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Ah it's been some time since I read a 20+ chartered fics and I stumbled upon this fic again at the perfect time🤧 this is the 2nd time I've read the whole series again and i love that I'm still as emotional as I was before

Truly love OCs character here. I felt like she was just enough doubtful without being too dramatic about it, and i love how she's, in a way, self assured about her place in kook's life.

Also love love love the talk they shared about why they drifted apart and what made kook talk to her again. And the talk they had in the cafe after the fight 🥹 it's not easy to find fics with such nice, descriptive dialogs about what happened and why so i loved it a lot 🥹🥹

i’d love you to stay but that’s simply insane // JJK (22)

  jungkook is an uncontrollable lead vocalist of the campus band, and you’re a goal-oriented top student that’s known his rich and complicated family since childhood. you don’t want anything to do with each other, until each other is exactly what you want to do.

pairing: jeon jungkook x reader

genre: college au

warnings: there is a timejump!!

words: 5.2k

  chapter twenty-two (final)

You had just left your house, already running late, when your phone lit up with an incoming call from Inna. Smiling with a good-natured roll of your eyes, you answered the phone. You already knew what she was going to say.

“Are you there yet?” you spoke into the phone, pressing it against your head with your shoulder while you put gloves on. It was chilly today.

“I’m by the entrance to the restaurant,” Inna replied, her voice manic. “I’m still in my car. I can’t leave. You might have to come and drag me in there by my hair.”

“Breathe,” you said, picking up your phone with a gloved hand before you looked around the empty street so you could safely cross it. “You can do this. It’s just dinner.”

“It’s dinner with his parents,” she shot back, still just as panicked. “I know you’ve known Jungkook’s parents as long as you’ve known your own, but it’s different for me. These people don’t know me. What if they hate me?”

You heard a beep on the line that indicated a new text message and pulled your phone back to check. It was Jungkook, sending you an exceeding amount of question marks and exclamation points; he had clearly noticed your absence.

Keep reading

I finally sat down to read this and 😭😭 man i want this to happen to me but i dont even have a male best friend why am I straight 😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭

meet me at the bar (ksj)

You're supposed to be staring down the barrel of the last — and most important — examination of your life, but you only have eyes for your study buddy.

Pairing: Kim Seokjin x AFAB!Reader Type: One Shot | Fluff w/ Smut | 18+ — Minors DNI Word Count: 7.5k AU: Law school, study-buddies, best friends to lovers, highly educated idiots in love CW: Bad jokes, Latin, fingering (v), unprotected sex (p in v), Seokjinnie hits it from the back. A/N: My inaugural Seokjin smut is dedicated to my donsaeng-in-law (see what I did there?) @yoongiphoria, who is now embarking on this stupid, stupid gatekeeping journey IRL. Best of luck, my lil love. I'll be waiting for you on the other side of the war! MJ FIGHTING ~ Big ups to my other lil love, M, for beta reading 💕 Also: This is written based on my experience in the American legal (educational) system. I was, frankly, too lazy to study up on South Korean law for a fanfic, lol. ⚠️ 18+ only ⚠️ minors and ageless blogs will be blocked, on sight. my content is not for you. i do not want to interact with you. please respect my boundaries.

You are not spiraling.

You are a paragon of health and wellness, you tell yourself as you gulp down a mug of coffee that is still far too hot, like you’ll die without it. 

More bitter than the taste on your tongue is the realization that you might die with it —  your third cup in fewer hours. As far as you can tell, though, it’s a win-win situation: You’ll either generate enough anxious energy to finalize your property law flashcards, or you’ll drop dead before you have to review them.

And you won’t have to take that exam…

And you won’t have to pay off your student debt…

Besides, you figure, the stomach ulcer you’re likely inflicting on yourself will be infinitely less painful than dragging your under-caffeinated corpse through yet another day of studying. Another eight, consecutive hours spent forcing forgotten subjects back into your maxed-out brain. 

It’s worth it, you repeat to yourself, though this gauntlet has turned out to be a full-time job that steals, rather than pays. You can faint on top of the finish line, so long as some part of you crosses it.

You should be used to it by now, running a marathon at a dead sprint. That’s all you’ve ever done — push yourself. You attended your first day of preschool and never stopped, never took a breath. Through elementary, middle, and high school; then for four years of university. Going, going, going.

Stumbling through that eighteenth lap around the track, you kept going because — well, being a student all was all you’d ever been. That’s your toxic trait, you’ve since discovered. Your concept of self is rooted exclusively within the context of a classroom.

You didn’t know it at the time, but your decision to take the Law School Admission Test — or the HellSAT, as you’ve come to call it — might have been the start of a quarter-life crisis. But you didn’t stop there. No, you took that score and ran with it. Slapped it onto every application as a desperate plea for acceptance. 

When you received your admission letter, you were a bright-eyed twenty-two-year-old with a bachelor’s degree and a vaguely defined dream.

Call it naïveté or call it gravitas, there wasn’t a doubt in your smooth little brain that law school was the logical next step to take. That being intelligent and hard-working made you well-equipped for the challenge that came with pursuing a Juris Doctor. After all, you’d spent nineteen years delaying gratification — what difference would three more make?

Within the first hour of your orientation, you — a professional student — had already learned something new: You were a masochist and, frankly, somewhat of an idiot.

Thankfully, you weren’t alone. 

Sitting — dissociating, more like — at a nearby table was a lanky boy you’d first noticed on your tour of the law building. His glassy-eyed stare was aimed somewhere in the middle-distance, and even though his slightly agape mouth said nothing, it communicated everything. He was the only other person in that atrium who looked the way you felt: scared shitless and riddled with buyer’s remorse. A can crushed under the boot of self-doubt.

It was the first time you and your wobbly knees went running in his direction, but it wouldn’t be the last.

He was so deep in a daze at that moment that he didn’t notice the way you threw yourself into the open chair next to him, didn’t look up at the scrape of wooden legs against the granite floor beneath them. He nearly jumped out of his skin when you announced your presence with words, however. 

It was less of an introduction — the way people in a society tend to greet each other for the first time, ever — and more of a twister. Words whipped through the air at a dangerously high velocity, no syllable ending before you started on the next. Just one breath, a few consonants, and a pair of dark eyebrows shooting up to cower behind his bangs. 

“Was — was that Korean?” He asked when you finally ran out of wind. 

Judging by the way his wide eyes softened, you knew he wasn’t making fun of you. You’d simply scrambled his brain so thoroughly that you’d transcended the known limits of language.

More of a question than an answer, you peeped, “I think so. Maybe?” You wavered with a sigh. “I’m no longer confident that I know any of the things I thought I knew, though. So, um, don’t quote me on that.”

“You’re giving me too much credit. I didn’t catch enough of whatever that was,” he gestured vaguely, “To even attempt to quote you.”

Within seconds and without knowing, he’d disarmed the bomb ticking away in your gut. He must’ve sensed it, too, because his face lit up so completely that you had to look away. One glance at the floor-to-ceiling windows confirmed that the sun hadn’t reappeared at that time of night. 

That rush of warmth you felt then  — that absolutely insane brightness — was powered exclusively by the grin taking up the entirety of his face. If that megawatt smile alone hadn’t rerouted your oncoming anxiety attack, the distinct, squeaking laugh that erupted out of his chest would’ve done the job. 

You doubled over, either under the weight of your own giggling or with the relief you felt in finding someone equally lost. Eyes swimming with mirth, you wiped wetness from your cheekbone and snorted, “Was that a windshield wiper?”  

“No, that was embarrassing.” 

The tips of his ears and the apples of his cheeks went some dizzy shade of pink. 

He rubbed sheepishly at the back of his neck with one hand and held the other out to shake yours, “And I’m Kim Seokjin.”

Now, when the door of your apartment flies open without warning, it’s that same savior standing on your threshold. That designation may be melodramatic, but if that brown paper bag contains what you suspect it does, it’s deserved.

Seokjin, patron saint of breakfast sandwiches, flops down on the couch that stretches along the opposite side of your coffee table. From where you sit on the floor — hunched over your notes like a hobgoblin — you reach out your expectant arms and make grabby hands in the space between you.

You see mischief flash in his eyes, but only for a second. In the next, he’s pretending like he doesn’t see you; doesn’t hear your petulant little whines. He extends long legs out over the cushions, clutches the bag to his chest, and lets his head roll back to rest on the couch’s arm.

“Wanna know what I did today instead of practice essays?” He asks, eyes unfocused on the ceiling above.

All you actually want is whatever that smell is. You can’t stop staring at the bag of food in his hands. If you try hard enough, maybe you can summon some sort of psychic energy, make it levitate towards you.

He doesn’t wait for your response. “The math.”

“Huh?” 

You frown; and as you do, you reluctantly shift your gaze from Seokjin’s hands to his face. He isn’t looking your way, but you can tell he’s grimacing based solely on the way his jaw twitches. It’s a miracle he hasn’t ground his teeth to dust over the past three years, given how often he makes that face.

In an attempt to ease the tension in his posture, you snort, “Didn’t we go to law school because we can’t do math?”

He cracks an unwilling smile. A tiny one, but a smile nonetheless. Without turning his head, he extends his arm out in your direction. In the split second it takes for yours to spring forward like a snake, that blessed bag dangles; the scent of sausage, egg, and cheese wafts through the air and restores your will to live. Clutching your prize, halfway to feral, you tear into it without hesitation.

As you bite off more than you can chew, Seokjin prepares his rant with a sigh, “So, consider this.”

“Mmphf,” you advise through a mouthful of greasy bliss.

“Bar exam prep takes eight weeks, right? If we’re only counting business days, that’s forty — forty days, for a minimum of eight hours each.”

He becomes more restless, the more he talks. Heated, he sits bolt upright and turns wild-eyed to you.

Oh, he’s gone full-tilt insane.

“Three-hundred-and-twenty hours, then. And if you think about that in terms of our clerk wages —” He slaps his hands down on his thighs for emphasis. “— at 2,625 won per hour —” 

Then, he points to you, as if the increasing volume of his voice wasn’t already holding you hostage. “— we’ve sacrificed nearly two million won in income, just by studying for this fucking test.”

You swallow down the last bite of your sandwich, which you downright hoovered while Seokjin took the path of most resistance. After clearing your throat, your interjection overlaps with his next point: 

“Seokjinnie, why didn’t you just double our monthly —”

“That’s after we paid ninety million in tuition, hundreds of thousands on study materials and registration fees —”

You cut him off, “Is this your way of asking me to Venmo you for breakfast?” 

He freezes, caught fully off-guard. Shocked eyes widen like you’re the ridiculous one. “Of course not!”

He waves you off like his thoughtful gesture is no big deal. Then, like he’s tired himself out, he sinks back onto your couch. From his back, he grumbles with crossed arms, “‘M just sayin’ that I’m tired of this shit.”

You can’t help but giggle at the pathetic pout working down the corners of his mouth. “Felt,” you agree, though it feels a little bit like a lie.

Truth be told, you feel more awake now than you did ten minutes ago, and you can’t attribute it to the coffee — not when the evidence so clearly indicates otherwise. 

Over the course of three years, you’ve built up quite the case against yourself. You’ve made the following findings of fact:

Whenever he pops up, Seokjin brings your mood up with him. Even now, as he marinates in anguish on your couch, his presence gives you a reason not to beat yourself unconscious with the four-kilogram prep book that sits beside you on the rug. Makes you hate your circumstances a little less, if only because you share them with him.

And, for a rapidly deflating balloon, you have to concede that Seokjin looks stunning this morning. 

Unlike you and your day-three hair, he somehow had the energy to wash his. The mid-sections of some strands are still damp; the parts that aren’t frame his face in fluffy waves. His shampoo is something fruity mixed with something crisp — grapefruit and mint, maybe? — and it floods your senses, causing question marks to replace any coherent thoughts you might otherwise have. You’d be lying again if you said you didn’t want to find out for sure how soft those tresses really are.

The verdict? 

Well, the jury’s still out, but you know you’re guilty. 

If being down this bad for your best friend isn’t a criminal offense, it should be.

You shake your head to clear it. To smother the flame licking up the inside of your belly, you grab the certified mood killer off the coffee table and hold it up in front of you. Surely, the cure for a sexual tension headache is an eight-centimeter stack of color-coded, neon index cards covered in information you shouldn’t need to memorize in the first place.

“Exam’s in one week,” you say with a shiver.

Seokjin rolls onto his side to look forlornly at you. You are not looking at his bare hip bone, which appears where the hem of his shirt shifts from the waistband of his joggers. Nope.  

You continue the search for the point you’re trying to make. “I can barely spell mortgage, let alone explain what the fuck to do with one.”

“Don’t think I know what land even is at this point,” he sighs. Dejected, he lets his arm go limp. It spills off the edge of the cushion and dangles until his knuckles brush against the rug. “What is this property you speak of?”

Biting back a grin is impossible, so you press your lips together instead. Just like that — just by Seokjin being Seokjin — the hellscape you willingly walked into gets a little brighter. Maybe, you think, you can do this.

You look down for a moment to shuffle up the cards you spent the better part of two days preparing. As you stare down at the staggering amount of knowledge you might be tested on, you can feel the crease returning between your eyebrows. Your grimace is back, too, like a reflex. 

If you make it through this experience without premature wrinkles, you’ll be shocked.

There’s shifting on the couch ahead, but you don’t look up until Seokjin breezes, “From this angle, it almost looks like you’re smiling.”

His arm is no longer dangling off the edge of the couch. His entire upper body is. Knees now hinged over the backrest for balance, he’s upside-down and smirking impishly at you.

He has to know you’re in love with him, right? How could he expect you not to be?

You clear your throat and arch a single eyebrow as a challenge. “What is the rule against perpetuities, Seokjinnie?”

Like you, he can recite it in full at a machine-gun rate of fire. It’s been beaten so far into your heads that you might utter it on your deathbeds, with your last gasping breaths.

“No interest in land is good unless it must vest, if at all, not later than twenty-one years after some life in being at the creation of the interest,” he responds with a smug smile. “Easy.”

It’s your turn to smirk. 

“Great. Now, what does any of that mean?”

Without missing a beat, he fires back, “Does anyone know?”

“Absolutely not. Next question!”

Having had the same day, every day, for seven weeks straight, Seokjin is struggling. He’s spent hundreds of hours on the same routine, feeling beaten down and burnt out, all the while. It goes like this:

Every morning, he wakes up and goes for a run in a feeble attempt to feel something other than dread. After that, he eats a lackluster breakfast, and then he promptly chains himself to his desk. When he finally gives himself permission to get up again, it’s dark out; and he’s too brain dead to check the hundred or so notifications that amassed on his phone during his fugue state.

Scratch that. There’s one person he responds to, no matter what. As far as everyone else is concerned, though, he’s a ghost.

Today is the first day out of the last fifty-five where Seokjin doesn’t feel like his brain is being hydraulically pressed. For the first time in too long, he fell into an old routine; one he’s missed. It started with a shower — and honestly, that was overdue — then, he swung by the café he’s frequented over the past three years. There, he made his usual order.

One iced americano, and one sausage-egg-and-cheese croissant with extra hot sauce.

Before he walked back up the block, he downed the former, but he didn’t touch the latter. The latter wasn’t for him, anyways. None of the breakfast sandwiches he ever stops for are.

The subsequent hours looked semi-similar to the three-hundred-and-twenty he’s already devoted to studying. Well, sort of. To be clear, the subject matter still sucks, and he’s still angry that he has to touch it at all, but he isn’t waiting for the sweet release of death in the same way he has been all summer. 

This might have something to do with the fact that, for the first time in nearly sixty days, he’s not on his own. 

More than that, he’s with you.

Having switched away from covenants, easements, and servitudes, he feels a slightly less stupid. Contract law is a little more straightforward and a little less caked in colonialism. Unfortunately, after six hours of burning all his brain cells on shit like liens, Seokjin has begun his descent into madness. 

The worms are digging in, he can’t focus, and neither of you can stop — fucking — laughing.

“I’ll give you a hint,” you giggle, shifting in your spot on the neighboring cushion. You give his knee a pat that feels a tiny bit patronizing, but that makes his pulse race, nonetheless. “It’s a Latin term.”

He snorts so loudly that you do a double-take, just to make sure it wasn’t a sneeze. You both stare at one another for a beat, then comes the eruption.

“It’s all Latin!” He roars. 

To muffle the way he’s wheezing, Seokjin slaps his hands over his face. It’s already tear-stained from his abject failure to keep his shit together. At least he can attempt to hide how red he knows it is.

Your laugh comes straight from your belly. You double over completely when his comes out in squeaks, hand reaching out to squeeze his forearm. It used to bother him, the sound he made when he truly loses it, but it doesn’t any more. 

How could it, when it makes you cling to him like that?

Wiping at your cheeks, you take a deep breath, then sigh, “Does it help if I give you the translation?”

He doubts it because you just pinched your bottom lip between your teeth, and now, his mind is blank. 

Really, it’s a fucking miracle he graduated at all with you around. You and that face you make when you concentrate have always made it impossible for him to do so. It’s why he wasn’t paying attention in class when this shit was taught in the first place, he realizes now. 

To cool himself down, Seokjin grabs the Camelbak bottle off the coffee table, realizes too late it’s yours and not his — oh, well — and shoves the straw into his mouth. He nods once, firmly, and sucks in as much water as he can. 

It all sprays back out of his mouth when you say:

“Naked promise.”

He had always wondered what his life would look like if it ever flashed before his eyes. Now, he knows. It’s not a montage of his finest moments, the most recent of which would not have made the cut. All he sees is you, wide-eyed, glancing between him and the wet spot that’s now soaking through your sweatshirt.

You press your lips together, probably to keep from laughing in his face. It’s a valiant effort on your part and a kind gesture, but honestly, he doesn’t deserve it. His fingers twitch as he clutches the bottle, wanting nothing more than to dump the remaining water on his face. He embarrasses himself more often than not, but this stings his cheeks like a sunburn.

“I am —” he raises his hands, flustered, “So sorry. I don’t remember waking up in a sitcom this morning, but I, uhhh, clearly did.”

When you stand up, you’re grinning. And not in that scary way you do when you’re about to retaliate for some prank he’s pulled. No, that look on your face is genuine amusement. 

Thank god.

You shrug as you cross your arms over your torso and grip the hem of your sweatshirt with both hands. “All good, Seokjinnie,” you laugh. “This needed to be washed, anyway. You see that coffee stain?”

No. 

No, he does not see that coffee stain because the tank top underneath your sweatshirt is clinging to the wet spot as you tug the top layer up your stomach. He feels bad for staring — really, he does — but fuck, your skin looks soft. Like, so soft that he has to grip his water bottle to keep a grip on himself.

Eventually, your tank top separates from your sweatshirt. It falls back down to where it belongs, to Seokjin’s dismay, and the sweatshirt keeps going. 

“Nudum pactum,” you remind him as you pull the drenched hoodie over your head. Playfully, you toss it at him. It smacks against his chest, splays out over his lap. 

Once more with feeling: thank god. 

You sink back down beside him on the couch, and he can’t help but notice that you’re the tiniest bit closer than you were before. It’s innocent, just your bare knee bumping his shin as you re-cross your legs. Still, it leaves his tingling through the fabric of his joggers when you don’t move away.

The silence surges as it settles, crinkling like static in his ears. He almost doesn’t hear you when you ask him again: “What’s it mean?”

Uhhhh.

“It means —”

Unfortunately for him, the water he just forcibly ejected from his mouth didn’t help him. His throat is dry now, and he sounds strangled, he’s sure. The way you’re watching him so intently doesn’t help one fucking bit, either.

Are you doing that on purpose?

You nudge him physically this time, knuckles connecting gently and playfully with his leg. He wonders if you can hear his heart hammering against the wall of his chest in all of this quiet. You might, he figures, especially when you tuck your hair behind your ear.

Instinctively, his eyes flick down to the length of your neck. Without a curtain of hair in the way, it’s even more exposed skin that he doesn’t know what the fuck to do with. Making matters worse for him, you tilt your head to the side expectantly. His breath catches when he tears his gaze away, back up, and sees the way you’re looking at him now.

You are absolutely — without a goddamn doubt — doing this on purpose.

If that’s the game you want to play, Seokjin can play it, too. He turns away from you to set the bottle back down on the coaster he took it from. As he does, he finally answers your question — the nonchalance he’s faking even sounds convincing.

“It’s an unenforceable promise,” he replies casually. “One with insufficient consideration.”

He rights himself in his seat, stretches a bit further backwards until he’s resting comfortably against the arm of the couch. You hide it well, but there’s a hint of a pout on your lips when you clock the newfound distance. 

Check, he smirks to himself, your move.

A flash of pink slips out. Your tongue wetting those lips before you prompt him more quietly than before, “And consideration is…?”

He slips up, makes the mistake of noticing the rise and fall of your chest as you take measured breaths. So, he sees, you’re buzzing with anticipation, too. He wonders if it’s him that’s having that effect on you, or the circumstances. 

For all he knows, it could be pent up steam that you need to release. Stress weighing down your body that you want to get off.

Fuck, he wants to get you off.

He swallows thickly. “Can’t get something for nothing. There has to be an exchange, otherwise it’s meaningless.”

You say nothing, so he keeps talking.

“Quid pro quo, essentially,” Seokjin adds. He chuckles slightly when he realizes. “See? Told you. It’s all fucking Latin.”

The corner of your mouth twitches at his joke, but you don’t make a sound. The hand that previously pushed against his leg inches closer, just barely. It’s such a small shift that you don’t seem to realize that you’re moving it. 

Maybe you feel that pull, too; the one he’s been fighting since you barged into his life without warning. 

Maybe the consideration has been there from the start; a promise for a promise. I’ll jump if you do. Because it’s always been that way, hasn’t it? Since orientation.

Pulling all-nighters in the library, developing matching caffeine dependencies, getting sick too often from the strain of it all. 

You and him.

Laughing quietly in the back of lectures, cold sweats through cold calls, bitching about unpaid internships while you spend indisposable income at the bar down the block without acknowledging the irony.

There are only two real differences between this night and that first one, he notes.

Now, Seokjin isn’t questioning every decision he’s ever made that led him to this point. He’s not scared shitless, not really. Not when you’re around.

You cut through the silence with a sigh that’s barely more than an exhale, so breathy that your voice dissipates as soon as it hits the air.

“Seokjin.”

He could probably hear a pin if you dropped one — can hear everything you don’t say. It’s all packed tight inside that utterance of his name like gunpowder, locked and loaded. 

So, who shoots first?

You shift again. Now, when you speak, it’s deliberate and in a language he can parse.

“Tell me you want me, too.”

Bang!

His body answers for him, pushes off from where he leans until he can get his knees underneath him. He’s waited three years to kiss you, but he can delay gratification for the brief time it takes to overtake you. Pinned with his palms bearing weight on either side of your head, you wind up caged in and breathless beneath him. His right knee occupies the space between your spread thighs.

Again, it’s a miracle he’s made it this far with you around.

He hums, beyond pleased with the position he finds himself in. “Maybe. Tell me if I got the answer right.”

“Oh my god.” You toss your head back to the extent that you can, which admittedly isn’t far. Your frustration rolls off you in waves, heat palpable. “I’ll kill you, I swear.”

“Sounds admissible to me,” he teases further. He flexes an eyebrow. “Isn’t that an exception to the prohibition of hearsay evidence? Speaks to motive, I think.”

Seokjin has no idea why he’s riling himself up like this. If he could shut up — just this once — he could be kissing you by now. You seem to be aware of that fact, too, because you grip his shirt so desperately, one right move might tear it.

You huff out a laugh despite the circumstances,  “This friendship is over, by the way, in case that’s not clear.”

That tiny smile on your face spreads to his. Not over, he knows, just modified. Amplified, finally. Knowing that, he continues to push his luck. 

“Can I make one more joke?”

“So over!” You emphasize with a wail.

He takes a second to center himself before hitting you with award-winning drama, sincerity dipped in the kind of humor he never misses out on with you: 

“You have adversely possessed my heart.”

Your jaw drops at how stupid that line was, but you reign it in just in time for his lips to crash into yours. 

It almost knocks the wind out of him, the way the pieces fall with force into place. They slot together easily, just like you do. With fingers clinging, the weight of his body molding overtop of yours. 

You kiss him until he forgets what life tasted like without your tongue licking into him, your little moans melting in his mouth — until you break apart, gasping for air. Panting, you ask, “Do you have any idea how long I’ve been waiting on you?” 

He doesn’t, no, not at all. Thankfully, you take his stunned silence for what it’s worth. After relinquishing your grip on his shirt, you bring your hands up to cup his face gently in your palms. 

With you touching him like this, he has no option but to stare down at you. Bit redundant, he thinks, since his focus has always been locked right here, right on you, by choice. Given that, it’s a little funny that he managed to miss every signal you’ve apparently sent him. But really, it doesn’t necessarily surprise him to hear that he’s even dumber than he thought.

You kiss him slowly this time, briefly, before nipping affectionately at his bottom lip. It drives him exactly as crazy as you want it to; makes his cock twitch inside his joggers, makes his brain foggy with a potent combination of fondness and filth.

Do you have any idea how many times he’s thought about this? He’s genuinely wondering because even he doesn’t know. He’s lost count of all the times he’s watched you nibble on your own lip and wished it was his instead. A million or more, if he has to guess.

Seeming to sense the way you've scrambled his brain, you nudge the tip of his nose with yours and giggle.

Seokjin can’t help but grin. “What’s so funny?”

“Thought of a good one,” you answer. Your smirk does his head in. The contrasting, goofy wiggle of your eyebrows squeezes his heart. “Better than yours, I think.”

He kisses you quick and hums, “Oh?”

You nod. 

The suspense is killing him. So is the way your clothed cunt grinds ever so slightly against his thigh. 

Fuck. 

He wants you, he wants you, he wants you. 

“You gonna make me come, Seokjin, or do I have to wait for you to file a subpoena?”

You may have to seek a refund for the prep course you paid for. 

For as long as you can remember, you’ve learned best through application. You could read the same chapter, over and over, and not absorb a word. The same was true with lectures, even more so when they’re pre-recorded rambles by the weirdest adjunct professors known to man. Sure, you may eventually memorize concepts this way, but they don’t sink in deeply enough to stay. You can’t use them in any way that helps you.

To no one’s surprise, no part of your civil procedure lecture sticks until it falls into your lap. 

Strike that. 

Until Seokjin loses his balance in trying to take his pants off, and falls onto your floor with a yelp.

A moment or two passes while you stare at each other in shock, but that dissolves quickly. And so do both of you, right into another fit of laughter that makes your shoulders shake. Then, you jump to your feet and hold your hands out to him.

Seokjin accepts them, though he doesn’t rely on them at all when he stands back up. He seems more than content just to hold onto you, whether or not he needs you to keep him steady. You have no complaints, for once in your life.

Shaking his head, he chuckles, “Venue change?”

“I think —” You hum and kiss the column of his throat. He swallows hard enough that you feel his Adam’s apple bob against your lips. So sensitive.  “This is what they call forum non conveniens.”

He’s having none of that, and you don’t necessarily blame him. As it turns out, the shoe isn’t terribly comfortable when it’s on the other foot.

You’re lifted without warning, bent over his shoulder, and hauled off in the direction of your bedroom before you can even squeak in protest. You drop like a bag of dirt — albeit a beloved bag of dirt — onto your mattress once he reaches it; his lips are on yours to swallow the gasp before it can leave your mouth.

As eager as his mouth are his hands, roaming down the curve of your waist and over your hips. With fistfuls of the pajama shorts you hadn’t bothered to change out of, his head dips down under your jaw. The warmth of his breath is quickly replaced by that of his tongue, flicking a short, languid line along your neck.

“Want you so fucking bad,” he breathes. A shiver shoots straight down your spine and you keen, head crashing gracelessly back against the pillows. “Just like this.”

And he means it — you can feel how true it is with him settled between your spread legs. He presses his hips forward to meet your clothed cunt, cock teasing you through four goddamn layers’ worth of fabric.

His lips flutter against your earlobe just seconds before his teeth graze your flesh. He continues, voice vibrating through his chest to yours, “All the time.”

You outright whimper when he grinds against you a second time. Halfway to crazy, you knot your fingers in his hair and wrap your legs around his back in a silent plea for friction. So hungry for him that it aches.

“Seokjin, need — oh, god.” 

You lose your train of thought the second his hand slides into the gap between your bodies. Long fingers slip below the waistband of your shorts and panties, too. He doesn’t stop there. Not with fingertips whispering over the mound of your cunt, not until he finds you wet and wanting.

So wet that you can hear it when the pad of his index finger runs along your slit.

His mouth curves against your neck, prompting you to shift your head on the pillow. You tilt your neck just enough to meet his eyes. 

To your surprise, he’s not smirking. Not even close. If anything, he looks awestruck. Like he’s finally realizing what he does to you, how your body reacts to him. From the looks of it, that discovery is flipping his whole damn world upside down.

For once, Seokjin doesn’t crack a joke and neither do you. It’s quiet, save for your tiny gasping breaths and the ripple of his fingertip swirling over your clit. Even the moan building in your chest gets the memo. It disappears somewhere in your throat when — fucking finally — that middle finger penetrates you.

And god, he sounds so wrecked when he finally speaks. 

“Tried to imagine it a thousand times, you know,” he murmurs. 

You clench around his finger as it curls upwards, shiver when he starts to stroke the sensitive spot along your front wall. His thumb picks up where his middle finger left off, pressing against your clit in a way that makes you mewl.

Seokjin only stops talking to kiss you deep and leave you dizzy. It’s too brief. If asked, you’d never be able to quantify what amount of time is enough, but you know that wasn’t, so you pout.

Ignoring your little whines, he continues with a hum, “How perfect you’d feel, if I ever got this lucky.”

Oh, Jesus Christ.

You laugh as you say it, but you’re dead serious: “If you keep talking to me like that, you’ll never be able to get rid of me.”

Marry me, why don’t you? Beautiful bastard.

“Threat or promise?” 

He adds a second finger; and suddenly, you’re not laughing anymore. No, the strangled sound you make while you grind against his palm isn’t funny at all, but you can’t care about that now. Your focus is stuck on remembering how to breathe. In, out. On the stars blinking behind your eyelids when they give up and flutter shut.

He works you open for him like he’s already attuned, like it’s the fiftieth time he’s finger-fucked you and not the very first. And, quite frankly, it’s embarrassing how little time it takes for him to pull you apart at the seams.

No one has ever made you cum with such little effort. You’re scared to learn what it’s like when he tries.

You catch the triumphant gleam in his eye in the split second before you bury your face in the crook of his neck. He’s earned it, you suppose, so you’ll let him relish the personal record he’s managed to set on his first time out. You might even let him brag about it, so long as he continues to make you tremble like this.

“Shit,” he chuckles low near your ear. 

If he sounds muffled, it’s because you’re still waiting for your system to reboot. He knows this, knows how fucking sensitive you are, and slides his fingers out of you as slowly as possible. Still, those aftershocks throttle you; the unintentional stimulation makes you jolt.

“Yes,” you nod helplessly, squeezing your eyes and jaw shut simultaneously. “Shit is right. Perfect analysis, no notes.”

A chaste kiss is placed on your temple. It’s petal soft and subak sweet, but it functions like a defibrillator. Within a split second, he’s revived you. Eyes now open again, you exhume your face from where you buried it and blink up at him. Warm brown eyes light up when you reappear.

He’s so fucking beautiful that you almost want to avert your eyes. Key word: almost. You’ll drink in the sight of him until you drown, you think.

Seokjin looks concerned. With a shy smile, he checks in: “You okay? We can stop right now if you’re not.”

You don’t know who they are, but you know that they don’t make them like him anymore. Which is a fucking bummer for the rest of the world — just not for you. This one is all yours.

“You quitting on me, Kim?” You let your knee fall inwards to nudge his side, and you pretend not to notice how boneless you still feel. “Didn’t wait all this time to tap out early, did you?”

He rolls his eyes, but he’s grinning, nonetheless. His warm palm massages the outside of your thigh affectionately, if only for a moment. Then, he pats his fingertips against the same spot. “Shorts off, champ.”

You follow his instructions and move to shimmy out of them, but not before snorting, “Champ?”

“Fine. Old sport?” He offers with a shit-eating grin. Your shirt smacks him in the face once you peel it off and chuck it at him. He pouts. “Hey!”

“Thanks, I hate it.” 

He tugs his shirt over his head, launches it over his shoulder without looking. Your unabashed stare immediately clocks the slight hint of his abdominal muscles. Lean, but not sharply contoured in a way that looks painful to touch. Soft. Perfect, even.

What lab were you engineered in?

“For someone with so many opinions, you don’t offer many suggestions.” He shoots you a pointed look while he unties the knot at his waistband drawstring. “What’s your proposal?”

You’d love to bite back at him. Really, you would, but he pulls his boxers down alongside his joggers, and every meaningful thought you’ve ever had goes flying out the fucking window. All that’s left is I want you, I want you, I want you.

Automatically, you reach out with a tentative hand, craving nothing more than to feel his velvet length in your hand. To your surprise, he stops you. He catches your hand in his, lifts it to his lips, and brushes a kiss over your knuckles.

“Rain check, baby,” Seokjin smiles against your skin. There it is. That’s the one. “Need to fuck you, posthaste, or I’ll simply pass away.”

You open your mouth to comment; he breezes right past you. He points to the mattress, then to the wall to your left. “On your side, love.”

That works, too.

“Face away from me.”

Never in your life have you moved so fast, all but throwing yourself down where he told you to. As you land with a slight bounce, you mouth to yourself, Posthaste? Nerd.

A second slips by, then Seokjin slips into the space behind you. His lips tickle the back of your neck when he kisses the base of it, causing you to gasp yet again. Maybe that’s just how you breathe when he’s around — like you don’t know how.

His hand drifts down the length of your side, passing over the doughy flesh of your ass. He gives it a squeeze for good measure — because of course he does — but he doesn’t linger, not now.

That hand continues until you feel his fingertips scratch affectionately at the back of your right thigh. He doesn’t need to ask; you lift your leg, allowing your knee to hinge overtop of his hand. Now that his hands are occupied, you offer yours to assist. 

This time, he doesn’t stop you when you wrap your fingers around his length. And fuck, there’s so much of it. Part of you wants to ask where the hell he thinks he’s going to fit all of it, but you’re not a quitter, so you keep your mouth shut. 

Seokjin shivers under your touch, breath catching in his throat so blatantly that you can hear it right behind your ear. 

“Hmmm,” you tease, squeezing the crown gently as you circle your wrist. “Does that work for you, champ?”

His forehead drops against your shoulder. The groan you force out of him is twice as long as necessary, followed by an unwilling laugh. “You’re right, okay? You’re fucking right. It’s awful. Just so fucking bad.”

Your thumb swipes over his leaking tip, smearing the bead of pre-cum waiting for you there. You’re relentless. “Sure you don’t like old sport better? Huh, buddy?”

“Baby,” he warns. There isn’t much heat to it, but it burns white hot in your core anyway.

The stretch of his cock does, too, when you finally stop fucking with him and start letting him fuck you. The breath he holds as he enters you slowly is let out in a shuddered groan when he bottoms out. Perfectly full and fully incapable of teasing him further, you simply melt back against his chest.

He’s careful to start, testing the waters and refusing to push you too far, too fast. You want more, though, you always have. Greedy, you rock your hips back against him to force him deeper into your weeping hole. He takes the hint, fingertips pressing bruises into the underside of your knee as he picks up his pace — and you’re far too blissed to care.

He pistons into you eagerly, deliberate. His hips clap against the flesh of your ass, but the sting of it all can’t compete with the way he splits you open. Makes you reach back to cling to any part of him you can get your hands on, claim whatever you find for keeps. Buried to the hilt, and somehow,  he’s still not close enough.

You’re close, if your fluttering walls have anything to say about it. You’re babbling, too, so lost in pleasure that you can only repeat — over and over — how fucking perfect he is. How perfect for you he is.

Seokjin peppers kisses down the curve of your shoulder as he thrusts. It’s the only real indication you have that he’s at a loss for words, too; that he’s compensating for the quiet. He kisses you with an open mouth, teeth grazing the space he finds, leaves a mess on your sweat-slicked skin.

“Fuck,” he grunts. You mewl. “Can’t stop thinking about —”

“Just like that, please.”

“— how many times I could’ve —”

You wail, “Shit, Seokjin, don’t stop. I’m so close.”

The staccato strokes will be the death of you, you’re sure of it. Thankfully, he doesn’t stop. Not when he kisses the back of your neck again, and not when he murmurs directly in your ear, “— had you like this, if I’d said something years ago.”

Please, please, please. 

It’s all you can say, again and again, as if he isn’t already giving you everything you want before you even ask for it. Responding to every movement you make, fucking into you with precision so that each vein of his cock brings friction where you crave it. Fucking you through your orgasm when it catches you in a riptide and sends you reeling.

“That’s it, baby.” His voice is soothing despite the recklessness of his thrusts. “So good for me. So fucking good.”

You’re still gushing when he snaps his hips forward and stills, cock twitching as he lets himself go inside of you. Still trembling when his head droops forward to nuzzle against your shoulder blade, and when you feel his breathing begin to slow in tandem with yours.

Once he pulls himself out of you, a few moments pass in fucked-out silence. It’s comfortable, if you ignore the mess between your thighs — and you do, for now. Your brain is too busy to waste time on that.

You’re exhausted and bordering on delirious when you say it, but that doesn’t make it any less true:

“I might love you, probably.”

He doesn’t respond immediately. He doesn’t move either, which makes you wonder if he’s fallen asleep with his face smushed into your bare back. But you feel the tiniest exhale through his nose; the kind of laugh you get from him when he’s too tired to be any louder.

His reply is muffled, lips still pressed against your skin, but you hear it perfectly.

For the record, he probably loves you, too.

final a/n: i have a follow-up drabble planned for these two! stay tuned 🥰

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the courtship chronicles | ksj

summary: dating has never been anywhere near your list of priorities, but kim seokjin is nothing if not determined. and when he comes to the rescue and accompanies you to your friend’s wedding, he decides to request only one thing in return: for you to let him take you out on fake dates and shower you in fake affection, and show you how much fun dating can be. he just needs to remember to keep the part where he’s been in love with you under wraps.

{friends to lovers!au, fake dating!au}

pairing: kim seokjin x female reader genre: fluff, comedy, and emotional hurt/comfort! word count: 20k a/n: big, big, big thanks to @aurawatercolor for commissioning me for this piece!! i honestly am so happy with this fic and even happier to give my main man kim seokjin the love and attention he deserves!!! this fic is pretty much slow burn from start to finish, so enjoy!

check out the post-script drabble here!

Keep reading

Best friend 1: If I fucked you right now what would you do?

Best friend 2: Moan???

Wow... 😦📎📌📍📐📏

the story of love: going back | daminette

summary: marinette returns to college francois dupont.

ao3 | wattpad | masterlist | series masterlist

first - previous - next

Marinette inhaled deeply as she stood in front of College Francois Dupont.

Damian noticed – he was far too observant sometimes – and placed a kiss on her temple. “Everything’s going to be okay, Angel,” he promised.

Marinette believed him.

As she walked into the school with Damian, everyone stopped what they were doing to stare unabashedly at her and Damian.

When she walked by, Marinette could hear people whispering, dating Damian Wayne and our Marinette Dupain-Cheng? Dating him?

But she ignored them.

**

“Ms Dupain-Cheng, please reconsider your transfer-” whimpered Mssr. Damocles.

Marinette interrupted him sweetly. “With all due respect, sir-” which means none at all, you sniveling idiot, “I am not going to change my mind. Now, please, hand me my transfer papers.”

With a trembling hand, Damocles finally gave the papers to her. “You will have to go back to your classroom, to collect your belongings,” he said faintly.

Marinette was well aware that the only reason he wanted her here was to make his school more popular – not because he cared about her. He never did.

As she and Damian walked out of his office, Damian gave her an appreciative smile. “You handled that situation amazingly, Angel. I’m proud of you.”

Several students stopped to gawk at them when he said that.

Marinette giggled softly and kissed him on the cheek. “Thank you, Dami.”

“Are you sure you want to go to your class?” asked Damian worriedly. “I could get your stuff for you, if you want.”

Marinette stroked his cheek fondly. It was nice of him to offer but she had to do this herself. “No, Dami. As much as I would, I can’t. I need closure and so do my classmates.”

Damian scoffed at the mention of her classmates. “Your old-” he emphasized the ‘old’, “-classmates need nothing of the sort. I would like to make the pay for what they did.”

Marinette smirked slyly. “Who said you can’t?”

Lila Rossi had absolutely no idea what the hell was going on.

That morning, while she got ready for school, she expected everyone to welcome her and worship her feet when she walked in.

What she wasn’t expecting was the cold glares and derisive sneers she got from literally everyone in the school.

Like, had Hawkmoth sent another akuma or something? Because otherwise she was going to have a chat with him about it.

When she walked into Mdm. Bustier’s class, Lila hoped at least her sheep would believe her grand tales of Prince Ali’s palace but no one gave her a single glance.

In fact, everyone, including Mdm. Bustier, was glaring at her.

Mdm. Bustier eyed her coldly and asked, “Would you like to explain your lies, Lila?”

Before she could come up with another lie, Lila was interrupted by none other than her worst enemy.

Marinette Dupain-Cheng.

Lila smirked victoriously. No matter if her lies were discovered.

She could pin this on Marinette.

Marinette walked in confidently into her former class.

Seems like everyone was about to gang up on Lie-la, she thought with spiteful amusement.

You could hardly blame Marinette though. Lie-la had made her life a living hell for quite some time now. It was nice to know she would be paying for it.

She was snapped out of her not-so-nice thoughts when Alya yelled, “Marinette!”

The glasses-wearing girl tackled her in a hug – as if they had never stopped being friends, as if she had never ignored her, as if she hadn’t bullied her.

Alya seemed to be oblivious to the fact that her hug was one-sided. Marinette’s arms stayed firmly and stiffly by her side.

When Marinette gave no response to her, Alya finally backed away and looked at her – really looked at her – which meant looking at her stony expression.

“Marinette? What’s wrong?” she faltered, looking at her classmates for help.

And suddenly, they were all clamoring at her yelling about how good it was to have her back and how much they missed her as if they had never broken her heart. As if they weren’t the reason she spent hours wondering why she wasn’t enough for them. As if she they weren’t the reasons she spent innumerable nights crying herself to sleep.

Marinette could feel the anger building inside her body and was currently trying to resist the urge to let it out while simultaneously attempting not to get akumatized.

Hawkmoth was a man without a life and she wasn’t about to show weakness to the likes of him.

Completely ignoring her silence, her classmates and teacher (with the exception of Lila, of course) continued without abandon until finally, finally they shut up and by their fearful expressions – she knew why.

Showing the first semblance of emotions since she got to this hellhole called a class, Marinette flung her arms around her boyfriend and kissed him recklessly – completely ignoring her former-classmates as they had before and had continued to do so for years.

“Miss me?” Damian whispered against her lips.

Marinette nodded fervently. “The sooner we get out of here, the better.”

It finally, occurred to someone named Adrien that Marinette hadn’t said a word since she entered this cursed classroom.

In a voice that would have had her blushing mere months ago, he asked, “Mari, why haven’t you said anything? Aren’t you happy to see us?”

And then suddenly, the rest of the class was asking favors from her: Mari, will you give me a leg up (Literally everyone); An interview (Alya); A business deal (Adrien).

That was what tipped her over the edge, and judging by Damian’s smirk he knew it too.

Alya was shocked to see the anger that blossomed on Marinette’s face when Adrien said that.

“‘Happy to see you’” she snarled, eyes practically radiating pure anger. “You all could go and rot in hell for all I care.”

Rearing back in fear, Alya said, outraged, “What? But we’re your friends, Mari. How could you say something like that?”

Bad move, darling.

Marinette spun towards her, fists clenching. “Friends, huh?” she spat the word out. “Then where were you when I said Lila was lying? Oh, that’s right…you didn’t believe me!”

Using her momentary pause, Alya interrupted. “But you didn’t have any proof-”

“I was your best friend, Alya, you’re supposed to believe things like that without question.” Marinette glared at her. “And even if you didn’t, you were supposed to do some research about it, weren’t you?”

“But you were jealous! Jealous of your crush on Adrien!” Alya didn’t feel an ounce of guilt for what she said. She half expected Marinette to blush then and there.

It only served to make her angrier. “Yeah? Then who was the one to plan Kagami and Adrien’s date, huh? Me, that’s who!” Marinette advanced like a lion, Alya being the prey. “Then, pray tell me, how could I be jealous when I planned his date with another girl?”

Alya had no answer to that.

Marinette poked a finger into her chest, managing to look bigger even with her short stature. “I”ll tell you why. Because you. Were. A. SHIT. Best friend.”

Alya flinched at every word, knowing somewhere deep, deep down that it was true.

Adrien thought it was time to intervene.

Alya one of the most bull-headed girls he knew – though it served to be a flaw in this case, he thought regretfully – looked like she was going to cry.

“Marinette,” he said gently. “I think you need to calm down before you attract an akuma.”

Apparently, that was the wrong thing to say because he was her next target and Adrien couldn’t help but feel a little frightened. Especially, when the Wayne was standing there with a cocky smirk.

“Before I attract an akuma?” Marinette mimicked furiously. “Well, guess what, Adrien, ever since you told me to use the ‘high road’ I attracted 26 akumas because of you!”

Adrien flinched at her volume and Wayne’s sudden glare.

“What do you mean?” asked Rose, sweet Rose.

Marinette looked at him with a terrifying smile. Adrien felt his heart sink. He had a feeling this wasn’t going to end well for him.

“Adrien,” she said with an eerie calm. “Knew Lila was lying the whole time.”

The class was only able to stare at him in silent shock.

Marinette smirked at him so coldly, Adrien shivered. “And if you’re so concerned about people getting akumatized, then why the hell didn’t you stop your ‘best friend’ Chloe Bourgeois from causing more than half of the akumatizations in the whole of Paris?”

Adrien had nothing to say.

Because he knew she was right.

Caline Bustier did not like the direction this discussion was going in.

The whole class was hounding on Adrien like a pack of dogs and Marinette – her once role-model – was the cause of it.

What happened to the sweet girl she knew?

She didn’t realize she said it out loud until everyone had descended into silence.

Marinette shot her an icy glare. “The ‘sweet girl you knew’” she encased that in finger quotes. “-was a doormat, Bustier.”

Caline flinched.

Ignoring her discomfort, Marinette continued being brutally honest. “That girl would spend nights awake doing jobs for her friends – which you forced her to do – for free, the only payment being a ‘thank you.’ That girl let you dump all of your responsibilities as a teacher on her.”

Caline tried to protest against that. “I didn’t-”

“-dump all of your responsibilities on me?” finished Marinette. “You did. I was the one to plan all the class trips when it should have been you. I was the one to look after the class though it was your job. So tell me Bustier, how is it not?”

Seeing as she had no response, Marinette continued, the fire blazing brighter than ever. “And that bullshit about being the bigger person. Absolute rubbish. Forgiving and forgetting doesn’t make the bully stop. It encourages them. You’re a shit teacher Bustier and you don’t deserve to be one.”

Caline flinched when she heard Marinette use that profanity.

It didn’t make it any less true.

Marinette felt lighter than she had in years. It felt freeing to let all those feelings out.

“Now,” she said, sweetly as if she would have done before. “To the rest of my former-classmates. I hate you, and I hope I never, ever see you again because you all absolutely suck.”

She felt a spiteful sort of satisfaction when she saw their shocked faces.

As Marinette held her hand out, she asked, “My stuff please?”

Lila’s head was reeling. What the hell was happening?

She expected Marinette to accept those idiot’s apologies, not blow up at them!

Nothing was going her way today.

Except for one thing…

Lila allowed herself a tiny smirk when she saw a purple butterfly floating into the room – straight towards Marinette.

Oh no you don’t.

She launched herself up onto a table and trapped the akuma in between her arms. By then, the entire class had noticed her acrobatics and fallen into silent horror when they saw what she did.

But she didn’t care.

After beating Ladybug, Lila would take both of the miraculous and rule the world! She was astounding, wasn’t she?

As she inserted the akuma into her bracelet, she smirked. “Hello, Hawkmoth,” she purred.

“Mdm. Rossi, do you mind?” he hissed through their connection. “I could finally akumatize my target and you came in between.”

Lila felt her heart stop beating in shock. “What?” she gasped. “You want Maribrat to defeat Ladybug? I am so much better!”

She stamped her foot for emphasis, ignoring the people in the room.

Hawkmoth sighed as if she was a 2-year-old child throwing a tantrum. “Don’t you see Mdm. Rossi?” he said with exasperation. “You were only a pawn and perhaps a slightly useful weapon in my game. Marinette Dupain-Cheng was my ultimate akuma to defeat Ladybug and Chat Noir.”

Leaving Lila to drown in her outrage, Hawkmoth swiftly guided the akuma from her bracelet and into Marinette’s purse.

Marinette stiffened as she felt Hawkmoth assert his control on her.

“Princess Justice,” he crooned. “I am Hawkm-”

Through his usual spiel, Marinette heard Damian pleading her not to give in.

“-Angel, you need to fight him.” Damian was saying, ignoring her idiot class’s shock at seeing him speak.

Hawkmoth taking no notice of her thoughts, continued. “I will give you the power to make everyone who has wronged you pay-”

Oh, hell no.

Marinette spoke to him for the first time, interrupting his speech. “Does that ‘everyone’ include you, Hawkmoth?”

Taking his silence as a cue to continue, she said, “Because, honestly? My life was a million times better when you didn’t even exist.”

Regaining his tongue, Hawkmoth smoothly said, “Perhaps, after you have made everyone one else pay and have got me-”

“Ladybug and Chat Noir’s miraculous?” Marinette scoffed. “As if. Unless, of course, you’re willing to let me make you pay first.”

Marinette knew he wouldn’t do that.

“Absolutely not-” Hawkmoth tried to finish and persuade her but she interrupted again.

“Then I don’t give a damn.” Marinette growled into the connection. “I will not get akumatized for nothing.”

She examined her purse lightly. “And, just to be clear, I wouldn’t have accepted your akuma anyway.”

Ignoring Hawkmoth’s protests, she continued. “If you try to akumatize me or anyone else in this room, Hawkmoth, I’ll find you and make sure you pay. Starting with a hunt for your head.”

That was not a threat to take lightly.

With that, Marinette tore a teensy-weensy piece of her purse and smirked victoriously as the akuma hurriedly flew away.

Hawkmoth wouldn’t bother her for a while.

As she walked out of the class, Marinette made a mental note to put a restraining order on Alya and Adrien because she had a feeling they wouldn’t leave her alone.

That night, Adrien felt lonelier than ever. After Marinette had left the class with her boyfriend, his friend – no former-friends – made him an outcast.

Which essentially meant he didn’t have any friends except for Chloe.

Adrien expected some kind of support from Plagg, but the only thing his kwami said was, “I told you what to do, kid. You didn’t listen. You made your own bed – now its time to sleep in it.”

The irony was not lost on him. Adrien had never made his own bed in his life.

He was startled out of his thoughts when the last person he was expecting to come jumped into the room.

Ladybug.

Adrien jumped out of his seat and rubbed his neck sheepishly. “Ladybug!”

Only, there was something wrong with his lady. Her pretty blue eyes were ice cold and she wasn’t smiling at all. “Chat Noir,” she said stonily.

Adrien opened his mouth to respond but he was unable to speak when he realized what she said. “I-I don’t know what you’re talking about!” he said nervously.

“Save it.” Ladybug walked closer to him. “I asked Tikki who you are.”

Eyes brightening, Adrien beamed at her. “Does that mean you’ll show me who you are?”

Ladybug hugged him. That was not a response he was expecting.

Nevertheless, Adrien hugged her back, bathing in her scent.

His ears registered her saying, “I’m sorry.”

And the next second, his ring was slipped of his finger and she was smirking at him. “that I’m not sorry, at all.”

Adrien gaped at her. “My Lady! What are you doing? Why are you taking my miraculous away?”

His Lady eyed him critically. “I’ll tell you why. Because you are not fit to be a miraculous-holder. Adrien Agreste, you have misused the miraculous of the Black Cat for your own selfish gain putting the civilians of Paris in danger.”

“But My Lady! We are meant to be!” Adrien whimpered.

“No we are not.” Ladybug said harshly. “This is exactly why your miraculous is being taken from you. You cannot accept the fact that it is not true.”

Adrien was on his knees now, begging. “Please, My Lady. You can’t do this.”

“I can and will.” Ladybug did not look in the least sorry. In fact, she looked relieved? “Because Adrien Agreste you are not worthy of the mantle of a superhero.”

And she launched herself out of the window. With his final friend. With his freedom.

Adrien cried himself to sleep that night, unable to understand why his Lady to his miraculous.

The next day, Marinette felt a huge weight lifted off her shoulders. Finally.

She didn’t realize how much her former-classmates’ actions were bothering her until she let it all out.

When she walked out of the bakery, she saw Alya and Adrien loitering by.

“Marinette! Will you-” “Marinette! I’m sorr-”

Marinette interrupted them both. “You both are meant to stay 20ft away from me. Didn’t you get the papers of the restraining order?”

They both refused to meet her eyes as they backed away slowly. Alya because her parents would murder her if she did anything else and Adrien because, well, he needed to keep Gabriel’s reputation squeaky clean didn’t he?

**

As she walked out walked on the Parisian sidewalks with her boyfriend’s arm around her waist (whose hand, she might add had a new silver ring on it), Marinette felt that she could take the world on with Damian by her side.

Bring it on Hawkmoth.

Ignorantly, Yours

Word Count: 10.6k

Pairing: Alpha!Jimin x Omega!Reader

Genre: Wolf!AU, Best Friends to Lovers!AU; fluff, smut, angst

Warnings: dom!Jimin, sub!reader, A/B/O dynamics, heat sex, fingering, unprotected sex, dirty talk (including a bit of possessiveness), marking, creampie, hair pulling, degradation, praise, rough sex, multiple orgasms

Rating: 18+

Summary:  You never could have expected your best friend to show up at your apartment right as you were about to go into heat, but when he did, something in you just wouldn’t let him go.

A/N: Truly, this was never supposed to be more than drabble. Which truly became a nuisance once it grew a lot and I had to go back and change a lot of things during editing. This is my first fic with some sort of supernatural element to it, and I had a lot of fun! I hope you guys enjoy, and please let me know what you think!

Reposted without the header gif and without any links or taglist. Sorry for any inconvenience if you were already looking at the first post. I will reblog with the taglist shortly.

–

Maybe it should have been embarrassing.

Maybe it was, 5 years ago when the habit first started.

5 years ago, when you’d had your first pre-heat. When the world had quickly become too overwhelming, your nose unused to the myriad of scents that assaulted you in your sensitivity. Your skin feeling so raw that even the clothes on your back felt uncomfortable.

It was then, in your childhood bedroom, amidst everything else, you recognized a scent that accompanied you through your life for as long as you could remember. A scent that felt like home, felt like warm days under the sun and shared laughter under blankets at midnight.

Your nose had led you to the bottom drawer of your dresser, your hands digging through the mess of fabric there until you pulled out an orange hoodie. You didn’t remember ever having it, and it looked small enough to have been from years ago – maybe even from before he presented.

But as you pulled it out of that drawer, the scent that might have been faint to you any other day filled your nostrils. A blueberry and pine scent that left you feeling calmer instantly, safer. Whether that had to do more with your friendship or his alpha status wasn’t a thought that crossed your mind. All you knew at the time was that it made everything better – he made everything better, even when he wasn’t there.

That marked the first time you laid in your bed, curling yourself around that small piece of comfort, your face shoved into the soft fabric. The peace that washed over you then was addicting, and any thought of giving up that feeling was unfathomable.

And if Jimin noticed how you were covered in his own scent when he saw you after every heat since that day, he didn’t say a thing.

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I think Best friends to lovers will always be one of my most fav trope!! 😩💗🦋

first & last | jjk.

↠ main pairing: best friend!jungkook x virgin!reader

↠ fic type: one shot, friends to lovers

↠ genre: smut

↠ word count: 4.2k

↠ warnings: alcohol consumption (they aren’t drunk, just a lil tipsy), explicit language, dry humping, finger sucking, light dirty talk, hand job, cum play

↠ summary: during a game of never have i ever, jungkook finds out that you haven’t had your first kiss yet and decides to show you how it’s done. 

a/n: eeeeep! i’m so happy to finally have smth up for jk again bc it’s been awhile n we all know i’m whipped for this man. enjoy! feedback is always appreciated. xo

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Okay hear me out! This was amazing like mind-blowing, I just have no words for this story like it was posted in 2016 and I just read this after 7 years!!! Like can you believe that?? I wish I had found this before omg the angst in this really made me cry as I am already a sensitive person but still the plot and writing is really amazing that it could make anyone cry and the smut could make anyone happy like it was the contrast between angst and smut but still I couldn't even enjoy the smut as I was too focused in readers heartbreaking emotions...

Best friend to lovers is one of my most fav trope but this was something different in that trope like how he was in love with someone else and the OC had to just stand there and watch him being in love in those 2 years and just keep on hurting herself like that but love does does that to many, I really felt all the emotions OC was feeling throughout the story as I was in her place so, I am too emotional rn and I am very happy too as they got their happy ending at last in part 2 cause I really hate sad endings (well who does☹️) also hats off to the author for making us readers feel a rollercoaster of emotions through this like it's real talent and art when you can make the person reading feel emotional and makes one feel what Oc is feeling like it's pure talent!! A LITERAL MASTERPIECE!! ❤️

i hate you, i love you. (m) | 01

PT.1 | PT.2 | Drabbles

Pairing: Jungkook x Reader 

Genre: Angst/Smut

Description: You hated him at seven, warmed up to him at twelve, and liked him at fifteen. Now the two of you are twenty years old and inseparable best friends… and you’re absolutely in love with him; he’s in love too—just not with you. 

Word Count: 10,389

cr.

You were seven years old when you first met Jeon Jungkook, and it was without question that you absolutely, undeniably, irrefutably, hated him.

You hated his everything, from the way kids in your class flocked to him like he was some sort of radiant sun, to the way he teased you in passing, to the way he’d stare at you out of the corner of his eye, but most of all you hated that stupidly beautiful bunny like grin that never failed to make your heart skip a beat.

You remembered the first day school started back from winter break so clearly. The teacher announced that it was time to change assigned seats. A lot of the kids whined in sadness at having to be ripped away from their friends, but you on the other hand didn’t really mind the change since you hadn’t become too close to your desk mate… that is until his name was called.

Your eyes widened as you watched the happy-go-lucky raven haired boy take the seat next to yours. A frustrated sigh left your lips as you tried to keep your sights forward and away from the brightly lit grin that was visible through your peripheral.

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Not me tryna find and read all best friends to lovers/fake dating trope fics cuz those are that good, this trope just gives me feels that i just can't explain in words....it just makes me want to have a relationship with my male friend/bestie irl too lmaoo (tho tmi but my male friends here are some bunch of immature idiots so that's out of the point lol)

Okay so now lemme tell u bout this fic....it was so beautifully written. All the jokes and humor, bad movies metaphor/referencs, jungkook and oc fluff, that team jacket scene (iykyk hahaha), oc tryna look cold but in real she is a softie for jungkook, jungkook telling all those white lies, all that sexual tension and many more scenes that so perfectly and exquisitely written! I really loved reading this! It was so much fun! Thankyou so much for writing this author! You are doing a great job! 🎀✨️🫧🌸

white lies | jjk | m

— summary; in which Jungkook lies his way out of and into trouble. But he can’t tell white lies when it comes to you. 

— contents and warnings; smut, fluff, very minor angst, poor attempts at humor, athlete!jungkook x reader, childhood best friends, fake dating, idiots to lovers, far too many movie references, a tiny bit of jealousy, jk is a football/soccer player, mentions of alcohol and drugs, the catastrophic event that is a frat party, jk is kind of a himbo, so much sexual tension, mutual pining, a lot of touching, dirty talk, fingering, grinding, jk has a big dick, praise, body worship if you squint, unprotected sex (don’t.), pulling out, very mild possessiveness, mid-sex confessions, the L word…, Jungkook wants to fuck you in his team jacket because his tastes are very singular and you wouldn’t understand it 

— words; 13,3k

— author’s notes; I know what you’re thinking… and yes, every bad movie mentioned is real. Also, this is a self-aware cliche and 100% self indulgent. Have fun!

When people first found out that you and Jungkook were friends, you received a very predictable, repetitive sequence of reactions.

First came disbelief. It was the most comprehensible one, at least from your perspective, taking into consideration that you and Jungkook were completely different people. He was loud (sometimes too loud) and outgoing, probably knew at least ninety percent of the campus population by name and city of origin. Jungkook was warm, friendly, the type of guy that you’d confess all your worries to if given enough time. You, on the other hand, was more on the “colder” side — you weren’t as inviting with strangers, and didn’t mind going through moments of awkward silence. Jungkook was a talker and you were a listener; he was a daydreamer and you were a brute realist: maybe that was why your friendship worked so well. But most people couldn’t really get it. 

Second came the questions — the doubts, the sideway glances, even a few bitter comments if you were unlucky enough. Jungkook had kind of a reputation when it came to sleeping around, so most people jumped to the conclusion that either you were his favorite plaything (which might have been the most offensive thing you’ve ever heard) or that you were simply the rare one he had friendzoned because he didn’t want to fuck you (a big runner-up to that prize). Eventually, though, you settled their anguishes simply by saying that you knew each other ever since you were kids. 

Which took you to the final phase: relief and acceptance. The ones who saw you as a threat instantly relaxed, and the ones who couldn’t understand why he would “waste his time” with “someone like you” quickly understood that it was a deep, innocent connection that he was just “too sweet to let go.” Obviously, that didn’t make you feel any better. 

Truth was, it was kind of hard being friends with Jungkook. Mostly because the boy casted a light so strong that it was almost impossible not to stay in his shadow, but also because you always felt like you had to justify your existence every time he chose you instead of anyone else. You were the person he ran to hug once his team won; you were the one he ditched other people for, just to hang out with you. It made you insecure. And, yeah, there was also the fact that you had been madly in love with him for some time now, but that was unimportant. 

Well, until he asked you to be his (fake) girlfriend, that was. 

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back-burner | 01

sometimes you felt like you were the back-burner of a two-decade-long friendship. how could you ever compete?

PAIRING. min yoongi x reader

GENRE. sister's best friend!au, best friend to lovers!au, sorta frenemies?to lovers!au, angst, *slow burn*, smut, fluff

WARNINGS. one-sided pining (?), longing, sibling jealousy, alcohol consumption, drunk rambling

WORDS. 2.8k

NOTE. hey ya'll!!! sorry for being a lil MIA 😓 things have gotten super busy recently but I managed to whip out a lil wip and plan for a lil drabble series hehe. I'll probably add the tags along the way so it's hard to say where this will go lol but I hope you enjoy!!

unedited :-( !!!!

back-burner masterlist | next chapter

"You're staring again."

Jeon Jungkook is a lot of things. Capable, talented, your self-proclaimed best friend, a multi-faceted nursing student, and handsome. What he wasn't, however, was helpful.

"Wow, thank you for letting me know. It's as if these aren't my own eyes that are doing said staring you speak off," you snap sarcastically, tipping the last bit of vodka and rum down your throat as you wince at the burn.

"That smart-ass mouth isn't going to shift reality," he retorts, snatching your glass away as you glare at him.

"Haven't you heard of manifestation? Speak it into existence, they say," you babble on, mumbling to yourself as you slump further down the plush leather seats.

The gala was beautiful, as usual. Rich and accomplished people alike were mingling with one another while their charming smiles reflected off marble surfaces to highlight their apparent brightness. It was both blinding and exhausting to constantly be surrounded by such greatness, especially to a point where people approached you thinking that you were equally as capable of it.

You weren't, and you don't think you'd ever be.

"Hm, sure." Jungkook rolls his eyes at you dismissively before he considers your words with his eyes looking upwards thoughtfully. "Maybe if you actually acknowledged your feelings then something could happen."

You scowl, drowning yourself lower to a point where your face is nearly squashed under the weight of your shoulders, your face morphed into an expression that's commonplace for you. You don't acknowledge the disapproving stares that a few of these socialites give you when they pass you, affronted to witness a woman like yourself allow herself to look as loose-ended as you were.

"Who says I'm not acknowledging it?"

"No one," Jungkook blinks before he's turning to where your line of vision ends, and you're bitterly reminded of what he was referring to when your eyes settle on them once more. "But the fact Yoongi's clinking glasses with Haerin in hand says something."

"So?" you snap, shifting back into a comfortable position before you're waving a waiter down for more booze. "They can do whatever they want."

"And if that's each other?" Jungkook asks with a raised brow.

You stomp on his foot as he yelps, sending you a lethal glare while you return his gesture with a sickly plastic smile. You don't bother listening when Jungkook begins muttering curses under his breath, and neither do you care about Yoongi or Haerin and how beautiful they looked together. Or how your heart was never with you when he was around, always two steps further than where it should've been. No. You don't care.

Jungkook pushes himself off the seat before shooting you one last once-over accompanied with a deep sigh before he's retreating to where the rest of his peers lay. You had no qualms of him leaving you, in fact, you appreciated the space. You rather be alone now, anyway.

"Another vodka and rum, please," you request from the waiter that bends ever so slightly to catch your order.

"Again, Miss ____?"

You don't appreciate the look of surprise on the waiter's face. You don't even remember if you've ordered from him previously, but the fact that he's sending you very judgemental eyes tell you enough; and your booze-hazed mind sends your mouth running before you can think of giving the man a break.

"Listen, Steve, my father didn't rent out this entire venue for you to micromanage my drinking habits, okay?" Your eyes narrow at him while his eyes widen.

"No Miss, that's not what—"

"Not what you meant?" you snort, "Come on. I've heard better. Just give me my damn alcohol and—!"

"Sorry, Steve." A voice interrupts apologetically as you recognise it immediately. Your body tingles with warmth at the low baritone of your newly joined guest, but you're still a little too drunk to comprehend it. "I'll take care of her."

Steve leaves, bowing apologetically before shooting you an annoyed expression that you think was meant to be kept to himself. You're just about to climb out of your seat to give him a piece of your mind before a large hand wraps around your waist to drag you back to your seat.

"What the—?"

"Having fun?" When you look up, Yoongi's shooting you an amused smile. It's nothing ostentatious, but it's Yoongi. A little cold but genuine nevertheless. You hate that despite your alcohol-fueled mind, your heart still flutters.

"Go away, Yoongi," you grumble.

"Can't do," he chuckles before he's releasing his grip around you.

You scoff. "Go away. I don't need you micromanaging me either."

"Not micromanaging," he hums, right as he occupies the vacant seat that Jungkook's left. "I care about your liver."

"Do you," you sneer.

"Matter of fact, I do. And so do your parents so I'm doing them a favour by not giving them a heart attack when they find out you're hospitalised because you had alcohol poisoning," he says pointedly as you scowl, "Did you even eat?"

"Yes," you lie.

"An entré from two hours ago doesn't count," he deadpans.

You sigh before you're glaring at him through your drunken eyes.

Yoongi doesn't look mad. You don't think he's capable of being anything but the tempered person he was. Rather, he looks amused, as if your clear distaste for his assistance humoured him than annoyed him like any other person. But Yoongi wasn't like everyone else. You disliked people in general and you didn't like Yoongi.

And unfortunately for your stupid, puny heart, it was the exact opposite of what you felt.

"Come on," he urges you with an extended hand, "You got to eat."

"Who are you, my dad?" you groan.

Yoongi levels you with an unimpressed look before he's making an effort to wrap his palm around your arm himself. You shiver at the contact, distracting yourself from the way your heart stammers in your chest to shoot a menacing glare at the man before you.

"No, I'm your friend and I care about you," he says easily before he's bringing you up with him when he stands up.

You yelp, dizzy on your feet as you stumble into his chest. Yoongi already has his arms extended, prepared for your inebriated stance when his palms rest on your waist to balance you out. He's warm. Cosy like your favourite blanket while all you wanted to do was snuggle deeper into his embrace. But when you peer up at him and see his concerned stare, one that was undoubtedly platonic, you feel yourself scowling at the harsh reality check.

"Aren't you busy?" you sneer bitterly, cocking your head to the side from where you remembered him and Haerin engaged in a rather amorous discussion.

"With your sister?" he raises a brow, "Your father called her over."

You scoff.

Of course. The only reason he was here and the only reason he ever spoke to you was that your sister wasn't available. It was always as if you were the second option, a convenient emblem to gravitate towards when he couldn't get the real thing. It was a bitter thought, that you only ever knew of Yoongi because of Haerin.

You would never be anything more than what you currently were to him.

Yoongi was older than you, as old as your older sister and that meant you watched him graduate before you, get his drivers license before you, attend prom before you. All of the things that you considered milestones in your life. And the worst part was that he did it all with Haerin by his side. The proof of their blooming friendship was there in the pictures of her room, on her social media pages and the friendly relations that both your families had with each other.

You first met Yoongi after a particularly strenuous day in middle school. You were just getting to know the concept of teenage angst and responsibilities when you came back home, exhausted from the load of homework your teachers had assigned you right before your final exams.

Haerin was already at the dinner table at that time, caught up in her senior assignments while she typed away on her laptop.

That time, Yoongi appeared.

You remember stopping in your tracks when you spotted the new guest, dark fringe covering his forehead while a beanie rested on his head. He had a large hoodie on that covered his rather narrow build, but he was still taller than you and your sister. You didn't know who he was, but you weren't blind. He was gorgeous. The prettiest boy you've ever seen and you befriended enough band kids throughout your life at that point.

When Haerin notices you awkwardly hovering by the door, only does she offer you a small smile as a greeting.

"Hey." It's friendly enough, but when she looks over to Yoongi, then to you, you gulp. "This is Yoongi. We're working on a project together."

When Yoongi finally looks up, his eyes are warm and friendly, but they hold a rather cold edge to them. One that sends a shudder down your spine as you quickly blurt out an introduction of your own before you're scampering off to your room.

From then on, the rest was history.

You and Yoongi grew closer the more Haerin and his friendship bloomed. What started as a group project eventually blossomed into a friendship that they labelled as 'forever'. Yoongi was always kind to you, offered to drop you off places, gave you advice when you were the one dealing with senioritis; explained 'adult' concepts like taxes and insurance to you when you were curious; fixed the engine in your car for you when it failed you in the middle of nowhere, and he even was the one that accompanied you to get your wisdom teeth extracted.

Yoongi wasn't just Haerin's best friend, but yours too. The difference was that the two of them were clearly more than that while you were forced to watch.

So when you return back to reality, eyes slightly unfocused when they rest on Yoongi's face, you're disgruntled in the reminder of where you stood, and who you were to him.

"Of course," you say with an eye-roll before you're pushing yourself off of him, "Don't worry about me. I can take care of myself."

Yoongi frowns at your stubbornness, especially when your words don't ring true when you take a shaky step away from him, ready to establish distance. Your head still spins but you rather get away from everything when you were loose-lipped than have Yoongi hold his friendship with Haerin over your head like a silent victory.

"Clearly not," he sounds displeased when his hand wraps around your bicep to turn around, "You're drunk."

"And you're being annoying," you snap, "Just—go—back."

You emphasise your points by shoving your finger into his chest, and now when your rage clears your mind ever so slightly, you nearly groan at how devastatingly handsome he looks tonight.

Suits complimented Yoongi's physique beautifully. Especially ones where his dress shirt was tucked in his pants, paired with a silver-toned belt that cinched his waist. The goddamn YSL black blazer that drapes over his shoulder only makes him broader, and you curse the Gods above for making him frequent the gym more recently.

"Don't be stubborn," he sighs, tightening his grip on your bicep.

"Don't be pushy," you throw your words back, huffing while you scowl at him.

"You're drunk," he reminds you gruffly, "Your sister would kill me if I let you go off like this."

And there it was.

You shove his grip off you with as much force as you can as you seethe. Yoongi's eyes widen at your blatant display of strength, especially when your eyes are livid when they rest on his stunned expression.

"Of course you're doing this for Haerin," you scoff bitterly while Yoongi just looks confused. "Guess what, Yoongi? I don't want you doing shit for me because you feel obliged to my sister to take care of her little sister. I'm responsible for myself and not for this hero complex you have, or if you want to impress her. Go fuck yourself and leave me alone."

"What are you saying," he says levelly, unimpressed.

This is the first time you've seen Yoongi look rather ... displeased.

Sure, he's looked annoyed before. He was only human. But this expression on Yoongi looks nearly blazing, and if you were any soberer, you'd drop it. But you weren't, and your mouth moves at its own accord.

"What I'm saying is that you have your head so far up her ass that you don't see anything in front of you!" you exasperate, throwing your hands up in the air. You're mildly aware that your voice is rising and that a few other people were beginning to take notice of your developing argument with Yoongi.

"Listen, let me take you home and—"

You interrupt him with a deprecating laugh, mostly to yourself as you shake your head in disappointment.

"Are you stupid? Do you not know how to take no for an answer?" you ask in disbelief, and Yoongi actually glares at you at your clear jibe at him.

"____, don't test me," he warns.

You snort, waving him off just as you see Jungkook enter your peripheral. Your friend looks rather alarmed and he's making his way over in a hurry, but you're quick with your words.

"Ooh. I'm so scared," you pout, peering up at him through your eyelashes before you're rolling your eyes at Yoongi's stone-faced expression. "Fuck off, Yoongi. Go back to my sister because that's clearly where you belong."

"____—" you hear Jungkook approach you with worry, voice a pitched higher before he's attempting to intercept your and Yoongi's conversation.

"I can deal with it," Yoongi says bluntly.

"Hyung, she's drunk and she's not in her—"

"Oh, I know. But whatever she wants to say to me she can say it to my face," Yoongi laughs tightly before you're scoffing at him.

Jungkook looks panicked, eyes darting in-between the both of you as you find power in driving Yoongi up the wall. Especially when this is the first time you've ever seen him anything less than composed.

"Really? Let me start, then," you smile plastically.

"Do enlighten me," Yoongi blinks.

"Guys I think—"

"You're an annoying asshole," you sneer, poking his chest while your eyes stay trained on his unchanging expression. "You act like you care about me when all you really care about is making yourself look like a good man in front of my sister."

"You're drunk—!" Jungkook hisses, squeezing your shoulder in warning as you drunkenly shove his hand off of you.

Yoongi remains blank in his face and that only irks you even more.

"You always come in and rescue me when you think I need saving but you don't care if I get into trouble! You never do! All the shit you do is cause—cause you want to fuck my sister, want to be this big macho saviour—"

"Okay, that's enough," Jungkook snaps, clamping a mouth over your mouth as you thrash in his hold.

The look on Yoongi's face is menacing. Your eyes widen when you note that it's terrifying that he doesn't move an inch, not even when his eyes slowly drift onto Jungkook's figure attempting to silence your muffled shouts under his palm.

People are staring, but you couldn't care less. Not when Yoongi raises one lone brow that has you shuddering.

"Let her go, Jungkook."

Jungkook freezes, and you take that moment of weakness to bite his hand as he yelps and retreats his palm.

"Ha! See? You're trying to embody this alpha male character," you snort as you feel Jungkook melt helplessly behind you.

"Am I," Yoongi blinks, unamused.

"Duh," you say obviously before rolling your eyes. "You know what. Just fuck right out of here and leave me alone. Let me know if you get into my sister's pants for what you did to me, yeah?"

"Follow me."

Jungkook freezes. You freeze.

And it's all because Yoongi has never sounded like that before.

Like he's threatening you.

"W-What?" you stammer, eyes rapidly blinking.

"We're going to talk," he says calmly, taking a deep breath before he's turning on his feet.

His back is turned to you when you gawk at him. "W-What makes you think I'm going to listen to you?"

Yoongi stops for just a beat, hands stuffed in his pockets when the silence quite literally makes your throat dry.

"Because ..." he says in a low tone as you feel your breath hitch, "The shit I'm going to say and do to you isn't going to be in front of an audience."

He throws you a cold look over your shoulder as you nearly cower at his gaze alone.

When he strides forward, you feel compelled to follow. And you hate that your mind decides that you are.

When you turn to Jungkook, he's as pale as you are, but all he can offer is a weak pat to your shoulder.

"Good fucking luck."

Don’t Call Her Anymore - Park Jimin (F)

— pairing | Park Jimin /Reader — word c | 1,532 — genre | Best friends to lovers au!, fluff. little angst. — summary | You were dating a boy for many months, you fell in love but discovered he had another girlfriend and that broke you. He always called you when he were drunk and you answered, listening to him say the same things. Until Jimin put a stop to it. — warnings/tags | None. I was listening to Evanescence and I had the idea to write that. Amy Lee, queen.

You hated when he did that. Every time you were all right, he did it. It had been weeks since you had thought about him, that you didn’t cry for him. You were returning to your life normally, going out with your friends and meeting other people. You thought this time would be different, but no, nothing was different, there was him calling you at 3 in the morning again, probably completely drunk.

You met him at a party your friend was giving, you kissed, you had sex, and you started dating. You just fell in love and all you wanted was to stay with him, but then you discovered in the worst possible way that he had a girlfriend and that he was just using you and that he never wanted anything serious with you.

When you saw him with her, you wanted to make a scandal, wanted to scream, wanted to swear at him, wanted to slap him, and cry while he would try to give you a stupid excuse. But you knew that if he approached you, all the screams and tears would be wasted, because you would give in and let him touch you, hold you. Then you just turned your back and left as fast as you could, holding your tears until you got home, where you collapsed in tears.

Things started to make sense to you at that moment, why he never took you to meet his parents, why you never go out with him and his friends, why most of your dates were in your house, not his, or some other place. He didn’t want anyone to find out about you.

You finished everything with him over the phone, not being able to see him again, or everything you were doing to stay away from him, would be in vain. Jimin, your best friend was there, in front of you, holding your hand, giving you all the support you needed to do that. He was the first to whom you told what had happened, and if you were not crying like a child, he would have gone after the idiot in the moment you told him.

“Please let me explain.”

“You don’t have to explain, you have a girlfriend, I don’t know her, but no one deserves to be deceived in this way.” You said in the firmer voice you could use, while Park stroked the back of your hand with his thumb, giving you a comforting smile.

"I ... I was going to tell you ... I swear ... But now that you know, we can continue together (Y/N)”

“ What? No, I'm not like that. That's not right, I'm not going to be a part of it.”  You almost screamed, angry and not believing he'd actually proposed that. There was silence on the other side, but you could still hear his heavy breathing.

"Please (Y/N), I love you." And it broke your heart. How could he say that? He was with another ... You were the other. He lied to you, made you believe he cared for you, that you were meant for each other, that he wanted to spend the rest of his life with you. He made you believe that you were the most important person in his life.

"If you loved me, you would be here with me." Your voice cracked as tears began to fall from your eyes. “If you loved me, you would not have lied to me, and I would be your only one, I would be your girlfriend. This ends here.” You hung up, tossing the phone on the couch, and Jimin pulled you close, pressing you into his arms, caressing your hair, letting you cry against his chest. He said nice and sweet things, said that everything would be fine, that the pain would pass and that you would be happy again.

And this really happened, you were moving on, but you always burst into tears when he called you, drunk, crying, saying that he missed you, that he loved you, that he wanted you with him, but he never went after you to beg for forgiveness, he had not broken up with his girlfriend, and you were sure he would never do that. You didn’t even know why you still answering to his calls even knowing what he was going to say.

When your phone started ringing, you woke up and fumbled over the bedside table and picked up the cell phone, looking at the screen, recognizing his number. You sighed and sat on the bed. It had been weeks since he'd called you, you thought he'd finally understood that you didn’t want anything more to do with him.

"Is he again?" A voice beside you asked. You turned your face, seeing Jimin lying there, with the blanket over his waist, shirtless, sleepy, with half-open eyes and messy hair.

Recently you and he have started a loving relationship. You had come even closer after what had happened and with that you finally realized that you had feelings for him. He was always with you when you needed, he never let you down, he never hurt you, he was always affectionate and loving with you. It was he who took the initiative on this, he called you out, he kissed you. And you were happy with him, happier than you expected because you thought it might end up ruining your friendship.  You nodded your head. Jimin sighed and sat on the bed running his hand over his face, he had a soft expression on his face, but you knew he was angry, because his eyes were dark.

“Don’t you think it's time to finally get it over with, (Y/N)? Tell him that you're with another guy, that you are with me and that I don’t make you cry and suffer like he did, that I really care about you, that with me has no gray skies and only sunny days and warm nights. Just tell him that you've found someone who really loves you.”

You took your eyes from him and looked back at the cell phone. Jimin was right, you were happy with what you had with him, so why not just tell Jeha to fuck off and leave you alone, erase your number and let you live happily? You still loved him, that was true, but there was no chance of you getting back together. And if it was to choose between him and Jimin, you would choose Jimin.

“Can you do that?” You asked, turning to Jimin, holding out the cell phone to him. He smiled and nodded, taking the cell phone from your hand, answering it.

“Hello!” He said, and you lay down, putting your head on Jimin's belly and just waited for the call to end. “No man, she is not interested, he found something better.”  He said and took the unoccupied hand to your hair, stroking it. “No, she doesn’t want to talk to you, dude. Try to understand one thing, she found someone who doesn’t stress her, who gives her everything she deserves, who gives her all the happiness you have taken from her. Now stop calling, because the next time you bother my girl, I'll go after you and believe me, you will not like what will happen when I have you in my hands.”

And so he hung up, shoving the cell phone under the pillow and pulling you by the shoulders, to hug you, giving you a kiss on the top of your head.

“Is it over?” You asked, raising your head to look at him. He nodded, smiling softly toward you, stroking your cheek.

“There is only one thing missing.” He whispered giving you a kiss before kicking the blankets and get out of bed, grabbing his pants on the floor and looking for something in his pockets. You sat on the bed, with an arched eyebrow, confused by what he was doing, until he returned to the bed and knelt in front of you, taking your hand and looking at you, deep in your eyes. “Do you wanna date me? Would you like to make this silly boy, who follows you wherever you go, who annoys you when he is needy and who loves you with all his body, heart and soul, the happiest man in the world?” He asked, showing you a ring. You held your breath, your body filling with happiness and your heart almost exploding. You've been waiting for this for a long time. You nodded and he put the ring on your finger before jumping on top of you, making you fall back on the bed, laughing with him over you.

You were ready to move on and Jimin would hold your hand all the way. The only thing you felt at that moment, was utopia.

"I'll make you so happy." He whispered, rising, resting his hands on the side of your head, while you had your arms around his neck. You smiled and pulled him down, kissing him.

“You already make me happy, Jimin.”

"Well, then I'll be glad to make you even happier, baby.”

all rights reserved © katebacks | 2018 — no reposting and/or modifying of any form on any medium is allowed. no translations allowed.

Thank you, Next - Park Jimin (M)

— pairing | Park Jimin/Reader 

— word c | 9,338

— genre | Smut, fluff, angst, Best Friends to Lovers au!

— summary |  [ In high school you weren’t very popular, ten years later you travel to a class reunion of your old class. What could go wrong?]. 

— warnings/tags |  Some of Namjoon/Reader. Some bad words, oral (female receiving). bestfriend! jimin, unprotected sex (stay safe!), Namjoon being an asshole (sorry!)

— A/N | @bangtanqueenybee and @nellyk-fan This is dedicated to you.

This is not a good idea. That's all what you thought as you followed the road towards the hotel you would stay. You had rented a car as soon as you left the airport. The next day would be the 10 year anniversary that you finished high school and the whole class would gather at a place to celebrate. You were not happy at all, but your best friend forced you to go. Unlike today, you didn’t have many friends back then, you weren’t popular and you certainly were not pretty, or at least that's what your classmates told you. In fact, you only had one friend at that time, Park Jimin, he was the only one in the whole school who didn’t play games with you, who didn’t play with your feelings or bulged you, so maybe go to that meeting and seeing him again after 10 years, wouldn’t be a bad idea.

But in reality, you were afraid to meet with one person. Kim Namjoon. Like the movies, he was the most popular, the most handsome guy in school, the most coveted. The girls would die for him and all the guys wanted to be his friends. He wasn’t a football, baseball or basketball player, but he was super smart, classy, funny, charming, narcissistic, egocentric, and selfish. The perfect match for a manly disaster.  A born, experienced hunter who could make anyone fall at his feet, and you were one of those people.

You remember as if everything happened within hours. You, one of the nerds in the school, introverted, shy and polite, sitting at the back of the chair in the back of the classroom, staring at the school prince. It was the last days of school, you didn’t have to go to school any more, but you did, because you knew he would too, and you thought you would have the courage to say something to him, but you didn’t, then just stood there, staring at him like a lovesick fool.

He was talking to his friends, laughing loudly at their jokes, showing his dimples on his cheeks that made your heart melt like butter, the way his hair was tossed back, everything about him attracted you, he was the only man you'd been attracted to throughout high school, but you knew nothing would ever happen.

"You're (Y/N), right?" A voice beside you made you jump out of the chair, knocking some pens down, turning to the person who had spoken to you, facing Jin, one of Namjoon's best friends, he was as handsome as your crush, his shoulders broad and his face extremely handsome. You stared at him wide-eyed, not understanding what he was doing there, talking to you. “I'm Jin.” He said holding out his hand to you. You blinked a few times and timidly, with a shaking hand, took his hand and squeezed it. He smiled sympathetically at you after letting go of your hand. "So Namjoon asked me to give you this." He reached into his pants pocket and pulled out a folded paper and held it out to you. You frowned and held the paper. "He asked me to tell you to keep it a secret if possible, he doesn’t want anyone to spoil the surprise." Jin said and you looked at him who was still smiling. He nodded and turned away, pulling away from you and moving closer to his friends. You followed him with your eyes until your eyes fell on Namjoon and saw that he was staring at you. You felt your cheeks burn and your body tremble. He smiles and it causes butterflies in your stomach.

He nodded toward the paper in your hands and you took a deep breath before opening it. You choked on your own breath and your heart leapt into your chest, as if you had just received an electric shock. A smile came to your lips without you even noticing.

Do you want to go on a date with me?

( ) yes (  ) no

You bit your lips, and with your fingers trembling, you took the pen, marking the box that said yes. The bell rang and you heard a chair move and your head turned toward him like a shot, watching him walk toward you, making your whole body freeze, and you couldn’t even blink as you watched him heading towards you, you even forgot to breathe. Namjoon stood in front of you, smiling. He reached out, gently taking the paper from your hands, with you still frozen in front of him. His smile stretched out, and he looked at you again, making you finally blink and breathe again.

“I'll pick you up at seven.” He said gently.

"Come on Namjoon, you can date another time, we're late.” The voice of one of his friends said, making him giggle and nod, turn his back and leave the room with his friends.

You just realized that it had been a bad idea after going out with him.

You had never been to a date in your life, and you had no girl friends to help you do the makeup or choose a outfit, so your only salvation was Jimin, your best friend. You called him saying it was an emergency and when he came to your house and you told him what had happened, Jimin wasn’t happy, but he didn’t try to stop you from going to meet him, because he knew how much you liked Namjoon. He helped you choose a outfit in which you look beautiful and comfortable, even though he thinks you look beautiful anyways. He even helped you with makeup, taking your mom's makeup and helping you through, watching some videos on the internet. You couldn’t ask for a better best friend.

Shortly before seven, Jimin left, wishing you luck, and leaving you walking from one side to the other in the room, nervous and anxious. When the doorbell rang and you opened the door, seeing Namjoon standing there in front of you, you hardly believed it was true.

He took you to a party at Jin's house, and as soon as you got out of the car and looked at the amount of people in the house, you began to wonder if it was a good idea to be there, but Namjoon took your hand and said everything would be all right, and you believed it, even though you had the feeling that something was wrong.

You should have trusted that feeling and gone away.

All his friends were very polite to you, which wasn’t the custom. You felt uncomfortable with them, but every time you looked at Namjoon you forgot that bad feeling. He convinced you to dance, and being carried away by the music and the feeling of being in his arms, as he leaned forward to kiss you, you accepted. That was your first kiss, and it was being as you wanted it, it was being special and being with who you wanted to be, with the prince of your fairy tale.

A little later you told him that you would go to the bathroom. When you returned, he was talking to his friends on the porch of the house, with his back to the door and didn’t see you approaching. And the same time they changed the music, Jin said:

"I cannot believe you really kissed that nerd, shit, I can’t believe I lost 20 bucks."

And at that moment you froze in the same place, frowning, not believing what you were hearing. Maybe it was just a joke, but you saw Jin pulling a note out of his pocket and handing it to the laughing Namjoon.

"You have courage, man! To kiss that one, you have to be brave. I admire you." One of his other friends next to him said, patting him on the shoulder.

“I appreciate it, but you still owe me 20 bucks, man.” Namjoon said holding out his hand to the friend who paid him.

You felt your heart ache, as if it had broken into tiny pieces. The butterflies in your stomach were replaced with anguish, and the taste of his kiss on your mouth once sweet, was now bitter. You felt your face burning, and your eyes began to burn, but you only realized that you were crying when the tears began to come down your face and you sobbed. Namjoon heard you and turned back, eyes widening at the sight of you standing there crying. He didn’t say anything, neither did his friends.

You turned away and went out infuriated, but embarrassed and too humiliated to say anything to him. Two days later you were going to live with an aunt in another city, away from all that shame, starting a new life.

When you arrived in front of the hotel where you would be staying, you left the car, going towards the entrance of the place, walking towards the reception, to make your check in, you were so distracted by your cell phone, sending a message to your friend that you did not see that you was approaching the queue for the front desk and slammed into someone's back. Your cell phone fell out of your hand, and the person in front of you turned to you. You were ready to apologize when you saw who he was.

Kim Namjoon, in the flesh. He hadn’t changed much since high school, he remained extremely attractive. And you just realized that you were staring at him like a idiot when he bent down in front of you, taking your cell phone and handing it to you, giving you that smile that one day made your heart beat faster.

“It's all right?” He asked. You took the phone from his hand and nodded, finally managing to move.

“Yeah, sorry I was distracted.” You said, relieved to know that seeing him didn’t do the damage you thought would happen. You were grown up, very well settled in your life, things of the past didn’t affect you anymore and you were happy about it.

“Next.” The receptionist said. It was Namjoon's turn, but instead of going to the front desk, he took a step toward the side still smiling, gesturing for you to pass.

"Ladies first." He said and gave a small smile, you whispered thank you and walked to the counter.

“How can I help?” The receptionist asked, smiling gently.

“I'm on the reserve list for the 2008 graduates." You said taking your ID in the back pocket of your pants and handing it to her.

“Your room is the number 36.  If you need anything, you can talk to me, here's your key." She said and give you a key with the 36th key ring. You thanked her and turned back to get back in the car and get your bag in the trunk.

"You came to the 2008 class reunion?" Namjoon asked, making you stop walking and look at him nodding. He hadn’t recognized you. "I'm sorry, but I remember everyone I studied with, but your face doesn’t come to me.”

"Does the name (Y/N) mean anything?" You asked and he frowned and looked away, seeming to think, and then he looked back at you, wide-eyed and colorless. Now he had remembered you. You were sure of that. You nodded and turned away from the front desk and into the parking lot across the street.

You smiled to see that he really had no more effect on you.

You opened the trunk and pulled the heavy suitcase out, complaining loudly that Hoseok must have put a stone in there instead of your clothes because it was too heavy.

“Need help?” A male voice said behind you, making you hop up and drop the suitcase, letting it fall to the floor. Turning, you came across a gray-haired man, staring at you. His hands were inside the pockets of his pants. He wore dark glasses, a white T-shirt, and black pants. He had thin cheeks and full lips. You stared at him for a few seconds, with the feeling that you already knew him from somewhere. That was when a light went on in your mind and you opened your eyes wide.

“Jimin!” Your voice sounded more excited than expected and a smile took over your face. The boy in front of you smiled as well, taking off his sunglasses and revealing his eye smile. You didn’t hesitate to walk towards him and hug him with all the strength you had. The only person in your teens you missed was him. He hugged you back, pressing your body against his. You missed that, during those 10 years, you could never forget how good it felt to be held by Jimin. He had a hug that could make you forget all your problems, it was like a cure for all your pain.

"You've grown a couple of inches since the last time we met." He said breaking the hug, making you look indignant to him.

“You speak as if you were too high, right Chimmy?”

“Wow, I haven't heard that nickname in years.” He said laughing. “How are you?”

“I'm fine, better than 10 years ago at least.” You laughed scratching the back of your neck. “What about you?”

“I'm fine too… not much better than ten years ago, you know, I missed you.” He said lowering his head, shoving his hands in his pockets again. And that reminded you of the day you left your hometown. You remember that Jimin cried, begging you not to leave. You spent almost two hours hugging on the porch of your house until your mother said it was time to go to the airport. You remember seeing him through the back window of the car, his hands on his face, his swollen red eyes, still sobbing. That broke your heart. You tried to keep in touch, but with college and your new life, keeping in touch with people who didn't live near you was being difficult. You could barely talk to the people around you, let alone those who lived far away.

"I’m sorry." You whispered, lowering your head, feeling the sad memories come back to you.

"It's fine now, I'm glad you're okay, that's all." He said holding your chin and making you raise your head, looking at him again, and at that moment, when your eyes locked, was the moment you felt for Jimin, the same way you once felt for Namjoon. And that made your body tingle. Your heart pounded and your legs trembled, the butterflies were released in your stomach and you can't help but smile and throw yourself into his arms giving him one more hug.

"I missed you, Jimin." You whispered against his chest and he smiled, tightening his hold even more.

"Let's use these days to get back together again. What do you think? Want to be my best friend again?"

"Yes absolutely yes."

After you went to your room, you took a shower and lay in bed to talk to Hoseok who was crazy to know how the trip was going, even if you were there for only a few hours.

"So you met Namjoon again? Was he surprised to see you?" He asked from across the screen in the video call.

"He was. He even lost his face color when he saw who I was." You said laughing. Now you were finding it funny.

“I wanted to be there to see his face. Seriously. Now you have to make him regret doing that shit to you in the past. Rub your beauty and intelligence in his face, throw him to the ground, break his heart, break him in the middle and …”

"Hey Hoseok, take it easy." You said laughing when you saw him waving his hands like he was really strangling someone. He stopped moving and stared at the screen before laughing. “I don't want to show or prove anything to him. I don’t need this. I got over it a long time ago. I just want to take this time to kill my longing for Jimin.”

"The cute boy who was your best friend at school? Is he there too?"

"Yeah, and he's stunning. He's even prettier than before. God. I almost had a heart attack with him." You said smiling as you remembered the hug he had given you.

"Oh, I know that smile. You like him." Hoseok said smiling, making you widen your eyes.

"What? Of course not. I just missed him."

"I know you well enough to know when you're lying to me, (Y/N). You like him."

You sighed.

"Okay, but that makes no difference now. He even asked me if I wanted to be his best friend again. For all I know, he can have a girlfriend, be married and have children, or even be gay." You said with sad eyes, touching Hoseok’s heart.

“You will never know if you don't ask, honey. Then raise your head, wear your sexiest dress, put on your best perfume and call him for a drink. Tomorrow you tell me if he has a girlfriend, is married or gay.” You started to think, but you knew you had nothing to lose. You weren't the same girl ten years ago, you were a grown woman and not a teenager. You could have sex with Jimin if he wanted to. Trying wouldn't hurt you, would it?

After saying goodbye to Hoseok, you called the number Jimin had just given you. You stopped in front of the bedroom window, watching outside while you waited for him to answer.

"Have you missed me?" He said playfully when he answered. You smiled.

"Actually yes ... Hum... Do you want to …"

"I do." He answered without even letting you finish talking, which made you laugh.

"You didn't even hear my whole proposal."

"No matter what it is. If it's with you, I accept everything."

“Oh” That took you by surprise and nearly left you speechless. "Okay. Meet me at the reception seven at night, will you?"

"I'll be there."

And here you were, getting into the elevator to get down to the desk and meet the blonde. You wore a black dress and high heels, because now you were comfortable with your body to wear that kind of clothing, now you loved it, now you knew that the opinions of others were nothing but empty comments. You felt beautiful in that outfit and no one would make you think otherwise. You used the elevator mirror to straighten your hair when the doors opened and Namjoon was there with another man, Seokjin. He was an asshole at the time, but he was still handsome too. They both laughed at something when Namjoon looked at the elevator and saw you there, with your back to him, fidgeting with your hair. He looked you up and down, seeing how that dress accentuated your ass and he just stopped breathing for a few seconds.

Jin noticed his friend's change and looked at the elevator just as you looked at them through the reflection of the mirror, causing you to jump with fright and turn around at once. You said nothing, nor did Namjoon. Jin just stared at both of you, and seeing that his friend wouldn't react, he grabbed the boy's arm and pulled him into the elevator before the doors closed. He kept staring at you from head to toe, making you feel embarrassed and wanting to get in a hole.

"If you keep staring at her like that, you'll scare the girl, you idiot." Seokjin whispered to the other boy, as if you couldn't hear him. But that seemed to activate something inside him that cleared his throat and shook his head.

"I'm sorry ... It's just wow, you look beautiful, (Y/N)." Namjoon said and you bit your lip, shaking your head and thanking him.

"Thanks."

"Wait ... (Y/N)?" Seokjin said with a frown drawing his attention. "Are you the girl at that bet? From ten years ago?" Namjoon shot him a look, as if threatening him with death as soon as he heard the words that came out of Seokjin's mouth. You bowed your head, once again feeling ashamed of what had happened in the past. Jin noticed the stupid thing he had done and hurried to apologize. "Oh, I'm sorry ... I shouldn't have touched on that subject. I'm sorry, (Y/N). I'm sorry about that and making that stupid bet. You're a nice girl, you didn't deserve to have gone through that because of a bunch of assholes teenagers.”

"I owe you an apology too, I shouldn't have done that to you." Namjoon said with a guilty expression on his face, putting his hands in his pockets.

"I appreciate your apologizing, but honestly it doesn't matter anymore." You said confident without stuttering in front of him for the first time in your life. "I don't keep past hurts."

"Oh, that's great." Namjoon said smiling. So the elevator door opened, showing the reception. You beckoned to them and came out of the elevator, being followed by them. You looked around the room, not finding Jimin around and looked in the clock, it was still five minutes to seven at night. "Seokjin and I were going to dinner at a nearby restaurant. Since the misunderstandings are gone and we all agree that the past is in the past, what do you think about coming with us?" He asked and you looked at him, who hoped you would accept.

"No, thanks. I'm waiting for a friend."

"We can all hang out together." Seokjin said making you look at him. "After all, we're here for the graduates' meeting. To remember old friendships, I'm sure your friend won't mind me and Namjoon coming together with you."

"Well, your certainty is wrong," Jimin's voice said behind you. Turning back, he was walking toward you and stood beside you with his arms crossed looking at the two boys. He wore a shirt and black pants. The ripped pants on the thighs and a sneaker of the same color. He was breathtaking and that's what happened. You had to hold your breath for a few seconds to avoid freaking out over that man's beauty. From the seriousness he carried on his face, he wasn't happy at all. "We weren’t friends at school and it will not be now that we will begin to be, not after what you did to her. So yes, I will care if you come with us to the point that I'll want to punch you in the face again, Namjoon." You frowned. Again? Did Jimin hit Namjoon? When? You thought.

"Jimin. I didn’t know you had come to the meeting as well." Namjoon said with some anger in his voice. Jimin laughed scornfully.

"Now you know," he said and so uncrossed his arms, surprising you by wrapping an arm around your waist and pulling you closer to him. He then looked at you and smiled sweetly. "Can we go? I bet you're starving just like me." Oh, you were starving, but it wasn't for food, it was for him. You had never seen Jimin impose himself like that, and that was honestly hot as fuck.

"Yeah I am." You said controlling your breathing that was threatening to get ragged by his fingers tightening around your waist and your face being so close to his.

You just waved at the other two guys so Jimin led you to the exit. Namjoon stared at both of you until you were past the door and out of his sight. He was angry. Jimin had hurt his ego by being petulant with him in front of you and taking you away. He could have made you go out with him so he could apologize more intimately if it weren't for the other guy. But he still had a chance. Namjoon grinned, looking to nowhere and Seokjin noticed, worrying at the same moment.

"Oh no, you're up to something. What is it?"

"I'll take her to my bed, trust me." He said making Seokjin shake his head in disapproval.

"We're not in high school anymore, Namjoon. We're adults. You can't be telling me you're going to try to seduce her just because she said no to you."

"Not because she said no to me, but because of him. See how he held her? Like she was his? At school she would do everything for me and now she ditch me because of him?" He said nonconformist. Jin just threw his hands at each other, knowing it would be no use arguing with his friend.

"Whatever you say, Namjoon, but if you are a jerk to her and he beat you because of it, I will not go in the middle to prevent him split you in half."

You and Jimin ended up going to a bar, having a few drinks and talking, and even though you talked about a lot of different things on the way there, you couldn't stop thinking about what he had said.

"What is on your mind?" He asked as you stood staring at a specific corner of the bar. When your eyes traveled to him, he was with his arms resting on the table, looking sweetly at you.  You wondered if you really should ask.

"Did you ... hit Namjoon?"

Jimin seemed disconcerted and just looked elsewhere. He sighed and took a sip of his drink before he started talking.

“The day you left, I was walking around town when I saw him with Seokjin in the park. I was so upset, so hurt that you were gone, and so angry with him that he was the reason you moved, that when I realize, I was on him, punching his face with all my strength.” Your chin almost hit the floor. You had never imagined that Jimin would have the courage to hit anyone. "He was lucky Jin held me and took me off him because I know that I would have killed him. Because he took me the most important person in my life. He hurt the person I loved the most."

“I’m so sorry, Jimin.” You whispered taking his hands and caressing it. You didn't know you had hurt him that way. "I shouldn't have left, I should have faced all that, I shouldn't have run away like a coward. I'm so sorry for hurting you.” Jimin smiled and put his hand over yours.

"It's fine. You're here now. Back to me." You smiled, glad to know he didn't feel bad about all that. "How about dancing?" He asked getting up and making you smile as he pulled you along to dance a not so slow song that played.

After a few drinks, you and he were already laughing out of nowhere and talking bullshit. The bar was full, as it should be on a Friday night. The songs they played were upbeat and made you feel like dancing, and if there was one thing you had learned in this life was that you should do what you wanted, then you two danced wildly together.

“Woah, we're half way there, woah, livin' on a prayer, take my hand, we'll make it I swear, woah, livin' on a prayer, Livin' on a prayer...” You and half of the bar sang screaming along with Bon Jovi's voice, and that reminded you a lot of your teenage years with Jimin, when you ran away from home late at night to walk the streets, singing your favorite songs aloud. Honestly, it was just the good things you used to remember, not the bad things.

Jimin laughed and approached you, daring to put his hands on your waist as you rocked your bodies from side to side. When the music changed, the rhythm changed totally. From Rock went to a sensual pop. From Bon Jovi went to Selena Gomez and you looked excitedly at Jimin.

“All of the downs and the uppers, keep making love to each other. And I'm trying, trying, I'm trying, but I...” You sang and held Jimin's shirt, pulling him once against you, making him widen his eyes and laugh in surprise. "Can't keep my hands to myself." He laughed shaking his shoulders and held your waist dancing the beat of the music with you. It was as if you had never said goodbye to each other, as if you hadn’t gone ten years without seeing each other, without speaking to each other. Everything was wonderful that way and at that moment you didn't remember anything anymore. You didn't care about the meeting the next day, you didn't care about Namjoon, you didn't care about Seokjin, you only wanted to spend the night with Jimin.

"Can I ask you something?" He said in your ear as you still danced. You shook your head nodding. "Do you still feel something for Namjoon? I saw the way he was looking at you today and I saw how you were while talking to him.”

"No Jimin, I don't feel anything for Namjoon." You said it without thinking about it. Jimin arched eyebrow.

"You sure about that? Or you’re just telling me that to not hurt me?"

“Jimin...”

"I'm in love with you since we met in junior high school." Jimin cut off you words and said. You widened your eyes, staring at him, stepping back, pulling back far enough to see him better, but not taking you arms from his shoulders. “You have no idea how I hated it every time you cried over that asshole. And when you left because of him... Damn... He was such a jerk to you ten years ago and today he was there, staring at you like… like he had a chance to put his hands back on you, and it left me... it makes me possessed.” He sighed, his jaw clenched tightening his fingers on your waist. “I just don't want you to get hurt again, (Y/N).” He said staring into your eyes, seriousness in his eyes. “And I don't want to hurt myself either.”

"I would never hurt you, Jimin." You said with low eyebrows, touching his face and caressing him. "I really didn't know that you… I didn't know you liked me… Back then I never thought anyone would ever like me…"

"Because you were stupid enough to hear someone else's comments, (Y/N). You were beautiful, you are beautiful. And any man who has ever passed in your life who has failed to stay, is because they are all assholes, because besides you being beautiful on the outside, you're wonderful on the inside…" He looked away. "If only I had the chance to make you stay with me…"

"You have." You said interrupting him. Jimin looked at you again. "You have this chance, and you're wasting it talking about the past that won't change, but the future can be changed, it's just up to you."

He brought one hand to the back of your neck, kissing you fiercely. His tongue explored your mouth and his fingers almost pierced your skin in a grip that wasn't uncomfortable at the moment, but you knew the next day would leave purple marks on your skin, but fuck it, you weren’t caring about it.

You two parted the kiss, giving three pecks, then looked at each other and started laughing as if you had just heard the funniest joke in the world.

“Finally oh my god.” He said laughing out loud.

The night would not end there. You stopped drinking, paid the bill and left the bar. You were both drunk to drive, so you just left Jimin's car there and walked back to the hotel. You had already taken off your heels and your hair was all messed up, just like the makeup you had done. No more lipstick on your lips and your mascara was messed, but none of that mattered to both of you. Jimin's hair was also all messed up and it made him even sexier, so every time you looked at him, you kissed him.

The walk to the hotel that was supposed to take less than an hour took almost three hours, because you always stopped to kiss against a wall, deviated the way, immersed in your joy while singing and dancing songs like Glad you came and All the Small things.

When you get to your room, after he locks the door behind you, you jumped into Jimin's lap that carried you to the bed, where he laid you down and climbed over you, taking off his shirt and tossing it somewhere. He lifted your dress and stroked your thighs, pushing his hips against yours, letting his cock brush your pussy over your panties. You tucked your fingers in his hair, messing them up even more as he ran kisses down your neck, leaving wet red marks everywhere his lips touched.

You wrapped your legs around his waist and spun on the bed, getting over him. Jimin sat with you on his lap, kissing your neck, his hands on your waist, making you move back and forth on his lap. You threw your head back, giving more room for him to kiss you as you brought your hands to your back, unzipping your dress, dropping it to your waist.

"Your breasts are beautiful." He said pulling your bra down, holding your breasts and giving kisses over them, making you moan and smile at the same time. You put your hand under you, holding his member over his pants and stroking it while the other hand stayed in his hair.

After unbuttoning your bra and tossing it to the floor, Jimin spun on the bed and laid your back on the mattress and knelt between your legs, pulling your dress down. You put your two feet on his shoulders and smirked. Jimin smiled wickedly, his eyes covered with desire, and his fingers landed on your panties, sliding it over your legs before throwing it to the floor.

“Just look how wet you are.” He whispered looking at your pussy. He stroked the entrance with two fingers, making you arch your back. He smiled and ran his wet fingers up your clit, watching calmly as you threw your head back and moaned at the contact of his cold fingers with your warm intimacy. “Say my name.” He asked softly, making your body shiver.

"Jimin." You moaned in a hoarse voice, making Jimin's cock roll inside his underwear.

"Fuck. Say it again."

"Jimin, please" You moaned again, squinting. Satisfied, Jimin lay on the bed with his head between your legs. When his tongue touched you, you moaned loudly as he brushed your pussy with his tongue and sucked your clit, making you even more aroused. You lightly gripped his hair while trying your best to keep your hips still, but it was almost impossible. You wanted more. “Please.” You whispered and Jimin laughed against your pussy, making you arch your back when his breath met your clit.

Suddenly he got up and lay beside you on the bed.

“Come here, sit on my face." He said, and you were confused for a few seconds, wondering if you should do that, but the alcohol in your blood wouldn't let you say no. You got up and crawled over to him, climbing on top of him and resting your hands on the headboard. As soon as his tongue touched you, you pressed your fingers to the headboard and threw your head back.

“God.” You moaned. His hands caressed your body until they were resting on your breasts, caressing them, squeezing them, gently pinching your nipples, until you cannot hold and move on his mouth. You could feel your orgasm coming and as soon as you opened your eyes and looked down, meeting those eyes full of desire, your pussy contracted, missing something. Your breathing started to grow heavy and you couldn't take your eyes off him, so sexy between your legs, lust spilling through his eyes, his hungry mouth swallowing all of you. "Jimin," you cried as you felt the orgasm hit you, making Jimin growl as he heard you moan his name.

You gasped and swallowed, his hands went to your hips and you fell back beside him. He stood for a moment just to take off his last pieces of clothing, but soon he was over you again. He kissed you, letting you taste yourself, positioning himself and finally burying himself in you, grunting all the way until he was totally inside you.

"Fuck, baby." He said moving his hips slowly toward yours. "All these years, always wondering what it would be like to have you just for me and now ... God ... I love it."

His movements increased. One of his hands gripped your thigh as he thrust into you, staring into your eyes. You pulled his neck and kissed him hard. His movements grew stronger and your screams were drowned out by his mouth on yours. Your body arched on the bed as he gripped your shoulders and stuck his face into your neck, moving his hips hard against yours.

“Oh my god, Jimin. Yes.”

“Yes babe? You like that, hm?” He asked rising above you, gripping the headboard with one hand while the other held your waist.

“Harder, babe.”

Jimin smirked. He then grabbed your waist, spinning you over on the bed and laying you face down. He held your arms outstretched on the bed and slammed into you, making you scream, not even caring that the walls were thin and you had neighbors up, down, in front, and on either side who could wake up with your screams of pleasure.

"Fuck," you shouted, feeling your whole body tremble, with orgasm engulfing you.

"You like it hard," he growled as he thrust hard. He knew you had already come, he felt your pussy clenching around him, but he was unable to stop, taken by the pleasure of doing something he had waited for so long. One of his hands went under you and touched your clit. You were sensitive, you wanted him to stop, but at the same time you didn't want to. You felt your legs weaken, but Jimin's loud moans made you even more aroused. Having him on top of you, penetrating your pussy, going deep, making you go to heaven and hell at the same time, was the best feeling you could ever feel.

“Oh shit." He gasped, resting both hands beside your body on the bed and thrusting hard until he finally let out a grunt and fell on you, his breath heavy and sweat dripping down his face as he came inside you. "My goodness, you will be my death." He said smiling, making you laugh too and give him a peck. "Fuck, I didn't use a condom." He said getting up and hovering over you as you turned to stand with your back on the mattress.

"I use an IUD, I won't get pregnant, don't worry. And I'm clean, you're the first guy I've fucked in 10 years without a condom."

"I don't care if you get pregnant." He said with a shrug. "I would like to have a child with you."

"My goodness, Jimin. We just had sex for the first time. I think talking about children is a little early, but yeah I would also like to have a child with you." You said smiling and he laughed lying over you and giving you kisses over your face.

"How about we take a shower and get ready for another round?"

The next day, Jimin stayed in your room until the afternoon, when he had to go out to get his car and also to get ready for the party. You were nervous, nervous about having to be in the same place as all those people again knowing that most of them hated you at school just because you were smarter than them and not because you did something bad. But with luck, they wouldn't even remember who you were. You would just stay there for a while, greet your former teachers, and then leave to be with Jimin.

Yeah, Jimin. He was what mattered on this trip.

You wore a wine dress that was not too short, it caught just above your knees and put on a black high heel. You didn't overdo your makeup because you didn't want to get attention and waited anxiously for half past eight when Jimin knocked on your door to take you to the ball. The ball would take place in a ballroom a few blocks away. When Jimin parked the car, you watched all those people going in and you recognized most of them, your former classmates who mocked you for pimples on your face. You hated them.

"If you don't want to come in, we don't have to. We can leave." Jimin said calmly by his side. You denied it.

"Its okay. I want to do this."He nodded and so you left, you put your arm around his arm and so walked to the entrance where everyone had to sign a presence notebook. The room was large and decorated in gray, red and black. There were balloons on all sides, the tables had white and red roses on them, and there was a red carpet right in the middle of the room that led up a staircase to the improvised stage. There were tables in the back of the room with food and drink, there was a bar where a bartender was to make mixed drinks.

Jimin found an empty table in the corner of the room, it was a more reserved place so you sat down. It didn't take long for some people to start looking at you, wondering who you were, but you just ignored them by continuing to talk to Jimin. Attention came out of you as Namjoon entered the room, followed by his old group of friends from school. They were still as popular as before. He looked toward you and smiled waving at you before walking and sitting at a table right in front of the stage. Of course. He always liked the attention.

Shortly after nine o'clock, finally the doors were closed and the ceremony would begin. Your former chemistry teacher, Jongdae, was the one who got on stage to start talking. His speech was not long, but you panicked when on the screen behind him came a picture of the class of 2008, your class. You were in the background as always, wearing your round glasses, and Jimin was by your side in the picture, with his arm around your neck. You remembered that day. You hated taking pictures because you felt uncomfortable, so he hugged you so you could felt better. He always took care of you.

He then started calling the old students one by one to the stage to talk about their lives now and then you became even more worried. You didn't know you would have to talk on a stage with all those people watching you. Namjoon was the next person he called, and everyone clapped as he got up and walked elegantly to the stage.

"Kim Namjoon. The president of the class of 2008. How is your life? What have you been doing these 10 years?"

"First, hello everyone. Mr. Jongdae is a pleasure to see you after all this time." He said taking the microphone, waving to the audience and then shaking Jongdae's hand. "Well, I majored in law and I'm a lawyer. But I'm working to be a judge in the future."

"Wow, I knew you would be great in your future, Namjoon. Congratulations." Jongdae congratulated him. "But I believe your love life has evolved too, right?"

"Not much actually." He said smiling, bewildered. "I don't have much time to date and I can't find any girl who fits my standards either. It is very rare to find a girl who is smart and not spoiled today. Most of the girls I date just want to be with me for my money and I don't want someone to be with me for my bank account but for the person I am. So I'm pretty lonely." The audience – the women actually – did a ‘Own’ when they heard him say that, while Jimin just rolled his eyes in annoyance. "I mean, I found one a long time ago, but I was a jerk with her." And his eyes fell on you. making you frown.

"Why the hell is he looking at you?" Jimin asked quietly, annoyed.

"I was a kid, I played with her feelings, I broke her heart and made her cry. Today I regret so much that i was so bad for her. And I think if I hadn't done that, today we could being married and having children because I've always liked her so much. I still like her, to tell the truth. " He confessed and you widened your eyes, covering your mouth with your hands in surprise, as Jimin clenched his fists, looking toward Namjoon as if at any moment he would jump his neck to kill him. "If she gave me another chance, I could show her that I'm not the same asshole I was before."

"I will kill him." Jimin said threatening to get up, but you held him so that he remained seated.

"Hey, calm down." You whispered.

"Can't you see he's trying to make you change your mind about him?" He whispered back, pointing accusingly at the stage where Namjoon was still talking to Jongdae.

"No matter what he's trying to do, Jimin, I already said he doesn't matter in my life and I just want you. So please don't make a scandal.” Seeing the sincerity in your eyes, Jimin sighed and nodded, mentally ordering his heart to calm down. So he leaned back in his chair and looked back at the stage, seeing Namjoon coming down from it and sitting at his desk, quiet, as if he hadn’t just ‘declared’ himself to someone.

"Okay, next on our interview list is my favorite student. (Y/N) (Y/L/N)." When he said your name, you shrank back in your chair, with your head on Jimin's shoulder, waiting for him to think you were gone, while the other people looked around for you. "I know you're here, (Y/N). No need to be embarrassed." Jongdae smiled sweetly on the stage, also looking around for you. He was always a great teacher, always tried to defend you against the stupid students, you liked him.

"If you don't want to go, fine." Jimin whispered to you. "But if you choose to go, if you need help, just look at me. I'll be here all the time."

You sighed and nodded. Finally taking courage, you stood up and everyone stared at you in silence. You could see that many were surprised to see you, because most of them had not recognized you. Your former teacher smiled as you walked down the red carpet toward the stage. He even offered his hand to help you up the stairs.

"Here's my dear (Y/N). One of the best students I've ever had and still being my favorite. From the amount of intelligence in your brain I venture to say that you've become a scientist."

He handed you a microphone, and you took a deep breath before answering.

"Actually, I'm an architect." You said smiling at him, not wanting to look at the audience.

"This is as amazing as being a scientist. But tell me, you weren't at the prom. I remember the principal informed you that you had taken your degree and left school early."

"Yeah, I ended up having to move in with my aunt sooner than I expected."

"Excuse me." A girl's voice caught your eye, making you look at the audience. A blonde girl, you didn't remember her name exactly, but you knew she was one of those who bullied you, has a hand up. "I don't remember you. You shouldn't be very popular because I remember everyone and…"

"I wasn’t popular." You interrupted her. "I was the round glasses girl you mocked." You said pointing to yourself in the picture on the screen behind you, making them start muttering. At a glance you can see Namjoon lowering his head.

“What about your love life, (Y/N)? Is there anyone who has won your heart?” Jongdae asked, changing the subject. You looked at Jimin. He smiled and nodded, as if he knew what you wanted to say and giving you permission to speak.

"Yes, I have a boyfriend." You said, and just as Jimin smiled proudly, Namjoon lifted his head at once, staring at you with confusion on his face.

"That's wonderful. And is he here?" The teacher asked excitedly and you looked back at Jimin who again nodded, giving you permission to speak.

"Yes, he is. You know him. He was from the 2008 class too." And confused murmurings came from among the people who were there, wondering who this boy was. Namjoon was restless, looking at you like you had thrust a knife into him.

"Really? Then call him. I'm interested in meeting the lucky one."

"Babe." You called for Jimin who got up happy and proud to be introduced to all those assholes he hated, like his boyfriend. He walked excitedly across the carpet, and climbed onto the stage, stopping by your side, hugging you around the waist. Jongdae grinned at the sight of him.

"But of course it would be Park Jimin. You were always together at school.. Even those who didn't know you knew you would end up together."

"Yeah, I'm the luckiest guy in the world." Jimin said giving you a kiss on the forehead, making you embarrassed and hiding your face in his chest.

During the time you were at the party, you kept as far away from Namjoon as possible. You didn't want to talk to him, and tried not to let others get close to you either. You told Jimin that you would go to the bathroom and then wanted to leave, so he went to wait for you in the car. When you came out of the bathroom, you almost had a heart attack by bumping into Namjoon who was waiting for you at the door.

"What the fuck, Namjoon!" You exclaimed stepping back and stepping away from him.

"I didn't mean to scare you, sorry." He said and by his voice you realized he was a little drunk. "I just wanted to talk to you."

"We have nothing to talk about." You said walking past him, but he grabbed her arm and pulled her back. "Hey …"

"Why are you doing this? You like me, so why are you kicking me to stick with that dwarf project?"

"First, let me go." You said pulling your arm hard, letting go and stepping back away from him. "Second, I don't like you, Namjoon. I did like you ten years ago, when you placed a bet with your friends that you could kiss the weird nerd and break her heart."

“I was a jerk, okay? A kid. I should never have done that… I went to school the next day to apologize to you, but you weren't there, and the other day, I went to your house and your parents said you had moved ... I was an asshole, I just ... I'm sorry.”

“It doesn't matter to me anymore, Namjoon. I don't care about you or your apologies. I'm a fucking grown woman, I don't keep past hurts and I know what I want, and I want nothing to do with you.” You said. Namjoon seemed taken aback by your words, his cheeks reddening as if embarrassed, as if he didn't expect you to sound so rude. And without further ado, you walked away, past the people in the hall and out.

You were walking toward the car that was in the parking lot when someone grabs your arm, forcing you to stop and turn back. Namjoon was really upset.

"You can't be serious. I pretty declared myself to you on that stage."

"I don’t care, damn it. Let me go." You said trying to break free, but he just held you tighter.

"I won't let you go until you tell me ..." He didn't finish what he was saying as Jimin's fist connected with his cheek, causing Namjoon to let you go and fall back on the floor, grunting.

Jimin hugged you, pulling you against his chest as your body tremble.

"Never put your hands on her again, Namjoon." He shouted angrily. "You will never make this girl suffer again."

Namjoon's friends showed up to help you get up while you and Jimin got in the car and drove away.

The ride back to the hotel was quiet, and when you reached your room and sat on your bed, Jimin stroked your hair.

"Are you alright?”

You smiled and nodded.

"Just tired. Can we sleep?"

"Of course dear."

A month had passed since you had returned from the trip. You and Jimin tried to talk to each other every day, but it wasn't always possible. You missed him. There were days when you couldn't even work properly, just wondering when you could see him again.

It was raining. It was a Friday night and Hoseok had called you to sleep at his house to watch movies, but you preferred to stay home and try to talk to Jimin, but he just didn't answer the phone.

You sighed hopelessly and flopped onto your back in the sofa, thinking. That's when your doorbell rang and you sat at once, staring at the door. Who was there at that time? You got up and walked to the door, looking through the peephole. You screamed when you saw who was there, soaking wet.

"Jimin." You shouted opening the door and jumping on the boy, not caring that he was all wet. He laughed and accepted your hug with pleasure, squeezing you tightly.

"Surprise." He said still laughing, putting you on the floor.

"What are you doing here? I mean, I'm glad you are, but you could have told me. I could have picked you up... What are all these bags?" You asked when you realized that he was surrounded by suitcases.

"Well... Remember I told you my boss wanted to transfer me to one of his branches to be vice president?" You nodded. "Well, the branch is here, in this city ... So I technically live in this city from today on. And well... I kind of don't have a place to live yet, and I was wondering if I can't live with you for a few days... "

"A few days? Of course not Jimin, you'll live here forever. With me. Of course you can stay here. Oh my god, I love you." You screamed jumping on him again and filling him with kisses.

“I love you too, babe.” He said giving you a kiss that made your whole body heat up. "Now we can come in and make a baby, what do you think?"

"It’s the best idea I heard today."

all rights reserved © katebacks | 2018/2019 — no reposting and/or modifying of any form on any medium is allowed. no translations allowed.

So sweet and cute!

»crush on you

↳ best-friends to lovers au

pairing » jeon jungkook | reader

genre » soft angst + fluff + sexual themes

word count » 9.465

» maybe falling in love with your best friend wasn’t the greatest idea you’ve ever had and that’s perfectly fine. the only problem here is that he’s dating someone else. someone who, by all physical and emotional analyses, is not you.

authors note » uh, the rumors are true. im in love with best friends secretly pining over eachother aus

Keep reading

Ah, the being in love with your best friend that doesn’t know you love him and he’s a fuckboy trope.

Best friend/ childhood friends AU | JJK

includes besties, just friends, childhood etc

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Snowed In

Best Friend!Hoseok x Reader

Genre: Best Friends To Lovers, Huddle of Warmth, Domestic!AU, Smut, Fluff

Warnings: Mega Fluff, Marking, Impregnation Kink, Thigh Slapping, Cunnilingus, Fingering, Possessive!Hoseok, Ab Worship, Fellatio, Face Fucking, Belly Bulge, Multiple Orgasms, Doggy Style, Spanking, Cream Pie

WordCount: 15k

A/N: Okay! MERRY EARLY CHRISTMAS! I’m super super lucky to have all of my darlings in one collab with me! Always a shoutout to my loves @ladyartemesia​, @ppersonna​, @xjoonchildx​ and @underthejoon​ for rooting me on always! Shout out to @hobi-gif​ for beta-ing it and literally helping me learn English lmfao. My other loves @snackhobi​ and @yeojaa​ rooted on the idea for this fic and helped me flesh things out and I’m so lucky I’m constantly surrounded by such amazing people!

Seasons for most people inspire and bring delight with every change of color on leaves in high up trees. Yet with you, you always hated all the seasons and everything they stood for. Until you met him. Or let him in anyway.

It sounds corny and ridiculous. It probably is.

People always deemed you cold hearted or uncaring and it was all true. But he brought love to your heart. He made colors brighter. He made the world seem bigger and better than you ever noticed before.

He was always around, even if you didn’t want him to be. You had some friends from childhood that insisted on keeping him around. He was kind and eager with everything that he did. And it annoyed the ever living crap out of you.

But you slowly opened up that iron cage around your heart and let him in. Even if it took him ages for you to let him in, he was determined.

Keep reading

─── 𝐄𝐅𝐅𝐄𝐑𝐕𝐄𝐒𝐂𝐄𝐍𝐓

+ nagi seishiro x f!reader | wc 3.2k | content: fluff, ngl i was too lazy to proof this, childhood friends to lovers, canon-compliant (i tried), yn’s parents are just bad

notes: me ?? writing someone other than sae ?? wild . but it’s my first try at nagi so pls have mercy :’) feedbacks/reblogs appreciated !! <3

summary: it’s a little more difficult for nagi to realise his feelings compared to the average man.

i. fleeting moment

nagi seishiro was your first kiss, age ten on the swings of your backyard.

you’re only friends by chance. he was a loner on the swings in the public playground and you have a habit of picking up strays. (but until then, it had been limited to animals and not humans.)

yeah, yeah, maybe having a first kiss at the young age of ten is a little alarming, but it’s not like nagi is a bad person. if anything, he was just trying to shut you up. probably, maybe. (and it wasn’t with tongue, if anyone needs the specifics.)

“if you keep crying that loudly i won’t be able to hear my game,” nagi grumbled, eyes glued to his screen. apparently he was playing some pseudo horror game where four fighters run from a single hunter and apparently he needed to listen to the sounds to know when to run.

but really, you were ten and crying because some other boy bullied you in the playground, saying how you were so ugly and that no boy would ever wanna kiss you. given all of that, why would you even care about nagi’s stupid game?

if he didn’t want to be bothered, he shouldn’t have chased you all the way back home.

“but seishiro, am i really ugly?” you were ten and in need of immediate validation while nagi was in need of your immediate silence.

he didn’t even look up. “that’s subjective.”

even when he was young he had a smart mouth that would be able to break you.

“well then what do you think?” because honestly, even at that point, you thought nagi seishiro was handsome; he was the face claim you used to imagine all your scenarios at night before you went to sleep.

he was your knight in shining armor, coming to break you free from the cage which was your life and obligations. he was your prince charming who’d rescue you above all else. heck, sometimes he was mario and you were princess peach.

seishiro groaned when the screen shows game over and honestly, he really did think it was all your fault because he couldn’t hear anything over your incessant wailing. but then he looked at you for the first time after you cried and had the recurring thought that he didn’t want to be the reason for you to keep on crying.

“yeah, you’re pretty.”

and he puts his lips on yours like it’s no big deal.

ii. unreciprocated

fifteen is when you’re most rebellious. it’s a sickness you get from none other than mikage reo.

your family and the mikages go way back. they’d been family friends for such a long time. a part of you feels it’s not genuine, blinded by the fact that they’re always business partners and everything else stemmed from that one simple fact.

you started to play hooky from business dinners, started to say fuck off to rude old geasers who truly didn’t deserve a single dime they got.

all you ever got in return was your father’s temper and your mother’s cowardice and reo’s praises. most of all you at least had nagi’s shoulder to cry on. (he’s learned to bring along his earpiece just in case he had to meet you or accidentally bumped into you.)

“they all sicken me,” was what reo told you when you asked about his family in relation to their business. you could sympathise. sometimes all you could feel from your parents were that they treated you as a next-in-line rather than just daughter. and almost everyone around you made you feel like you were just a moneybag.

what reo felt shouldn’t have been too far off. except you thought he had it better; at least all his parents did was try to spoil him while not-so-subtly training him up to be the next ceo. he at least didn’t suffer at the hands of foul tempers and verbal abuse.

no one should have to.

“oh shit! i gotta go soon,” you realised, noticing that it was almost six and you’d made plans with nagi.

reo cocked a brow, “y/n l/n, you have other friends?”

you knew he was joking, but that didn’t stop you from landing the hardest punch you could on his arms. “hey, i’m not that inept at socialising okay?”

sure, you’d started taking caution with making friends because most of them were just after one thing: money. even at this age. which is crazy to you, at least, but you felt you had no right to think that. not when all the money you wanted was still at your disposal.

but you weren’t actually bad at making friends. it was just that maybe most people weren’t even worth the effort.

“they’re good to you, right?”

you took a moment to decide before you eventually nodded. “yeah, for sure.”

nagi was… weird, for you. but in the good sense. yeah, he’d open his mouth and ask you for money which at least told you he was honest. even if you rejected him, though, he was still beside you.

“man, what a hassle,” he grumbled when you wouldn’t buy any more food. he was broke, which meant he couldn’t eat anymore too if you didn’t buy some.

the two of you still never talked about that kiss. it never happened again, to your dismay.

you were a teen, and screw stupid teen hormones for driving you to ask him.

“hey sei, we’re good friends, right?”

“huh?” nagi was already fixated on his phone. probably some new game you didn’t know about. his earpieces were ready, around his neck. “uh, i guess?”

but that was not good enough for your feisty fifteen-year-old self.

“sei, i’m serious! would you be sad if one day we weren’t friends anymore?”

back then you didn’t know what you were doing. back then you didn’t think to yourself what it was, really, that you were trying to get out of him. maybe it was validation, and maybe it was just boredom.

you really just wanted to know nagi cared.

all he did was shrug, brows furrowed in annoyance. “that’s life, isn’t it? sometimes friends drift and sometimes they don’t.”

throwing wisdom around as if that was what you needed. and it was unfair to expect anything out of nagi as it was, but that didn’t stop you from throwing a tantrum and storming off.

(he watched you as you left, and there was something unsettling about the sight of your back moving so far away.)

iii. turning point

the world is small.

when you were sixteen you realised that the so called treasure reo told you he found was a human, who so happened to be your friend—nagi seishiro.

teeny tiny.

they also both happened to be picked by the JFU to go to blue lock. which you only found out after they’d both been gone for a week.

it didn’t surprise you though—they were both talented. it was only right they got picked. though, they also happened to be the only two people you would hang out with, so by default you felt lonely.

but at sixteen you’d learned to suck it up, hide your feelings. everything was okay—as long as you deceived yourself so. your parents were the same; overbearing and breathing down your neck and now that reo was not around for you and nagi couldn’t be your confidant, it felt much worse than usual.

everything was a transaction and you felt suffocated. it made you appreciate nagi’s unfiltered honesty and reo’s unwavering loyalty to whatever you dedicated yourself to.

“at least that reo boy has some other talents like that foolish soccer he plays,” your father berated over dinner. “and here my daughter is, good for nothing yet expects us to believe her when she says she can make a living outside of our company.”

and if you’d had other close friends, they would’ve told you that sixteen was too young to be sure what you wanted to do for the rest of your life. they’d have said your parents were unreasonable and that they were the fools.

but you didn’t. and the only friends you had weren’t around. so you ate it up. you clenched your fists where your parents couldn’t see and let them run their mouth. or, in your mother’s case, stay silent while your father made unreasonable arguments.

“and that nagi boy you hang out with,” your father turned his focus to him, “all he reeks of is laziness. i don’t get why you have to hang out with him all the time. inviting that oaf into our house like he’s welcome.”

that time your fists hit the table and you didn’t even expect it. it hurt because of how hard you hit but nothing could beat the hurt your father inflicted on your heart.

you found you couldn’t say anything, only because your father’s eyes were wide with rage at your outburst and you were still the same scared girl inside at age four when he first raised his voice at you.

“i-i’m sorry,” you choked out, which was pathetic but you didn’t want to end up murdered in your own house.

your father scoffed. “get your stupid head out of your ass or you’re cut off.”

the only time you could do that was when nagi and reo finally got their first break out of blue lock. you occupied their time for the most of it, listened to them going on and on about the matches that went on inside. though reo seemed a little mad at nagi, a little awkward around him, for some reason you weren’t privy to.

“i’m gonna head home first,” and reo was gone with the wave of a hand, something about having to settle something at home—probably nothing good.

maybe it was the lovestruck idiot in you talking, but you’d made peace with the fact that maybe you had a small crush on nagi seishiro, judging by how you acted around him. maybe it was that idiot that made you want to spend all of his free time together.

“guess i’ll see you tomorrow too?” sue you, you were just trying to shoot your shot.

nagi put his phone in his pocket, for once, and you were struggling to remain standing as he held eye contact with you, calm gray eyes the bane of your existence. “mmm can’t, gotta meet isagi and the rest.”

isagi, a name you’d just learned earlier—apparently nagi thought he was strong and chose his team. maybe that was why reo was mad.

“oh, okay then.” you’d ask for the next day, but you didn’t want to get rejected twice. besides, nagi would probably just prefer playing games and resting at home. you were just friends, after all.

“was thinking we could get dinner though,” nagi told you, hands in his pockets as the both of you walked down the street.

that was the first time he ever extended an effort, you remember. and suddenly life wasn’t that bad anymore.

it was also the first time nagi asked you to feed him, not because he was playing some game but on purpose.

and you didn’t know how it turned out that way, but he ended up taking up all of your time. it was the only reason you had the ability to fill him in on your family, and he actually listened. and, like reo, he said “fuck them.”

maybe that was the point you realised maybe he did care.

but for a girl at seventeen just concerned with romance and happiness, it was paradise—until of course he went back to blue lock, taking your heart with him.

(what you both failed to realise was that he left his with you.)

iv. slow realisation

in the bleachers of his first match out of blue lock, nagi seishiro spots you easily in the front row—wearing his jersey and number, when did you buy that?

doesn’t change the fact that nagi likes seeing it on you. he’s not familiar with the feeling, but it’s equivalent to saying you like him the most, which feels great if he’s honest to himself.

what he doesn’t like is the guy next to you. sharp jawline and spiky hair wearing a business suit and his raven eyes are always peeking at you out of the corner. does he like you?

but the whistle blows and nagi forgets about you for a little over ninety minutes. he’s going to show you he can win this, with you watching from the front row, and he’ll show you why he’s the best and that other guys in business suits don’t matter.

after the game reo makes a big deal out of the fact you’re wearing nagi’s jersey and not his, and nagi finds out the guy with you was someone your dad wanted to hook you up with.

twisted business marriages.

“i’m just going out with him to shut my father up,” you admit to nagi when you’re both finally alone. (aka, after you’ve convinced reo to pry him away and leave you two alone.)

nagi’s not used to this. what’s this relief he feels? “oh, good to know,” is all he says because he doesn’t even understand himself.

he isn’t even sure why he’s here in the first place, walking you home. he’s not sure why reo left when he could’ve driven all of you home instead of just mr business-suit-guy.

“how’s it feel now, to be mr popular?” you’re not even sure why you’re asking. maybe because you feel like the gap between you and nagi grew so wide in such a short period of time and you’d do anything to hear him say that he’s still the same seishiro you knew.

your seishiro.

nagi only shrugs, “dunno. don’t really feel the difference.”

because really, apart from the fact that he’s much more busy, he’s still him—playing games when he’s free, texting you because that happens to fall in the list of things he likes to do now, and well, the only difference he feels is—he takes a peek to his side—you, somehow.

not because of anything you do in particular, but he feels different somehow. and he can’t make sense of it. he never can. how’s he supposed to? no one ever warned him about shit like this.

“uh, nagi? have you ever thought that maybe you like her?” reo tells him over the phone later that night, a little baffled by the things his usually detached friend just told him.

“you like her too though,” nagi retorts.

reo sighs, wondering how nagi ever made it to where he is. “not in the same way.”

“what do you mean?”

“figure it out yourself.”

nagi hangs up, thinking he already has it figured out. he also thinks reo will keep his mouth shut.

he doesn’t.

v. requited

it’s funny how reo rushed to call you that night, right after nagi basically told him (without saying it explicitly) that he has a crush on you.

but it’s also funny how it’s been three months since then and nagi still hasn’t said anything about it. you play ignorant around him, waiting and waiting for him to admit it himself.

evidently it’s not working.

tonight you’re just watching him on the screen, cheering him on from the other side of the world because despite being from a rich family you can’t just up and leave to another country as and when you feel like it.

besides, you’ve made peace with your parents; you’d learn about the family business willingly as long as they stopped interfering with your personal life. they surprisingly agreed.

nagi and reo win, as you expected, and as usual, the cameras trail their team as they celebrate on the field, their captain having tore his shirt off to celebrate that they’d won the tournament. it’s not long before the camera pans back to nagi, a few reporters already surrounding him.

“so nagi, how do you feel right now?”

“great,” he answers, with a sexy amount of enthusiasm. he’s rarely ever enthused, but you find it so much more attractive when he is.

nagi has his phone in his hand, you notice, and you immediately fish for yours. he’d texted you right before they started hounding him.

are you watching?

you smile as you type back.

no. congrats on becoming champions! 🫶🏼

“nagi nagi, who would you like to dedicate this win to?” the reporters are all clambering to get a chance to question him.

“oh i don’t know,” nagi says, and you catch him looking at your message before looking back at the camera. “i guess i’ll dedicate this one to this girl i like.”

you nearly spit out your drink.

“wait, does this mean you’re involved with someone? tell us, who is it!”

all the reporters get excited, and understandably, since nagi’s probably just about given them the biggest scoop for the month. they’re all looking at him, money signs in their eyes, while your jaw drops open as he overshares with the entire world.

“oh, y/n l/n, she’s been my friend since forever and i don’t know… i kinda like her a lot,” he’s saying all this earnestly, a hand scratching his neck and a blush creeping on his face, though he doesn’t look the least bit fazed.

you rush to find his chat thread.

nagi, what the fuck!!!

you did NOT just say my name on live tv!!!

on the screen, he openly looks at your messages before typing a reply as the reporters hound him for more details.

oh shit, m i not supposed to?

“nagi, is she the one texting you right now?”

and like the honest guy he is, he nods. “oh yeah, think she’s mad at me right now.”

you curl up under your blanket, flustered because nagi is way too open and way too precious.

“would you like to say anything here to her now?”

nagi looks off camera and hums in contemplation before finally deciding on a response.

“hey y/n, tomorrow i’m gonna make you mine okay? so just wait for me.”

reo finally drags him away and towards the rest of his team and his interview ends there. you switch the television off, half mortified and half flattered. your phone blows up with most of your contacts gushing over what nagi said.

leave it up to nagi seishiro to have feelings for you, not realise it until years later, not tell you in the whole three months before this and yet announces it and your full name to the entire world on live television.

in spite of how flabbergasted you are, there’s a warm sensation blooming underneath your chest, a comfort that you’ve always been looking for finally fulfilled. there’s a certain endearment in the way nagi realises and professes his feelings.

you pull up his messages again.

you better keep your word, sei.

it doesn’t take him long to respond.

don’t worry, i’ll make you mine.

Free real estate - Kuroo Testurou

Part 2: countless

Kuroo tetsurou. You first met him in your first year at Nekoma High. And befriending the said person was as easy as it could be, you shared the same class and shared the same interests. The messy haired boy, soon convinced you to join the volleyball team as the manager and well, you did. You had nothing better to do. You quickly got close to the others on the team.

The second year rolled in, and everything was still the same, mostly. Your best friend Kuroo, was selected as the captain of the team he held so close to him and you could not be any prouder of him. The boy who had grown to walk you home every day after practice, the boy who would steal away Kenma's beloved games to teach you and the boy who would protectively place his jacket on you on the colder days. He was your best friend, yes but he was so much more. No matter how long you spent convincing yourself that being friends was enough, it wasn't. It wasn't enough when you stood so close to him on this crowded train holding on the hanging straps in front of him, the same day he was announced as the captain. So close, yet so far away. 

"Hi" He said cheekily smiling at you, the happiness not wearing down from the announcement. 

"Hi"  You whispered back, it wasn't that he hadn't walked from the school to this train, he just had to fluster you like this. 

He would be lying if he didn't think you were the most beautiful person like this, with your messy hair ruffled by the wind from the running you had done with him to catch the train, with your eyes lazily drooping in a comfortable shut eye and your pretty lips, parted in the slightest smile. You were so beautiful to him. Every single day that he spent with you, you were beautiful to him, you were beautiful when you drooled slightly on his shoulder on the days you were tired on your way back home or the day when you came to his house in your pajamas asking back for your notes that he forgot to return to you. 

"Tired? " He asked pushing back the hair that fell on your face,

"Very" You replied, "also very proud of you" You couldn't help but voice out. 

You knew he would have his share of worries and often stressed over a lost game or a bad day at practice. You also knew he would also very often avoid laying his worries on you, although you wish he did.

"Our bedhead captain" You opened your eyes slightly more to take a look at the said person, who grew increasingly shy at the title. 

"Hush," He said softly. While pulling you close by the waist, at the sudden influx of new passengers. His other hand reached to release your hold from the rather high hanging strap, hooking your hand around his bicep of the hand that held the hanging strap. He wouldn’t want your hand hurting from holding it up for so long  And for an extra measure his hand remained at your waist holding you close to his chest. Tucking your head under his chin, he rested his head on yours. Skinship wasn't anything new to your friendship, you would often hug and cling on him but this felt so much more. You wanted to say something, but you weren't sure if you wanted to disrupt the comfortable silence so you held tighter on to him while trusting him to hold you from falling. 

As much as you wished for the moment to not end, an aged couple offered their seat to the two of you before they left and of course you took up the offer, exhausted from the long day at court. You by the window and him pressed up by your side. He quickly removed his jacket covering your legs then comfortably slouched down to lay his head on your shoulder and hooking your arm around his shoulder. After a moment of silence,

"Hi, again" He said nuzzling onto your shoulder, 

"you're warm," He continued. 

"Yeah? And you seem comfortable there" You said stroking his hair. 

"Free real estate" He giggled looking at you. 

While he held your eyes, you could only repeat in your head, this is enough. Being friends is enough. And boy, were you wrong. He slowly inched closer, pecking your lips in the most natural kiss. If you hadn't known better you would have thought this must have happened before.

"Free real estate only for me. Mine" He said as he went back to nuzzling and cuddling with his eyes closed while you could only stare at him.

"Sleep." He said. Please don't notice my red ears. He could only pray. It would never be enough, you would never get enough of him and neither would he.

Likes, reblogs and comments are appreciated. Thank you for reading and please leave a message to be added to my permanent taglist. Have a great day ❤❤

Should I post?

We’re not dating,” you both said, not missing a single second from the end of Yamamoto’s sentence.

“What?” Kuroo yelled, head whipping in your direction in shock?

“We’re not, right?” you whispered, turning your head towards him, double-checking at his disbelief.

You can find the post at:

Pvt. only

Whatever this is - Kuroo Tetsurou

“We get it. You guys are dating. Just admit it!” Yamamoto exasperated, throwing his hand up with a frustrated expression creeping onto his f

Each other’s emotional support

Changkyun x reader smut 

Best friends to possible lovers

Genre: smut and a little fluff

Summary: Changkyun is your best friend, so it's normal to want to support him in any way you can when he's going through rough times.

A/N: it’s the first smut I’m posting, so idk if it’s good enough or if I’ll write more

I put a ‘keep reading’ before the smut part

Word count:958

~~~~~~~

"What is going on inside that beautiful and complicated mind of yours?" I whispered, placing my palms on his soft cheeks. He let out a sigh, his eyes closing, as he rested his head on my shoulder.

"Sometimes, even I don't know," he trailed off, a tear running down his face. I pouted at the sight, pulling him into a bear hug, his arms reluctantly wrapping around my waist. I ran my hands through his soft hair, rocking him side to side, as he kept crying.

“Let it all out, baby”, I whispered and pulled him even closer and he buried his head in the crook of my neck, inhaling my scent. He tried to move backwards, mumbling a small ‘my back hurts’ and rested against the headboard. I reached over to grab a tissue box that was on his nightstand and wiped his tears, before throwing the tissue in the bin.

I turned to him and he patted his thighs, motioning for me to sit. Not caring if it’s appropriate for friends to do so, I didn’t give it a second thought, before doing it, his arms pulling me closer, once again. I pulled away to look at him, the vulnerable and broken expression on his face, breaking my heart.

He titled his head to the side and I mimicked him, our faces inches apart, as we stared deep into each other’s eyes, communicating through them. Without realizing, we leaned in, our lips softly connecting and lazily moving against each other’s, soft sighs coming from the both of us.

We were best friends, but that never even crossed our minds, as we only cared about making each other feel better. We both have been through really tough times and we just wanted to be each other’s emotional support and maybe something more.

I sat up higher, connecting my hips with his and he let out a groan, hearing my breath hitch. “Baby, move, please,” He whispered and I obligated, moving my hips at a slow pace, torturing the both of us. He sucked on my lip, biting it, making me gasp and he took this as an opportunity to slip his tongue in my mouth, to dance with mine.

We disconnected our lips, our gazes meeting, as if we asked for permission to continue. When we were sure, we took our shirts off and he threw his head back at the sight of my bare chest.

“You’re so fucking beautiful, baby,” He moaned and peppered my neck with small kisses, his hands slowly slithering up my torso, careful touching my chest. His fingers teasing my nipples, as shivers went down my spine, making my grind harder on him, a certain roll making him stop his assault on my neck to let out a loud groan.

It was my turn to search for his sweet spot on his neck and as soon as I found it I started to suck on it, feeling the vibrations from his moans. He lowered his pants and I got the hint, removing my own completely doing the same to his. I sat on him again, the feeling even more intense, my crotch leaving a wet spot on his boxers.

“Please, baby, I need you so much,” he submissively let out and I shivered at his tone. I moved my panties to the side, as he lowered his boxers and reached for a condom. I slowly placed it on him, giving him a small peck, before lining him up with my entrance. I slowly lowered myself on him, finally feeling him in me. We both threw our head back, enjoying the moment, his hands rubbing my thighs.

After I bottomed out, I hid my head in his neck, panting from the euphoric feeling. I adjusted to his size, I started moving up and down, my breasts following my movements, Changkyun’s eyes never leaving them, as he was in a trance.

“You’re the sexiest woman I’ve ever see, you feel amazing around me, baby,” he complimented me, making me whine and blush under his lust filled stare. I sped up my hips, Changkyun’s hand soflty touching my clit, making my back arch against his touch and he smirked at his effect on me.

“I’m already so fucking close, Kyun,” I moaned and I felt him twitch inside me. I purposely clenched my walls and he yelped at the feeling, his cock twitching uncontrollably.

“I’m cumming, my love,” he groaned and I lost it at the nickname, moaning his name as loud as I could, clenching around him, making him soon cum too. We rode out our highs, before slowly stilling our hips, panting in each other’s ears. I got off of him, laying next to him, as he threw the condom away before pulling me into his arms.

We soon fell asleep peacefully, waking up hours later, next to each other’s naked and hickey filled body. He took my hand, softly kissing it, staring deep into my eyes, his gaze making me blush, as it was full of love.

“You’re so special to me, (y/n), please tell me this won’t change anything,” he hopefully let out and I giggled.

“You’re the most important person to me, I would never let anything change us or whatever we have,” and seeing a certain expression form on his face, I quickly added, “there is no need to label anything yet, if you don’t feel ready, we can discuss it later, you know that  nothing is gonna keep us apart,”.

He softly nodded, a content smile on his face as he pulled me closer again, mumbling an ‘I love you’ in my ear and giving me a kiss after hearing the ‘I love you too’ coming from me.