, to ensure perfection as he does with everything. “But I probably don’t have much longer before people start looking for me.”

“You should go,” you say quietly, trying to ignore the drop in your stomach.

His hand slips into yours for the second time tonight. “Will you come with me? I know it’s not really your thing.”

You falter momentarily– not because you don’t want to, but you can’t shake your own self-consciousness, this sense that you don’t belong here, rubbing elbows with all these famous people. But it’s hard to feel like any of that matters with the way Hoseok is looking at you, the soft turn of his lips in a barely-there smile.

“Are you sure?”

“Very.” He gives your hand an affirming squeeze. “Do I need to remind you that this entire party is literally for you?”

You shake your head, rolling your eyes at his antics despite the laugh that bubbles up in your throat. “I still can’t believe you. What is this, The Great Gatsby?”

His laugh is high and sweet, hand untangling from yours to wrap both arms around your waist, and he pulls you into his chest, bare skin on bare skin, hearts beating together. “Is that a yes?”

“Yes, Hobi,” you relent. “I’ll go back with you. Besides, Jimin promised to feed me.”

You can feel Hoseok’s smile as he presses a kiss to your temple. “Come on, then. I promise it’ll be fun. If we get Jungkook drunk enough he’ll probably start dancing on the stage.”

“Now that I have to see.”

All I Want For Christmas is You

Pairing: Kim Taehyung x Female Reader

Summary: When Park Jimin is unable to escort his precious sister through the gauntlet of corporate holiday galas, he blackmails his best friend Taehyung into being her chaperone. After all, who better to safeguard his headstrong sibling than a man who would never want her for himself? (She and Tae have spent the better part of a decade mutually disliking each other, and that’s putting it mildly.) Yet, even the best laid plans may go awry at Christmas and Kim Taehyung is about to discover that the girl he never wanted has become a temptation he cannot resist…

Genre: Comedy • Fluff  • Smut

Tropes: Brother’s Best Friend (Reader is Jimin’s Sister) • Enemies-to-Lovers

Collab: This work is part of the Rockin’ Around the Christmas Tropes Collab featuring original holiday themed works by @ppersonna • @xjoonchildx  • @underthejoon • @yeojaa​ • @untaemedqueen • and @snackhobi

Word Count: 17K (I know—I am shocked too honestly)

Rating: Explicit (18+)

Warnings: suggestive photographs • mention of accidentally being hit with a baseball • hints of jealousy and possessiveness • light tit slapping • explicit sexual content • m/f oral sex • consensual unprotected sex (shield it before you yield it y’all) • Viola’s mirror kink makes yet another appearance •

Acknowledgements:

To @ppersonna​ (Lindy) @underthejoon​ (Fal) and @xjoonchildx​ (Ana) you guys are my heart. Your support, willingness to read (and re-read) and give honest feedback made this fic special. Your friendship is my daily dose of awesome. Truly, I love you.

To @untaemedqueen​ (D) all of the above applies to you, but I owe you a little something extra for the LITERAL HOURS you spent in the doc with me. This fic would not be here without you. You kept me moving. You inspired me. You were amazing. Thank you so very much. This story is lovingly dedicated to you. 

To @hobi-gif​ for being the most thorough and incredible beta reader and for having all the important girl chats with me. I think you learned more about my past than you wanted… Either way you made this story better and I am profoundly grateful for the hours of time you spent. I have removed all the Hope-No-No words in your honor. 

To @lemonjoonah​ as always, you knew EXACTLY what I needed to tweak to make this story work. (Gotta pass that Lemon Litmus Test or no dice lol.) My lovely soul twin. You’re a bloomin’ rockstar. 

Please Picture This Taehyung:

“No.”

“Yes.”

“No. Absolutely not.”

“Yes. Because you absolutely owe me.”

“Then send me a bill, not your unmanageable harpy of a sister.”

Jimin raised a single unimpressed brow. 

“Kim Taehyung. It was exactly five years ago today that I carried your drunken naked ass two miles in the rain after you set your clothes on fire and sprained your ankle at that Beta Phi party.” He paused dramatically. “Do you remember what you said to me that night? After I deleted several pictures off phones and paid off half the party to keep it out of the papers?”

The man in question shifted uncomfortably.

“That incident is a bit hazy in my memory. I’m not sure I recall—”

“Jiminie—you’re the best and I—I owe… you. I owe you the most, Jiminie. I do—I owe you a favor—one BIG favor—anything you ask… Even though… I actually like being naked. I don’t think we need clothes. We should all be naked. Everyone. Then there would be world peace.”

Taehyung’s jaw dropped. 

“You RECORDED IT?!”

Jimin grinned, sliding his phone back into his pocket.

“Naturally. And I had it all ready to go—just in case you needed extra convincing.” He crossed his arms and fixed his best friend of nearly fifteen years with a triumphant smirk. “I’m calling in that favor today, Taehyung. Now are you a man of your word or not?”

“He did WHAT?!”

Your mother winced. 

“Jimin was… uncomfortable leaving you alone for the holiday season. He normally accompanies you to the galas but this year—”

“This year I was going to go alone and finally build my reputation as an asset to this family!”

Park Soomin sighed as she watched her daughter pace fiercely around the living room of their luxury suite. 

“No one doubts that you’re an asset, but… in light of recent events…”

Rage and embarrassment flared up in your chest before you could stop them. 

“This is about Milo… isn’t it?”

The silence that greeted your statement was confirmation enough. 

“Are you ever going to trust me again?” you whispered. 

“Oh sweetheart… it isn’t you we don’t trust…”

Tears burned at the corner of your eyes, but you ruthlessly blinked them back. 

You would play along with their humiliating schemes. 

For now.

“So which one of Jimin’s Ivy League brat pack did he blackmail into babysitting me? 

For the first time in the entirety of the conversation, your mother looked truly nervous. 

“Kim Taehyung.”

You tripped over your own feet and face-planted into the sofa. 

Keep reading

”When you find an unconscious man bearing the mark of the Ravens on his chest washed up on the riverbed, you have to choose between your duties as a healer and your instincts as a woman.”

Pairing: Bandit!Seokjin x Healer!Reader

Genre: Fantasy, s2l!AU, Romance, Smut

Warnings: lots of plot, healing from a traumatic past, wounds & mentions of blood, very mild hatred in the beginning, some bickering which later turns into flirting, so much yearning, virgin!Seokjin, subby!Seokjin, soft dom!Reader, nudity, bondage in some sort, she feeds him while he’s sick :’), he is very eager to learn, he is also such a cutie :(, lots of kissing, neck kisses, praises, breast massage, the goodest boy!Jinnie, handjob, fingering, mutual masturbation, they are very needy for each other

Wordcount: 22.4k

a/n: Seriously, the more stories I write about this universe, the harder I fall in love with it. Each time I create a little thing or a new animal or some type of food, I am filled with so much joy. I love this world so much! Also, Seokjin really did it to me :( he is such a sweet man in this story, I wanna protect him :( I hope you guys enjoy it as much as I enjoyed working on it 💚

~ Go to Index ~

You woke up with a strange feeling in your stomach.

Today was going to be a cursed day for you.

The feeling in your stomach has never lied to you before nor was it ever wrong.

Oh how you hated its accuracy, because as you rolled out of bed and hit your toe on the corner of your bed, you knew that it was once again right.

It continued at breakfast when the fire turned out to be hotter than on other days and burned the last of your eggs and meat. You had to eat the last two pieces of slightly dried up bread and when you looked into your jug, you had to realise in horror that Kukuruz - your cat - had drunk the last of your milk while you were sleeping.

“Kukuruz”, you had hissed at him, but he was slumbering peacefully on the window sill, “oh you cursed animal, may you wake up with a belly ache.”

Your bad luck continued as you hung up your laundry and dropped one of the pieces in the wet mud. Oh how you had cursed, because now you had to go down to the river to wash it again. And the curse didn’t stop, it continued on your way to town when your dress got stuck on some thorns and ripped at the seam.

“Oh how I truly hate this day!” you screamed at the skies, lifting your fist and waving it around.

Even in town your curse followed you like an unwanted shadow. Not only did the egg merchant sell the last eggs right before your eyes, but you had also forgotten your gold at home. You had to come to the painful realisation when you had to give up the most delicious looking piece of smoked meat because you couldn’t pay for it.

So you left the market just as empty handed as you had entered it, feeling less and less happy about ever setting foot outside your bed.

“I should have just stayed in bed”, you murmur, “my stomach was never wrong before, fatuous woman why did you not listen?” you grumble, almost running into low branches hadn’t you dodged them in the last moment.

You laugh in disbelief, gawking at them with big eyes.

“Truly, I must be cursed today”, you say and decide to be extra careful on your remaining way home. It wasn’t long anymore. Just past that glade and through the tunnel of conifer trees and your little cottage would be in arm’s reach.

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HUNTER ‖ JJK

As a hunter, you're hired by powerful people to kill the monsters that lurk in the woods surrounding villages and cities, praying on innocent people. When king Jungkook express an interest in meeting you, you expect the man to beg for your help, but the meeting doesn't go as planned.

⤑ word count:  9k ⤑ rating and genre: 18+, smut, fantasy!au, medieval!au ⤑ pairing:  jungkook x fem!reader ⤑ posting date: Thursday, August 11 ⤑ warnings: mentions of monsters, death, poverty, societal injustice, poor treatment of women by society, blood; jungkook gets mad and shouts at a certain point; choking (non-sexual); the dynamic is sort of enemies to lovers; smut [fingering, oral (f. receiving), unprotected sex, creampie]; mentions of pregnancy and marriage!! ⤑ masterlist ‖ updates ⤑ banner credit: this gorgeous banner was made by @itaeewon. thank you, jen ♡ ⤑ feedback and reblogs are always appreciated. hope you'll enjoy this oneshot!

you can find the masterlist here and share your feedback with me here, if you want to. if you enjoy reading my stories, please consider supporting me using buymeacoffee. thank you! :)

In this day and age, girls know they can be one of three things when they grow old enough: wives, nuns, or—in rare cases—hunters.

Life is as hard as it is, even though your kingdom, consisting of many villages, is prosperous. The rich are rich and the poor are poor, which is the same even in less fortunate kingdoms. There is law and order, and people follow these traditions.

When you’re a little girl, you’re allowed to play with boys, learn sports, run around and scrape your knees. But, as soon as you turn eight, your life changes. Boys start going to school—real school—where they are taught everything. Girls, on the other hand, take classes on what is expected of them in the future, how to be an adequate daughter and not embarrass your family, etiquette and nice behavior, sewing and knitting, and all the things you absolutely hated as a little girl.

After school, girls can play with boys, even if it’s considered more appropriate for them to spend time with older women, talk to them, and learn from them. You never did that. All your free time was spent with your brother and his peers. You learned from them, heard everything they were taught in school and were able to read from their books and discover the kind of knowledge they were allowed to possess. You envied them terribly all your life.

It was then that you realized you were all taught the same thing—monsters were real and they were a threat. Monsters were beings that could wipe out a village in hours if there were enough of them. When you were a child, they were the only threat to your kingdom, the only thing that didn’t pick and choose who to kill, like hunger did. Every person in the kingdom, no matter how poor, was trained on monsters from an early age.

Because they were big and strong and dangerous, hunters were the only group of people who would voluntarily come in contact with them. The hunters were rewarded generously for their contribution to society, but due to the nature of their business and the fact that they were required to travel, hunters did not marry. 

Most families had both boys and girls. Some boys would marry if the family could afford to bring in the bride and feed her too. Some girls would marry if the family could afford their dowry. In case they couldn’t, the family would send them off to be nuns, to pray in chapels and help priests, to pray for monsters to go away and bring back hope to people. It was free, and most families would send their female children there because they just couldn’t be able to afford them staying on when they turned of age. 

When a daughter knew she wasn’t going to marry—either there was something wrong with her or she didn’t have dowry—she would be able to take a physical test with the boys, if she wanted to. If she proved stronger than the majority of them, she could become a hunter herself. If not, she would become a nun.

It was a terrible choice, and most girls without a dowry picked the nunnery because it was safe. Monsters don’t go inside churches, after all. They usually kill off the poor people on the outskirts of villages and slowly make their way towards the town center. Monsters were known to eradicate towns, so village people were always afraid of them. None of them wanted to volunteer their female children to get killed by monsters during training. A daughter in a nunnery can at least help in some way—a dead daughter couldn’t.

When little girls became women—when they bled for the first time—the decision would be made on their behalf. Young women had no say in it, it was the parents who decided. Parents had a  couple of options, based on how well-off they were. If the family was able to afford the dowry, the girls would get sent to a real school for women, one where they would learn even more about how to be a good wife, how to pleasure the husband, how to cook and clean in case the husband couldn’t afford to keep servants, how to care for children. 

However, some marriages were arranged between poorer families without dowry, though. A family sometimes needed a female touch—the woman of the house had died, and the family could accept a bride without dowry in return for her labor. In other words, families could take on someone without a dowry if they wanted to, which was rarely the case. It was an additional expense to house and feed another person, especially in the villages. 

Your two sisters did have a dowry, so you knew all about the teachings in those wife schools and dreaded the idea of attending it yourself. You couldn’t think of anything more boring than sitting with other girls in school and learning how to speak softly, be a good wife, and never speak your mind. By the time you became a woman, your sisters were already married off. 

Your brother was to continue with the family business, so he was engaged to marry the neighbor’s daughter when she became old enough to marry him. You could still remember the day when you became a woman, when you woke up and felt strange wetness between your thighs, when you pulled the covers off of yourself and saw blood. You knew your fate was sealed forever because you had no dowry and no marriage agreement.

You insisted your parents let you take the test. After all, you’d been practicing for it for years with your brother and his friends. You hoped you’d be good enough to be allowed to go and fight the big bad monsters that threatened everyone’s safety. The other choice simply wasn’t for you. Your parents didn’t think you’d ever qualify to become a hunter, so they gave in, thinking you would fail. In their minds, this was just a little test you’d take, embarrass yourself, and then be forced to go into a nunnery. 

The day you became a woman, your parents went to report it to authorities, explaining that you would be taking the hunter test. The authorities gave you a week’s rest, until the bleeding stopped. The test was difficult and exhausting and your entire body hurt, certain bones aching to touch weeks after it happened. But, most importantly, you passed it and went to train with hunters. Once you passed the test, your parents couldn’t take their permission back or change the course of history.

Now, years later, you realize how rare it is for women to become hunters. During your years as one, you’ve only met a handful of them. There were a lot of male hunters, but sadly, many of them died too. Monsters were unpredictable if they were left out there to mate. One or two weren’t that complicated to kill if you were capable and knowledgeable. But, they were deadly in groups, quick and unpredictable. Many hunters died fighting them, which is making them—you—scarce. 

Not all families wanted to let their children become hunters, either. It was like sending a family member to certain death—maybe not right then, but in a year or two or ten, surely. Poor families who had sons with no prospect of a good future would usually send them to hunter school, hoping to at least benefit from the pay that would come after their children started killing monsters. 

All of that makes you one of the hunters famous for their skills. The longer you survive as a hunter, the more appreciated your expertise is. Because of it, you’ve traveled the world, seen other kingdoms, and fought monsters of all sizes—something a nun or a wife could never even dream of doing. You like it that way. Due to the nature of your calling, important people know about you, which is why you’re shown to the court of Jeon Jungkook, the king of your kingdom. Your king.

The man is impressive, you have to give him that. He’s not as big and tall as kings are always depicted in all the school books—lies told to deceive the masses and make them think the leaders are invincible and extraordinary—but he’s tall enough, broad enough, and handsome enough for you to look twice. You would have looked twice anyway because he is a king, after all, but this way, the sight is actually pleasant, for a change. You’ve had enough of old, perverted kings and their comments about a night with them being your pay for killing a monster that threatened their kingdom. In many cases, you wished you hadn’t killed the monster and that it had eaten the king instead.

The man’s looks are more than impressive—strong eyebrows framing his chiseled face, deep eyes demanding a second look, dark curly hair framing it perfectly. A single glance at the handsome king shows he’s led a good life, a life without many worries, a somewhat easy life. Each role in this world comes with its burdens, and not even powerful men are spared from those, even if theirs are much lighter than some others.

You two look at each other for a moment or two while the other men in the room glance at one and then the other, waiting for one of you to speak. You don’t want to be the one to break the silence. After all, you were invited here on his orders—the man could at least tell you what for, even if you already know he has a monster problem.

You’re sure King Jungkook wants you to solve it for him. You’ve heard about the two or three monsters on the outskirts terrorizing the city. A hunter friend of yours has died trying to kill them. Hunters are hard to get by, so the problem has grown in the meantime, but you are here with one of the younger hunters and you’re certain the two of you will solve the issue—Jungkook just has to offer something in return for you risking your lives. That’s how the transaction usually goes. He offers, hunters accept and go risk their lives, no matter how much they were offered.

The king nods at you when you move from the door, walk into the room, and check him out from head to toe, all without a word. His voice takes you aback—it’s smooth and kind-sounding, even if there is little kindness in the order he spits out, “Leave us alone, thank you.” With that, the four servants and a couple of stuck-up officials leave the room, leaving you and king Jungkook all alone.

The move is a big mistake on his end. Theoretically speaking, someone could have paid you for his head, but the young king clearly doesn’t think regicide is even an option. When they’re young, they never do. Kings think people just love them too much to want to see them gone. Years teach them that their people do not care about kings but about the food in their bellies and those who put it here. Even if he doesn’t know that yet, Jungkook clearly understands how beneficial you could be to him, which is why you were invited. You’re expecting him to offer you the world in exchange for your help.

“You asked to see me?” you ask with a cocked-up eyebrow, looking around the big room he’s seeing you in. Fancy, too fancy for the likes of you, but still, nothing you haven’t seen before. There were even richer kings who needed your help before.

“Yes, that’s right. I did ask to see you so I could talk to you about the inefficiency of your kind,” he says gruffly, giving you a grimace of annoyance. It's the first time a king left you speechless, so it takes you a while to recover. Did he just—? Your kind? What the hell did that mean? Your kind saved his kind’s asses many times before, risking their lives in the process.

“Excuse me?” You’re just too stunned to react in the way a hunter usually would. You don’t have to be there, you don’t have to help if you don’t want to. You’re trained to, you feel obligated to, it’s your destiny because you weren’t chosen to be a wife and didn’t want to be a nun, but pretty boy can’t make you fight for him—no one can.

“Listen, I am the King. I paid your kind for your services and was promised you’d solve the monster issue months ago,” he sneers at you, nose flaring as the young king speaks to you like you’re nothing, banging the tip of his pointer finger against the desk to show how angry he is. Every couple of words, the digit presses into the wood harshly, making you look down. “So tell me why our death toll is at seventy people as of two days ago! Seventy! Why have hunters died instead of killing the monsters? Why did I give you gold that will last a lifetime in return for nothing?”

The pretty man’s face changed from sweet to angry, but that doesn’t move you at all. What does is the tone he is using with you, the way he’s talking to you—no man has talked to you that way since you became a hunter. They simply didn’t dare. The people know a hunter’s training is tough. Those who survive as hunters are even tougher. After all, you were trained to kill creatures far stronger than people, so why would a measly little man think he could shout at you? In this case, he’s a king with an inflated sense of self, but still… Not a very wise move from one Jeon Jungkook, especially not when you’re all alone in a room together.

You want to ask who exactly he paid. He can’t be mad at you for not killing this monster when you just arrived there, not even making a deal with the man. “Have you pa—”

“I am not done speaking!” he shouts, banging his fist against the desk, making you stop in place and look at him. Then, Jungkook starts walking up and down the room nervously, his arms flailing around as he continues, “I am the King! I paid fairly and generously because the safety of my people—of your people—is of the utmost importance to me. There is no price to human life! I know that and I’ve invited the best of the best to deal with the issue, and yet nothing was done. Not a single thing. Hunters used to be able to kill groups of twelve monsters, and now you can’t fight off a smaller group? Clearly, something has gone wrong in the training you’ve received because this is outrageous.”

You know the king doesn’t give a rat’s ass about the people—they’re expendable goods, these poor people who pay taxes and make his family rich. No poor people means no taxes, which means the Jeon dynasty would become poor themselves, and that’s why this handsome-when-angry king is furious. The way he’s moving about gives off his nervousness. Is he afraid of the people’s reaction to his inefficiency, his failure to protect them?

Since you’re still speechless, the man continues, “What else do I have to do? I have paid you people more than fairly. I can’t give you the entire kingdom, can I?”

“With all due respect, you haven’t paid me a cent. You’ve paid colleagues of mine for their work. If a hunter has died while on a mission, they surely didn’t do it to cheat the likes of you out of money, king,” you spit the words at him, furious at all the implications. You say it with such sass you’re worried he might do something to you. 

But, then again, hunters are above the law in most cases, save for causing bodily harm of any kind to other humans who haven’t attacked them first. Anything else, they can get away with in return for keeping nations safe. “We have lost many people through the years, and it was never because of a lack of trying or training—it was because these monsters get stronger the more lives they take. So, the monsters on the outskirts of our,” you stress the word, reminding the king that this is your hometown, “city have probably eaten hundreds of people before even stumbling upon the city. That’s why good hunters died fighting them.”

Your tone is brass and harsh, and you’re positive no one in his life has spoken to the young king that way. Before he was a king, he was a prince, and no one talks to princes that way, either. Shock is written all over Jungkook’s face from the second you start speaking—he stops in place, lets his mouth hang open, and his eyebrow cocks up in the middle of it. When you’re done, he closes his mouth, gulps, and continues walking.

“Fine. All of that is fine,” he says, waving your rudeness off. You’re surprised he hasn’t screamed for his guards to send you away or walk over to you to slap you, to put you in your place for talking back to him. Maybe there’s more to this specific king than you think. “You have lost your colleagues, I have lost my bride-to-be months ago. They,” he grunts, shaking his head, “they massacred her body and the bodies of her servants that accompanied her to the picnic. We were supposed to get married a mere month from that date, but… She’s gone now. And they’re still eating people, murdering them, ruining lives. What is wrong with your kind? Can’t you do your job? How many of you do I need to pay to get here? What price is good enough for you people to come here and do the only fucking thing you were trained for, badly at that?”

Jungkook annoys you. You can’t stand people who look down at hunters. After all, all of you are there because you wanted to be, because you heard terrible stories about these monsters being a threat to you—the people who lived on the outskirts, not those safe in their palaces of gold with servants at their doors. Hunters become what they are because of their desire to fight the monsters and win, keep everyone else safe. 

Nobody is in it for the pay. What’s the use of all the money when you could die right then and there? You couldn’t marry or have children as a hunter, not unless someone married you without a dowry or wife training. Male hunters also weren’t trained for much else, which is why they were doomed. The life expectancy of a hunter is a lot shorter than a villager’s, let alone a king’s, which means no one understood what kind of sacrifices were made at such a young age. While the pretty king went to his warm bed every night with a belly full of the finest food and the tastiest wine, hunters were out in the woods dying for him and his kind.

So, when this man starts assuming you’re all in it for the money, something inside you snaps. The hunter who died for this spoiled brat was your friend, one of the people who taught you everything you know. You’ve killed more monsters than Jungkook has even heard of, despite his perfect training, and he thinks he has the right to judge you, your friend, or any other hunters out there. You’ve had enough.

In three quick strides, you’re standing in front of him, your forearm pressed into his neck, his body hitting the wall behind him because of the force of your push. The king wasn’t expecting you to do that, which is why you are now able to pin him against the wall and push your body against his, rendering him immobile. There’s fear in his eyes for a split second, but then he grins. “What are you going to do, kill me?” Jungkook snickers like he doesn’t even care if you do exactly that. “Be done with it.”

“I’m not here to kill you.” It’s your turn to sneer at him and talk to him like you’re filled with hate. “But I’m also not here to be treated like scum, either. My kind is your kind, king. We’re all people. While you were trained on how to be a rich brat, I spent my younger years in the forest, cold and afraid, fighting off any animal or monster I could find. The only goal is to keep people safe, and not just the rich people who live far away from the places these monsters attack. I need to keep my people safe, the poor ones, the ones who don’t have guns and stone houses to protect themselves like you. So, if you need my help, king, you will watch the way you speak to the person who came here of her own volition to help you kill these monsters. If you can do that, I will grant you the same courtesy.”

You say all of this right to his face, your noses almost touching, eyes peering into one another’s. It’s a tense situation, and you never thought you’d be this close to a king—you hated almost every single one you’ve met. Besides, you can’t really get away with threatening a king and choking him. You’re not sure if the man will scream for help or stab you. Anything could be expected at this point. 

However, the thing that happens is something you couldn’t have imagined in your wildest fantasy—his highness gets erect right against your stomach. The thing poking your stomach is a hard cock, unmistakably. You didn’t need to attend wife school to learn about these things—hunters can do whatever they want with the bodies whose safety they risk daily. So, you’ve had your fair share of hard cocks pressing against you, and you are positive this is one. 

You raise an eyebrow and Jungkook gulps, looking down at your lips. “I— I— Apologize,” he mutters, sounding so pathetic all of a sudden. “I just want this issue solved, that is all. I will pay whatever you need, offer you whatever you want if you can help me.”

The king is as meek as they come, completely spineless when he meets a woman who can talk back. You’re sure his poor wife-to-be was taught never to speak back to him, not even if he mistreated her, God rest her soul. So, the king is enjoying the power dynamics here, the fact that you do a manlier thing than he does, the fact that you can kill a monster he himself couldn’t even if he tried. He likes it, and you have to admit you like him too. 

Not because he’s a king but because he spoke to you that way despite you being stronger than him, despite him needing you, and not the other way around, even though you could walk out and leave him helpless. Besides, the man is a king—he’s surely clean and well-versed in the art of sexual pleasure. Having sex in the woods couldn’t be as good as having sex in a warm palace, and you haven’t tried that one yet.

“The monster issue,” you ask, tilting your head to the side, your lips almost brushing against his, “or this problem?” With that, you push your body against his, applying pressure to his erect member, making him gasp, which sounds so sweet somehow. Definitely not as scary as Jungkook thought he sounded earlier when he shouted, that’s for sure.

The king visibly relaxes all of a sudden and even lets out a chuckle. “I will pay you for killing the monsters for me,” he says, licking his lips while his eyes look up from yours, “and I will fuck you for free. Deal?”

You scoff, moving away, letting go of his neck. Jungkook places his hand over his throat for a second and looks at you with a blank expression. “You will fuck me for free?” With a scoff, you tongue your cheek and check him out from head to toe, making sure you look condescending when you do so—the king shouldn’t let his title get to his head. “You say it like you should be paid to do it.”

“You haven’t tried me yet,” the man challenges, his hand suddenly grabbing the belt around your hips, pulling you closer to him. He has a lot more strength than you thought because he manages to pull you in closer with just one move of his hand, one grab of his hand around the belt, one sneak of his fingers around the leather. The movement turns you on—not many men dare act that way around a hunter, male or female. “What do you say, hunter?”

The way he stresses the word and spits it out the same way you did his title makes you consider his offer. You’re going to chase and kill the monster either way—it’s what you came here to do. But, the sex offer came out of the blue. You know the sex will stay between you two. Jungkook is a king, he can’t risk talking about fucking a monster hunter, and you will keep your mouth shut because you don’t want other kings to think they’re getting laid when they call you for a job. It’s not a service you provide. 

“Let’s see what you’ve got,” you whisper to him and watch his mouth turn from a straight line to a smirk.

Suddenly, the meek king is meek no more. His expression turns cocky, his hands start groping you over your clothes, lips finding yours. He kisses like he means it—warm and wet, tongue swiping across your lips, begging for access. The most powerful man in the kingdom seems to be turned on by the fact you choked and threatened him, told him how you really felt about him and people like him. That much is clear from the way he grinds against you, erection rubbing your stomach over your clothes in his desperate attempt to get any kind of friction.

When you finally give in to him and open your mouth, Jungkook groans and shoves his long tongue into it, his hips push into yours until your ass hits his desk. While he’s kissing you, his hands undo your belt, one of them sneaking into your pants. It’s a messy kiss, one that gives off his neediness, the type you don’t expect from kings. Do kings ever kiss or do they just lie in bed and wait for a whore to come sit on them and do everything on their behalf while they just lie there being the lazy brats they were? Well, not this king. While you think about that, the man’s strong hand sneaks inside your underwear, cupping your sex with a growl, like he’s finally getting something he’s wanted for a long time. 

His kisses are sloppy—drool is wetting your chin while Jungkook kisses you and grunts, his fingers playing with your sex eagerly, pads moving up and down your sex. You expected him to push his fingers inside to prepare you for his member, but the king takes his time, no matter how hasty he seems. The back of his palm presses into your clitoris while he kisses you, and you see no other option than to reward him by grabbing his erection over his clothes and running your palm over it, which makes the man tremble against you. 

“Sensitive there, king?” You’re just teasing Jungkook for suddenly seeming so weak when he was full of himself just minutes ago, when he thought he could get away with shouting at you for something you didn’t do. 

“Hm…” The chuckle Jungkook lets out sounds cocky, his lips brush against yours as he asks, “Sensitive here, hunter?” With that, three of his fingers start rubbing your clitoris hard, pushing against it and then moving around in quick circles that make you moan. 

You bite down on your lip to prevent yourself from sounding that eager—you don’t want to give him that type of satisfaction, not just yet. Jungkook still seems pretty cocky about it, so you sneak one hand into his pants and grab the tip of his cock, squeezing the area just below it as hard as you can, feeling the meaty flesh push back against your touch. Your other hand grabs the back of the king’s head, pulling on his silky smooth locks. 

“Not as much as you, I think,” you say as your thumb swipes across his plush tip, smearing around the tell-tale sign of his excitement, making the man hiss before he kisses you again.

The king chuckles and pulls his hand out of your pants, depriving you of his warmth on you, of his touch between your legs. It seems like he wants you to beg, but you’re not going to give him what he wants, so you let go of his hard cock and shrug. “That’s how you want to play?”

“I don’t want to play at all,” you admit. “My kind doesn’t play.” You stress the word he used earlier, making it sound derogatory. The king scoffs, one corner of his mouth lifting in a half-smirk before he leans in and places his hands on your hips, grabbing the material of your pants.

“You’ll soon realize,” he starts speaking to you again, voice now very smooth and almost sweet, hands pulling your clothes down your legs in one quick motion, “that my kind doesn’t play either.” And just like that, you’re naked from the waist down in the king’s meeting quarters, the man himself squatting in front of you. “Now let me do this right.” 

You nod and continue looking down at the man, wondering what his plan is. Since he is who he is, you expect the guy to just fuck you—the type of sex you’re used to, someone taking you on your feet, from behind, just a quick fuck to get what you both need out of it. Kings don’t usually even care what the other party needs, which is why they pay someone for their services and call it a day most of the time. 

“Up,” Jungkook grumbles at you and you lift one leg, just high enough for him to take off your boot and set this leg free of your clothes. He repeats the same with the other leg, and you feel thankful for the warm bath you were able to take this morning at the roadhouse. It made your skin feel soft, made you smell nice, made the king want to touch you. He runs his hands up your naked legs to your ass, squeezing it. “So that’s the way to get a hunter to shut up.”

You laugh at that heartily, realizing this specific king might not be as stupid as most of them. He gets up and grabs your shirt, pulling it over your head. In less than a minute, you’re completely nude in front of the king, and he sits you on his desk, makes you spread your legs for him while he kisses you just as eagerly as earlier. You do the best you can with the room you have and pull his pants down, grabbing a handful of his firm ass in the process, grazing your fingers over his balls while you set them free along with his cock. 

Only then do you feel even, like the king doesn’t have the upper hand, even though being bare in front of a fully-clothed man does something to your brain, makes your crotch react. It’s then that the man touches you, his mouth kissing its way down your neck, sucking on the skin while he pushes himself against you, wrapping an arm around you. 

The only thing you can do is start tugging at his member, preparing it for what’s to come—even if it is as hard as it can get, even if it needs no preparation. Jungkook reacts to that by practically whining into the skin of your neck and easing a finger inside of you so slowly you want to cuss at him and tell him to go harder. You squirm under his touch when he pulls the finger out and then pushes it in again, and he notices the way you tremble, even if he’s busy nibbling on your neck. “What is it?” he asks, practically scoffing, lips brushing against the vein in your neck. “Not used to going slow?”

“Can’t fuck slow in the woods,” you admit nonchalantly, which makes him almost gasp, but he hides it by clearing his throat. The king is clearly not used to women being so open about sex, which comes as no surprise considering all the ladies at his court have to be prim and proper. That’s what they taught in school, anyway.

“Good thing you’re not in the woods anymore, hunter,” the king mumbles and takes your breast into his mouth, sucking on the nipple with his eyes closed. Now two of his fingers sneak inside of you and he curls them, rubbing you from the inside, finding that spot that feels perfect when touched like that. Maybe some kings do get better training than you give them credit for. “I rarely fuck fast.”

You laugh and look down at him, speeding up the movements of your hand which is still wrapped around his thick shaft. The faster you move, the more the king grunts and hums against your chest, his tongue poking out to tease your nipple. “Yeah? I doubt a long, sensual fuck will help you get all that pent-up frustration out, king.”

“Who said I’m frustrated?” Jungkook looks up at you and bites into the flesh of your breast, just around the nipple, chuckling evilly when you groan and clench around his fingers. “Like that, hm?”

He’s only asking because your eyes fluttered closed when he started moving his fingers fast, his thumb brushing your clitoris. “They do teach you something in king school, after all.”

Jungkook giggles and starts moving his hand faster, which makes you grab onto his fine shirt and start doing the same with your hand. You’re not letting him off easy. “Yeah,” he surprisingly agrees. “They do teach you how to pleasure someone.”

“They send women for you to practice with?” you can’t help but ask, even if it’s none of your business. You’re here to do a job, this is just a stop along the way. Jungkook speeds up even more, suckling on your nipple while his hand pushes into you fast and hard, filling the vast space of his office with lascivious sounds. “Have to pretend they enjoy it?”

He grunts, cock twitching in your fist, teeth grazing your breast. “Are you pretending, hunter? Doesn’t feel like it.”

“No,” you admit, unable to lie when your body is starting to clench already, when you feel so close to orgasm you are already moaning with every thrust of his fingers. “But you had practice. And training.”

“They didn’t teach you how to spread your legs in hunter school?” he teases, knowing very well what they do and don’t teach your kind, as he put it. “Didn’t teach you how to take a cock well, how to pleasure a man?”

“No, king,” you respond, kicking your head back and letting him pull you closer as he sends you over the edge. “Other hunters taught me that.”

He growls and bites into your shoulder before pecking your lips. “Give me their names, I’ll have them all killed,” Jungkook jokes—at least you think so by the way he giggles right after and pushes his thumb against your clitoris. 

“Can’t kill men for pleasuring me,” is what you manage to mutter between two loud moans, ones that tell the king he’s about to make you come, which makes him even cockier. “Can only pleasure me better.”

“Oh, I fully intend to,” he grunts and finally pushes the fingers inside you so hard you see stars, so hard that you just grab his cock and his shirt and let yourself come hard, walls clenching and releasing around the two long fingers inside of you, clit pulsating against the pad of his thumb. The king continues moving and coos teasingly. “See? I’ll fuck you so good you’ll only want kings after.”

That’s the thing that makes you scoff and push him away from your neck with a grin, even if your body is still writhing with pleasure, even if you’re breathless. He is a fine specimen, a man who knows what he’s doing, but he’s still a king. “This is an exception, not a rule.”

“The only king that gets to have your pussy?” Jungkook sounds ecstatic, maybe even a bit hopeful as he lightly smacks your swollen slit.

“Who said you can have it?” you tease, knowing very well you’re already ready to take that rod between his legs and milk the cum out of it. You didn’t come this far not to feel him inside of you.

“You said I’m frustrated,” the king says before licking a stripe up your neck and sucking on your ear while two of his fingers enter you again. “Let me fuck my frustrations out on you.”

“Well, that is better than shouting.” With that, you start jerking his cock again, the other hand moving down from his shirt to grab his balls. “In fact, that’s the only acceptable way to take out your frustrations on someone else.”

Jungkook agrees with a chuckle, eyes glancing at yours. “You feel so tight,” he tells you, reminding you of the two fingers still shoved deep inside of you which are now moving in scissoring motion. “Can’t wait to feel you even closer.”

“Slow down, king,” you hum and start moving your hand even faster, wanting to see the man fall apart. “I thought you said you fucked slow. We’re just getting started.”

It’s a lie—you’re more than ready to take him now and you’re almost positive you’ll enjoy it even if he lasts a minute or two. But, Jungkook grins and shoves his tongue inside of your mouth again, pushing his clothed chest against yours, removing his fingers from you. “Can I taste you?” he hums into your ear, his body warm next to yours. You’re surprised that is what a king wants, but you’re not going to let that show. 

“You’ll have to pay me extra for that,” you tease, referring to his earlier comment when he thought he’d be pulling all the strings. However, the king drops to his knees and takes your sex into his mouth instantly, humming as he does so. His tongue probes between your lips, sinking to your entrance, swirling around it, and then moves back up to your clitoris, all in a couple of seconds. Whatever they taught in king school should be taught in all schools, you think to yourself, but you’re not admitting it to Jungkook. So you get yourself together, clear your throat, and mumble, “You heard me?”

“Loud and clear,” the man sucking on your sex says and moves away, your wetness on his chin. The way he looks at you makes you clench around nothing—there’s desire in his eyes, desire and need to have you, and you’re not used to being looked at like that. You’re not one of the beautiful and polished court ladies with long, beautiful hair, silky dresses, and skin made sweet by lotions. You’re not someone men look at that way, especially not kings. “Not a problem. I’m the king, right?”

You simply nod and place your feet on the desk in a move that’s so unladylike it’s almost comical. You half-expect someone of his caliber to mock you for it, tell you it’s not the proper way to behave, instruct you to lie down and take it, try to hide your sex, and act all shy when a man wants to shove his face in your crotch. But, Jungkook doesn’t. Instead, he just grabs your thighs, pushes them apart even more, and dives right back in, tongue moving up and down your slit, juices spilling onto his firm, expensive desk. 

You’re handing him all control, you realize a couple of minutes in when your toes start curling again, when it feels like Jungkook is becoming one with your pussy, not even taking a breath while he’s eating you out—or so it seems. You’re just sitting there, propped up on your elbows, and staring at his pretty face. 

He really is a pretty man, even if that is considered an insult for his sex. Men want to be called handsome, gruff, manly. But, you’re starting to realize you like them pretty whenever you look down between your legs and see Jungkook suck on your clit, his eyes playfully staring back at yours. He shouldn’t have this type of control over you and your preferences, so you continue teasing him. “How many women have you paid to fuck on this desk, king?”

It should put him in his place, remind him about the payment thing, give you the upper hand. But, the comment just makes him hum against your skin. “About to christen it,” he mumbles. Oh, so no one else got fucked on this desk by the man himself? Interesting.

“Then what are we waiting for?”

Your eyes look down, his look up, and right then, you know he’s going to give it to you hard. Soon enough, he’s on his feet, clothes around his thighs, cock smacking against your now thoroughly wet and prepared slit. The king kisses you, lets you feel your sweet tanginess on his tongue, something you haven’t tasted in years, and you kiss him back just as eagerly, grip his soft curls and pull him in even closer. While kissing, the tip of his cock enters you and the rest of it quickly follows.

The way you grunt at the feeling makes Jungkook chuckle and break away from the kiss. “Good?” he checks, even if he doesn’t have to. You can’t remember when anyone has checked whether you were enjoying yourself during sex, not even when it was your first time, when you were just learning things. 

“It’s no hunter dick,” you say, offering no further explanation. You don’t want Jungkook to know you’re touched by his faux concern.

“On second thought, I think I'm frustrated after all,” the proud king mutters with a chuckle, hands moving down to your hips. And then, he starts smacking into you so hard you can’t help but cry out. “Should take it out on you.”

You’ve already had one orgasm and he’s built up the second one perfectly, so every stroke against your walls feels lovely, feels like exactly what you need. Jungkook seems to know that because there’s a confident look on his face that’s frowning, jaw clenched as he thrusts hard. It’s the type of face people make when they do hard work—like fighting off big, bad monsters, straining to use all their power to overcome the enemy, or doing manual labor. In other words, it’s not a face you expect a king to make, especially not a king as powerful and rich like the one currently inside of you. 

“What are you so frustrated about?” you manage to squeeze the words out, even if you feel like he’s beating your hips with his, like his cock is slamming against your walls hard, like you’ll feel him inside of you long after Jungkook pulls out. “Hard being king?”

He stops trying so valiantly for a second and breaks out into laughter, even if his hips keep smacking against yours, making your ass push into the wood you’re sitting on. “Lost a lot to monsters,” he grunts, moving in so close he can barely pull his cock out of you, but that just means the thrusts are deep every time. Jungkook pulls his hips back just an inch and slams them into you again. “My future wife,” he says, reminding you of the fact that he was supposed to be a married man. 

“You’re the king, your family will find a suitable match,” you say spitefully. Well, it’s not exactly out of spite, but you’re just disappointed with how the world works, how all these things are contractual. You can’t count how many men have propositioned you during the years despite the rings on their ring fingers, knowing their dutiful wives were waiting at home. Marriages were arranged by families or completely transactional—there was no love or lust or friendship behind them. “Only the finest for the king, right? I’m sure some poor soul out there is just finishing wife school hoping to become the queen.”

You were sure the king was already supposed to marry some beautiful rich girl whose father owned a lot of land or businesses. These things were arranged before people even met, without their consent or care for the well-being of the people involved in the marriage. “I didn’t even want that match to begin with,” he informs you, pressing his lips against yours for a second before grunting when you clench around him on purpose. “Let alone a suitable one.”

“A rebel king?” You giggle, wrapping your legs around his waist just to pull him into your frame, feel his body against yours. “I love that.”

When he accepts the new power play and starts pumping himself into you again, Jungkook grunts, “Monsters have taken people away from me.” You don’t need to be reminded of the dangers you face every day, so you hum. “And they’ve also taken my ability to think.”

“Why do you say that, king?” you mumble, grabbing your breast and squeezing it, which gets him to stare. Suddenly, he shifts, wraps his arms around your waist, and leans forward to lick your nipple. 

Only then does the proud king answer your question. “I’m here balls deep in a hunter,” he reminds you, sheathing himself into you all the way and pausing for a second, “just because she has a big mouth.” The way Jungkook looks at you tells you all you need to know—he’s loving every second of it. His big eyes are focused on yours as his lips quiver into a smirk, and there’s something gentle about the way he looks at you.

You laugh at that and let him suck on your breasts for a while, while he continues pumping his thick length inside of you and sending shivers down your spine with his nimble tongue. “At least I’ll solve your problem for you.”

“Oh, you sure will,” he hums, “you’ll solve many of them.” You’re not sure what the mighty king means by that, but you’re taking it. 

When his breathing gets ragged, you start meeting his thrust with your hips, allowing Jungkook to sink even further inside of you, which gets him to moan sweetly, eyes rolling to the back of his head. By this point, the king is sweaty, the ends of his curls sticking to the sides of his face, mouth moving from your breasts to your mouth periodically, unable to stay in one place. Somehow, the worn-out look doesn’t ruin his prettiness, doesn’t make him look any less soft, even if his face is getting red and frowning every time your walls wrap around his thick cockhead.

“God almighty!” Jungkook groans, pressing his wet forehead into the side of your face, breathing out so heavily you think he’s already come. “Can I finish inside of you? I feel like I'll die if I don’t.” He sounds so desperate that it makes you think you could get him to do anything for you.

“Only if you marry me, king,” you joke, knowing that’s the one thing hunters can’t do. You can sleep around without being married, you can travel the world, earn money and spend it however you want to, but you can’t start a family.

If you get pregnant, you’re out in the street, unable to take care of a child, unable to continue hunting. A pregnant woman can’t hunt. You’re dead within a couple of months without a roof over your head or security for your baby. You can’t risk it, no hunter can. The men can’t have a family back home when there is no home—that’s the life of a drifter like you.

“I’ll give you everything you want,” the king admits, confirming your suspicions. He pulls you in closer, his arms holding your chest close to his as he pumps fast, fingers digging into the skin of your back. “Give you everything, hm? Just let me, this once…”

“You heard me the first time,” you repeat yourself, a part of you wanting to feel him pump you full of cum, wanting to see the king lose control and get a bit stupid because of what you have between your legs, risk it all. Wouldn’t that be satisfying, knowing what you have between your legs made the king risk impregnation?

“Fine then. I’ll do it,” Jungkook says before he kisses your mouth. 

The next second, his hips start staggering and he buries himself inside of you with a loud grunt. The low grunt turns into barely audible, sweet moans that make you clench—he sounds so vulnerable. That’s when you realize the king has ejaculated inside of you, that his semen is what is causing the sudden warmth between your walls. 

“Did you just—?” You’re speechless. You haven’t really pushed him away or tried to stop him, so it’s on you, but you just didn’t think a king would be so reckless with it. The chances of this resulting in a child are slim, but the possibility is there.

“Fuck,” he mumbles, moving away from the kiss but staying buried inside of you, his lips still close to yours. “You don’t have to kill the monsters, but you have to be my wife. The child of a hunter and king has to be the finest specimen, don’t you think?”

“I’m not a meek little girl you can push around, king,” you stress the word with a scoff. The king might not be serious, but you decide to be honest with him. He might be—Jungkook is no typical king. “I don’t know my place and don’t have wife training. I’m not fit to be a king’s wife or any man’s wife, for that matter. You saw me when I get angry.”

“I like you better this way,” he hums, hand cupping your face, cock slowly slipping out of you. “I need someone who contradicts me once in a while. Besides, this is all the wife training you need. You passed.”

“No dowry, either,” you remind him, still not feeling any shame about him being inside of you, about his semen slowly dripping down onto the desk, about the king’s mouth being an inch away from yours. “Your—the people will go wild. You’d get nothing in return.”

Jungkook cups your face in a move so surprising it makes you stiffen. As if he realizes your inner turmoil, he smiles at you and rubs your cheeks with his thumbs. “I have all the money I could need. I don’t need your father to give me any land or gold or strategic alliance. But, you have the experience of a hunter which none of my men can compete with. I can never have it, no matter how much money I have.”

You chuckle, unable to stop looking at the man who looks quite serious about the whole thing. Maybe he has gone mad. Maybe you kind of like it. “Oh, so you only want me for my experience with monsters?”

“Hm,” Jungkook hums and lets go of your face in favor of wrapping his arms around you. “I quite like your self-sufficiency, too. You’re not afraid to speak your mind. That’s a first.” With that, the king leans in, lips brushing against your ear as he whispers, “And that sweet cunt is just a bonus.”

You chuckle again, shaking your head as the king kisses your neck, as his cock leaves your hole, causing his semen to spill out of you. “Is that enough for a marriage?”

“Aren’t most of them transactional?” Jungkook challenges, cocking an eyebrow up. “I’d get those three things out of the marriage. You’d get… A different life.”

“How come?” It’s quite obvious how a king’s life differs from a hunter’s, but you ask nonetheless. You want to hear what kind of a life he has planned for you, if any. 

“Well, instead of being alone all the time, you’d have a husband,” he notes with a smile, quickly adding, “a husband that finds you intellectually challenging and so incredibly attractive. A husband that would give you all the freedom you need. A husband that would value your opinions when it came to strategy and defense against monsters. You wouldn’t have to be a trophy wife and do any of the ladylike crap they sell to young girls in school.”

All of it sounds a bit too good to be true. You never wanted to be a wife in the traditional sense and stick around the house while the husband worked and made a living. You didn’t want to have children you’d raise on your own, and you didn’t want to have to worry about being poor and not being able to support your children. With a husband like Jungkook, none of that would be a problem.

“Promise?” You hear yourself whispering against his lips, even if you’re still in shock, even if none of it seems real. It’s a good way out of a scary and lonely life you’ve lived for longer than expected in your profession.

“I promise, hunter,” the king says, sealing the deal with a gentle kiss. “Now, who do we find to kill these monsters?”

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(navi)

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