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shina913 · 2 years

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The Thrill | KNJ

The Thrill (An Intersect drabble)

✫✫✫Intersect Masterlist✫✫✫

Pairing: KNJ x Fem!Reader

Rating: M 🔞; NSFW

Genre: Established relationship; fluff; smut

Warnings: tooth-rotting fluff; grand romantic gestures; cussing; clit play; breast play; dirty talk; unprotected penetrative sex in a committed and monogamous relationship; soft aftercare

Word count: 2,993 words

Summary: “Nooo...stop it.”

A/N: I guess this is the result of the amalgamation of all the boyfriend/thirsty content that Namjoon has been dropping lately. I really have no excuse when it comes to him. I say this as my BFE!Yoongi WIP pouts in the corner, mid-smut scene--you’re next, I promise!!! 🤪 Thank you, Sim @itdoesntmatterwhy for reading this through and giving me some good notes!

A/N2: The Thrill is one of my favorite Miguel songs. It’s so much better live than the original recording.“We can be the riot in the air tonight/Start the kind of trouble you can taste.” I debated cutting it off right before the smut but then...Joon’s Smoke Sprite verse happened so...you can blame that for the second half of this!

A/N3: You don’t need to read the series to get into this. I included some callbacks but they’re not necessarily crucial to be able to understand this drabble.

“Baby! Have you seen my–”

You giggle to yourself as this neverending saga of Namjoon asking, ‘have you seen this thing that I always use and yet I always forget where I keep it,’ continues.

“Check the first drawer on your left-hand side of the hallway cabinet,” you yell from the bathroom. You hear him let out an audible sigh of relief as he retrieves the item that he needs for your trip.

“Got it, thank you! Never leave me, please,” he calls out when he re-enters your bedroom.

You laugh while reaching for your face wash to begin your bedtime routine. You also had a flight to catch tomorrow.

From your bathroom, you hear Namjoon scuttling around–distant sounds of drawers opening, closet doors sliding on their track, then followed by the rustling sound of things being stuffed into his suitcase.

You press your face oil gently into your skin, the last step in your skincare regimen. Afterward, you double-check your cosmetics case on the counter to make sure that you had all of your travel essentials.

From your peripheral vision, you catch his reflection in the mirror. When you lift your head, you find him leaning against the doorframe, eyeing you intently.

He wore a dorky but affectionate smile on his face while his arms were crossed over his chest.

“Lose something again?” You ask in a teasing tone.

He shook his head slowly. “I found everything I needed.”

“Well, as we always say, if we forget something, we can always buy it out there.”

He nods vaguely, not really caring about anything else. He still stood there, sporting the same grin on his face.

“What is it?”

“Nothing,” he shrugs.

“And yet you’re just going to stand there gawking?”

“Nah, I’m just…thinking.”

Your eyebrows lift in curiosity. You lean your hip against the bathroom counter, somewhat mirroring his posture.

“About what?”

“How lucky I am to be with you.”

Your breath hitches and your cheeks flush. “That’s it?”

“And I’m also thinking how glad I am that Celina forced us to work on that contract bid together,” he chuckled.

You laughed in turn and thought back on how your relationship began. His unexpected nostalgia piqued your curiosity.

He gently pushes off the doorframe and saunters toward you. He stopped short, lifted his hand to your cheek, and brushed it with his thumb. “You’re so beautiful, my love,” he whispered.

The sentiment made warmth bloom within your chest. Then, looking at your reflection in the mirror, you let out a soft chuckle.

“What’s so funny about what I said?” He asks.

“I mean, look at me! I look all funny,” you replied. You still had your spa headband on and looked like a glazed donut since your face oil hadn’t quite set into your skin yet.

“You know I don’t care about that,” he waved you off. “And for the record, I am looking at you. I think you’re beautiful whether you’re all done up, dressed in your sexy power suit; or bare-faced in your flannel pajamas.” He planted a soft kiss on the tip of your nose.

“Okay, what’s gotten into you?”

He shrugs, still grinning. “I’m just really looking forward to our vacation.”

But the way he smiled roused more suspicion in you. “Uh-huh, sure.”

You’d booked this trip a while ago and you had to make sure that you and Namjoon had synchronized your calendars months in advance to have a quiet, uninterrupted week where you both could unwind and reconnect.

Namjoon also insisted on booking a couple of island excursions for you, which was a shock because he didn’t usually like having scheduled activities while on vacation. We go on vacation to get away from schedules, he often said.

He remained tight-lipped about what he has planned. The only hint he’s given you was that it would be totally unexpected and to pack comfortably. It was no help to you at all.

You finally take off your headband and stow it under your skincare drawer. “I’m pretty excited, too. I can’t wait to find out what you have planned for us.”

He bit at his bottom lip to stifle a laugh. “Good. I’m glad you’re looking forward to it!” His arms snake around your waist, pulling you close to him. “Actually, while I stood back there watching you, I thought I’d give you a sneak peek of what I had planned before we leave. It’s nothing huge.” Then he squints one eye and gestures with his thumb and forefinger. “Just this small, tiny thing,” he grins mischievously.

While your mind races about this ‘surprise’, he breaks away from you and sinks his hand into his pocket. As you watch him get down on one knee, you swallow the grapefruit-sized lump in your throat. It takes you a few seconds to realize that he was holding up an open box in his hand. In it was the tell-tale ring that had been burning a hole into your brain since discovering its existence.

Your hands fly up to cover your mouth in shock at the sight of it. It was anything but small or tiny– judging by the solitaire’s cut.

“YN, will you do me the honor of marrying me?”

You were completely dumbfounded. You’d thought about this moment; pictured it over and over in your head. What the scenario would be, what he would say to you, and how you would feel. You’d even planned potential outfits!

And now, it was actually happening. You’re standing in your bathroom, barefoot, dressed in a worn-out sleep shirt and your underwear.

You were so utterly overcome with emotion, the first words that come out of your mouth are, “Nooo…stop it…” You whined softly through your trembling fingers as the tears start pushing their way past your eyes.

It was not exactly the reaction nor the response that he envisioned. Confused, he asks, “I’m sorry, what? D-did you just say…‘no’?”

He also looked like he was on the verge of tears, but for a completely different reason.

When your brain cells manage to click again, you laugh through your sniffling. You hastily kneel right in front of him. “Oh, no…baby…” His face crumples at the sound of ‘no.’ Realizing your mistake again, you continue to rectify the situation. “I didn’t mean it like that,” you explain.

Finally, you grab his face in your hands, bring it closer to yours, then plant a lingering kiss on him. You look him right in his eyes, and squeal, “Yes, of course, I’ll marry you!”

He cracks a hesitant smile and in the softest voice possible, he asks, “Really?”

“Yes, Namjoon! I love you!” You kiss him again and apologize. “I was just so…overwhelmed by the moment and ...how,” You took a second to glance down at your pants-less state, “…Uhhh… comfortable, I look.” You babbled and laughed through teary eyes.

“I really didn’t mean to say ‘no’ and scare you. I panicked and it just sort of slipped out,” You were still shaking, feeling as if your heart would burst from so much joy and love for him.

He breaks into a throaty laugh, his chest and shoulders vibrating, much to your relief.

“I seriously didn’t expect this, though,” you remarked in earnest.

“Are you kidding?” He deadpans, thinking back to when you saw the ring’s order confirmation email on his phone. “You mean to tell me that you weren’t expecting this? At all?” his tone is light and teasing.

Since finding out about the ring, you’d been secretly trying to search where he’s hidden it. Your little brother, Jungkook, had been discouraging you from doing so because it would ruin the magic of the moment.

“I mean, I had hoped that it would happen during our trip,” you admit shyly.

“Hah! I gotcha there, didn’t I?” He says smugly. In reality, Namjoon had asked Jungkook to keep the ring hidden at his place after the day you found out to throw you off the scent. It worked out perfectly.

You rolled your eyes, but not in annoyance. He was being playful and you had to hand it to him; he pulled off this surprise successfully.

While still on the floor, he carefully pulls the piece of jewelry out of the box. He takes your left hand and slides the ring up your finger. It was a perfect fit! He brought your hand up to his lips to kiss it, making you feel butterflies in response.

The fluttering compels you to kiss him again, celebrating this moment. Unable to stop smiling, your cheeks feel delightfully sore through the rest of the night.

******

When you crawl into bed together later that night, he makes a confession. “You know, I wasn’t actually planning on proposing tonight,” he laughed. “I had a whole thing planned when we got to the hotel. Jungkookie helped me coordinate. Dinner by the beach, flowers, and a ukulele player. He even called one of his buddies to do this wild drone shot…”

You listen as he continues to talk about his original proposal plan. You laugh and shake your head at the extra effort that Jungkook convinced his Namjoonie-hyung to make so you can be completely blown away.

You smile in appreciation as your brother has always been supportive of your relationship from day one. It was only right that you’d still make an effort to act surprised when the dinner happened–if only to hear Jungkook’s elation at the news.

“What’s changed your mind? You don’t usually blow your load early,” you teased. He glared while you cackled then he pinches the ticklish spot on your hip bone, making you yelp and recoil your body.

He’s laughing as you try to defend yourself from another ticklish assault from him.

“I don’t know…” He shrugged. “It’s just that, I saw you standing in the bathroom. While watching you, all of these memories came flooding back. Specifically, the moment I first saw you.”

“On that web conference?” You laughed at his recollection.

He nods wistfully. “I was in denial at first but I unconsciously knew that you had me right then. So I thought–fuck it! I didn’t care about where we were or what we were doing. I just knew that I wanted to be with you…forever.”

You beamed through your happy tears and pepper him with kisses.

*******

You wake the next morning like you’ve woken just about every morning since you’ve been with Namjoon–with him pressed into your back, his lips kissing down your spine slowly and lazily. It’s blissful, mind-numbing. And, as always, your melt under the warmth of his mouth rousing you from your dreams.

The friction of your skin rubbing together takes you from warm to blazing in a snap. The feel of his morning arousal brushing your thighs awakens your senses.

You reach back, pushing your fingers through his morning mess of a hair, sighing your contentment.

“Morning,” he murmurs, peppering soft kisses on your shoulder while rolling his hips into your ass at the same time. His hands creep up from behind you to palm your breasts from underneath your shirt. You gasp softly when he gently pinches a hardened nipple.

“You ready for me, baby?”

Your body responds to his call instinctively. Your need for him is incessant. “Always.”

You reach back between you two and pull on your underwear’s waistband halfway down. Namjoon tugs on it the rest of the way through, lifting your knees up to completely rid yourself of them.

You wriggle toward him to find that he’d already stripped off his shorts. He palms your center, sucking and kissing your neck while his fingertips tease your clit.

You part your legs for him, not just wanting to give him better access but your ache for him has grown into a steady hunger.

You grind your hips into his touch, making him laugh huskily into your ear. “A little impatient, are we?”

“You started this and now you want to pump the brakes?” You sassed.

“There’s my firecracker,” he smirks before his teeth graze the shell of your ear. “Go ahead then. Put me in.”

As much as you loved when Namjoon took command during sex, it thrilled you even more when he relinquished control to you.

You reach between you two and wrap your fingers around his cock. He groans when your hand slides down his length slowly…teasing him until he groans impatiently, making him nip at your flesh. “Okay, you’ve made your point!” His annoyed protest makes you giggle mischievously.

You line him up to your center, brushing the tip against your wet folds, making him curse under his breath.

In one slow, calculated movement, he’s inside you. You grip his hair, crying out in unison once you take him to the hilt.

In an instant, you’re both floating on cloud nine, mere moments after waking. And you know that’s Namjoon’s intention each time— to start your day being reminded of how much he wanted and desired you…how much he loved you.

One look, one word from this man and he has you all worked up in a frenzy. You listen to him whisper sweet nothings in your ear, how good you make him feel, how he wishes he could spend hours and days just like this. You take comfort in the deep baritone of his just-woke-up voice. It was right on par with his bedtime voice, when he says that he wants to fuck you senseless, leaving you completely sated before you drift off for the night—thighs still trembling.

You lean into his touch, tilting your neck backward to offer your mouth to him. He takes it, tongue dipping right in, cupping your jaw whilst he savored you.

Your bodies move in perfect synchronicity like they were made specifically with each other in mind…because they were. You’d never question the sense in that especially when you’re so close and intimate like this.

“You still with me?” he whispers.

“Yes,” you manage to respond.

He pulls out of you and you let out a whine of protest. “On your stomach,” he says gruffly.

Lost in a fucked-out daze, you obey.

He slides over you while you were stretched out on your stomach. His hand pushed between your hip and the mattress, reaching between your legs to cup you in his hand. You were so wet and slick for him. You let out a muffled moan when palmed your clit.

“I want you this way,” He says, brushing his lips across your cheek.

He reaches for his pillow with this free hand and then shoves it underneath you while lifting your hips to the angle that he wanted, preferably one that would let him sink in deeper.

“Joon…” The manner in which you said his name was a plea. He’d left you empty for too long and you were anxious for him to fill you again.

He acknowledges the need in your voice. “I know, baby.” He shifts, urging your legs apart. Then, he gently presses on the small of your back, urging you to bend lower, angling your ass up higher for him.

With his hands on your hips, he slid back into you. You fisted at the sheets on either side of you, relishing the stretch to your center.

“Fuck, yesss,” you dragged out.

He picked up the rhythm, feeling the air seize from your lungs whenever his hips slam against your ass. You pressed your face hard into your pillow, gasping and moaning incoherently while he continues to pound into you mercilessly.

His teeth gritted, barely restraining the growls that surged from his throat. His chest heaved against your back, his ragged breaths ruffling the hairs on the back of your neck.

His hips churned, fucking into you; pushing in further. He could feel your walls around his length. They clench in ripples that make his cock twitch in excitement.

The pressure building up within him was persistent but he was capable of keeping it under control. He wanted to give you all the pleasure he could offer. Your moans of satisfaction are more than enough to set off his own release.

You whimper, helplessly writhing under him while he punishes you with each stroke. Reaching between your legs, you rubbed circles on your pulsing clit, making your cunt tremble then tighten around his cock in a vice-like grip.

Finally, you tip over the edge. Cumming with a loud, lingering moan.

Aroused by your orgasm, he shut his eyes and dropped his forehead to your cheek. He inhaled your scent and let go, coming just as hard, his ass flexing as he filled you.

A few beats later, Namjoon gingerly turns you over on your back, pulling the pillow from underneath you and tossing it to the side. Exhausted, he collapses on you but is careful not to squish you. Although, if you were going to be honest, you loved the feeling of his full weight on top of you.

He was crowding you now, where he will remain for the next few minutes while he snoozes on you, nuzzling and kissing your misted neck. You hold onto him and savor the moment you cherish each morning before you have to get up and head to the airport for your trip.

He rubbed his damp hair against your cheek. “Love you.”

Your head turned, your lips seeking his. Breathing into the kiss, you reply, “Love you, too.”

You sigh into his shoulder as you settle, pressing him tightly against your chest, getting him as close as you possibly can. In your own silent way, you’re telling him that you’re also happy to remain where you are.

Smiling softly, he lifts your left hand up to his lips to kiss the ring he had given you last night. Your heart squeezes, relishing in the promise of forever with him.

You’ll always think back fondly on that magical evening when you said, “No…stop it.”

Intersect Series Masterlist | Main Fic Masterlist

You’ve reached the end! Thank you so much for reading!

If you loved it, please comment, reblog, or send me feedback! 📩. I love hearing from readers! If you didn’t like it so much, I would still like to hear about it. Help me become a better writer! 💜

Tagging: @itdoesntmatterwhy @internetjunkdrawer @purplewhalewrites @yu-justme @joonschocochip @majamarantha @yoongukie-ff @shesoldbutcute

#bts fan fiction #namjoon fan fiction #namjoon x reader #btshoneyhive #bangtantheatrenet #thekpopuniverse #namjoon fluff #namjoon smut #bts fluff #bts smut #knj fluff #knj smut #the thrill x knj #intersect x knj

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ugh-yoongi · 2 years

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6 songs i'm currently listening to

ty for the tag @the-boy-meets-evil <3 i have been listening to a few things not on streaming so these are off the top of my head:

bts - dna (jhope demo ver)

tomorrow x together - tinnitus

onewe - aurora

gemini - do me right

rm - closer

to not be a cheater, here are also the top 6 songs on my spotify on repeat playlist:

agust d - people

belinda carlisle - heaven is a place on earth

bts - blood sweat & tears

pierce the veil - texas is forever

tom petty & the heartbreakers - learning to fly

a$ap ferg - floor seats

tagging: @goodsoop / @itdoesntmatterwhy / @jimilter / & anyone who wants to!

#the absolute GRIP tinnitus & aurora have on me rn #tag game

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rockpicschick1 · 5 years

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Silversun Pickups are pleased to announce their new album - "Widow’s Weeds" will be out June 7, but their new single “It Doesn’t Matter Why” is out now! Pre-order/save and watch the official video here: https://t.co/ClhLMGgPrY #newmusic #SSPU #widowsweeds #ItDoesntMatterWhy https://www.instagram.com/p/BwPL8TGHVzN/?utm_source=ig_tumblr_share&igshid=1346w36c5izs5

#newmusic #sspu #widowsweeds #itdoesntmatterwhy

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spikelarock · 5 years

Video

youtube

Silversun Pickups - It Doesn't Matter Why (Official Video) - New album Widow's Weeds out June 7th. Pre-order Widow's Weeds: http://bit.ly/2UJgLEI Writer/Director: Suzie Vlcek Choreographer/Movement Director: Taylor Unwin Director of Photography: Bianca Butti Hair/Makeup: Jennifer Hanching Wardrobe Stylist: Lizette Pena Editor: David Woody Colorist: Michael Schatz at RKM Studios Casting Director: Hannah Cooper Producer: Colin Moran Production Company: http://bit.ly/2GnQe5W Dancers: Taylor Unwin, Ally Pawlowski, MarieElena Martingano, Felix Stec, Leone Anne Reeves, Vera Amaya, NoRo, Elizabeth Finfgeld, and Claire You. Thank you: Melanie & Michael, Cypress & Iris, Margot & Ella, Sam & Georgie, Spence, Bo & Ward, Jade, Molly, Clementine, and Matt. http://bit.ly/2FukBWn http://twitter.com/sspu http://bit.ly/2E1PZ1d http://bit.ly/2Fzzcj9 #SilversunPickups #SSPU #ItDoesntMatterWhy Silversun Pickups – It Doesn’t Matter Why - https://youtu.be/0nsJ8hnRkW4

#YouTube #SLRoxox

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shina913 · 1 year

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Fire to the Low | KNJ

Fire to the Low (one-shot)

Pairing: KNJ x Fem!Reader

Rating: M 🔞; NSFW

Genre: Established relationship; some fluff; smut; pwp

Warnings: crop-haired/buzzcut Namjoon kink; cussing; clit play; oral (f-receiving); dirty talk; unprotected penetrative sex in a committed and monogamous relationship; standing/wall sex; creampie; soft aftercare

Word count: 2,234 words

Summary: Namjoon gets a new haircut but you have to wait until you're alone to let him know just how much you love it.

A/N: This was spurred by a comment made by Namjoon during his recent live when he said that he was over his hair and wished he could just shave it all off (accdg to translations). FYI, if you're curious to know what a skin fade is or what it looks like, here are some variations. I was thinking more of #4 for this AU 😜 I also blame Sim @itdoesntmatterwhy for this prompt because we can't seem to stop screaming and losing our shit talking about how we love crop-haired/buzzcut Namjoon (yeah, yeah, unpopular opinion, whatevs). Anyway, it's nice to revisit those days from PTD Online/Proof album era when he looked absolutely beefy and hhhnnnngggghh 🔥 I think I might also be a step closer to buying that Proof Collector's edition as well LMFAO🤡

A/N2: This is unbeta'd and it's horny word vomit that I finished at 2:30AM so I hope you can get past typos or other errors. I guess you could also consider this as a sequel to Stubble? 😏

“I can’t believe he’s getting married tomorrow,” Namjoon comments as you both head back to your hotel room, coming back from his college best friend’s rehearsal dinner.

“Mm-hm,” you hum noncommittally as he retrieves his key card. While he taps it against the sensor, you reach up to run your fingers against the back of his neck.

Namjoon managed to fit in a haircut before this evening. He got a low skin fade and kept the top cropped with short spikes. You ran late from another appointment and met up at the restaurant instead so it was a nice surprise to see it for the first time when you walked in.

Even though you had already complimented him when you arrived, you couldn't show him how much you appreciated it since you were both busy socializing.

It’s been a while since he had his hair cut this short. The weather was starting to get warmer and he was tired of hair getting into his eyes or having to brush it back so often.

“What’s up?” He asks while you distractedly rub the back of his head.

“Nothing. It’s just…so…short.”

He frowned. “Is it bad? I know it’s kinda drastic and I didn’t want to sweat through my tux.”

“No, I don’t think it’s bad at all.”

He pushes the door open and prompts you to enter first. Once he was through the threshold, you turned around and pushed him against the wall, taking him by surprise.

Finally glad that you were both alone so you could express how much you liked his new look, you whisper, “I think it’s really sexy.”

He squinted an eye at you, seeming incredulous. “I always thought you preferred the long hair.” He cocked his eyebrow and had a sly smirk, knowing how much you loved to pull on it.

“I mean, I do but…” you ran your fingers from the base of his skull in an upward motion. “I can get with this, too. I’ve been fighting the urge to touch it at the party.” The feel of the short, prickly strands bristling against your skin sends shivers coursing through your body.

Just then, you felt his strong hands grasping your hips.

“Have you now?”

“Mm-hm. I love how rough it feels back here.” You rub his scalp gently.

He sighs softly then closes his eyes while leaning into your touch. “That feels nice.”

“Yeah?”

He hummed his agreement. “You know what else feels nice?” His hands start slowly roving up and down your body. “This dress and the way it just clings onto every curve. Just fucking ridiculous.” He stops to give your ass a firm squeeze.

“If I had seen you in this outfit before on your way to the party, I would have called Jon to say that we’d be running a little late.” He pulls you closer to him, grinding his hips against your center. You moan at the feel of his stiff cock rubbing up on you.

He peels himself off the wall and slowly backs you against the opposite wall, caging you with his large frame.

He reaches under the hem to run his forefinger up the inside of your thigh, watching as your lips pressed together in excitement. He smirks cockily and sweeps his finger under the seam of your panties, brushing at your clothed pussy. You groan softly.

“Wet, already?” he whispers, circling you slowly.

“Already? I’ve been wet since I saw your new haircut.”

He clicked his teeth. “Kept you waiting too long?”

You pout playfully and nod. “Just a little.”

“Damn, I’m sorry. Can I make it up to you?” He purrs.

You bite down on your lower lip and nod, watching while he kneels before you with his head lowered. You tug on his hair making him turn his gaze up to you. You stroke his cheek lovingly and he kisses the inside of your wrist in return.

He pulls the hem of your dress until it bunches up a few inches above your waist. He leans in to kiss your stomach while cupping your bottom; your head rolls back in a sigh.

He hooks his fingers to your panties’ waistband and slides them down your leg, only pausing to tap on your ankle, which prompts you to lift your feet to completely rid you of them.

He looks pleased with how lewdly exposed you were for him. And before your skin shivers from the draft, you feel his warm tongue between the apex of your thighs, making your legs buckle under you.

“Hmmmfuck…” Your eyes roll to the back of your head and your grip on his hair tightens. In one broad lick, he has you at his mercy.

He grabs your hips, causing you to jerk against his mouth. You feel his skillful tongue swirl around your sensitive nub of nerves, circling with slow, precise licks before delving deep into your folds.

You writhe in pleasure, grinding your pussy against his lips. He increases the pressure, his fingers digging into your flesh. It’s only a matter of seconds before he has you falling apart; the surging pleasure crashing down into your center has you tensing up, gasping for breath, with your heart jumping into your throat.

“I love the way you taste. I could do this all night,” he cooed against your wet folds before he suckles on your clit.

“Shit, I’m close, Joon!” You gasp in a rush.

A hand is removed from your hip and two fingers plunge into you, sending you into a spiral.

“Yes! Fuck…just like that…” You choked out, not even worried about the fact that you must be ripping his hair out at this point.

You whine helplessly as he stretches your opening with his fingers, circling and thrusting, working your clit with his thumb and lapping at your sensitive lips with his tongue.

“C’mon, baby. Cum for me,” he gasped between powerful, even strokes of his hand.

With a few more measured pumps of his fingers, thumb and tongue, you are tipped over the edge and start free-falling, every nerve ending in your body is set off with sparks of pleasure.

He licks and sucks, slowly and gently, easing you down at a steady rate, your body relaxing and your heart rate calming down. You keep your palms on his head, tracing slow, light circles in his hair.

When you come down from your high, he makes sure that you are steady on your feet before he stands and comes up to plant a light kiss on you. You lick at the seam of his lips, tasting your arousal on them.

He pulls away with a softened expression and looks down at his pants. You take the hint, slipping your hand into the waistband, and skim over his hard-on.

You flick your eyes to his and find them regarding you intently. When you move in closer, he takes the opportunity to lower his forehead onto yours.

You slip your hands around the back of his boxers, smoothing your palms over his ass.

“I love this.” You whisper, molding your palms over his cheeks.

He moaned softly, rubbing his forehead against yours.

You go on and smooth your palms back to the front, grasping his thick, hard cock at the base. “And I really love this,” you dragged out.

“All yours.” He hisses in appreciation while you pumped his length in slow, rhythmic strokes, stopping at the tip to squeeze gently. Unable to withstand your teasing any longer, he dips his head to claim your lips in a growl, eating at your mouth hungrily.

You’re pulled into his chest, feeling his hard length pushed into your groin. You feel the ache building up again, forcing you to withdraw your hand from his pants. The urgent need to have him inside you has you breaking your kiss, ripping the shirt off him, and frantically tugging at his pants. He releases one hand from your bottom to help and his boxers follow.

He swiftly and securely wraps his hands around the waist and pulls you upwards against his body.

“Up, now.” He growls against your neck, as he sucks and bites at you. You obey without hesitation, wrapping your thighs around his body when he lifts you, his arousal slipping over your swollen entrance, causing a desperate moan to escape your mouth.

He crashes his lips against yours, moaning as your tongues explore each other’s mouths. Your hands smooth down his stubble and go around the back of his head, hanging onto him as he holds you with one arm wrapped around your waist. His other arm is against the wall above your head for support.

You move your hands around to grip his neck and shoulders when you feel him pull back slightly, lining himself up to your center. You relax your thighs to give him room.

Bringing his hand down from the wall, he guides himself to your entrance, looking straight into your eyes as the tip of his cock brushes against it.

“Ready for me?” He asks as he darts his tongue out to run it across your lower lip.

“Yes. Are you ready for me,” You press your chest closer to his.

He gets so wildly turned on when you challenge him. With a smirk and a sharp shift of his hips, he thrusts upwards, filling you to the absolute hilt, slamming his hand back into the wall beside your head.

“Oh…God!” You scream when the tip hits your cervix.

“Nah baby, that’s all me,” he strains between slow, deep thrusts, pushing you further up the wall. “Feel good?”

“Always.” You purr at him.

He increases the tempo and you throw your head back, panting and crazy with pleasure, as with each hard strike he pushes you further into absolute ecstasy.

“Fuck, your pussy…so good,” he groans against your exposed throat.

You cry out, helpless to his punishing drives against your core.

He gasps, tilting his head to claim your lips. He moans into your mouth as you hold onto his face, soaking up the passion radiating from every inch of his body.

As your mutual hunger for each other takes over and you reach the point of no return, you lock your thighs around his hips, every muscle in your body tightening in anticipation of the snap and release that’s on the horizon.

It starts to become unbearable and you don’t know what to do with yourself. It’s too much but you also don’t want it to stop. He feels too good and you’re too greedy for him.

He brings his eyes back down to yours. They’re dark and hooded.

“Harder?”

Fuck…he’s going to rip you in half.

“‘Wanna hear it,” he demands.

“Fuck, yes, Joon…harder,” you choke out.

He growls deep in his throat, increasing his thrusts to an even more determined, purposeful pace—something you would never have thought possible. Your legs tighten around him further to the point of pain, but that just increases the friction and maximizes your pleasure.

Finally, that tight coil snaps and you’re thrown over the threshold, cumming around him with a scream and a shudder.

The loud groan that bursts from his lips tells you he’s not far behind. Then, he slows his hips to a steady rocking. He gets in those final strokes before you feel the warm sensation of his release within you, saying your name with his hot breaths bursting against your neck. Once he’s settled, you drop your head to his shoulder, your heart hammering in your chest.

“Holy fucking shit.” He whispers through his suppressed breathing.

You sigh. That was beyond intense. Your mind is pure mush at this point, and you know you won’t be able to stand on your own if he tries to put you down.

As if reading your mind, he turns you so his back is against the wall and slides downward, taking you with him so you’re straddling his lap on the floor. Your face is planted on his chest, and you can still feel him pulsing inside you.

You’re totally ruined by him. Your eyes start to close and mildly aware that you were still stuck to his body.

“You okay, baby?” he says softly as he strokes your back with both hands.

Your eyes open and your brain lurches forward again. “M’fine.” That fuck drained all of your energy but you were completely satiated.

“Can you stand?” He chuckles.

“Can you?” You giggle weakly as you throw the question back to him.

“...Just need a minute.”

Once he gets his bearings he says, “You have the most unusual kinks, you know that?”

You laugh heartily then shush him. “I like what I like!”

You could very well pass out on the floor by the doorway, but you knew that you had to get cleaned up and be in bed soon. Besides, Namjoon had to be up early the next day to fulfill his best man duties.

Namjoon…in a tuxedo. You feel another flutter in the pit of your belly.

Absently, you run your fingers behind his head and against his fade once more.

“So…do you think that after you guys take pictures in your tuxes, we can have a little time before the ceremony?” You give him a sly, knowing smile.

A low, sexy laugh rumbles within him at your request. “Don’t worry. I'll make time.”

Main Fic Masterlist

You’ve reached the end! Thank you so much for reading!

Tags: @itdoesntmatterwhy @purplewhalewrites @internetjunkdrawer

#bts fanfiction #namjoon x reader #namjoon fanfiction #btshoneyhive #bangtantheatrenet #thekpopuniverse #namjoon fluff #namjoon smut #bts smut #knj smut #fire to the low x knj

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shina913 · 1 year

Text

Nothing | JJK

Pairing: Jungkook x Fem!Reader

Rating: 🔞 M

Genre: Established relationship; slice of life; fluff

Warnings: Some cussing; some naughty thoughts but nothing explicit

Word count: 1.1k words

Summary: "I was thinking maybe we could take a quick nap?"

A/N: Dedicated to you, Sim-- @itdoesntmatterwhy for our mutual love of naps lmaooo and thank you and @internetjunkdrawer for beta-reading 🥰

After spending the morning swimming in the ocean and lounging by the shore, you and Jungkook head back to your hotel room before tonight’s party at the resort’s beach club.

Jungkook took his shower then you took yours. Once you finished drying your hair, you stepped out of the bathroom and back into the bedroom.

“Wasn’t the beach awesome today?” You call out to him. You think he’s out on the balcony but instead, you find him lying in bed, elbows crossed behind his neck using them as cushions. His freshly washed, air-dried hair is all mussed up, and he’s got that mischievous look on his face.

You arch an eyebrow at him and ask, "Bed? Already?"

"No," he grins. He pulls back the sheets and pats the empty space on the bed, inviting you to lie down with him.

You slide under the sheets, where he's lying in nothing but his boxers. This is exactly what you want, what you've been craving for all this time: to feel comfortable with his touch, his warm breath in your ear, and his body on top of you.

Just before your naughty thoughts consume you, he embraces you and you snuggle into his arms, feeling the comfort of being close to him. He tilts your chin up to him and your lips meld into each other’s. It's a nice moment of reconnection after dealing with both of your busy schedules.

Loosening his hold on you, he sighs, nuzzling into your hair. "I got tired from being in the sun all day, so I decided to take a quick rest," he says softly.

You lift your head and furrow your eyebrows. "Oh…I hope you're not too tired for the club. The host mentioned they'll have a couple of DJs and an open bar. It should be really fun."

You were looking forward to your vacation and excited to do everything on your itinerary. Jungkook was happy to follow your lead.

"I'm still up for going out," he reassures you. "But I was thinking…maybe we could take a quick nap?"

You feel a bit let down, but you don't show it. "Hmm... okay."

He keeps trying to persuade you. "Come on, it'll be great! We'll feel refreshed and energized, and then we can party hard tonight. Get lit!" He exclaims.

As you ponder the idea, you realize that you're also feeling tired from the heat, ocean breeze, and all those margaritas you had at the beach. You don't want to fall asleep at the bar just 15 minutes after arriving!

"Good idea," you eventually agree, and snuggle deeper into your pillows.

"It's really cool that these blackout drapes are remote-controlled," he says.

You can't help but laugh at how impressed he is by the hotel room. After closing the curtains, you turn off the lamp on the nightstand.

"Do we need to set an alarm?" you ask.

"Nah," he says, putting down the remote control and turning back towards you. "We'll wake up in an hour, maybe two at most!"

You nod, not thinking much of it.

"Tonight's going to be wild. I'm excited!" you say to him.

"Yep! They're not ready for us," Jungkook agrees as he pulls the sheets up to his chin.

Not long after, both of you fall asleep.

******

When you wake up, you blindly reach for your phone. You want to see if you have enough time to fix your hair and apply some makeup.

“Fuck!” You say loudly.

Jungkook is startled awake, sits up abruptly, and turns to you. "What? What?"

You stare at him, horrified. "It's 7!"

Jungkook shrugs without any sense of urgency. "So we overslept a bit. The party's not until 9 PM, so we still have time."

You blink slowly at his relaxed attitude. "A.M.," you say, emphasizing each letter.

He is still half asleep and having trouble processing information. "What?"

"It's 7 o'clock in the morning!"

"That's impossible," he laughs, turning to his nightstand to check his phone. "Oh no...oops," he chuckles when he sees what time it really is.

You are annoyed with him and push him to his side. "I told you we should have set an alarm!"

He falls back onto his pillow, laughing uncontrollably at the idea that you both slept through the night.

"I'm glad you find this funny," you say dryly. "What happened to 'getting lit'? We just lost a potentially great evening!" You complain.

"I'm sorry, baby," he says between laughs. "I didn't realize we would sleep through it. We always wake up an hour after a nap!"

You roll your eyes. “Yeah, years ago! And how long has it been since our last vacation?”

He smiles again and tries to hold back a laugh. Then he softens his expression to comfort you and says, "Hey, at least we're on time for breakfast. If we get up now, we can avoid the crowds."

Despite this, you're still annoyed that you didn't get to go to the club as planned.

He notices that you’re still upset and immediately turns apologetic. "I'm really sorry that we missed out on the club. I didn't realize how tired I was. It won’t happen again, I promise.”

You sigh softly. "I'm not mad because we didn't go out. I just wanted us to do something fun together."

"I'm having fun just lying here with you!” He counters. “And, to be honest, I don't really care what we do. As long as we do things together, that's all that matters." He leans in and brushes his finger against your cheek, instantly calming you.

The purpose of this trip was to spend quality time together. Your face visibly relaxes. "Yeah, you’re right.”

Noticing your mood lighten, he says, "I think we're too old for clubs anyway," he laughs. "Do you even remember the last time we were out after 9PM?”

You find his question amusing. Nowadays, it's rare that you would both stay out past 9:30 in the evening.

“What do you say? Should we head down to the omelet station now before everyone and their mom shows up?”

As effortlessly as he can turn you on with one intense look, he could also make your irritation disappear with his doe-eyed pout.

You couldn’t help but crack a smile, “Okay, let’s go.”

He grins triumphantly, his nose scrunched up showing how excited he was. Before you roll out of bed to head to the bathroom, he tugs at your wrist. “Hey.”

“Hm?”

“I promise I’ll make it up to you after breakfast.”

“How?” You ask him pointedly.

“I can always swipe one of those canned whipped creams from the waffle station and bring it back here. Maybe…I can grab one of the chocolate syrups, too?” He winks.

You bite down on your lower lip to hold back a giggle.

“You like that, huh?” He waggles his brows at you.

You roll your eyes and give up, knowing he knows you too well. "Fine! I'm holding you to that!"

Then, he takes you by surprise by pulling you back into bed and peppering you with kisses. You squeal as he hits your ticklish spots.

Nothing Masterlist | Main Fic Masterlist

You’ve reached the end! Thank you so much for reading!

Tagging: @internetjunkdrawer @itdoesntmatterwhy

#jungkook fanfic #jungkook x reader #jeongguk x reader #jungkook x you #jungkook fluff #jungkook fanfiction #jeon jungkook #bts fluff #bts jungkook #jjk fluff #nothing x jjk #bts fanfiction

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shina913 · 1 year

Text

The Boyfriend Experience | MYG

The Boyfriend Experience: Yoongi

The BFE: Masterlist

Pairing: Escort!Yoongi x Divorcee Fem!Reader

Rating: M🔞

Genre: sex!workAU; strangers to ? ; angst; smut;

Warnings: alcohol consumption; cussing; mentions of antidepressant; gynecology; mentions of divorce; bits of self-pity and low-self-esteem; legal sex work (in this AU); fingering; dirty talk; clit play; protected penetrative sex; aftercare

Word count: ~8.2k words

Summary: 💬 When I saw my gynecologist recently after not having sex for a year, she told me, ‘You need to be having sex.’ She told me that my vagina was 'drying up.’ Sex, in and of itself and for its own sake, is also important for a woman’s physical health.

A/N: Little disclaimer: the doctor's office part is a spin on this one scene from Sex and the City. I found out that this is a legitimate condition 🥴 I don't really go into detail about it but I also don't mean to offend anyone who is actually suffering from this condition so I apologize! It's only a small part of the plot.

A/N: Thank you to @/itdoesntmatterwhy and @/purplewhalewrites for reading through this and for your super helpful suggestions to get this installment going. It's been kind of a struggle to get the storyline straight for this one so...I hope you all like how this Yoongi turned out. Enjoy! 😘

You are hypnotized by the bubbles in your champagne. You watch the tiny orbs floating and fizzling up to the surface…much like many of the realities you’d encountered in recent days.

Three days ago, you were at a doctor’s appointment for your annual exam. You’d been experiencing some discomfort down in your lady parts.

After making her assessment, the doctor prompts you to sit up on the exam table. You straighten your posture, adjust the hospital gown behind your shoulder, smooth the paper blanket over your lap, and anticipate her professional advice.

As she scribbles on her prescription pad, she says, “I’m prescribing you an antidepressant.”

“I-I’m sorry…I’m confused. An antidepressant? B-but I don’t think that—“

She looked up from her dark-framed glasses. “Oh, it’s not for you.” Then she cocks her eyebrow and gestures below your waist. “It’s for your vagina.”

“Uhm…okay, now I’m even more confused.” It was the understatement of the century.

“The discomfort you’re feeling is due to some dryness,” she begins to explain. “I’m also prescribing a topical gel with some hormones to help with lubrication.”

“Lubrication?” You ask incredulously.

“Yes,” she smiled politely. “I would recommend abstaining from any sexual activity for about 24-48 hours to allow the gel to work its magic but after that, you can get right back on that pony!”

“Well, abstaining shouldn’t be a problem then. I’ve been sexually in-active for a while, so what’s another two days?” You joked.

Your doctor’s eyebrows furrowed. “You haven’t had sex in–how long?”

You’d already gone through this line of questioning from the pre-assessment intake that her assistant had done before your doctor entered the room. Didn’t she check your records?

She looked at her laptop and scrolled up. “A year?”

“Yes…give or take,” you replied quietly.

In actuality, it was a little bit longer than that. It’s been over a year since you and your ex-husband, Jihoon, separated and began divorce proceedings. Months before he moved out, intimacy was already scarce, bordering on nonexistent.

The doctor’s mouth falls open at your confirmation. “Oh, honey…” She pulled her glasses off.

You and Dr. Cabrera have known each other for years. You both spoke freely and casually when the situation called for it.

“You need to be having sex. And no, it doesn’t need to be with an actual dick. There are other ways, too.” Her lips thinned into a tight line as she gave you a knowing look.

You roll your eyes at her. “Don’t you think I know that, Mina? It’s just that I haven’t been motivated to date…” Much less touch myself. “Ever since Jihoon—“

“Ah, fuck him!” She waved you off. “Girl, you need some regular activity in your vaj, okay? And not just for pleasure but for your health!”

She goes on to lecture you more about vaginal health and how it goes hand-in-hand with sexual health. If your ex was getting all the sex he could elsewhere, there was no logical reason to be depriving yourself.

“You need constant stimulation! That’s why your coochie is depressed!”

Another reason to be depressed? Receiving a written notification from the courts this morning, telling you that you and Jihoon were legally divorced now. It was a tough reality to face. For the longest time, you were both unhappy. Breaking up was a foregone conclusion and yet–seeing it written on paper, in bold letters, still felt like a swift kick in the lady balls.

“What are you celebrating?” You are snapped back to reality by a voice.

“Hm?” You were so lost in thought, you had no idea how long you’d been staring at your champagne flute.

You turn your head to find a man, standing about two feet away, his elbow resting on the back of one of the bar stools next to you. His hair was long, ending just a couple of inches below his earlobes; it was loosely brushed back, one side tucked behind his ear while the other had a few strands falling right above his eyebrows.

He wore a dark, tailored suit–formal, understated elegance but with a hint of approachability since he’d skipped wearing a tie. Despite that, he still looked like a million bucks.

The lounge was nearly empty as the night waned. A handful of customers were still meandering about, sitting in the plush tables and chairs situated by the wall.

Even though you were the only one seated at the bar, you weren’t sure whether he was addressing you.

“Are you talking to me?”

He kept his gaze on you. “I am,” he smiled softly. He then gestured to the chair next to you. “May I?”

“S-sure.” With another smile, he saunters over and settles into the seat. He points to your drink again. “So, one usually orders champagne to celebrate something, right?”

“Oh, this?” You lift your glass and then shake your head. “I’m not sure if I would exactly categorize tonight as a ‘celebration’.”

The corner of his mouth quirks in a half-smile. “Maybe you should have ordered a whisky instead?”

You laughed wryly at his comment then thought, maybe you should have–especially after the week that you had.

He calls the bartender over. They smile and make small talk as if they’d known each other for years.

You frequented this lounge at least twice a month in the last six or seven months after your girlfriends dragged you out to dinner here once. Eventually, you’d gone out on your own to have a cocktail or two, whenever the kids were with their dad for the weekend.

Coming to L’Atelier beat drinking at home on your own. You didn’t socialize much on your nights out but at least you were drinking at a nice place. It was a small comfort and you just wanted to unwind after busy weekdays shuttling your children around.

This was the first time anybody had actually approached you–apart from the bartender and the occasional ‘Is this seat taken’ question from random men trying to hit on women who sat next to you.

After this man places his drink order, he turns his attention back to you.

“Do you come here often?” Your question sounded like a terrible cliche but it was the best you could muster. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you here before.”

The bartender clears their throat and presents the man with his drink.

He thanks the bartender before he answers, “Yes, I’m here pretty regularly,” he smiled enigmatically. “Maybe you just haven’t noticed me.”

Haven’t noticed him? Nonsense! You most definitely would have noticed him if he walked into a room. Was your sad vagina making you blind, too?

“I’ve seen you once or twice, though,” he says before taking a sip of the amber liquid from his glass, his eyes never leaving you.

“Oh?” You ask nervously.

“Yeah. I come here often for…business meetings,” he rationalizes. “Have you been offered a seat at the chef’s table yet?”

You frowned in confusion. After coming to this place many times before, this was the first time you’d ever heard of an option to have a seat at the chef’s table.

“I don’t think I have. Sounds exclusive,” you remarked.

“It is but I know the owner and I can bring you in as a guest.” After a beat, he asks, “Would you like to take advantage of it?”

Tempting as it was, you cross your legs and decline politely. “That’s alright. I don’t want to put you out.”

“You’re not,” he says. “I’d be happy to show you what offerings the restaurant has. The chef always has something that will satisfy any appetite.”

You stopped to consider your answer. Was he trying to pick you up or were you trying to read too much into an innocent offer?

You gulped your nervousness down your throat. “No, it’s not that. I’m, uh…” You scrambled to think of an answer. How could you tell this man that you hadn’t gone out on a date in a long time and that you were rusty when it came to settings like this so you’d prefer not to embarrass yourself.

His expression suddenly shifts to a look of realization. “S-sorry, I’m not trying to be a creeper. If you're with someone or just want to be alone–”

You shook your head and answer meekly. “No, no. I’m here by myself.” Then, you decide you’d dare to take a chance. What was the harm in enjoying a drink with someone?

“I don’t mind the company, either.”

To quell any further awkwardness, he introduces himself. “I’m Yoongi, by the way.”

After giving him your name, you can't help but notice that your breath hitches as he shakes your hand firmly. "Pleasure to meet you.”

“Please! The pleasure is all mine,” he says with a smile, his hold still lingering on your skin.

******

It was hard to pinpoint what exactly made him attractive to you but you narrowed it down to a combination of his looks, personality, and confidence–the confidence, especially! And no, it wasn’t the type of confidence that was synonymous with arrogance or cockiness.

It was the quiet self-assurance that he exuded, where his ego took a backseat and you took center stage.

It was a refreshing experience since the man you were married to for years was very much into asserting his masculinity, especially when you first started dating. Admittedly, you’d found that attractive at one point in your life.

That was half of Yoongi’s charm. The other half of it was the element of seduction. He knew and understood how seduction worked.

In the short amount of time that he spent with you, it seemed that the trick lay in small things: his cologne, outfit, laughter, eye contact, and subtle touches–his knees brushing against yours as he shifted in his seat…they all added up.

You don’t recall Jihoon putting that much effort into your relationship, much less coaxing your own self-esteem to the forefront. You chalked it up to the fact that you were both so young and had been together for a long time. You didn’t have many points of comparison, relationship-wise.

“You seem like a really great person,” he says. “Why are you out here by yourself?”

You eventually relay that you’d come here to enjoy some ‘me-time’.

“Interesting,” he says. “And what do you typically do when you’re not alone?”

“Well, I have a day job and children who keep me busy.”

“Oh, you have children?”

“Yes,” you reply. “Two boys–currently with their dad. It’s his weekend.” You try but fail to hide the bitterness behind your tone. The tight smile you gave Yoongi was a dead giveaway, too.

You were fully expecting him to pepper you with questions, questions that you weren’t quite ready to hash out with a stranger.

“I see.” His tone had a finality to it, sensing your apprehension about expanding on your recent divorce.

You tilt your head back and down the last drops of your drink, thankful that he decides not to pry.

“Last call!” The bartender announces to the whole room before turning to you. “Can I get you anything else, miss?”

You shook your head in response and start to dig for your credit card to settle your tab. When they turn to Yoongi, who also declines any more drinks, he makes a request instead. “Junho-ssi, can you put her tab on mine?”

“Oh gosh–no, please–”

“I insist!” He hands his credit card to the bartender, effectively ending your protests.

******

You, along with the last few customers from the restaurant, walk out through the expansive foyer and toward the main exit. The restaurant staff begins to shut the lights off but leaves the lounge illuminated. You’d never been around for closing time so you found the whole scene novel.

A tall, handsome man dressed in a bespoke suit struts out of the backroom, which you assumed was the office. You’d seen him before, in passing. One of your girlfriends pointed out that he owned the place.

You part ways with Yoongi when the owner stops to greet him.

What was the owner’s name again?

“Jin-hyung,” Yoongi greets him in return, answering your unspoken question. They share a friendly hug and exchange pleasantries.

“I thought you left hours ago?“ Jin asks him.

“I was on my way out but I decided to hang around the lounge for a bit.”

Not wanting to linger, you walk out to the front of the restaurant to call yourself a rideshare. While you wait, you think about how this evening turned out to be a pleasant surprise to you. You walked into the bar, thinking you’d have a few drinks, and wallow in self-pity for a bit before you returned home to slip into your pajamas and fall asleep while a Beat Bobby Flay marathon plays in the background.

“Did you drive here?”

Your thoughts are interrupted by Yoongi, who was now standing next to you.

“Nah, I knew I was drinking so I just took a car over here.”

You shifted nervously. You hardly thought of yourself as ‘confident’ and it’s been a long time since you’ve been in the dating scene. You were out of practice after all these years but how else did you expect to jumpstart your sex life?

Besides, it’s been well over 72 hours since your gynecological treatment. By doctor’s orders–you should be good to go.

You found yourself speaking the words before you thought through them clearly. “I don’t know if you have any plans tonight but would you like to come over and have a few more drinks?”

******

Once you and Yoongi walked into your home, all that confidence remained at your doorstep and never followed you past the threshold.

Luckily, you found an unopened bottle of vintage red in your kitchen, which you offered to him.

After a few sips in, you clear your throat. “Listen, I have a confession to make.”

He shifted in his seat, prompting you to continue. “What’s that?”

“I…I don’t…do this kind of thing often. You know, bring men home. I hope that you don’t think ill of me for stringing you along like this.”

He smiled, looking calm and not at all disappointed. “And why would I think that?”

Not knowing why he couldn’t see the obvious answer, you shrug. “I realize that I hadn’t thought this through. I don’t want you to think that I’m reckless or easy.”

“Why are you apologizing? It’s not like you’ve offended me.” His tone remained even and his expression was soft.

“I didn’t know if you were expecting to get laid or whatever,” you say anxiously.

“When a woman invites me back to her place, I never expect anything to happen. There’s always the hope but I’m honestly content with whatever she wants to do.”

You scoffed in disbelief. “You’re telling me that men don’t expect sex all the time?”

“I’m not like other men, unfortunately,” he answers. “I have a slightly different perspective, especially in my line of work.”

Your brows knit in curiosity. You’d come to realize that you hadn’t asked what exactly he did for work. You’d been too enraptured with his charm, happily talking about yourself while he listened to every word you said.

“Sorry, I don’t mean to be rude, but what do you do for work?”

“I’m an escort,” he says matter-of-factly.

If memory serves, that meant– “Oh my god. Oh my god…” Your scalp prickles immediately. Setting your glass down on the coffee table, you abruptly get up from your seat and start to pace around your living room. “W-why didn’t you tell me that right away? Why did–”

“I’m sorry. Our conversation was going so well earlier that I didn’t feel the need to slip it in. I didn’t think you’d invite me over.”

“Wait! Do I have to pay you? Is this…are you going to charge me for this?” You stammered in a panic.

His voice was soft and reassuring. "Relax. When I approached you, I thought you were a client - that's why I asked if you'd been offered the chef's table. It's kind of like the secret password," he reveals. "But since it didn't seem like you knew anything about it, I made the conscious decision to spend time with you. So, to answer your question: no, I am not charging you. I'm here because I want to be here.”

You breathe a small sigh of relief. Your head was spinning. A ‘secret password’? Was there a hidden brothel at the restaurant? You had so many questions!

“I understand that this is overwhelming and I don’t mean to freak you out any further. If I’m making you uncomfortable, just say the word and I’ll leave. ” He raised his hands up, further conveying his point. “No harm done.”

He stood up and collected his jacket which was neatly draped over the couch cushion.

Your mind was still racing. What would it mean if you asked him to stay? He says that he’s not charging you but was it enough that you’d take his word for it?

You stop your pacing and turn to look at him.

Sure, you could make him leave and forget that this ever happened. Nobody has to know, nobody needs to know.

…Exactly. Nobody needs to know.

“Wait,” you answer softly. “Could you stay a little longer?”

******

It took a few minutes of some awkward, borderline-invasive questions about his job. You were understandably curious and he was a very patient interview subject. He kept most details vague–presumably, to keep some ‘trade secrets’ under wraps–he was fairly open about his work.

You learned that there was a specific app where his clients can book him and that he often stops by the restaurant, which had a secret lounge, for discreet meet-ups.

“So, you’re saying it’s not just all sex all the time for you?”

He threw his head back in laughter. “It’s not. Sometimes, some clients just want to talk–just like we’re doing now. That’s what our back room is for.”

“Right, but what are the chances that you don’t, I don’t know, get it in before the end of your date?”

He lets out another chuckle. “This may be hard to believe but there are times when some of my dates just want someone to keep them company. And yes, there are times when all they want is physical contact the whole time we’re together.”

“Huh…okay.” You internally fan yourself. “You can tell me to stop if I’m being annoying!”

He shook his head. “Not at all. Normally, I just talk to the other guys I work with since we all have to be discreet. So, talking to you about it feels liberating…on a different level. By the way, I love this red,” he comments at the wine.

You smile at his compliment before sinking into the couch cushions–internalizing this brand-new perspective. You marveled at the concept, like an awakening of sorts.

Hearing about his experiences and different approaches to each of his relationships with his clients fascinated you. On the other hand, it also made you think about how much you missed out on when you were younger.

He notices that you’ve fallen silent. “What are you thinking?”

“Just how little I know about relationships and…sex.” You sighed softly.

“What do you mean?”

You thought about how quickly that year passed, focusing on distracting yourself with work, and your kids so you wouldn’t have to think about how Jihoon was living his best life, with a newer, younger partner.

You didn’t have time for that. You had your babies to take care of. You had to stay focused for them!

Shaking your head, you say, “I don’t know. I guess I find myself being unreasonably envious of these women whom I’ve never met.”

“And why is that?”

“I’m envious at how they’re able to explore their sexuality without…being judged or looked down on. Like, I’m definitely not in my 20s anymore, you know? The concept of dating or even going out to get a drink doesn’t seem appropriate for someone like me.”

“Someone like you? You mean a woman?”

“Someone who has a full plate,” you counter.

“Is it full, though?” He asks skeptically.

You scoffed. “Well, yes! I have my job, then my kids—“

“But your kids aren’t here. You just said that they’re spending the weekend at their dad’s.”

“Right. Still, I don’t know if I have the time—“

“I’m sure you can make time now that you and your ex have joint custody. Don’t you think he enjoys himself when you have your kids while he has his own me-time?”

“Yes, but he’s a man. It’s different for women.”

“Surely you still have desires or fantasies? There’s no gender or age limit for that.”

You shrugged. “Isn’t there? Sometimes, I feel like I’m past it.”

He lets out a disbelieving laugh. “What do you mean to say, ‘you’re past it’? You don’t like sex anymore?”

His incredulity stings you a bit, maybe because he seemed young and had sex with several people often. “It’s possible! And you know what, maybe it’s just been too long for me and you know, they always say, you either use it or lose it.”

Yoongi stares at you, mouth agog, and utterly dumbfounded by your ridiculous theory.

“Can you do me a favor and humor me, just a little? I think that’s only fair, right?” After your interrogation, it did seem like a fair exchange so you nod your head, prompting him to continue.

“Tell me what you loved about sex. It could be the lead-up to it, a specific action, or the experience as a whole. What is it?”

You paused at his question. Your lips puckered as you thought about your answer. After a few more seconds, you finally answer, “Weirdly, it doesn’t have anything to do with any kind of penetration.”

He laughed so hard his shoulders vibrated. “I thought penetration was everyone’s favorite part?”

You tutted. “Nuh-uh. Not me.”

He eyed you quietly while he awaits your answer. “I’m at the edge of my seat here,” he chuckled.

You laughed in return. “Okay, okay. It’s kissing.”

His lips and eyebrows quirked in curiosity. “Interesting choice. Doesn’t ‘kissing’ still technically involve some kind of penetration?”

“I guess,” you laughed, rolling your eyes at the same time. “But to me, kissing means more than just getting it in.” You pause again to think of the correct metaphor. “It’s like the prologue and the epilogue to sex.”

His eyes flickered with renewed interest while you elaborated. “You know, when you like someone or find them attractive enough, you imagine what it’s like to kiss them, right? The thought consumes you until you finally get that opportunity to do it.”

He continued to regard you intently, hanging onto your every word. “You start off feeling and tasting…and then you slowly melt into it. Your hands start to explore, clearly wanting more of that person.” You smiled wistfully, “One of my favorite things to do is finding out how long I could keep my mouth sealed to my partner’s while we undress each other. And then the thrill of breaking that kiss–for just a few moments–so you could strip that last piece of clothing off them–then you get right back into it.”

You watched his chest rise and fall, his gaze still hot on you.

“After all is said and done–after you both ride out your highs and your bodies are trembling from intense pleasure, your only source of calm and comfort is falling into those kisses again.” When you finish, you press your lips into a hard line and stare back at him.

“Wow,” he choked out after a few beats.

You wave your hands dismissively. “Yeah, yeah. I know it sounds crazy and delusional,” you scoffed.

He disagreed. “On the contrary, I think that you make a very compelling argument for kissing.”

You sighed ruefully, “It was just something that my ex and I stopped doing many years ago. I felt like that was the beginning of the end.”

“I’m sorry to hear that,” he remarked sincerely.

“Yeah, me too.”

You looked away to take another sip of your drink while his gaze remained on you. When you turn your attention back to him, he asks, “I’d like to do that for you, if you’ll let me.”

You cocked your eyebrow in suspicion. “Do what?”

“I want to give you that feeling again.”

You frowned in confusion. “What feeling?”

“The feeling you get from a kiss.”

Your eyes bulged in amusement before laughing. “What? That was like, some desperate wish from a sad lady.”

“If that’s how you want to see it, fine. But I am here, sincerely asking if I could kiss you.”

“Oh my god, Yoongi–” Your forehead creased, trying to make out whether he was for real or just pulling your leg.

“I’m not bullshitting you, I swear. I wouldn’t do that to you.”

“Then you must be drunk,” you countered.

“Not that drunk,” he demurred. “I am still very much coherent.”

You continued to eye him skeptically for a few seconds.

“It’s a ‘yes’ or ‘no’ question. If you say ‘no’, then we’ll move on from this subject and continue on with our night. And I think I’ve made it deliberately clear that I don’t want to make you feel uncomfortable at all,” he reassured you.

“I…” The answer was at the tip of your tongue. However, before you say anything else that you feel might be too impulsive, you feel the need to step away to cool off.

“Oh, look at that!” You remark at the empty bottle of wine and reach for it. “I’ll be right back with another. Red, right?“ You hastily make your way back into the kitchen, not waiting for his answer.

******

After retrieving a bottle of pinot grigio from the fridge, you puff your flushed cheeks out and fan yourself. It was definitely the alcohol…coupled with the fact that Yoongi’s presence was lowering your inhibitions further.

All that bullshit you spewed about not having the desire? Being ‘past’ sex? Right. You internally smack yourself.

He wasn’t charging you anyway, what was the harm in a little taste? The problem was what could happen after the fact. What if you turned out to be insatiable? Could your alimony checks pay for these meetings?

“Shut up, this is crazy!” you mutter to yourself.

And yet, even as you made your way into the kitchen, you were already feeling that familiar tingle in the pit of your stomach. A feeling you thought was long gone, walking out the door along with your ex.

You put the bottle of wine down and center yourself, splaying your fingers onto the counter then lean on it for support.

You try desperately to calm your fluttering pulse.

“Hey.”

You turn your head around to see him entering the kitchen.

Shit, were you taking too long?

“I thought you might need this.” He held up the corkscrew in his hand and then slowly advanced toward you.

You laughed. “Oh…uh…silly me!”

“I got worried so I thought I might check in on you to make sure that you were okay.”

You turn around and attempted to take a step but your knees felt like jelly. So instead, you lean your back against the counter. “I’m fine,” you try to say as evenly as possible. “Also, seems I’m all out of red wine and this is the only one I have left.” You gestured at the bottle on the counter.

Seeing your apprehension in serving it, he asks, “Do you like it?”

Your eyes bulged at his question.

“The wine. Do you like it?” he clarifies.

“I do.”

He gives a small nod. “Well if you like it, I’m sure I’ll like it, too.”

“You said earlier that you preferred to drink red. Do you always adjust your preferences based on whatever your date likes?”

“Mm…so we’re on a date?”

You giggle nervously at your presumptuousness then start blubbering. “I mean–I’m just saying.”

“It’s just a preference,” He interjects cooly. “...but I generally like to keep an open mind about things. I’m not the type who limits myself.”

“Because ‘limits’ are an occupational hazard for you?”

“I may not limit myself but knowing my clients’ limits are helpful for me. I want to know what they want; want to know how much I can give it to them…until they tell me to stop.”

“And how often do they say ‘stop’?” Your question was barely a whisper.

“All the time, actually. Except…” he hissed through his teeth, “…it usually comes after the word, ‘don’t’,” he punctuated.

Your lips seal tightly as if bracing yourself. At this point, you’d made up your mind and wanted to know what it would be like to be intimate with him.

But you still haven’t said the words.

He smiles and takes a few more steps, closing the gap considerably but still leaving room for you to push away from him if you want to. At this point, you didn’t want to push him off but instead felt a visceral need to pull him closer.

He inhaled deeply, like he could smell the want thrumming from your body.

He swallows, leaning in so his face is in your hair. The sound of his breaths sets your body alight…this would be the moment you’d give in to your impulses.

He’d pressed himself against you and you didn’t stop him. You shift, knowingly brushing your thigh against his crotch, his cock stiffening at the contact. He bit into his lips in an effort to suppress a growl but fails at it.

Your skin is hot to the touch and your heart feels as if it’s thumping out of your chest. With his lips still narrowed into a hard line, you lock eyes with him, and he detects that dormant lust lingering in their depths. You gulp and drop your gaze to his lips. Your bodies, now pressed against each other; mind racing, you continue to stare at his mouth. You want to taste him.

“I want you.” His words reverb around the room like an echo.

He moistened his parched lips with his tongue and let out a shaky breath. And maybe it has been that long…but you’d never seen anyone look so desperate to take you. Never felt so paralyzed by desire.

"Can I please... have you?" You can’t imagine he’d ever worked this hard for a fuck.

You never thought of yourself as sexy. You always thought you looked average. But when you're with him, he made you feel unbelievably irresistible. You haven't felt this confident in a while.

His mouth gently grazed the side of your jawline. "Please...tell me I can have you."

Curiosity consumed your body, leaving you no choice but to surrender. Finally, you permit yourself; and in turn, permit him. “Yes.”

You slowly tilt forward until your lips gently meet his but he doesn’t take the lead. Instead, he decides that you should still take it at your own pace, and he’s more than happy with it. It’s slow. Soft. Tender…everything that you hoped it would be.

He presses his hand onto the small of your back, making you arch against his hold.

“Bed?”

“Mm-hm,” you hum your agreement against his mouth.

“Where?”

You fist at his shirt and pull him down the hallway and into your bedroom.

His back hits your door, which slams against the wall, jolting you into his arms. He can do nothing more than keep up with your pace, all while silently demanding you start ridding him of his clothes.

Your tongue circles his mouth, your heads tilting constantly, taking other angles, pulling back, only to crash together once again. It’s wild, messy, yet absolutely incredible.

“You’re so sexy, you know that?”

“You’re just obliged to say those things.”

“I’m not obliged to say or do anything I don’t want to.” He peels off the wall and walks you both farther into your bedroom. “And neither are you.” He backs you in until your legs feel the mattress against them. He turns you around, zipping your dress down. “Do you understand?”

You nod and remain still as he unfastens you and then pushes the dress downward, his eyes falling to the material that pools around your feet.

His hands reach for the clasp of your bra. One flick of his deft fingers releases it, and he notices your shoulders lift. He moves in close and slides his forearm around your waist, resting his chin on your shoulder.

“We can do this however you want. You have control, okay?” He whispers, trying to ease your nerves. You were tense, but not from fear. It was from anticipation.

“Yes,” you respond.

“You’re beautiful and I want us to take our time.” He drags the straps of your bra down your arms until it tumbles to the floor. “We don’t need to rush through this.” Kissing your cheek lightly, he relishes the feel of you pushing closer to him. “I want to remind you how good it can feel.”

You turn and lift your chin to look at him. Without a word, you start to unbutton his shirt, one by one, slowly and purposefully, with a whole range of of thoughts and emotions running through your head.

He lets you undress him at your own speed, resisting the urge to rip his own clothes from his body and toss you on the bed. “Want some help?” He asks to find out what options you’d be open to.

You peer up at him, and he sees apprehension in your gaze. You smile and shake your head ‘no’ softly.

He realizes that even though you’re desperate for him to take you, you have no idea how this will all play out. It’s been so long, and he was the first partner you’d been with in a while. You didn’t know if you wanted it raw and fast or slow and loving.

“Don’t be nervous.” He takes your wrists, instantly feeling you tremble. “We don’t have to do anything you don’t want to.”

“But I want to.” Your gaze drops from his, down his bare torso, your teeth sinking into your lip. “I really…really…do.”

Pulling away from his hold, you push his shirt from his shoulders and place your hands on his pecs. His body feels like it’s just gone up in flames, and his hands twitch, desperate to grab onto you. Ravage you, kiss you…ruin you. The look in your eyes tells him you’re aware of all this because you want to do all of those same things to him.

You reinforce this with a hard kiss on his lips, and he’s instantly overwhelmed by it, his palm going to the back of your head, gently pushing you closer, his mouth opening, inviting you in.

Your hands are everywhere. Your kisses turn sloppy. His actions convey a sense of urgency, making him want to take you hard and fast, show you how good he could be for you. He can feel his control slipping but somehow manages to maintain his hold on those last few strands. He knows this isn’t the time for him to get carried away. He was giving up control to you.

Holding your head in his hands, he slows the tempo of your kiss. Suddenly, it was all coming back to you now. Your hands snake down to the fly of his pants, you undo it and slide them off him, all while keeping your lips locked. He takes you down to the mattress, your tongues dancing slowly, breathing each other’s breath.

You never thought he’d taste this good, even with the hints of alcohol mixed between you. He comes down to rest over you, taking his arms up over your head, leaving your hands free to roam his back, his ass, and eventually his face. You’re both lost and consumed by each other.

He forcibly breaks your kiss to test a theory.

You let out a whine, hating the loss of contact. You lunge at him, wanting to capture his mouth again but he teasingly pulls away. You lean in again and he retreats with a soft chuckle. Finally, you let out a growl, clasp your palms on either side of his face, and aggressively pull him back to you.

His chest rumbled in arousal, and he kisses you back with just as much fervor.

You pant against his mouth, your hands grabbing at his hair, legs locking around his waist, telling him that he wasn’t going anywhere.

Your lips purse, your hands sliding past the waistband of his boxers. You push them over the rise of his ass. “Are you worth every penny?” You cheekily pinch his butt, making him flinch and grin at the same time.

“Yes,” he says simply.

You giggle, then sink your nails into his flesh. He grits his teeth, enduring the sharp pain. “And I’m supposed to just take your word for it?”

“I wouldn’t lie to you.” He raises his eyebrows in warning as your hand glides softly through his dark strands. “But yes, you’d better take my word for it. Let me make you feel good?”

Your lips press together, your hips flexing up, pushing into against his hardon. “Yes,” you breathed out.

With your consent, his lips crash into yours, the slow and steady pace all but forgotten. Wild hands feel down his thighs and start pulling impatiently at his boxers. He fully appreciates your eagerness, taking his own hands to your panties, pushing them down your legs just as impatiently.

You inhale sharply but quickly adopt his method, tugging and squirming to break free of your last bits of clothing.

Until there is nothing but skin on skin. Nothing but the friction of his flesh rubbing all over yours as your bodies entangle, lips and tongues clashing, your moans and hungry gasps filling the room.

His hand grazed your clit lightly, stimulating the sensitive nerves there. Your breath caught and you tilted your head back as he moved down your body, kissing and licking downward until he was past your torso.

His thumb swiping at your soaked folds sends an unexpected shiver up your spine, making you gasp. He’d anticipated a slow build, but after a few light strokes, he realized you were already primed for him.

His fingers continued to work you, pumping at a slow, even, and purposeful pace that increased both the pressure and area with each stroke. His digits were gliding up and down your folds in a slow circuit, coming up to your clit, then down…easing in and out of your aching cunt. Your breaths started to turn ragged, and he took it as his cue to change his pace in bursts, shortening each motion while your orgasm built.

“Oh shit, I’m close,” you choked out as your muscles seized. “Keep going…”

His strokes became shorter as your climax neared. Dipping in and pressing up against the roof of your core, sending you over the edge. He kept the pace until the sensation became unbearable.

The second you felt the first shudders of your orgasm rip through you, you let out an aggressive, high-pitched gasp. You gripped at your sheets, back arching off the mattress as you trembled with relief and satisfaction.

You barely notice him getting off the bed to grab a condom from his pants, which were on the floor. He tears open the foil and carefully rolls the condom down his length.

It doesn’t take much guidance to get his cock resting at your throbbing entrance. You suck in air and hold it, pulling back to get him in your sights. His eyes on you, he nudges his hips a fraction, resisting the urge to pound straight in. “Ready?”

“God, yessss!” You can hardly talk through your desperation so instead, you roll your hips up and take a bit more of him.

He pushed into you, eliciting a small cry from your lips as you adjusted to the stretch.

He swivels his hips, grinding deeply. He flexes his hands over your hips, keeping you pinned against the mattress, withdrawing from your pussy and gliding gently back in.

He watches you melt beneath him, but the slight quiver on your lip worries him. He pauses his movements and loosens his hold on you.

“Are you okay?” His fingers gently brushed your forehead.

With a swift kiss to his lips, you nod. “I’m good.” You sink your nails into his ass and roll your hips onto his, telling him wanted more.

You fist your hands in his hair, moaning in invitation as your body goes into autopilot. You feel his palms squeeze your thighs again, bracing himself as his hips grind against you once more.

You don’t know how you’ve managed to resist him this whole time.

He nips at your bottom lip and releases it, pulling his face away and looking you straight in the eyes. He rolls his hips again, grinding hard against your pelvis, making your core clench tightly. Your head lolls on a deep moan, giving him free access to your throat. He takes full advantage of it, licking and sucking at the hollow.

You could cry with pleasure at how good it felt.

Nuzzling your cheek, he takes your hands and thrust them up on the pillow, he elevates himself a little to get a good look at you. You’re panting in excitement and need. Loving the feel of him inside you. He rolls his hips teasingly. “You like it slow?” He licks his lips, savoring the sight of you breaking into a sweat.

“I don’t really care,” you utter.

“Please, tell me what you like.”

“And I’m telling you I don’t care,” you insist. “Just don’t stop–”

At the sound of your words, your eyes immediately dart up to Yoongi, who was now sporting the cockiest smirk. Flustered, you end up muttering, “Ugh, just keep going, okay?”

“As you wish,” he says with a chuckle. Lowering his face, he catches your mouth gently as he continues the measured, delicate rock of his hips, making sure his drives are slow and exact, his tongue following suit. He releases your hands, allowing you to feel him.

He lets you control your kiss again, only breaking away from time to time when you lazily throw your head around on the pillow, sighing, moaning, eyes rolling to the back of your head from arousal.

You’re caught in the moment and floating in mid-air. He keeps his rhythm steady, ensuring that you’re kept in a consistent state of pleasure. He’s amazed by how responsive you were to him, finding himself enthralled at the sight of you losing yourself.

He peels away from your chest as he lifts and balances his weight on his forearms. Your eyes follow his, your hands reaching for his face, holding him. Your hips are in perfect sync, his rolling down, and you undulate upward to meet his, each plunge taking your breath away.

In one swift move, he rolls you both over until you were on top. He gives you a look, reminding you that you were in control. With a gentle nudge from him, you sit up, shifting your legs on either side of him for leverage.

You ease into your movements. He closes his eyes and flexes his hips to meet yours, filling you to the brim as he exhales. You lift off slightly, feeling his length slide out. His mouth falls open with a sigh when you sink your hips to take him in again.

You were feeling drunk with the power you currently had–watching Yoongi coming apart beneath you. You place your hands on his shoulders for support until your ass rests atop his thighs.

You sway your hips and he matches your rhythm, maintaining that perfect synchronicity. You increase the speed and it didn't take long before you were fully captivated in pleasure again.

He slowly lifts himself off the mattress and sits up, his face right in front of yours. His hands move from your hips to your arms, maintaining a firm grip to hold you still. He then withdraws slightly before thrusting sharply into you, causing you to cry out.

Your head lolls sideways and back, as he fucks in and out of you. You open your eyes, stare down at him, your breathing ragged, and he’s staring back at you, eyes blazing.

“Fuck…don’t…stop,” you mewl pathetically as he pounds into you.

He groans loudly, closing his eyes again, tipping his head and leaning it against your forehead.

He feels you inching closer to another orgasm. He reaches between you to massage your clit, circling it in the most optimal rhythm, applying the perfect amount of pressure, enough to send you over the edge.

You both calmly roll through your own waves of pleasure, a stark contrast to the frantic hammering in your chests.

“Are you okay?” He asks against your misted neck, still catching his breath.

You giggle softly, rolling your forehead against his forehead. “Yes, I’m fine, thank you.”

His lips curve into a smile before he gently places soft, leisurely kisses on your lips. At the same time, his fingers caress your cheek and neck. He didn’t need to do all that, but it felt good.

You pull away and regard him intently. “That was nice.”

“Aftercare is important.” He plants another soft kiss on your lips before he gingerly lifts you off him.

He asks for permission to use your shower, and you direct him to the linen closet where he can find some towels for himself.

“Yoongi?” You call out to him. He turns around and hums his prompt for you to go on.

“You know, if I could afford you, I’d pay twice whatever you’re charging.”

He grins at the compliment, nodding before turning back towards the door. “I can give you access to the app if you’re serious about it,” he says over his shoulder in jest.

His laughter sends gentle currents coursing through your body. The thought amuses you, as you sink back into your sheets while the sound of your shower tap turning on echoes through the room.

******

For somebody whose work revolved around sex–it sure didn’t feel like it from your perspective, nor his.

Everything felt natural and organic. Every touch, every kiss felt real. Every movement you made was in response to his–an even exchange, never missing a beat. The whole act itself flowed like a great conversation, one that you didn’t want to end.

It wasn’t that he had magical skills in bed. There were no special rituals or elaborate positions. His strength was in genuinely understanding that sex went beyond the physical aspect. He knew how to build anticipation and actually deliver.

Unbeknownst to you, Yoongi had spent the entire night setting the mood for the moment and the result was extremely satisfying. He made you feel so comfortable and relaxed that it made the sex that much better.

And it was mind-blowing! Even then, that adjective felt inadequate in describing the experience.

As he was getting ready to leave that morning, you let him know that you didn’t feel the need to call him again even after he offered to meet up off the clock.

“Look, I’m flattered, but you don’t need to do me any favors. Besides, I wouldn’t want to take any business away from you,” you say to him.

“Don’t think of it that way,” he shook his head. “It’s just that I really enjoyed our time and I thought–”

“Then let’s leave it at that,” you interrupt him calmly. “I had a really great time, too.”

He sighs in defeat but asks again for good measure. “Are you sure?”

You nodded in response.

He took a step closer. You chuckle softly, butterflies tickling as he snakes his arm around your waist. “If you ever feel lonely, call me. I’ll be here for you. As a friend.” He gave you a smile that had the slightest hint of mischief in it.

“I’ll keep that in mind.”

“Please do,” he says emphatically–almost begging. “And you know where to find me.”

You laughed.

“We can grab a drink, or something.” His eyebrows twitch and his teeth catch his lower lip while he stares at you.

You looked at him wryly, but deep down, you had to admit that his insatiable desire for you stokes your ego. “You know, you’re making this really hard–”

“Good. Glad I’m not the only one finding this…hard,” he rasps.

You slap of his chest playfully, eliciting a laugh from him. You roll your eyes but are unable to stop yourself from smiling. “Oh my god! You’re a menace!”

He throws his head back, laughing some more, his eyes crinkling in amusement. “I’m teasing, of course. But I’m serious, though. If you ever want to talk, I’m a phone call away.”

You offer a small smile of appreciation in return. “Thank you.”

“Would it be alright if I kissed you goodbye?”

You shook your head softly. “That’ll be nice.”

He dips his head and pauses for a fraction of a second to brush the tip of his nose against yours, before fully capturing your mouth in a lush, deep kiss.

And it was nice, just as you thought it would be. It was also nice to feel wanted and desired–even for one night.

Main Fic Masterlist

You’ve reached the end! Thank you so much for reading!

Tagging: @itdoesntmatterwhy @internetjunkdrawer @purplewhalewrites @shesoldbutcute @yoongukie-ff

#bts fanfiction #yoongi smut #yoongi x reader #yoongi #myg smut #bts smut #min yoongi #bts min yoongi #bts yoongi #bts suga #TheBFE x myg

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shina913 · 1 year

Text

Nothing | MYG

Pairing: Yoongi x Fem!Reader

Rating: PG-15; SFW

Genre: Established relationship; slice of life; just tooth-rotting fluff

Warnings: Some cussing

Word count: 639 words

Summary: Based on @novelbear 's writing prompt: "brushing their hair for them and smiling fondly as they just ramble about their day"

A/N: Yes, I'm still suffering from Yoongi brain rot. Also, thanks to Sim @/itdoesntmatterwhy and her "I want to cuddle with Yoongi" scenario, spurred by this photo. Happy to 🤡 around with you for this! The title is from Bruno Major's song of the same name, also tagging you, Miks @/miksancheese because we both love Bruno Major LOL

Just as you settle in for a quiet reading session, the tell-tale grinding of the garage door opening interrupts you. You remain on the couch, having received a text from Yoongi minutes ago letting you know he's on his way home after working overtime. You've already warmed up his dinner and left it on the counter for him to dig in.

A minute later, you hear the garage door close, followed by some muffled thumps by the doorway, where he takes his shoes off before entering.

"Hey, babe," you call over your shoulder once you hear the door latch click.

"Hi," he half-mumbles and grunts back. It's his sixth day working this week, and he's exhausted.

"I made you a plate, and there's some beer—" you say, but he barely lets you finish your sentence before flopping onto the couch. He gently nudges your free hand out of the way before proceeding to make himself comfortable on your lap. He lets out a long, deep sigh.

You stare at him comically. "Uhm... hi," you say to him with a soft chuckle.

He lets out another grunt, his long hair in a messy heap.

You put your book down and carefully brush the strands off him to reveal his beautiful face. His eyes are shut, but you can see a hint of a frown. He must have had a rough day, you think to yourself.

You playfully run your fingertip over the crease between his brows in an attempt to flatten it.

"So, how was your day?" You keep your tone light because you know your question will trigger Yoongi to vent about how one colleague screwed up and another had no idea what they were doing, leaving Yoongi to clean up the whole mess.

“Fuck, man,” he groans. "I knew today was going to be a cluster, but I had no idea it would be this bad." He goes on a rant about his two incompetent colleagues who should retire to make room for new people with fresh ideas.

As he angrily rambles about work, you run your hands through his hair, gently applying pressure to his scalp with every pass. Whenever he pauses, you ask follow-up questions, and his tone noticeably softens as he answers.

You nod and hum, validating his frustration with his coworkers. Slowly but surely, you feel the agitation in his voice dissipate with each stroke of your fingertips.

By the end of his venting, he tilts his chin up toward you and gently brushes your jawline with his thumb. "I'm sorry. I just went on and on about my day and forgot to ask you about yours."

"S’okay," you say, leaning into his touch. "My sister hung out for a bit before going out to dinner with Jae. I just kind of lazed around after that."

“Mm,” he hums noncommittally.

He shifts enough to reach over the coffee table and pick up the remote that controls your living room sound system. Mumbling something into the built-in microphone, he prompts it to play some lo-fi tracks.

“Aren’t you hungry? Why don’t you go eat?” you offer.

“Maybe later. I’m comfy here,” he replies. He readjusts himself on the couch and takes one of your hands, bringing it in front of him to brush the tip of his nose against your skin before he kisses it.

“Alright,” you giggle before taking your book and picking up where you left off before Yoongi pleasantly invaded your personal space.

A few seconds later, you lean over and call his name a few times, but he responds with a couple of deep, throaty snores. You smile, content with the fact that you'll be spending another night curled up on the couch with him. At this rate, you might as well sell your bed.

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Tagging: @internetjunkdrawer @itdoesntmatterwhy @yoongukie-ff @miksancheese

#yoongi x reader #yoongi x you #yoongi fanfiction #yoongi fluff #bts fanfiction #min yoongi #bts fluff #bts min yoongi #bts yoongi #myg fluff #nothing x myg

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shina913 · 1 year

Text

Percussions | MYG

Pairing: MYG x Fem!Reader

Rating: Rated-R; 🔞 NSFW

Genre: Mafia!AU; Assassin!AU; angst

Summary: Min Yoongi, a former CIA explosives expert, now works as a hired hitman. You contact him to enlist his help in exacting revenge on a family of mobsters who murdered your family years ago. Complications arise when Yoongi finds a personal connection to your case.

Warnings: depictions of violence, namely: a bomb explosion, fist fight, mentions of blood, a gun aimed at close-range; cussing; thoughts of revenge

Word count: 2.1K+

⚠️ Please bear in mind that this is a work of fiction. Still, I'm trying my best to avoid being too explicit about the crime and violence included here. Please proceed with caution! If there is any warning that I've failed to list, please tell me so and I will correct it right away. Thank you!

A/N: This was initially something I had in mind based on this Anon ask but I don't know if it really fulfills it. It sort of turned into something else.

Anyway, I don't know what I want this to be yet. I guess I'm testing the waters as this is the first time I'm trying to write in this type of genre/au. Thanks to @internetjunkdrawer and @itdoesntmatterwhy for looking this over and for pushing me to add nuance to this story. I’m including you in here, too @yoongukie-ff for the overall encouragement 🥹

I hope it's good enough!

Ten years ago, Captain Min Yoongi and Colonel Kwang Chunghee were explosives specialists working for the CIA. After months of planning, they were finally ready to carry out their mission to take down a notorious drug kingpin.

However, while waiting for the car transporting their target, they were surprised to see a young girl in the backseat with him – his daughter. Yoongi instantly knew that this would complicate things and expressed his frustration with the recon team for overlooking this crucial detail.

Yoongi suggests to Kwang that they abort the mission to spare the innocent child. He points out that they have another window of opportunity tomorrow since they have the target's daily routine memorized. Kwang insists that they see it through. "We've watched this guy for months. It's now or never, Min! We need this guy dead, or it's our asses on the line.”

Yoongi hesitates, standing his ground and refusing to harm any innocents.

"As your superior, you need to proceed with the mission, Captain!" Kwang barks at him.

"But what about the girl?" Yoongi argues.

"Fuck the girl!" Kwang yells, ignoring Yoongi's pleas. "She is collateral damage. Now, I repeat, you will proceed with the mission. That's a fucking order!"

Reluctantly, Yoongi obeys. The explosion itself goes without a hitch, but it kills the child in the process.

Yoongi is devastated by the child's wrongful death but brushes it aside. It's all part of the job.

As he walks back toward their vehicle, Kwang ambushes Yoongi by slamming him against a sharp corner of the truck, where he sustains injuries to his face.

“Don’t you dare fucking go against my orders again, Min! I taught you everything I know–and you dare question my authority?” He shouts.

Yoongi, angered by the unprovoked attack, tries to fight back but Kwang pulls his gun on him. He instinctively puts his hands up, his right eye blinded by the blood dripping into it. Must be an orbital fracture.

“Are you going to kill me too, Colonel?”

Kwang smirks. “You’re a specialist, captain. You deserve worse.” He kicks Yoongi in the stomach, making him lose his balance. He points his gun at him again. “I’ll tell the Major General that you tried your best but made a tactical mistake so I had to finish the job for you.”

In his anger, Yoongi makes a grab for the gun. Kwang is caught off-guard, lost in his ego trip, and is outmaneuvered easily.

Yoongi attacks Kwang savagely. “You like watching them die, don’t you? You sick fuck!” He continues to beat him to a pulp. “That’s not what we stand for!”

“Admit it,” Kwang laughs, “You like it, too.”

“My job is not who I am, Colonel. I just happen to be good at it. But you?” He shook his head. “You need to be stopped!”

Yoongi finally backs off and leaves Kwang bloodied and bruised. He takes the first flight out to return home. Upon his arrival, he resigned and reported Kwang's actions to their superiors and the ethics committee. Kwang was subsequently discharged from service.

Yoongi is still troubled by memories of his last mission, despite his efforts to move on. The thought of the child's death continues to haunt him and he feels guilty for what happened. Kwang's words have also left a deep impact on him and he struggles to forget them. He knows he did the right thing by reporting Kwang's actions, but sometimes wonders if he could have done something differently during the mission.

Going into his assignment, he knew difficult decisions would have to be made. All he wanted was to serve his country and protect innocent lives, even if that meant sacrificing a few bad ones.

Perhaps the end did justify the means.

******

Years later, Yoongi lives a solitary life.

He works as a freelance hitman. Some days, he is still haunted by the ghosts of his past. He doesn’t enjoy what he does for a living but the fact was, he was very good at it. Even with an honorable discharge, the pension was shit.

He found an untapped market for his skills and it’s proved to be very lucrative.

Desperate people contact him through an encrypted, closed-circuit online system that caters to assassins and mafia lords. Yoongi specializes in “tailoring” his explosions; building and planting bombs that blow up only the intended target while leaving innocent bystanders unharmed.

But he only takes the cases that interest him.

He fires up his laptop and logs into his personal server, entering a code to access it. It had been months since he last checked his messages. He was losing interest in the business and slowly starting to back away from it.

There were a handful of notes waiting for him, including a few from the same person. The latest one had just come through minutes ago, reading: "Please. Free me from this."

He practically knows your screen name by heart based on your previous online exchanges. He was intrigued by your initial posting and responded to gain some basic information. During his independent investigation, he discovered that not only was there an emotional connection between you and the targets, but their known associates made him mark the job as a red flag. He decided to skip your next few messages and instead moved on to another job that seemed simpler.

Now that he's back, he could clearly see how persistent you still were.

While pondering what to do next, he switches to another open tab on his screen, which shows the current funds he has amassed.

Nine figures. That is above and beyond any amount he has ever had in his possession. He should be content with it. He could cash out and disappear. All he has to do is shut his laptop down and run the self-destruct 'eraser' installed in it to wipe it clean but that was too easy.

The messages you sent to him were desperate and frantic…because you were.

They say you’re the best. Name your price.

I want them dead.

I’m ready to give you all of my money, just help me.

One thing about Yoongi is that, although he is practical and realistic, he’s unafraid to push the envelope. Part of that is due to his ego, and the fact that he is good at what he does. His colleagues in the military said so, and all of his clients in the criminal underworld say the same.

His eyes fixate on the "call" icon on the screen. His cursor hovers over it, hesitating. He never calls any of his clients unless there is a problem with the job or payment, both of which are rare occurrences. He prides himself on always getting the job done and receiving prompt payments.

"What the heck," he says to himself. He’s bored, and he could do the job with one hand tied behind his back. Besides, the money could pad his wallet a bit more.

Finally, he clicks on the call icon. He waits as the line trills on the other end.

After two rings, you answer. “Hello?”

Surprised by the sound of your voice, which is soft and calm, he takes a moment to respond. It’s the opposite of the agitated tone in your most recent message.

“Are you there?” You ask softly, increasing the volume in your encrypted app.

“I’m here,” he finally says. “I just saw your messages.” He lied. He had seen your messages before. He just chose to ignore them in hopes that you’d move on but you just wouldn’t let up.

“I apologize for calling you late at night.”

“No problem at all. It’s not like I sleep these days anyway,” you reply. “Does this mean that you’re picking up my contract?”

He pauses again before answering as if considering his words. Perhaps he thinks you'll take the hint if he's more straightforward. "I don't think I'm the right person to do this for you," he finally says.

You almost whine, "Why not? I think you're exactly the person who can get the job done for me."

He smirks. "And you believe that blowing these people up is the key to your revenge? Why not go to court?"

"The courts are on their payroll," you deadpan.

He pokes his tongue against his cheek and tries to offer an alternative. “I know some other guys. Trained snipers—“

“No,” you say curtly. “Bullets,” you sigh, “...can be imprecise. I’ve waited too long and put up too much money just to miss. I want insurance. I want them to suffer as I suffered.”

This wasn’t a new sentiment for Yoongi. He’s picked up contracts ranging from business squabbles to someone who just wanted to intimidate a rival. It was all very cut and dry.

He wasn’t much for personal vendettas. Too messy.

“I hear you can control your explosions.” You say. “They say that you can shape your charges, create shells to restrict the range—“

“That’s an oversimplification of a very complex and intricate process.” He interjects.

You smile into the phone. It seems you struck a nerve. “Explain it to me then,” you coax him.

“People don’t usually want to hear all that. They don’t care for the details.” Nobody wanted to listen to him wax poetic about different types of detonation cords.

“But I want to hear it. Plus…I like the sound of your voice,” you say smoothly.

“Hm,” he chuckles. “Flattery won’t make me reveal my trade secrets to clients.”

Confidence growing, you say, “Oh, I’m your client now?”

His screen quietly pings with your exact coordinates. He could very well hang up at this moment to let you know that he wasn’t interested in the job. And yet, there was something about you that made him want to stay on the line.

Yoongi leans his head back. He has amassed more than enough money from previous contracts to buy a generous plot of land in the middle of nowhere and retire there. Completely disappear. The urge to quit has been coming up more often.

But today, he would resist that urge again. Deciding to play coy, he says, “Give me some more time to think about it. I’ll call you back.”

“When?” You ask eagerly.

"I'll send you a message on the server an hour in advance so you can expect it," he says.

As he prepares to hang up, in an act of desperation, you blurt out, "That's not good enough! I need something more reassuring. Is it the money? Do you want more money? I have it!"

"It's not the money—"

"I can help you!"

"And how do you propose to do that?"

"We can work together."

He scoffs. You really are desperate. "I don't need a partner." He always works his contacts solo. He doesn't want to babysit anyone, much less split the paycheck.

"I have an 'in'."

"What do you mean, you have an 'in'?"

Now he's interested. You smile to yourself.

Your target is the most powerful family in the city. Breaking into their inner circle won't be easy, as they have deep, intricate connections. Even the most calculated assassins wouldn't dare cross that line.

But you've spent more than half of your life preparing for this, investing countless hours in planning and scheming. All you need now is a triggerman, and not just any triggerman—you want somebody who can annihilate your enemies.

"I'll show you mine if you show me yours," you tease him, holding back your pocket aces until he calls your wager.

"Listen," he says impatiently, "I don't have time for games."

"You think I'm playing a game?" you laugh humorlessly. "This is so much bigger than that. These people made the mistake of letting me live. I'll make them regret it."

Your agitation continues to build up. You've been in contact with him for nearly a month now, not counting the time he was offline. He was the only one who responded to messages after revealing your intended target. You don't want him to ghost you again - you're so close! You need him. You soften your tone and push your luck again. "Please. Is there anything I can do to seal this deal? Maybe we can meet?"

"I don't meet," he cuts you off, his finger absently grazing the scar over his eye. He glances at the timer on his screen and sees that he's been on the phone with you for nearly two minutes. He makes a mental note to reconfigure his network scrambler once he ends this call. "And I'm already breaking my rules by calling you," he says wryly, but you're still not about to let him off the hook.

"So why then? Why even call me? Why string me along?"

After a few beats, he says, “I was curious to find out what you sounded like.”

“And?”

Yoongi was never one to back down from a challenge. One last job, he thought. And maybe, once he’s eliminated these targets, he could have some of that peace and freedom that you yearned for.

“Turns out, I like your voice, too.”

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#bts fanfiction #yoongi x reader #yoongi fanfiction #yoongi x you #btsafterdarknet #yoongi angst #bts angst #bts min yoongi #bts yoongi #myg angst #percussions x myg

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shina913 · 2 years

Text

Cortado | KNJ

Pairing: Namjoon x Fem!Reader

Rating: PG-15 (SFW)

Genre: strangers to lovers; meet-cute; tooth-rotting fluff; tiny bit of angst

Warnings: some cussing; brief mention of weed; self-consciousness/insecurity; it's just disgustingly cheesy and fluffy--sorry!🥴

Word count: 4,290 words

Summary: "There must be something about trains. You never know what to expect."

A/N: Here you go, @borahae-k! This is a couple of days late because I couldn't make up my mind about what kind of Joon I wanted to write based on his Spain insta-photo dump. Eventually, I happened to remember a show I saw that I thought would be the perfect scenario for this. Also, I just want to stunt-cast Namjoon in all of my fluffy fics! Thank you, Sim @itdoesntmatterwhy for looking this over and giving me notes (and just general screaming)! I got a little too into the ending that I almost didn't want to stop writing it 💕 The banner kind of sucks but hopefully, the story makes up for that!

“The train will be leaving in ten minutes…” the announcement echoed through the station.

Your eyes flick back and forth at your surroundings. Everyone was glued to their phones and devices. You hardly remember a time and place when people actually sat down and had a solid conversation without having to pull their smartphones every second to scroll around aimlessly.

Did anybody text them? Did they get a like on their latest reel?

If it weren’t an absolute necessity for your job, you’d have yeeted your own phone into a river. While you ponder on your cynical thoughts about technology, you are startled by your own annoying little device.

You look at the screen to see who it was. Recognizing the caller, you answer, “Hey, mom.”

She asks if your train was right on schedule.

“Yeah, we’re just about to leave. The ride should be a little under three hours. Can you still pick me up? …Great, thanks. I’ll give you a call when I’m close so you don’t have to wait too long. …Okay…see you, bye!”

You hang up and set your phone on the table in front of you. You were lucky enough to get to the station and secure seats tucked in the back row.

It was the end of the semester and the doctorate students from your program were given the option to take a short break before beginning their new projects.

You also took advantage of that option so you could finally move the rest of your things into your new office space. The university took care of moving your furniture and other personal belongings out of your flat and into your new location. However, you decided to bring some of your books. These editions were too precious for you to entrust to some stranger.

It wasn’t ideal to be lugging this many things around during a train ride since you didn’t drive. Thankfully, the seats across from you were vacant so you had enough room to set your textbooks down, along with a box of random knick-knacks from your former flat.

Still, you didn’t want to take over the whole space so you set them all against the window, leaving some room for anybody who would like to sit across from you.

You pick up the novel that you’ve been reading and open it to your dog-eared page, hoping to stave off any unwanted conversation on the train. You were a woman, traveling alone, and would be considered a perfect target.

Although, if you were being honest…you sometimes wished you’d experience a real-life meet-cute. Strangers on a train, having a random yet perfectly meaningful conversation–kind of like the novels that you were into.

God, you were so lonely.

It’s been a while since you’ve been with someone. Admittedly, you were jealous of your friend and colleague, Youjin, who somehow manages to balance her romantic life with her post-grad work. She was an inherent social butterfly and had a talent for spinning literature from the middle ages into the most romantic, sensual talking points during her dates.

Sometimes, you wonder what it was like to kiss someone again. The feel of their lips brushing against yours. The problem was, you really didn’t get out much and didn’t see the point of forced efforts of socializing. You were typically hostile to any ‘pickup’ attempt.

You glance across the aisle to find another woman who was animatedly chatting with a couple who sat in the row behind her. They were putting away their luggage when she strikes up a conversation with them after complimenting the woman’s outfit. She twirls her hair between her fingers while they trade travel stories.

She reminded you of Youjin. Her carefree laugh and confident demeanor were qualities that you thought most men found attractive–qualities that would make them naturally approach her. And you have noticed, some of the male passengers who pass her do not hesitate to give her a once-over.

When she was done with her conversation, she settles back into her seat. For a brief moment, she turned her head in your direction, saw you looking, and gave you a friendly smile. You smiled politely back at her before she turns her attention to her phone screen.

You were not Youjin or this woman. You were an awkward bookworm who had only been on a total of one or two dates since starting your graduate program.

You put your book down carelessly on the table and shifted in your seat. Straightening your posture, you turn to glance wistfully at the view from the window and sighed.

…Maybe you could do something to change that.

After thinking about it some more, you decided that you would step out of your comfort zone and dare to engage with the next man who talks to you. The thought of it sounded ridiculous but you figured, good things happened to people who took chances.

You move your books aside to make some room. You look up and glance at other passengers who were still making their way through the car before the train departs the station.

Next, you see a man smiling and excitedly greeting everyone he passes in the aisle.

You pick up your novel again and duck your head. Too chatty, you thought. Please don’t sit here, you internally plead as you avoid eye contact.

Much to your relief, the chatty guy finds an empty spot adjacent to your seat with another woman who, like him, was an eager conversationalist.

Not far behind him was a man who looked very questionable to you. He carried his bag with him–both arms wrapped tightly around it, hugging securely against his chest as if someone was about to steal it.

He had a skittish look in his eyes that scared you. Again, you silently hoped he would sit somewhere else–which thankfully, he did.

The overhead announcement informs you that the train is leaving in two minutes. Your shoulders sag and put your book down again, feeling defeated.

Maybe it just wasn’t the time.

Seconds later, another man huffs down the aisle, dragging his bag along.

He was tall and dressed in all black–a leather jacket over a black hoodie and black pants. Dark strands fell loosely above his eye line. He raked his hair back with his fingers whilst scanning the car for any open seats.

Your heart raced a little as you attempted to subtly get his attention, inviting him to sit across from you.

He pauses and makes eye contact when he reaches your position. You nudge your books aside, beckoning him to have a seat.

“It’s free,” you say meekly.

Just when you think that he was about to settle in, he glances across the aisle and takes the open seat next to the woman who reminded you of Youjin.

Your heart sinks to your stomach just as the train pulls away from the platform.

******

The train is approaching its third stop when you start getting another call.

“Hi, this is YN.” It was the moving company.

“Oh, hi! Thanks for calling me back.” You proceeded to clarify your new delivery address since you mistakenly entered the wrong unit number. The representative on the other line was understanding, updated their records, and assured you that your things would be delivered within two business days.

”Sounds good, thank you so much!” You signed off. After you hung up, your eyes wander across the aisle and notice that Youjin’s doppelgänger had gotten up from her seat to reclaim her bag from the overhead rack.

You smiled to yourself as it left the man in black all by his lonesome.

You silently watch her walk down the aisle, toward the exit. After she had gone, you turn your head and happen to lock eyes with him again.

You cracked a smile, which he returned this time. You couldn’t help but get all flustered. He was devastatingly cute. You wished that he would drop you a cheesy line or two.

A lightbulb goes off in your head–you could initiate the conversation.

Overcoming your anxiety, you open your mouth to say something to him but are startled when the skittish guy with the backpack gets up–completely agitated–then starts yelling at the person they’re sitting next to. He accuses them of trying to steal their stuff. Seconds after his outburst, he hurriedly walks further and took an empty seat several rows down from you.

You and the man in black look at each other and grimaced.

“Man, there must be something about trains. You never know what to expect,” he muses.

“I’m not gonna lie…that actually scared the shit out of me a little bit,” you remarked. You clutched your chest, your heart still beating fast at the strange man’s outburst.

His expression immediately changes to a look of concern. “Well, either way–I’m not the type to just sit around. I wouldn’t have allowed anything to happen to you,” the man in black replies.

Although you loved romantic novels, you thought that ‘blushing’ was such a clichéd, uninspired way to describe someone who was incredibly flustered. And yet here you were…blushing at this stranger’s remark.

You mouthed your thanks to him.

“Are you coming from one of the universities?” He asks.

“How’d you guess?”

He points his chin forward and gestures at your things. ”Uhm…that pile of academic-looking books next to you,” he chuckled.

“Oh,” you remark, now blushing in embarrassment. “Yeah,” you affirm. “Some of these are rare and I personally didn’t trust anyone else to transport them.”

He bobs his head in a nod at your explanation.

“So…what do you do for work?”

“I work in tech. I was just visiting our office down south.”

You nod, thinking about how else to keep this conversation going. “Are you on your way back home?”

“Not yet. I have a friend that I’m meeting up north. I don’t drive and…although I could have taken a plane up here, I figured, why not take the scenic route,” he shares.

“Ah,” your eyebrows lift in curiosity. He struck you as somebody from out of town so you thought you could recommend a local landmark or tourist spot. “There’s a great museum up in that area–I don’t know if you’re into that kind of thing.”

“Oh, I know,” he responds. “It’s primarily why I’m going up there.”

“Oh–I…thought you said that your friend lived there?”

He chuckles. “Eh, we went to university together and he said I could crash at his place. I took it as a window of opportunity.”

You nodded. Suddenly, you felt the conversation slipping away. In a panic, you think of another random but perfectly neutral topic to bring up.

“So–”

“What are–”

You both crack up when you speak at the same time. “Uhm, why don’t you go ahead,” he urged.

“So–what does that mean, exactly? That you work ‘in tech’? I feel like, people say that all the time but I’ve never fully grasped it. I just kind of nod along.”

“Well, I work for a company that targets advertising for social media sites.”

“Oh! So you work in advertising?”

He shook his head gently. “No, I work in tech,” he corrects you. “I handle a bunch of accounts for companies and help them direct their resources properly so they don’t waste their money. We run algorithms based on…”

…And now he’s completely lost you. It’s the same thing that happens when someone tries to explain TikTok and how you can customize your ‘FYP’ settings.

“Nice,” is all you say as politely.

“What about you? What do you do for work?” He queries.

“I’m a scholar. But if you want to get specific about it, I’m a medievalist.”

He stares at you blankly. “Right,” he comments.

It was a reaction that you were used to whenever you engaged with someone outside of your field of study. “In my line of work, there’s not much technology going on there,” you say dryly.

“Maybe because processors were too slow back in those times?” He counters.

You snorted at his dorky joke. You couldn’t help but feel flutters in the pit of your belly.

“I’m sorry…this angle is killing me,” he says, gesturing at his neck. It occurred to you that you were sitting across the aisle from each other, facing the same direction that the train was moving, so he had been craning his neck while he talked to you.

“Would you mind if I sat there?” He points to the empty space in front of you.

You try not to squeal or look too eager. “Oh, of course,” you smiled politely.

“Thanks.” He gets up and takes the seat across from you. Now, you were sitting face-to-face.

“There. That’s better,” he grins. “Where were we?” He asks, hoping to pick up your earlier conversation.

You laugh nervously and fidget with your book. “Gosh, I can’t remember now.” You were frazzled–he didn’t just look good from a distance. He was even more handsome up close. You were in big trouble.

“Actually,” you piped up, snapping out of your haze. “Can I ask you a random question?”

“Sure,” he answers.

“When you were coming down the aisle earlier–what made you decide to sit next to her when you had the option of the two seats?” You were referring to the woman who had just gotten off the train.

“Ah, well,” he rubbed the back of his neck. “I just prefer to sit facing in the direction the train is going. I have a small issue with motion sickness,” he confesses shyly.

Your chest twinges at his admission. At the same time, you feel a small sense of relief knowing that he wasn’t put off by you for whatever reason.

“Now you’re facing the opposite way,” you point out to him.

“Right, but I’m facing you so my little quirk can take a back seat.” He shrugged, “It’s not a big deal, you know. It’s not like it dominates my life or anything crazy like that.”

“Would you like to switch seats?” You offer kindly.

“Yes, I would love that. Thank you,” he immediately responds in relief. You both rise from your seats, sidestepping and shuffling in the aisle to switch places. The train hits an uneven part of the track knocking you off balance so you grab onto the first thing you could to keep yourself upright.

Your breath hitches when you cling onto his bicep and elbow. He had removed his leather jacket now and didn’t have that extra layer on him. You felt slightly inappropriate at the invasive but purely accidental contact with his body.

“S-sorry,” you mumble as you let go of him and carefully settle into the opposite seat.

“That’s okay, it happens,” he says in consolation. “Where are you traveling to, if you don’t mind me asking?”

“Oh, I’m moving to my new place…which also happens to be really close to my hometown so my mom is coming to pick me up from the station to stay with her for a couple of days. It’s just until I get my stuff delivered,” you rationalized.

“You say that with a hint of anxiety,” he points out. You appreciate how perceptive he seems to be so you take that as your cue to open up a bit more.

“I enjoyed living far from her these last few years. And the idea of coming back home for a couple of days…” you inhale through clenched teeth, “It’s a little daunting. But don’t get me wrong–” you immediately add, “I love her…it’s just that I can only take her in small doses these days.”

He smiled in commiseration.

“Plus, she’s also in this phase where she’s given up watching TV or having WiFi.”

“What?” He says, clearly taken aback.

You giggled. “I don’t know. I think that she’s going through some mid-life crisis.”

“Damn…no WiFi? Sheesh,” he shook his head, thinking that he didn’t want to be in that same predicament.

“Yeah. Although, in doing all that–she’s recently focused her energy on the arts and other simple things. She paints, writes poetry, listens to talk radio…tends to her plants.”

“Wow,” he says, sounding impressed.

“And she also rediscovered the benefits of weed so–”

“Ahah,” he chuckled. “I knew there was a catch!”

Your mom always waxed poetic about how she used to be such a free spirit when she was younger. Maybe you could pick up a few pointers from her.

“That’s funny… She kind of sounds like my brother–minus all of the creative, artsy, mid-life renaissance parts.”

You laugh at the little bit of personal information that he shares with you.

“He’s like Snoop Dogg, Willie Nelson, and all of Woody Harrelson’s performances rolled into one…giant joint.”

“He sounds very interesting,” you laughed.

“Yeah, maybe he and your mom can link up,” he jokes.

You were pleased with how long you’d kept this conversation going. And you had to commend your social battery for staying strong!

“So…tell me about medievalism,” he says.

You chuckled at that. “Like, in one sentence?”

He shrugged. “Sure.”

You roll your eyes subtly. “Of course you’d want an elevator pitch since you work in advertising.”

He clicked his teeth. “Tech. I work in tech,” he emphasizes while keeping his tone light.

You blew out a breath and shifted in your seat. “I don’t think I can explain what medievalism is in one train ride let alone one sentence.”

He nods in acquiescence. “I get it.”

“You seem to be the type who likes things that are straightforward. Kind of like a…’what you see is what you get’ kind of thing, right?”

“Yeah,” he agrees.

You hummed. “Well…I like things that take a bit more time to define. Things that can’t be easily explained. Things with multiple layers that you have to peel back, only to discover that there are more layers to uncover…more questions and answers that have yet to be revealed.”

“Kind of like an onion?”

You lift a shoulder. “Yeah, if you want to simplify it. Just like an onion.”

“Right but couldn’t you just cut right through the center of it? Get right to the point?”

You laughed. “Sure…but where’s the fun in that?”

He pursed his lips, leaned back against the seat, and nodded softly at your point.

“It’s like…” You clicked your teeth, trying to find the right metaphor for it. “It’s like this neverending prologue, you know?” Your expression softens. “Because once you begin reading a story…you know that the end is coming.”

“I’m the opposite, I guess,” he counters. “I’d like to think that I’m more practical and tend to see things from a logical perspective. What is this thing called, show me how it works; how does it fit into the big picture? I don’t think like a scholar. I prefer to know things that I can apply to my daily life.”

“That’s fair,” you say to him, acknowledging his point of view.

Then, after gathering up more courage, you tell him, “I’m really glad that you came to sit here with me.”

“Yeah?”

“Better than the other guy who looked like a murderer,” you say in jest.

His eyebrows furrowed. “Who?” Then his face visibly relaxes when remembers who you were referring to. He cranes his neck to take a peek at the guy who sat a few rows down from you.

When he turns his attention back to you, his expression darkened. He rests his elbows on the table, fingers steepled, while he leaned closer to you.

Squaring his jaw, he says, “I’ve got news for you, YN…you’ve made a fatal mistake.”

You recoil slightly. “Huh?”

He continued, his tone growing threatening. “I’m the murderer here. I’m sorry to tell you that this is a thriller and not the romance novel that you pictured.”

Your brows knit in utter confusion. Your pulse raised while you contemplated throwing your heavier, hard-bound books at him to defend yourself.

After a few beats of silence and intense eye contact, you see the corner of his mouth twitch. It effectively eased the tension and you both break into laughter.

“Holy shit, you should have seen your face,” he says in between cackles.

“Oh my–do not ever do that!” You were also relieved to find an even bigger nerd than you were.

After catching your breath, you switch tact. “By the way, how do you know my name?”

“I kind of overheard your phone conversation earlier. Sorry,” he says apologetically. “I’m Namjoon.” You smile and shake his hand after he introduces himself.

“I didn’t realize that you were paying attention,” you say.

“Yeah…I just…I don’t know,” he scrambled for an answer but failed.

“And who said anything about romance?” You cock an eyebrow at him and he turns sheepish.

Now it was his turn to look all flustered.

******

You don’t know how it happened but it’s been nearly three hours since you and Namjoon were completely lost in conversation. You bounced from one subject to another, rarely missing a beat. It felt so easy to talk to him. Presumptuous as it was, you felt a connection there.

The intercom announces that your stop was approaching in a few minutes. Hearing that takes you by surprise—and you also realize that you got so carried away that you forgot to call your mom to give her a heads-up on your arrival.

Your face falters when you take your things, which he kindly offers to help gather. His expression turned sober as well, unsure how to move forward. His destination was still an hour away.

When this train ride began, all you hoped for was a random, real-life meet-cute. Then Namjoon came along and now you felt torn between wanting to live out some fantasy or pursuing this real-life thing…whatever this thing is.

“Well…uhm…i-it was really nice to meet you,” he stutters.

“Same,” you reply.

“You made the journey feel a lot shorter than usual.” Your cheeks warm at the compliment.

There you were, face-to-face–lips pursed, looking like you were both trying to gauge each other’s thoughts.

And you didn’t know why, but all that confidence you felt earlier seemed to be slipping from your grasp. It occurred to you once more that this was real life, not a romance novel.

In the end, you would walk off this train feeling grateful that a guy like him had even taken a remote interest in you.

“I guess, I should be going now,” you muttered.

“Oh…y-yeah,” he stutters.

You get up and he follows suit. “Would you think it inappropriate if I were to give you a hug?” He asks.

You shook your head. “Not at all.”

With your consent, he opens his arms wide and wraps you in them. You inhale deeply, taking his scent in, further torturing yourself.

You both pull away reluctantly. With a heavy heart, you approached the car doors to wait for the train to slow into a halt…until the loud screeching of the breaks knocks some sense into you.

Did you really want to go through the rest of your life living vicariously through Youjin’s outrageous escapades?

It was now or never, you thought. You had to take a chance!

“Namjoon?” You turn around abruptly to face him again.

“Yeah?” He responds nervously.

“I never do this but–would you like to get off the train with me? We could get some coffee and…keep talking?” The words spill out of you a little too quickly.

You wait an agonizing few seconds for his response.

Then, his face breaks into the most boyish, absolutely knock-your-socks-off grin. He smiled so broadly that even when he relaxed his mouth, the creases of his dimples were still evident on his cheeks.

“I thought you’d never ask.”

He stands up and hurriedly grabs his bag overhead and walks towards you. Smiling, he takes a few books off your hands and you both off-board the train. As soon as you step onto the platform together, it began to drizzle so you both run for cover.

You both laugh while watching the rain start to pour from the skies. You glance sideways at him to find him grinning while staring at you.

Asking him for coffee was already a huge step out of your comfort zone. But something about Namjoon–the connection you shared and how easy and natural everything felt.

As cheesy as it was, you decide to take another huge leap.

Seizing the moment, you say, “You ever wonder what it’s like to kiss in the rain?”

Without a word, he sets his things down. Oh no…you’ve royally screwed it up now. He looked like he might run off in the other direction. Mortified, you wished you could go back in time and take it all back.

But the rom-com gods were watching and they liked what they saw. They decide to throw you a bone.

He surprises you and takes steps backward– under the pouring rain. He was soaked in seconds.

He held his hands out to you and says, “C’mon, now’s our chance!”

Giggling, you clumsily throw your things next to his, run into his arms, and kiss him.

It was…just as perfect as you imagined it would be. You melted into the kiss, swept away by the sheer lushness of it. Your heart pounded fast, synchronized with the raindrops that pelted you.

His lips moved against yours at a soft and leisurely pace. That wasn’t to say they weren’t eager…because you surely felt it.

When you finally come up for air, you both laugh. You stood there drenched, with your foreheads pressed against each other’s and his arms securely wrapped around your waist.

It was the perfect ending to your romantic novel. …Or was this just the beginning?

Main Fic Masterlist

You’ve reached the end! Thank you so much for reading!

Tagging: @itdoesntmatterwhy @internetjunkdrawer @purplewhalewrites @yu-justme @joonschocochip @deepseavibez @majamarantha @yoongukie-ff

#bts fan fiction #namjoon x reader #namjoon #btshoneyhive #thekpopuniverse #bangtantheatrenet #kim namjoon #namjoon fluff #bts namjoon #bts kim namjoon #bts fluff #cortado x knj

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shina913 · 1 year

Text

Glorified Memories | MYG

Glorified Memories

Pairing: MYG x Fem!Reader

Rating: 18+; SFW

Genre: Idol!AU; angst

Warnings: cussing; discussion of previous relationship; hurt without comfort; light, sexually suggestive language but nothing explicit

Word count: 1,412 words

Summary: Another late-night phone call with Yoongi.

A/N: I was initially drafting something spicy based on this Anon ask but I didn't have the brain power to do that for the time being so...I wrote something angsty instead because... yeah...I don't have a good reason. This is primarily inspired by SDL and maybe a little bit of Amygdala, too. Thanks to @internetjunkdrawer and @itdoesntmatterwhy for looking this over and writhing in pain with me.

“Hey.”

“Hey, you,” you croak out. “What time is it?” You wonder out loud.

You swiped back to your home screen to check. It read ‘2:15AM’. To most people, this was a terrible inconvenience. If you were going to be honest, there were days when you hoped the calls would stop entirely.

But if you were really being honest, there were days that you anticipated them…wished for them even.

“Ah, shit…I’m sorry, I could, agh,” he groans after apparently also checking his own time conversion app. “Sorry I woke you—“

“No, don’t.” The soft protest slipped out of your mouth. You pull the sheets off and pad your way into the kitchen for a drink of water. “What’s going on?” You ask him.

He sighed deeply. “Mm…nothing, really.”

“Bullshit.” You laugh into the phone while pulling a chair out to settle in it. “You wouldn’t be calling me this late if it were nothing.”

His low, husky laugh tickled your ear. “You know me so well,” he conceded. “Too well.”

You smiled wistfully after taking a sip of water. He was right about that–you have known him for a long time. He didn’t need to tell you everything. All you had to do was listen to him breathe.

“I was thinking about you.”

“You always say that.”

“You’re right, because I always do,” he admits.

Every time he called this late, he always talked about some memory he had of you. A trip that you took, something that you said or did.

“So, what is it this time?”

He says, “I was thinking about that last road trip we had. You know, in the convertible?”

The corners of your lips twitch at the memory. That was a great day. It was the first free day that he had in a long time. He picked you up in a convertible at dawn and you hit the road where he drove for miles until the sun came up.

He kept his fingers laced with yours the whole time, only letting go to switch gears. After which, he would grab a hold of your hand again, and bring it up to his lips to kiss it.

There were hardly any cars down that long highway stretch. You blasted music and let the wind blow through your hair. He laughed heartily while watching you sing at the top of your lungs with your arms held up high. You were so carefree.

Your chest aches and you suddenly want to be with him. So badly that you could almost feel his warm breath in your ear, whispering sweet nothings that were as intoxicating as top-shelf liquor, smooth with just a hint of bite. You wanted your hand in his, your lips against his throat where the smell of his skin called to something hungry and primitive inside you.

“That was a good day, wasn’t it?”

“It was,“ you agreed with a sigh. At the end of that long drive, you ended up at an airstrip, where he pre-arranged for a private jet to fly you both back to the city on account of his schedule the following day.

“I think we even had a better evening.” His voice now had a sexy lilt to it. Always irresistible to you.

You instinctively press your thighs together at the thought. You clear your throat to refocus. “Now I know you didn’t call me just to talk through our little mile-high club initiation?” You tease him.

He laughed then let out a deep sigh. “No. I called because I miss you.”

At the sound of his confession, you feel a stinging sensation that makes you shut your eyes.

“I miss waking up and seeing your face. I miss calling out to you and you coming out of the other room answering. I miss…kissing you and holding you. The nights get so quiet and lonely and… I…miss you.”

“I think you just miss the idea of me,” you counter.

“You think so?”

“I know so.” You declare.

You’ve lost track of how long it’s been since you last saw him. Since you last held him, kissed him. All you knew was that it’s been a very long time.

Your relationship had started at the most inopportune time. But you were young and believed that you could make everything work; beat the odds, narrow down every gap.

You used to say forever like a dream. But when you woke up, all you were left with were glorified memories.

“You know, I call you so randomly and out of nowhere and you always pick up.”

You laugh softly. “Well, do you want me not to pick up?”

“No,” he answers impulsively but catches himself and switches tact. “I mean, you always have a choice whether to pick up or not, obviously. But I guess what I’m trying to say is…why do you pick up?”

You sighed with some difficulty, your lungs tightening at how thick the air suddenly felt around you. “I don’t know. Maybe because I don’t have a good enough reason to ignore your calls.”

He groans deeply as you both fall silent. Distantly, you hear faint keyboard clicking on the other line. You guessed he might be at the studio.

“What should I do?”

That was a loaded question. You weren’t sure if he was referring to the work that stared straight at him or if he was talking about you and him.

You sink your teeth to your bottom lip while you ponder your answer. “I don’t know, Yoongi. Maybe you shouldn’t torture yourself like this. Maybe we shouldn’t torture ourselves like this.” You thought your answer addressed both possible contexts behind his original question.

“It wasn’t always bad, was it?” He asks in an attempt to shift the tone of your conversation.

“No,” you answer. “But it wasn’t always good either.”

You hear him curse under his breath. “I…I’m sorry.”

You hummed softly. “You’ve said that already. Many times, in fact.”

“I know and I’ll never get tired of apologizing to you.”

“And I will never get tired of accepting it.”

“I wish you didn’t. I wish you would…just send me to voicemail or block my number. It would make things easier.”

And don't you wish things were easier. But…they just weren’t.

You sniffled. “I just…I can’t fathom the thought of being cruel, especially to you.”

“You should, though,” he counters.

“I should, but I won’t. Whatever happened in the past, stays there.”

Things may not have worked out between you and there was a lot of bitterness and hurt in the beginning. It would have been hypocritical of you to say otherwise.

“It just wasn’t our time,” you added simply.

That’s the funny thing about time. It will keep moving and won’t wait for anybody. You either caught up to it or risked being left behind.

“I don’t think there will ever be a good time for us,” he says in defeat.

“Yeeaahh,” you dragged out in bitter acceptance. “Not in this life, at least.” You tried to add in jest.

He chuckles wryly. “That’s one thing to look forward to.”

You laugh in return. “I guess. But until then…” you trail off.

“Until then,” he adds, “I’ll keep thinking about you and hope to hear your voice on the other line when I call.”

“Mm-hm,” you say warmly.

After a few beats, he finally says, “Good night, YN.”

“Good morning, Yoongi.”

His low laugh reverberates in your ear one final time before you end the call. You sniffle and wipe away the lone tear in the corner of your eye.

You quietly stare at your muddled reflection on the stainless steel fridge for a few moments when a voice startles you.

“Hey. What are you doing out here?” He asks sleepily.

You turn your head abruptly to him. “D-did I wake you?”

“No,” he says mid-yawn as he saunters toward you. “I just rolled over and you weren’t there. Everything okay?”

Your answer is immediate. “Everything’s fine. I just needed some water.“ You force a smile and crinkle the corners of your eyes to convince him. At the same time, you were grateful for the dim lighting in the kitchen, so he wouldn’t see how red the tip of your nose got.

Picking up your phone, you hop off the stool and urge him back to your room. “Come on, let’s get back in bed.”

He smiles and plants a soft kiss on your lips. “Okay.”

Main Fic Masterlist

You’ve reached the end! Thank you so much for reading!

Tags: @itdoesntmatterwhy @purplewhalewrites @internetjunkdrawer

#bts fanfiction #yoongi fanfiction #yoongi x reader #min yoongi #yoongi x you #btshoneyhive #bangtantheatrenet #thekpopuniverse #yoongi angst #bts angst #bts min yoongi #bts yoongi #myg angst #glorified memories x myg

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shina913 · 2 years

Text

The Boyfriend Experience | PJM

The Boyfriend Experience: Jimin

The BFE: Masterlist

Pairing: Escort!Jimin x Virgin.Fem!Reader

Rating: M 🔞; NSFW

Genre: sex!work AU; fluff; smut

Warnings: legal sex work (in this AU); sex for hire; cussing; explicit sexual conversations; alcohol consumption; dirty talk; exhibitionism; clit play; breast/nipple play; heavy petting; oral sex (mutual); protected sex; orgasm denial; stamina!; multiple orgasms; (somewhat) rough sex but with aftercare

Word count: 9,132 words

Summary: 💬 By the time he knocked at the door, I was a bottle of wine deep. I answered sheepishly, gripping onto a nearly empty wine glass. He let me know that it’s everyone’s first time once and that there was no need to be nervous. I didn’t need to do anything I didn’t want to.

A/N: This was supposed to be posted by Jimin's birthday but I couldn't get my shit together and RL got in the way so ...here we are! Anyway, I kept flip-flopping on my ideas re: how to write the reader-insert character here so I hope this characterization works out fine.

A/N2: As in my other fics, I listen to a lot of music while I write. For this one in particular, I had my Miguel playlist going--specifically, the song, "Use Me." It also helped that I watched that Run BTS performance multiple times 🤣

A/N3: Also, I want to thank @internetjunkdrawer for beta'ing this, sending me suggestions, and just being my reliable Jimin consultant 😜 Thank you, @itdoesntmatterwhy as well for allowing me to run a couple ideas by you and making sure that this scenario was plausible and that OC wasn't a caricature or silly stereotype! 😘

‼️IMPORTANT: Although the narration will include Jimin's name, OC/Reader will not address him as so because she booked him under an assumed alias. Weird, I know but--let's just go with it 😉

“Crap!” You gasped after picking up the empty bottle of wine. You only intended to have a couple glasses–maybe three–to calm your nerves. Next thing you knew, you’d downed the whole thing.

Before you grab another one out of your kitchen, your apartment’s buzzer goes off making you jump. Even after drinking a whole bottle of wine, you were still edgy. Could anxiety burn off alcohol? Was that even possible?

You stood and attempted to take a step, but you almost lost your footing on wobbly legs. Welp...that certainly answered your question about the alcohol.

You shook your head, refocusing your vision and smoothed the creases on your dress before walking towards the intercom.

“H-hello?” You spoke nervously into the box.

“Hi, YN. It’s me.”

You were expecting a deep, husky, come-hither voice–like one that was made for phone sex. Instead, he sounded like a completely normal guy…a normal guy whom you were paying to have sex with you.

How did you even get to this point?

A couple years back, at an office holiday party, you had drunkenly confessed to your work-wife that you were a virgin. She was incredulous at first and thought that you were pulling her leg. But you told her, absolutely zero experience with dick.

Since then, she’s made it her mission to get you laid. Secretly trying to fix you up during happy hours or random nights out with her.

Once, you came very close to going all the way. You confessed to your date that you had never had sex before. From that point on, the dynamic turned for the worse. He treated it as a fetish and it ultimately put you off.

Needless to say, you stopped dating for a while. Until your friend asked you what you planned to do for your 30th birthday.

You hadn’t really thought about it since it was months away. You figured a nice dinner with your closest friends would suffice.

Why don’t you try this app?

It all started with a damn app. You thought it was another trash trend that she was trying to get you into. But this wasn’t your run-of-the-mill dating app.

An escort service?

There was no way you were paying anyone to have sex with you. It just sounded…wrong?

Out of curiosity, your friend let you browse through her app. She had recently become a member and was raving about her experience, following her most recent breakup with her boyfriend.

As you scrolled through, you had to admit that these guys were hot and promised discretion. But they came at a premium price.

After a week of thinking it through, you asked your friend to officially send a referral to the company. Days later, you heard back and received your own confirmation to access the app.

You browsed through it, then closed out of it. Browsed. Closed out. You did this several times for the next few weeks. It was almost part of your daily routine. There was one profile in particular that kept calling you back and this whole time, you’d been gathering up the courage to actually book him.

Finally, after a particularly difficult week, you opened the app again. You scrolled down to his profile and tapped on it. Unlike in the past where you’ve repeatedly chickened out after ogling at his photos, you finally click on the date-picker icon and zero-in on one particular day. By some stroke of luck, he was free. You took it as a sign–so you clicked on “book,” and a few minutes later, received a confirmation notice.

Your heart raced at the memory. You had many opportunities to cancel–but you didn’t. And tonight was the night. You release a deep breath, calming yourself down.

“Come on up!” You buzzed him right in.

You round the corner to your kitchen and discard your empty bottle then quickly check yourself in the mirror. You look slightly flushed and your pupils dilated…but it didn’t bother you. It was just the alcohol working itself through your veins.

Seconds later, you hear a knock on the door.

“It’s just a guy…calm down,” you mumble to yourself before grabbing the door handle.

“Hi there,” Jimin said with a small smile.

“Holy shit,” you breathed out.

The corners of his mouth quirked into a chuckle.

For a supposed casual night in, he was still dressed to impress. He wore a light gray suit and a white button-up without a tie.

Nope–this was no normal guy. The soft crinkle in his eyes that he had when he smiled was in stark contrast to the rest of his look. His hair was brushed to the side and those plush pink lips were like magnets that you were immediately drawn into.

“Will you invite me in?”

You shook your head. “O-of course,” you stammered. “Oh my god. Where are my manners?” You said in a slightly higher-than-normal octave. “Come on in!”

He walks–no–struts in and takes a quick look at your living room before turning back to face you.

“Can I give you a kiss on the cheek?”

It took you a second to realize that you were the only other person in the room and he was asking if he could kiss you on the cheek!

“Yes,” you answer meekly.

He smiled again, closed in on you and planted a soft kiss on your cheek. You felt a little flutter in your belly and it made you smile.

“You smell nice. What’s that?”

“YSL…Black Opium.” You weren’t sure if it was sensual enough. Although you contemplated getting a Chanel sample or something a bit more spicy-smelling, you ended up going with your everyday perfume. Besides, you couldn’t stand any of those scents anyway.

He hummed. “I can smell the vanilla and coffee notes–sexy.”

You were surprised at his in-depth knowledge of women’s perfumes but your cheeks warmed up at the thought that he found it sexy.

“You can put your stuff over here,” you walked over to your dining area and pointed to one of the chairs.

“Thank you,” he responded politely as he set his bag down.

“Would you like a drink?”

“I’d love one,” he replied.

You smiled and offered him a seat on your couch, urging him to help himself to some food.

“Uh–sorry I didn’t have dinner set up. I figured I’d ask you what you felt like eating rather than making assumptions. I have a charcuterie board, though?”

His eyes drift over to your coffee table where you had refreshments set out. “Wow, that’s nice of you. I’m honestly fine with whatever you like. I’m not picky,” he smiles.

He gestures towards your sofa “After you.” You smile nervously and walk back to the living room, where he follows close behind you.

“Do you prefer red or white?”

“I’ll drink whatever you’re drinking.”

Well…you had just downed a bottle of white before he got here so maybe it would be helpful to retrieve a fresh bottle if you were offering it.

While he settles on your couch, you excuse yourself to go into the kitchen to grab the bottle of white you had chilling in the fridge. After uncorking it, your eyes drift to the plain envelope that you had sitting on your countertop. You presumed it might be rude to have the money in plain sight sitting in the living room.

Cash in-hand, you return to the couch. He sat there with his jacket off, completely relaxed with his legs in a figure-four position, his arm draped across the back cushion.

Reaching for the bottle, he takes it from you and pours two glasses. You mouthed your thanks and proceed to the next order of business.

“Here’s uh–your…” You struggle to find a formal word for it, until you settle on, “Your compensation.”

He reaches out for the envelope. “You mean, my fee?”

You grimaced. You were paying him for sex but you felt that he deserved some respect. “I just didn’t want to be too blunt about it,” you muttered.

“Nothing blunt about getting paid for a job, YN. And thank you,” he says after accepting the envelope and sets it aside. He reaches to pick up the glasses on the coffee table and hands one to you.

He raises his, inviting you to a toast. “Here’s to a night of fun.” You raise yours and clink it against his. “To a night of fun,” you echo before taking another healthy sip.

“Mm…Is that a vintage?” He comments on the wine, holding up his glass to the light.

“It is. It was a good year. I have memberships at a couple different wineries. This one in particular is one of my favorites,” you divulged.

A smile ghosted his lips. “Soon to be mine, too.”

He took another sip and you followed with a longer swig.

An awkward silence falls. A few moments later, you shift in your seat and clear your throat to gather your nerves. “So…d-do we just get into it?”

He smiled warmly at you. “Why don’t we talk a bit more? Get comfortable, get to know each other. We don’t need to rush into it.”

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to come off too eager or anything,” you chuckle nervously. “It’s just that I’ve never done this before, so I don’t really know how this works.”

His tone was sincere and reassuring. “That’s alright. And you have me until the next morning, so we can take our time.”

You blew out a sigh of relief after he reminded you of your booking. “Right.”

You could have booked him for just a couple hours, which was about the average time for an experience. But for your particular case, you thought it would take some more time.

“How was your day today?” The question seemed so mundane but it was casual and you could tell that he wanted to make you feel at ease.

“Fine. Good,” you gave him a small smile.

“And what was good about it?” His gaze was so unnerving. The look in his eyes had this odd combination of calm turbulence. It was a look that said, ‘I want to take good care of you…by nailing you to the mattress.’

You fluttered your eyelashes and giggled nervously. “To be honest with you, I spent half the day getting ready because I was really looking forward to tonight,” you finished with a whisper.

“Well, that makes both of us then,” he smiled before taking another sip of wine. “So tell me, what would you like to get out of this experience?”

You inwardly cringe. You had filled out the intake questionnaire and comments section. Wrote out fantasies and things you’d like to try. You didn’t really want to repeat all of that in front of him. “You read my profile, right,” you ask carefully.

“Yes, I did. But I would still like to hear it from you. Maybe you missed a few details or changed your mind since you filled out your profile.”

You thought about tip-toeing around it but Jimin didn’t seem the type to mince words. He looked like somebody who appreciated honesty.

You’d contemplated this date for weeks…maybe even months! It took you a while to actually pull the trigger on this and it was mostly because your birthday was closing in. Another year older, another year of an unremarkable, nonexistent sex life.

You purse your lips and shrug your shoulders sheepishly. “Nope. Nothing’s changed…I just want to have sex,” you say quietly. “Pretty boring, I know.”

“There’s nothing boring about sex…at least, it shouldn’t be,” he interjects.

You mentally kick yourself for that ‘boring’ comment. Why did you book him if you thought it was going to be boring? You could have just gone to a bar and picked someone up or just slept with the mailroom guy at your office. That guy seemed like he could be really discreet, too.

But no…You did not want the mailroom guy. You wanted this experience to be special and memorable. People can think you were shallow for this but at this stage in your life, you wanted someone who not only knew what they were doing but one who was also far better-looking than any average guy at a bar…or a mailroom.

As soon as you came across his profile, he looked like the perfect guy who ticked all of your boxes.

“So…I hope you don’t mind but I’ve made a list. I’m a huge fan of efficiency and I want to be able to make the most of my time with you.”

His eyebrows lifted, his interest piqued. “Oh, nice. I like that.”

“I’m kind of a Type-A, so…” you trail off apologetically.

“I don’t mind,” he says softly.

After he assures you, you picked up your phone off the coffee table and pulled your notes app up on the screen. You peered up at him as he waited in anticipation.

“Let’s hear it,” he coaxes.

You start to read off your list. “So…oral sex–you go down on me, and then I’ll go down on you. I read on your profile that you’re okay with that. Is that still accurate?”

He smiles and nods politely and urges you to continue rattling off activities you’d like to try during your booking.

“And there’s regular cowgirl and reverse cowgirl…definitely want to see what that’s about,” you muttered. “I also want to try doggy-style if…that’s what they still call it?”

“Last I checked, that still applied,” he smiled.

“Okay, great! And uhm…I also want to try standing sex? I’m a bit of a yoga enthusiast and I heard that’s sort of a must-try position?”

He grinned and nodded in affirmation. “That all sounds very achievable.”

You breathed out a sigh of relief. “Oh, okay! I was afraid that I didn’t book enough time for this.”

His eyes widened. He was perplexed but he didn't make it obvious to you. Clearing his throat, he asked, “Y-you mean you want to get through all of that…tonight?”

“Well, yeah,” you answer matter-of-factly. “I thought that we might as well knock out as much as we can because let’s face it, you’re a little expensive and I’m not sure if I would like to book another session,” you clarify.

While the overnight rate was cheaper than the hourly rate, what you were paying him still wasn't considered chunk change. You wanted to make the most of your experience and get your money’s worth.

He shifted in his seat. “I understand,” he says with a warm smile. “And we can try all of that but I want to make sure that you’re fully satisfied, not because you’re crossing out a to-do list.”

You sighed. “I just wanted to try a variety of things other than ‘missionary.’”

“There’s nothing wrong with ‘missionary’. If you take your time with foreplay and your partner knows how to position you properly to hit the right spots. You can get some good orgasms out of it.”

Your eyebrows lifted. “Oh…” You responded in a slightly higher octave.

“I can show you how good ‘missionary’ could be,” he said with a slight twitch of his brow.

“O-okay,” you stuttered with a voice unrecognizable as your own. “That’s…uh, okay. I can add that to the list,” you say shakily.

Silence falls between you two as you exchange tense gazes. He took another sip of his drink and you watched as his tongue licked off some errant droplets of wine that were on his lower lip.

“Was there more?” He queried with a soft smile.

You blinked furiously as the wine started to settle into your veins, making you speak before you thought about it. “I’m sorry, I was just a little distracted–you’re…really, really good-looking. And I-I just…I didn’t expect–” You halt your babbling. “Sorry. I’m…I’m…I’m just–”

“Hey,” he rests his hand on your knee quelling your anxiety, “Stop apologizing. It’s just us here and I get that you’re nervous but you don’t have to be. You can trust me, okay?”

You nodded at his reassurance.

“And thank you for the compliment. I think you’re beautiful,” he added.

You feel a slight flush on your cheeks, muttering your thanks, then exhale sharply to reset your thoughts. “How long have you been doing this kind of work?”

Really, though, what else would you talk to an escort about?

“A while now,” he answers simply.

“And…do you enjoy it?”

“I do, as a matter of fact,” he responded with certainty. “I find it rewarding. A mutual fulfillment of pleasure.”

“Really?” You were skeptical. “You get pleasure from all of your clients?”

“Yes,” he answers confidently.

You found that hard to believe. A normal person can’t possibly be attracted to or get off on just anybody… “And you’ve never met anyone whom…you didn’t want to have sex with?”

He chuckled softly. “So far, that hasn’t happened to me.”

“Huh. That’s pretty unbelievable,” you remark before taking a gulp of your wine.

“You’d be surprised. When you have an innate desire to please your partner…” His fingers subtly brush your arm. “It fuels you…and you experience the same high.”

This piqued your curiosity even further. “And exactly how many–”

He shook his head and tutted. “Tonight should be all about us, YN. Just you and me. Nobody else.”

You nodded wordlessly. It was amazing how he had this silent, soft power to him. From the outset, he sure didn’t look like it at first. He seemed like someone you’d go see a chick-flick with at the movie theater, hold hands or share an ice cream sundae afterwards then he’d walk you home and end the night with a kiss on the cheek.

But the longer you sit here with him, you’re finding that he still looked like the type to go see that chick flick with you…except in this scenario, he’d be finger-fucking you in the back row, while you try your best to muffle your orgasmic moans. Then, he’d take you home and end the night by licking ice cream off your naked body.

Your chest heaved as you took in a deep breath at the thought of this man ravishing your body for the rest of the night.

“Are you alright?”

You gulped audibly. “Uh–y-yeah. Yes!” Your voice is shaky but you try not to make it obvious.

Unfortunately, your efforts fail because he still senses it.

He calmly takes your glass and sets it on the coffee table. You swallow hard when he scoots closer to you. His hands came up and pushed through your hair and brushed your cheeks with a gentleness.

Cupping your jaw and tilting your head up slightly, he asks, “May I?”

Ignoring the fluttering of nerves in your belly, you held his gaze. “Yes.”

He took your breath away with a kiss. His tongue traced the seam, then dipped inside, licking and teasing.

He lowered you against the couch’s headrest, your body flushed with his, moaning when he shifted to lie half over you. Your hands slid up and down his back, your leg lifting to hook over his hip. He caught your lower lip between his teeth and stroked the curve with the tip of his tongue, making you sigh.

He groaned in response…the sound was so erotic it made you wetter.

Your back arched as his hand crept beneath the hem of your dress and snaked upwards to squeeze your thigh under the material.

“Your skin is so soft,” he murmured against your mouth. He kissed his way following your jawline, then buried his face in your neck. “Do you like when I touch you?”

“Mm, yeah…hmm…” You moaned incoherently in response.

He continues to suckle on your neck, he pulls his hands from underneath your dress. It now traveled up your torso, where he gave your breast a gentle squeeze. He felt your nipple harden under your bra.

Things were escalating quicker than you had expected. If you didn’t take hold of your senses, you’d sooner pop your cherry on your couch. It wasn’t what you had envisioned for your ‘perfect night.’

“Hmm…my bedroom is uh, right around back there,” you utter softly.

He lifted his head. “It doesn’t have to be in the bedroom…” He planted a soft kiss on your chin, “…Or on a bed,” then darted his tongue in that notch at the base of your neck.

“So…you mean…h-here?” You squeaked.

“Yeah. Why not?” You hadn’t thought about having sex on the couch. And though it sounded appealing, you’d rather be comfortable.

“Uhm…I think I’d prefer the bed…if that’s okay with you?” You felt weird that you had to ask him about this. You hoped you hadn’t killed the mood.

“Of course, we can do that. Remember, it’s not about what I want. This night is all about you and I want you to fully enjoy yourself. So if it’s the bed you want, then…” He trails off and holds his hand out to you. You take it and you both walk towards the bedroom.

You weren’t exactly sure whether it was the alcohol, your nerves…him? All of the above? Either way, the path to your room felt much longer than it usually did.

Once in there, he sits you on the mattress and remains standing in front of you.

He slowly starts unbuttoning his shirt. You watched him carefully, his mouth was lax, his eyes hooded. Anticipation has your stomach churning and your thighs clenching shut.

With his final button unfastened, he closes in with his shirt draped open. You suddenly have the urge to run your tongue down his center.

As if reading your mind, he coaxes you. “Go ahead.”

With his permission you reach up and run your finger down his chest. While he looks down to follow your trail, he nudges his way between your thighs. You look up at his face and see his lips quirk at the edges and his eyes sparkle, the slight crinkling in the corners softening the moment’s intensity.

He dips his head down. As your lips brush, only very lightly, your body giving way as he crawls over you. Your hands fly up to his hair making him growl his approval as he moves his hands to the base on your spine and urges your body closer to him.

His tongue licks into your mouth and your heartbeat spikes. His hands drift down your body, gripping your thighs, his hands sliding upward beneath the edges of your dress until his fingertips find the lace of your panties, making you gasp.

“Uh…w-wait.”

He immediately stops. “Did I do something wrong?”

“No, no,” you respond quickly. “I…” you exhale sharply. “I’m sorry, I’m just really nervous. I’m in my head about it.”

He brushed your cheek gently. “Listen, if you’re not ready–”

“No, I am, it’s just…ugh,” you shut your eyes and groaned.

At this point, he rolls off you and sits up while you remain lying down, hiding your face in your hands.

“Hey, come on. Talk to me,” he urges softly. “What are you feeling or thinking?”

“I’m sorry if I’ve wasted your time.”

His eye brow creases in confusion. “Wasted my time?” he echoed. “H-how?”

You uncover your face and find the strength to sit up and meet his eyes. The beauty of this agreement was that you can terminate the experience at any point. Their business guaranteed satisfaction. And although you knew in your mind that he would no doubt satisfy you, you weren’t sure if you’d exactly satisfy him.

“I mean, you can definitely keep the money. I know that we had a deal and–”

“Is that what you really want? To terminate?”

“W-well…” you sighed with hesitation.

“Aren’t you attracted to me?”

“Don’t be ridiculous, of course I’m very attracted to you. You’re perfect!”

“Then why?” He asks.

You shrug your shoulders. “I just…felt like doing something crazy,” you mumble.

“And do you do crazy things often?”

You shook your head vehemently. “Oh no, no. Very rarely.”

“So you consider yourself to be rational most of the time?”

You nodded softly.

“You said it yourself, you’re a Type-A so…this means that you thought about this very carefully. This wasn’t a decision that you took lightly. How long did you consider this before you decided to book me?”

You let out a sharp breath. “I don’t know…weeks? Maybe even months after I gained access to the app.”

He regards you intently. “Okay so…that means that you weren’t doing this on a whim. You thought about this carefully and decided that you want this. But…now that you have me, why won’t you take me?”

You shook your head. “It’s not you. It’s…” You let out a sigh of frustration. “I don’t know why this wouldn’t just come naturally to me. I’m a grown woman, not a teenager…this is just embarrassing.”

“There’s nothing embarrassing about being a virgin.”

That was something you’d never added to any of your dating profiles in other apps but somehow, the promise of discretion and professionalism gave you a sense of security to divulge this on your Boyfriend Experience app.

You groan in frustration. “It’s just sex! I don’t know why I’m so torn up about this.”

“If it’s just sex that you want, why go through with this? Why hire me? You’re a beautiful woman and I’m sure at some point, someone’s propositioned you?”

“Yeah,” You sighed. “But…I guess…maybe this whole time, I’ve been searching for something specific. And I think, to make that happen, I probably have to pay for it.”

“Alright, well…you have me right here.”

“Exactly why are you still here? I just offered to pay you for the entire night for practically doing nothing.”

“I’m here because I find you interesting.”

“Interesting?” You chuckle incredulously. “Right…an almost 30-year old virgin is interesting.”

He shook his head softly. “I see that you’re conflicted about this. And to me, that’s interesting. I want to know why you feel this way.”

“Is this the first time you’ve ever met a woman who can’t make up her mind?”

“I’ve met women who can’t decide what entrée to order at a restaurant or what shoes would match their dress perfectly. But if at the end of the night, we end up in a bedroom together? They know what they want at that point.”

You hug your knees to your chest. “Honestly, I never really thought about it much until I realized that my 30th birthday was coming up. I don’t know about you but sometimes, a milestone like that puts things into perspective.”

“Because everyone else in the world has got such an exciting sexual roster?” He asks wryly.

You laughed. “No, it’s not that. I put off sex not because nobody ever caught my interest. It’s just that I’ve heard so many stories from my girlfriends and even a couple of my guy friends where they talk about their first times. Some of them have fond memories of it. Like, how special and romantic it was. And then you get stories of the ones who hated it because either they felt pressured, their partner blew their load too early, or that neither of them had any clue about what the hell they were doing.”

“That pretty much sounds like how most people’s first times are,” He chuckled.

“But that’s just it, right? Why can’t mine be an experience that was completely enjoyable, memorable, and pleasurable? Is that an unrealistic expectation?”

“I think, if anything, that sounds very realistic and practical of you,” he says without a trace of judgment in his voice.

“Really? You don’t think it’s too idealistic? Or delusional?”

He shrugged his shoulders. “I feel like everyone has some idealistic vision of how their first time would go. Doesn’t matter if you’re 16 or 36. You want to have good memories about it. You just want everything to go well.”

He wasn’t lying. It’s what you hoped your first time would be like. None of these awkward memories from when you were a teen or whenever your friends had lost their virginity.

Then he inhaled sharply. “I will say that most of us romanticize it too much. Like, the lighting has to be right with some music playing; or that you have to be in love with that person first and when you’re done, you cuddle until the sun comes up and then you’re going to be together forever.”

You laughed because when he came through your door, you had music playing, some candles, wine…You weren’t in love with him but you at least wanted to get the mood right for this moment.

“I’m not trying to be cynical or make fun of people who dream of that. Now that I’m,” he cleared his throat, “A bit more seasoned in that area. I think that as long as you feel some connection with that person and you’re doing it on your own terms, that’s what matters.”

“And you’re able to form a connection with all of your clients?”

“Of course.”

“Because you have to?” You thought you were finishing a sentence for him.

He exhaled quietly and smiled. “In my line of work, it’s all about choices. It’s what you choose to do. And whatever that choice is, you have to be in it, 100% because otherwise, what’s the point?”

“But you have off-days, I’m sure? Like, you wake up feeling like shit, not wanting to be this walking, talking fantasy for someone?”

He chuckled softly. “Who doesn’t have days like that? I’m still human. If I feel the need to take a break, I do. I turn the app off and then nobody can book me on those days. I can’t take care of my clients if I don’t take care of myself first.”

He then adds, “Also, we don’t want to make anybody feel as if they’re obliged to do anything…and in turn, clients can’t and don’t force us to do anything we don’t want to either. This is why we have these conversations, to have that fail-safe.”

“Hm,” you smirked. “That makes sense.”

You hesitate to ask and don’t want him to feel as if he’d wasted his time completely. “Would it be okay if we talked some more?”

“Of course,” he smiled warmly.

“I’ll get the wine then,” you remarked.

“Good idea.”

******

“What do you do when you’re not, you know, working as an escort? Do you have a day job?”

He leaned back against where his head rested–which was on your thighs, while you laid, curled up on your side, your elbow supporting your head. You didn’t mind the position. You were both completely comfortable.

In keeping with the spirit of comfort, you change out of your dress and into an oversized sleep-shirt over your carefully selected lingerie. You figured, in case things escalated again, you’d be prepared. He kept his shirt off–you weren’t exactly sure if he meant it as a way to entice you–which, let’s face it, you were practically drooling. But so far, he hasn’t made a move to pick up where you left off.

He sighed. “I used to have one, during my first couple years doing this. And then ultimately, it became too hard to keep up with all of these different schedules so I quit that and never looked back.”

You couldn’t imagine how challenging it would be for him to meet with clients and try to make it to a nine-to-five. And you figured that with what you were paying him, he certainly can afford it.

“Do you go out when you’re not working?”

“Nah, I’m sort of a recluse,” he laughed.

Your eyebrows lifted in surprise. “No way!”

“I am. It may not seem like it but sometimes I just like chilling at home. I don’t sleep much when I’m working so I try to catch up on that when I’m off.”

“You don’t sleep much because…your clients keep you up?”

His eyes were tickled with amusement. “Not all the time,” he says. “I often have trouble sleeping when I’m working.”

“What do you do when you can’t sleep?” You wondered with curiosity.

“I work out or…watch TV late at night.”

“How much interesting TV could be on at like, 3 in the morning?”

He chuckled. “Oh, you’d be surprised! I’ve developed a habit of watching people dig for gold in this random hole where they find the most random shit except actual gold,” he jested.

You laughed out loud.

“Seriously! They find random doorknobs from, like, the 17th century. Which, by the way, they actually hired and paid an expert to test and confirm the age. And I’m like–who the fuck cares about a rusty old doorknob? Where’s the gold? Seriously, it’s been over five years of this and at no point does anyone think, hmm…maybe there is no gold after all,” he ranted very passionately.

At this point, your elbow gives way while you collapse in giggles.

******

You ended up ordering food to be delivered at your place. He put his shirt back on but left it unbuttoned. It was difficult not to get distracted by his tattoos or his chest, in general but you tried to keep your focus on the conversation.

For the next couple of hours, over takeout containers, you continued talking about the most random things, sharing appetizers and eating off each other’s plates. You laughed and made jokes as if you’d known each other for years. He was a great conversationalist and for the first time since he walked through your door, your nerves had settled.

He looked more relaxed as well and it wasn’t just because of the alcohol. It must be difficult being in his shoes. Trying to keep up your interest in someone’s rambling stories about their life and all the while trying to seduce you into bed.

Now, he didn’t look like somebody intent on seducing you. He just looked like a normal guy. A normal guy whom you enjoyed having a conversation with.

After you put away your leftovers, you move back into the bedroom, and the conversation takes a slightly different turn.

“Seriously though, why haven’t you had sex with anyone? I’m sure there’s no shortage of horny guys out there. Is it a purity thing?”

You laughed heartily. “God, no! No, no…” You shook your head in between giggles.

“And you’ve never had any experience with sex at all? No kissing, touching…what about masturbation?”

“Oh, pfftt,” you blew out a raspberry. “I said I was a virgin, not an innocent! I’ve dated before and it’s gone as far as heavy petting? But no legitimate penetration, so to speak.”

He laughed and nodded at that. “Okay.”

“I’ll also have you know that I’ve invested in a very nice vibrator, since I’m a big girl and I can afford it now,” you both laughed. “And we have a really great relationship. In the end, we both know which of us feels used.”

He cocked an eyebrow. “Ahh, so you’ve had an orgasm then?”

“Yes, I have,” you say simply. “Just…not with anybody.”

“I hope we can still rectify that tonight.”

His eyes glistened when they gazed at you. Though, not the same way they did when you both sat on the couch. There was a sincerity to that look–a sincere desire to give you what you need. A desire to please you.

A calm washes over you and you decide to try something.

“Could you please do me a favor?”

“Sure. Since you asked so nicely and if it’s in my power, I’ll do it.”

You hesitate for a beat. You figured he’d make up something on the spot but you needed a little boost of confidence. “Can you tell me…if…if you find me attractive?”

At this point, he sits up on the bed and moves closer to you.

Cupping your cheek, he runs his thumb gently across your lips. “You know, the moment you opened the door, the first thing I noticed was your mouth. When you talk, I just could not take my eyes off it.”

You feel a warm flutter within your chest. Afterwards, his lithe fingers drift lower to your neck, his fingers brushing over a specific spot. “I also noticed your freckle here. When you swallow, it draws my attention to this vein on your throat.” You swallow reflexively, earning you a small smile from him.

“And this here,” his thumb grazed the notch at the base of your neck, right between your clavicle. “Mm…I think it’s just sooo sexy,” he purred.

A shiver ran down your spine, making your breath hitch. You blink slowly, trying to stop your eyes from reflexively rolling to the back of your head.

His hand traveled back up to your face, his finger brushing your ear. He was so close to you that you could hear his ragged breathing. He was as aroused as you were, his cock tenting under the sheets.

“So, to answer your question: yes, I find you very attractive,” he rasped slowly..

With that, you let out a small whine and practically attack his mouth. The sudden onslaught doesn’t seem to take him by surprise as if he had fully expected you to play into his trap. And you didn’t mind it one bit.

You sighed and he took advantage of the opening, dipping his tongue inside. His kiss was confident, skilled, and just the right amount of aggressive.

Pulling back to cradle your jaw, he looked into your eyes. He rubbed the tip of his nose against you, his hands sliding along your bare arms.

“Are you sure about this now?”

“Yes. Absolutely, yes,” you breathed out.

Jimin’s hands slid back up your shoulders and onto your throat, leaving a white-hot trail across your skin. Cradling your head, he tilts it back and seals his mouth over yours again.

He settled over you, his chest hot to the touch. He helps you push his shirt off him, dropping it to the floor. His ardent mouth moved down your throat, his hands pushing your bra up to palm your breasts through the sleep-shirt you put on since taking your dress off hours ago.

You lift off the mattress, struggling to rid yourself of your shirt, which he helps you with. Then, you reach back and unclasp your bra, tossing it to the side.

In an instant, he was back on you, lips wrapping around your nipple and suckling, his weight supported by one forearm on the mattress, his other hand pushing between your legs.

He cupped your clothed heat, his fingertip gliding over the material, grazing the seam of your cleft. His tongue flicked over your nipple, then sank his teeth into the hardened tip.

His hair tickled your skin as his open mouth slid over your cleavage, his chest expanding as he breathed you in, nuzzling and wallowing in your scent. He captured the tip of your other breast with hard, deep suction. The pleasure shot through you, your walls clenching in reflex.

He moved down your torso, licking and peppering kisses across your stomach. Once he gets past your waist, his shoulders force your legs wider until you feel his hot breath over your cleft. His nose pressed against the wet material, stroking you. He inhaled with a groan.

“You smell intoxicating.”

Jimin fiddled with your panties’ waistband, peering up at you for approval. You lifted your hips and gave a small wriggle. That was all he needed to pull the constricting material off. It was soaked through anyway.

“Did you wax?”

The question takes you by surprise. “Y-yeah. Why?”

“When? Today?”

This is a really odd time to ask about personal hygiene. You blinked a few times, “Uhm…like, three days ago?”

“Hm, good.”

“Okay, but what does waxing have–”

“Because, if it’s only been less than 24 hours, I can’t do this,” He held you open with his thumbs, and dragged his tongue over your clit. Your back arched with a cry, all your senses out the window. Tilting his head, he thrust his tongue into your opening, teasing and fucking it rhythmically.

”Is that good?” He paused to check on you.

“Ohh….ffffuckk…yes, it’s good,” You writhed with pleasure, your core clenching and releasing.

He smiled mischievously. “Alright, guess I’ll continue then.”

His lips were around your clit, sucking, tonguing it. He was eating you with an intensity that you were helpless against. The flesh between your legs was so swollen and sensitive, so vulnerable to his expert mouth.

When you feel yourself tipping close to the edge, you wrench yourself away from his hold.

“Wait, wait–n-not yet,” you breathed out.

He pauses his oral assault on you. “Were you close?”

“Yes, but I don’t want to cum just yet.”

He chuckled in confusion. “Oh-kay…” he dragged out.

You sat up and captured his mouth. You taste traces of you on his lips–it was incredibly arousing.

“I want you,” you moaned.

He gasps as you unfastened his pants, reached inside his boxer briefs and wrapped your hands around him. But he obliges, deepening your kiss further.

You shifted positions, until he was leaning against your headboard. You moved lower, sank to your knees, pulling his pants low enough to give you the access you needed.

He exhaled harshly. “YN, are you sure—”

You cut him off when your lips wrapped around the tip. He reached back, the whites of his knuckles showing how hard he gripped the lip of your headboard.

You held him in your hand and mouthed the plush head, sucking gently. The softness of his skin and his scent made you moan. You felt the vibration ripple through his entire body and heard a rough sound rumble in his chest.

You peered up at him and he touched your cheek. “Lick it.”

Aroused by the command, you fluttered your tongue across the underside and moaned with delight when he oozed with pre-cum. Fisting with one hand, you hollow your cheeks and draw rhythmically.

“Hmm…fuck yes…just like that.”

The erotic sounds he made and the way he slowly bucked his hips into your throat spurred you on. You were so turned on by his pleasure. His hands pushed into your hair, pulling and tugging at the roots, the twinge of pain making you greedier.

Your head bobbed as you pleasured him, his veins pulsing through the length of his cock. You released him with a pop. Tilting your head to the side, you slid the flat of your tongue up his length.

You were in complete awe of him as you watched his head fall back, fighting for breath.

You rested your hands on his hips, frantically working your lips and tongue, desperate for his climax. His balls were tightening, you cupped and tugged on them gently, making him gasp in pleasure.

“Ah, YN…stop.” His voice was a guttural rasp.

“Stop.” He dislodges your jaw from him, pulling you up to his level and gives you a swift kiss. “As much as I really, really want to keep fucking your mouth, I think we should take care of you first.”

You roll off him and he gets up off the bed. He reaches into his back pocket and produces a foil packet before pulling his pants and boxers off. You watch intently as he rolls the condom down his length.

You swallow roughly when he swiftly tugs at your ankles and positions your bottom at the edge of the bed.

“Just so we’re clear, you need to tell me at any point if you feel discomfort or there’s anything that you don’t like. Do you understand?”

“Yes,” you respond firmly.

His fingers parted your folds and rubbed your clit in slow circles, making you moan. Finding that you were still soaked for him, he leans in, hooking your legs to his waist and lined himself up to your center.

“Try to relax, okay?” You nod.

“Ready?” he asks urgently. You nod again, because speech has evaded you at this point.

He rips his hand from between your thighs and in one calculated movement, he moves his hands to your bottom and lifts you. Slowly, carefully, he pushed in, making you tense up instinctively.

Ow! Fucking hell!

This was not a vibrator or some other fake dick you’ve been used to. It was the real thing. The sensation was…different.

Sweat misted his brow. “YN?” he pants. “Are you okay? Do you want me to stop?”

You inhale sharply. “Just…two seconds. I just need a few seconds.” You slowed your breathing, wrapping your legs around him tighter, adjusting to the mixture of pleasure and pain. You know he’s not even all of the way in.

Your hands slip over his sweat drenched back as he holds still for a few moments, giving you time to adapt to the feeling.

“Okay, keep going,” you assure him. He pants as he slowly withdraws from you, re-entering on a deliberate, steady thrust. This time he’s a little deeper and the fullness is making your head spin.

“Can you take more?” he asks urgently.

More? How much more is there?

You took some calming breaths. When you felt like you had a handle on it, you kiss him slowly, arching your back and pushing your breasts up to his chest. You thrust yourself upward, deepening the connection.

“YN, tell me you’re ready.” he breathes.

“Yes, I’m ready.”

With your prompt, he extracts himself and drives back inside of you. You sigh, tilting your hips forward in acceptance as he moans in appreciation and repeats his swift thrusts, again and again.

The soreness from the stretch slowly fades with his steady rhythm. Before you knew it, you were bucking your hips against him greedily, but in sync with his movements.

“Fuck, you feel good,” he breathes on a deep plunge. Your head lolls back against the mattress, lost in the pleasure of it all.

In one swift move, he pulls back and pounds into you. You cry out but not from the hurt. You’ve taken him to the hilt and loving every bit of it. You reach up behind him and grip his shoulders as he increases his thrusts, slamming into you, repeatedly hitting that sensitive cluster of nerves in you. You yelp in pleasure when he finds your lips, plunging his tongue into your mouth.

Slowly, you feel that familiar buildup of pressure within while he ate you out minutes ago. But right when you feel like you’re about to fall apart, he pauses his assault and pulls out of you.

The feeling of emptiness has left you confused and somewhat hazy. Distantly, you hear him grab a hold of your hand to pull you up off the mattress.

“C’mere,” he beckons you off the bed–which, you weren’t even sure how you managed to support your own weight since your legs felt like jello.

He motions for you to stand in front of the wall.

“Keep your hands there,” he says, propping your hands up. You do as he says and he rewards you by planting a soft kiss on your shoulder. He positions himself behind you, gently urging your legs apart while his hands roam your front. He massages your breasts in his hands, making you gasp when he pinches and pulls on your overly sensitized nipples.

One of his hands slides down your torso and abdomen until it settles between your thighs. His fingers parted your lips, feeling around for your clit.

“Oh my god,” you choked out once he hit the target, making you lean your head back against him.

“Good?” His warm breath tickled the shell of your ear while he nipped at it.

“Hmm...yes,” you drawled while his fingers rubbed and circled your flesh. You couldn’t help but reach your hand back towards his nape to pull him closer to you. If he worked in a couple more circles around your clit, you swear, you could have exploded right then.

“Tell me what you want, YN,” he whispered in your ear.

“You…please,” you whined, grinding your groin to his touch.

“I’m here,” he answers. “What do you want me to do?”

“I want you back in, please,” you begged pathetically before that delicious pressure in you deflates.

Lowering your hands from the wall, he adjusts your position while you jut your bottom out for him, pushing your back down slightly. His hands steadied you as he pulled your hips closer to him, opening yourself up so he could slide back in.

A low, broken cry escaped your mouth as he adjusted you at the right angle, taking your breath away when you felt him slide in deeper. The stretching was even more intense this way. It was unbearably arousing. If he ever allows you to cum tonight, you feel as if you’d shatter into a million pieces and never recover.

Your core trembled, clenching desperately around him. He made a rough sound, pulling out just a little before sliding back slowly. The tip of his cock massaged the bundle of nerves deep inside you that no premium-priced vibrator would ever reach.

Palms slipping and sliding restlessly against the walls, you moaned gutturally, repeatedly.

“Fuck, that’s it,” he said urgently. “Let me hear how much you like it.”

“Oh, fucckkkk…” Your legs shook violently on a particularly deep, measured stroke, your weight supported only by the wall and his hold on you.

You could do nothing but take what Jimin gave you, the rhythmic push and pull, the sounds of skin on skin filling the room–it was an incredibly dizzying environment.

One of his hands left your hip, and cupped your cheek, turning your face slightly back towards him, seizing your mouth and groaning into it while continuing to pound into you.

Everything in you goes rigid as that same all-too-familiar feeling threatens to spill out of you.

Your breaths become more constricted. “Come on, baby. I know you’re close…” he said gruffly, sliding his other hand down to your center to tease your pulsing clit.

Finally, it became too much. You came with a breathless cry, shaking violently, your hands squeaking over the wall as your sweaty palms slipped. He keeps his firm hold on you and plunged deeper and harder, his fingers still on your clit, driving you insane. One orgasm rolled into another, your cunt rippling around his relentless thrusts.

You held onto him, trembling, tears pooling in your eyes. Raw moans spilled from him, making you so hot and slick that your body offered no resistance and instead welcomed his desperate need for his own climax.

His mouth twisted in a grimace of agonized bliss, his eyes losing their focus as his orgasm built.

He came with a deep, hoarse growl, spurting so hard into the condom, you felt it. His whole body jerked hard, then shuddered. Over and over, heating you from the inside with thick washes.

He collapsed against you, his lungs heaving for breath.

******

“Are you okay?”

He laughed in response as he stood by your bathroom’s doorway. “You’re asking me? Shouldn’t I be asking you?”

“I’m good. Sore but otherwise, good,” you say calmly.

There it was again, that soft crinkle in his eye when he smiled. As if he didn’t just fuck you senselessly moments ago.

You pull the sheets back from the bed, where you sat and patted the empty space next to you, inviting him to get in.

“Are you sure?” He asked with a hint of hesitation. “I told you, I’m fine sleeping on the couch.” He was in a pair of sweats now and not much else.

You roll your eyes. “I wouldn’t do that to you. Now c’mon, get in.”

With your permission, he slid under the sheets and made himself comfortable next to you.

“Do you feel any different?”

You paused and thought carefully before you answered him. “You know what? I don’t,” you laughed. “I thought that some proverbial curtain would lift and things would look or feel differently but…no. I feel the same.”

He hummed noncommittally. “Hm…okay.”

“I mean, don’t get me wrong. This isn’t a testament to what we just did. And…that was pretty mind-blowingly euphoric back there.”

He laughed heartily. “Aw, c’mon, YN! Don’t fuck with me.”

“Well…too late for that now,” you countered wryly.

He doubles over as he’s in absolute stitches, making you laugh as much.

“I swear, I had to pick pieces of my brain off the floor. Is that normal for you?”

He sighed heavily after calming down. “I mean…” he shrugged. “You’re giving me too much credit.” Then his expression turns accusatory, “You told me you hadn’t done any sort of sexual activity with anyone. So, where’d you learn to suck dick like that?”

“Porn.” You say flatly.

He threw his head back in laughter. “Seriously?”

You scoffed. “What did I tell you? I’m a virgin, not an innocent.” Not gonna lie, you did do a bit of ‘research’ before tonight. True to your Type-A personality, you needed to know what you were getting yourself into. Unfortunately, you had to use an incognito browser and painfully to wade through dozens of pop-ups of erections and weird-ass shit before finding the more helpful videos.

“Well, shit,” he blew out a puff of air.

After a few beats of silence, he turns to you again. “Look, I know you had a list–”

You giggled. “Ugh, that seems so embarrassing now.”

“Hey, it’s not embarrassing to have goals.”

“Don’t patronize me,” you teased.

“I’m not patronizing you. Just saying, at least you have a good idea of what you want.”

“I guess, yeah.” You relented.

You glance at your phone’s clock then stare back at the ceiling. You had no idea how other partners would compare to him. Did you even want other partners? This would be a very expensive venture if you decide to keep this up with him.

Moments later, as you start to feel the fatigue settle in, you feel him brush your bare arm. You thought it was probably his insomnia keeping him up. “You know, we still have a few hours before our time is up.”

You turn to him, eyes nearly bulging out of their sockets. “You have the energy to do that again?”

He shrugged. “I brought a few condoms, and…I’d really love to see that ass bounce again. Maybe with a reverse cowgirl?" As soon as he sank his teeth into his bottom lip, you knew you were done for.

You were happy to indulge in Jimin a bit more. He ticked all of the boxes that you had on your list and even added a few more that had your mind melting from multiple orgasms by the end of your experience.

It was the perfect way to ring in your 30th birthday.

You’ve reached the end! Thank you so much for reading!

Tagging: @internetjunkdrawer @itdoesntmatterwhy @deepseavibez

#bts fanfiction #jimin #jimin x you #jimin x reader #jimin fanfic #park jimin #jimin smut #bts smut #bts park jimin #bts jimin #pjm smut #TheBFE x pjm

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shina913 · 1 year

Text

On Tilt, Part 5.1 | KNJ

On Tilt, Part 5.1

Definition: a poker term for a state of mental or emotional confusion or frustration in which a player adopts a suboptimal strategy, usually resulting in the player becoming overly aggressive.

On Tilt Masterlist

Pairing: Namjoon x Fem!Reader

Rating: M 🔞

Genre: idol!AU; strangers-to-FWB-to-lovers; toxic relationship; angst; fluff; smut

Warnings: unhealthy/toxic relationship dynamic; cussing; miscommunication; mentions of alcohol consumption; trouble setting personal boundaries; lots of pain in the end

Word count: 2.1K words

Summary: You’ve said time and time again that you wouldn’t lose yourself to him. You were in control now. You were going to make better choices. For a minute there, you were able to keep up with it. It wasn’t ‘til Namjoon’s extended break that you found yourself falling into old habits. Will you ever learn to quit Kim Namjoon?

A/N: Thanks for being soooo patient with my super-slow updates. This is a flashback chapter, from time when they first broke up. I have the subsequent chapter about 70% of the way through. I just had the itch to post so--hope you enjoy! Thanks to my loves, @internetjunkdrawer and @itdoesntmatterwhy for reading this through and for the general screaming 🥹💜 Also, special s/o to @yoongukie-ff for letting me whine into your DMs about this and picking your brain! I appreciate you all sooo much for fueling this writer's delusions 🤡

Years ago…

Namjoon sits in a corner of the dressing room, surrounded by the buzzing activity of his teammates. Stylists make last-minute adjustments to the members' wardrobe, tech guys fix an issue on one of the mic packs, and a few more swipes of tinted lip balm are applied. Strands of hair are sprayed into place so they fall at just the right angle.

The group has just kicked off their European tour, and there are 20 minutes left before they must take their places for their opening set. This is when Namjoon usually gives his teammates a pep talk.

For now, he sighs and quietly rubs the inner corners of his eyes with his thumb and forefinger. He knows he'll have to summon all the gods he hasn't believed in for years to give him the strength to motivate his teammates. Deep down, he’s desperate to feed off their energy in order to get through tonight's performance.

An hour ago, while getting mic'd up and prepped for the show, one of the assistants snuck in amongst the flurry of arms that fussed over Namjoon to hand him his phone. His face lit up when he saw your name reflected on the screen. When he unmuted the phone’s microphone, the first thing he said to you was that there's a museum he's excited to check out at one of their tour stops. They have a few days of rest coming up between shows, and he wants to fly you out to where he'll be.

“Yeah, about that.” There was an edge to your voice that made him worry. ”I don’t know if I can go.”

He brushed his thoughts aside, thinking you might still be traumatized from the last time he flew you out and the airline lost your baggage. You didn't get your personal items back until the day before you had to fly back home. He tried to console you, saying, "The label charters our flights now, so you won't have to deal with any commercial flight issues anymore. Trust me, it's going to be better and less stressful."

Whenever Namjoon wanted something, he would do and say anything to get it.

“I know, but–” You tried to jump in but Namjoon continued to convince you.

“Is it a problem with your visa? We still have two weeks, I can ask one of the managers to call our guy at the consulate–”

“Namjoon! There’s no need for that.” You finally interrupt.

“Then what’s the problem?” He asks casually.

“It’s not a problem per se. I just don’t know if I can keep hopping on planes on random days of the year just to spend time with you.”

"Baby," he says softly, disregarding the fact that staff can hear every word he says but are hard-wired to ignore it. "This is my job. You know how it is."

"Believe me, I'm fully aware," you respond wryly.

"Okay so then why are we still having this conversation?" He says with a chuckle.

His cocky tone annoys you. And although you didn't mean to bring it up during this conversation, you decide now was as good a time as any other.

"I've met someone."

At that point, he promptly asks the assistants to give him some privacy. This isn't going to be one of those on-the-go phone calls where he'd be having short chats with you while people combed his hair and reapplied his lip balm.

He murmurs something you could only make out as ‘hold on’ while he walked away from staff.

He retreats to a utility room and closes the door behind him. When he's alone, his first reaction is to let out an awkward chuckle, although he isn't sure why. Maybe he thinks this is a joke and that you're trying to pull a fast one on him. "Wait, what do you mean 'you've met someone'?"

“I mean, I went out on a date…with a guy,” you pause for a beat before continuing, “I think I want to see where things go.”

“You think or you know?”

The edge in his voice makes you let out an exasperated breath. “Joon…”

“How did that even happen? I didn’t know that you were seeing other people.”

“Excuse me?” You try your best to pull back your irritation.

Namjoon catches himself. “I mean, I thought, you know…I didn’t think you were looking,” he mutters awkwardly.

“Well, you and I are both single, right? No commitments–that’s just facts.”

He falls silent, struggling to find the right words. You’ve been friends for years and have been in this 'situationship' for nearly half that time. He could be away for weeks and months, but one thing's for sure – he knew that he could always come home to you. It's always been you and him.

He tries to reason, "Yeah, but...I thought that we-"

"Look, let's be real. When has there ever been a 'we'?"

Namjoon had never thought of it that way. He always assumed that you agreed to this setup.

"It was my fault for letting this go on for as long as I have, thinking that it wouldn't be a big deal. I'm realizing now that it was a mistake."

Your words pierced him like a hot blade. His voice softens, "Hey…you don't really believe that, do you?"

It took you a few moments to answer. For a while, you had been understanding and patient with him. You had no problem rearranging your life to fit his, and while you agreed to no labels, you at least hoped for some consistency. He didn't deliver on that either. It had been one too many last-minute cancellations, and you were done being left alone at planned getaways, family gatherings, and even something as simple as a movie night on your couch.

“You know, I’ve been thinking a lot about the future.” It wasn’t the answer he was hoping for.

He sighed heavily. He knew it was eating at you as the months turned to years, but you didn't press him. What could you do? Besides, it wasn't like he could do anything about it either. He had his career before you came along.

This was a conversation that he usually avoided, not because he didn't want to talk about it, but because there were always so many uncertainties in his life. One of the biggest uncertainties was his career. Sure, he could think about the future--if the future involved making more records and being the top pop group in the world.

"Did you know that you talk about the future a lot? What your teams have planned out; what the record label wants you to do; what concept you have for your next mixtape or mini-album. And it made me realize--what about me? What are my plans? What do I want to do?"

Guilt immediately ate at Namjoon when he realized that the only future he had ever talked about excluded you. It was odd because, at present, you were always there--a constant in his life. So it wasn't that he meant to exclude you; it's just that when it came to you, he never thought that the present and the future were two separate things.

And that was his fatal flaw.

"Things are going well at my new job. I finally got my own apartment, thanks to Lani. Everything is falling into place and it really got me thinking about what I want for the long term."

His shoulders sagged and his knees buckled. He leaned against the closest thing for support: a wood-paneled locker where athletes typically stored their equipment at the stadium.

He sank onto the bottom shelf and crouched, resting his elbows on his knees.

"You know that I can't give you a solid answer. Everything is still really complicated and that hasn't changed."

"I know that things haven't changed for you, but they have for me. The more I think about it, the more I feel that I want something more definite. Something more concrete. Something more...” you sigh, “Just…more," you finish emphatically.

Namjoon squeezed his eyes shut. He was miles away and too far to appease you.

“I don’t know that I can give you that assurance,” he said in defeat.

"I figured as much," your voice wavered. He heard rustling on the other end and guessed that you had pulled the phone away to compose yourself.

“Could we,” he hesitated for a second, “…can I see you when I get back in three weeks? We can sit and talk--”

He heard you clear your throat. “I don’t know if that’s a good idea.”

Just then, the door creaked open. He looked up to find one of the stage managers gesturing at their watch, realizing that he still needed to get his mic pack on and have his in-ear monitor wiring taped.

“Five minutes,” he says in a clipped manner, making the assistant retreat immediately.

He turns his attention back to the phone. “Sorry about that.”

“No, I should apologize. I didn’t mean to hold you up. And to be honest, I was hesitant to even have this conversation over the phone.”

“A little late for that,” Namjoon deadpans.

"Yeah, well," you shrug at the irony of it all. "Anyway, it's getting kind of late here. I know you have to go."

“Look, I...I just...I don’t know…” he stutters. You both fall silent again, with occasional static filling the dead air. He felt weird ending things like this but truthfully, he was caught off-guard and didn’t know what to say.

“Are you still there?”

After a few beats, you respond. "I'm here."

There is a small sigh of relief from him. “Can I call you after the show? Please?” It’s a last-ditch effort on his part, but you decide to give him some leeway anyway.

"If you want, sure. But I know you're usually tired."

“No, no. I'll call you, I promise,” he says firmly.

"Okay. Have...a good show," you say slowly. It is all you can offer as a sign-off.

“T-thanks. Uh...bye.” He stares at the darkened phone screen and nothing but his bewildered reflection looks back at him. Before he tries to make sense of your conversation, a persistent knock rings out. It’s the same assistant, firmly insisting that he needs to be mic'd up this instant.

With a small nod, he brushes his own thoughts aside. He still has a show to do and his team is counting on him. He needs to get his head in the game.

******

Namjoon had never tried so hard to be focused, or at least appear to be. He went about the show as usual, but his body didn't seem to belong to him. He smiled at the audience, nailed all the steps, spat all his lyrics, and got through all of their ending ments, just like the professional he was.

After he and the guys were shuttled back to their hotel, he immediately asked one of the managers to bring a few beers to his room.

Who cared what he wanted for himself? It wasn't like he could sustain a relationship while he was an active idol. Not only would it be too much fodder for tabloids, but it wasn't good for the fanbase.

At the end of the day, the team had to be the top priority. If the fanbase was shaky, then the team's future was in jeopardy.

He had already placed a huge wager on his career, and now was not the time to be emotional. He had to bet smart. His management team would tell him that you were a high-risk, low-reward gamble.

When you woke up the next morning, you saw a notification on your screen. It wasn't a call or text from Namjoon. Instead, it was a link to a replay of his drunken livestream.

You tried to convince yourself that you had made the right decision. Waiting to confront him face-to-face would have been too difficult. The mere sight of him standing in front of you, promising to make it up next time, would have been enough to weaken your resolve. You didn't want to return to an unhealthy situation. So, you took a deep breath and focused on the future, knowing that this was the best thing for both of you.

On the other side of the world, Namjoon finally opens his eyes, having given up pretending to be asleep. He spent the rest of his evening doom-scrolling through his social media feed, trying to come to grips with your last conversation. Amidst the pounding in his head, it finally hits him: you met someone else, and you have the chance at something real with this person. And that person isn't him.

It hurt to let you go like that. But looking back on it, he realized that you were brave enough to admit that you deserved better. He didn’t have the courage to do the same.

◤Previous | Next◥ | Main Fic Masterlist

Thank you so much for reading!

Tagging: @internetjunkdrawer @deepseavibez @itdoesntmatterwhy @yu-justme @serendididy @onlythehobi @yoonallthetime @majamarantha @jinjccns @joonbo

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shina913 · 1 year

Text

Scions, Ch.8c | Kim Line + JHS

Scions, 8c

sci·on | \ ˈsī-ən \ Definition:(1)a descendant(2) a shoot or twig, especially one cut for grafting or planting

✼Scions Masterlist✼

Pairing: Fem!Reader Sister + Kim Brothers; JHS x Fem!Reader

Rating: M (🔞)

Genre: Siblings!AU; Marriage!AU; FWB!AU; exes to ?; Mom!Reader; Brother’s Best Friend; drama; angst; smut; fluff

Warnings: ANGST!!!; DRAMA!!!; sibling bickering; soft sibling moments; cussing; multiple POV switches; mentions of character death; parenting frustrations; alcohol consumption; vulnerable confessions; cussing; pining; unrequited love; mentions of divorce/separation; emotional outbursts; mourning; it just hurts 🥴

Word count: 5.5K+

Summary: Four grown siblings return to their childhood hometown after their father is declared to be terminal. They are forced to live under the same roof for days, along with their overbearing mother, to say their final goodbyes. It starts off nostalgic until some unresolved family issues along with an assortment of spouses, exes, and might-have-beens make things even more interesting.

A/N: Third of three mini-updates! This chapter contains callbacks from the supplement, Sunshine. I think(?) I've added enough context to this chapter so that you wouldn't have to read it to get the references but you can read it if you feel that the gaps are too wide.

Thank you to my loves, @internetjunkdrawer and @itdoesntmatterwhy for reading through this angst-fest. I appreciate you both 💜

A/N2: There are some elements of The Notebook here that I adopted because…it’s one of my fave *exes to lovers* stories 🥹

You sidle up to Namjoon, who was hunched over at a booth all by himself, scribbling some words over some cocktail napkins.

“You know, Yoongi-oppa will be pissed that you’re littering.” You fidgeted at a balled-up napkin.

“Well, it’s good I’m best friends with the owner then,” he deadpans without looking up at you.

You scoff, then begin to unfurl the piece closest to you.

“My love, don't look back anymore / Behind the clearly mixed memories / These remaining lives stay like a bonus,” you read out loud. “New song?”

He hummed noncommittally. “I don’t know yet. I’m just writing whatever comes to mind.”

You picked up another crumpled-up napkin to take a look. “You can't love someone like I do / That's all I can say to you.” You blew out a breath. “Oof…is this the makings of your own version of Beyonce’s ‘Lemonade’?”

He chuckled. “Well, as it happens, life is currently giving me a lot of lemons so…”

You hold back a laugh upon hearing his answer. “Will you record it?”

He snorted. “If my usual guy can’t do it, I’ll probably do the guide myself.”

“No, I mean–will you record it for yourself?"

He pauses his scribbling and finally looks up at you incredulously as if you’d just given him a very complicated math problem.

“What? You have a good voice. You’re signed to a record label, technically…”

“Sure, YN. And how many drinks have you had?” He cocked an eyebrow at you.

You roll your eyes at him. "Relax! I'm good. And let's not change the subject!" Turning your body sideways to face him, you add, "I've heard your demos before. You've got that raspy voice thing going on that's very popular with the ladies," and snort.

His mouth twitches and grows into a shy smile, his dimple deepening. "Thanks... I guess." He knows you would never give him a backhanded compliment. Before Victoria came along, you were always one of the first people he would call whenever he had an idea for a new song. Even though you weren't as good with words as he was, he always said that you made the perfect brainstorming partner.

He begins to gather the handful of napkins and stack them in the order he intended the words to flow. After pocketing them, he pauses and puckers his lips.

“Can I actually have those back?” He points to the two discarded pieces that you read words from. You pick them up and hand them back to him; after which, he mouths his thanks.

“Will you be adding those to that secret mixtape that you’ve been working on forever?”

“Maybe.” He follows his response with an enigmatic smirk.

For years, Namjoon had talked about releasing a mixtape of songs that he had saved just for himself. Every now and then, he would unearth it from the depths of his hard drive, make some tweaks to the instruments or vocals, listen to it again, make more edits, and when he had poured out all of his neuroses into his tracks, he would close it out, not giving it another thought for another few months.

“So,” he asks, attempting to change the subject. “Where did he jet off to this time?”

You hesitate as Namjoon didn't have to say who he was referring to. Even though the rest of your family already knew about what you and Sam had decided, telling Namjoon felt like a difficult task. It wasn't just because he had resented your relationship early on, but also because part of you wanted to prove him wrong...and you managed to do that for a few years.

It was difficult because not only did you fail, but you also feared that Namjoon would take this as a moment of vindication.

"Kuala Lumpur," you said, taking a long swig of your drink and turning your face away from Namjoon. After allowing a few seconds for the drink to settle in your stomach, you clear your throat and decide that now was as good a time as any other. “When he comes back, we’re meeting with lawyers present.”

You and Sam had agreed to explain everything to the kids when he returned from his trip in two weeks. You wanted to buy some time for them…a few more days of innocent bliss.

You turned to look at Namjoon again. Apart from the slight crease between his eyebrows, the rest of his face was calm. That crease was still telling. It was the expression he wore while bracing himself for all the facts that he was about to bless you with.

It was also the same face that your father used to make.

But those litanies of factoids and inner thoughts would never make it past Namjoon’s lips. Instead, he quietly takes a sip of his whisky again before speaking.

Putting down his glass, he says, "I was wondering if you were ever going to open up about what was going on between you and Sam. I didn't want to push because I figured you weren't ready. So, I thought I'd wait patiently until you were."

Your eyes watered as guilt consumed you in the past few months, even as he bawled in front of you with everything going on in his own marriage. "I'm sorry, oppa—"

"You don't have to apologize. You never have to when it comes to things like this. We're both adults," he said, consoling you.

You pursed your lips, regret still on your face.

"Although I hope you'll forgive me for my childish thoughts about this, I'm a little upset that you couldn't trust me. I mean," he chuckled bitterly, "have you not seen how my marriage ended?"

"It's just that I know how you've always felt about Sam," you stammered, your shoulders rising defensively. Your eyes flit downward as you turn away from him again.

"Are you sure that's not just your pride talking?" he raises a questioning eyebrow at you.

Taken aback by his skepticism, you pause. But then you remember the promise you made to yourself years ago. You were going to make it work with Sam, no matter what.

"I'll admit, some of it was pride," you concede. "I just thought he and I could get through it."

Namjoon's hesitation was evident in his eyes as he regarded you. Eventually, he let out a deep sigh. "I know that Sam and I haven't had the greatest relationship, and I know it's caused a rift between you and me. That was selfish, and I'm really sorry."

You reach over to grab his free hand while the other clutches his glass. "I never held that against you."

“Yeah, but I know that we never really talked about it. I saw how he took care of you and the kids. For what it’s worth, I respected him for that.“

You smile ruefully. “Thank you. That means something. Unfortunately, Sam and I had deeper issues that counseling just couldn’t fix.”

His face falls. “Still–”

“Can we just leave all that behind?” you calmly interrupt. “Our relationships with our spouses may not have worked out, but things will always be good between us, right?”

He looks at you silently for a moment, then sighs softly, a small smile creeping up to his lips. “Always.”

You smile back and wrap your arm around his elbow. Tilting your head sideways, you lean on his shoulder. He mirrors your action, tilting his head and touching the crown of your head.

“You know, when we were kids, I always hated it whenever you copied everything that I did.”

You playfully smack his arm. “Excuse you? Who’s copying whom? My marriage has been falling apart for years, so I don’t know what you're talking about.”

“I filed for divorce first,” he retorts.

You frown at him for a second, but since can’t think of a quick comeback, you stick your tongue out cheekily at him instead.

He throws his head back in laughter. "Not that I needed further confirmation to know that Jooni is in fact your daughter," he chortles.

You give him another playful shove, and you both fall into fits of laughter.

"God, is it weird that we're laughing about this? What would Dad say?"

Namjoon sighs, then turns pensive. "I think he'd pour us both shots and say, 'Cheer up, guys! At least you didn't die'."

Your mouth falls open in shock, and you stare at each other. After a few beats of silence, you both start cackling again.

The joke would have been very on-brand for your father. He always had a way with words and knew the right ones to say in any given situation.

"If you're not laughing, you're crying, right?" he says.

Not that you needed further confirmation that Namjoon was, in fact, your father’s son.

******

Taehyung walks Eunhae out to the parking lot. The chilly air hits them both as they step outside.

“Are you sure you’re good to drive?” Taehyung asks, concerned.

Eunhae smiles reassuringly. “I had one drink over an hour ago and my hotel’s just right down the street.”

“Alright. Thanks for coming out,” Taehyung says. He sinks his hands in his pockets as he lingers for a moment, reluctant to let her go.

She gives him a small smile in return. “Thanks for having me.”

Taehyung stands on the curb, watching her fish her keys out of her purse. The spot she parked at was a little dark and she was having trouble. He walks up to her and switches on the flashlight in his phone to help. While she rummages through her things, he can't help but notice the way her hair falls softly over her face and her scent wafts through the air.

She’s grateful for the extra light, only to see a big hole at the bottom of her purse’s lining. She puts her hand inside and feels around until she finds her keys. She turns to thank Taehyung, but he's standing too close to her. She remembers the night before when they were just as close. She feels a shiver run through her as she notices the way he's looking at her. He leans in, but she pulls away, feeling a rush of emotions.

“Uh–t-thanks, Tae. I…I think I have everything I need.” She stutters.

Taehyung frowns a little, but he blinks it away. "Sure. Happy to help," he mutters, kicking himself for not being more confident.

Eunhae unlocks her car quickly but as she is about to get into the driver's seat she stops when she hears Taehyung blurt out, "I need them."

Puzzled by his sudden outburst, she turns to face him. "Sorry, what?"

You previously expressed concerns about him not defining his relationship with Eunhae, but he dismissed them. Tonight, during their spirited conversation, he was reminded of it again. He couldn’t just sit back and wait until he got back to the city without bringing it up to Eunhae.

“The labels – I need them," he answered, clearly having had a change of heart since then.

“Tae–”

"I know I said it didn't matter to me before, but I don't feel that way anymore," he admits. "I'd be lying to myself if I said I was still okay with this,” he gestures at the space between them. “It's just not what I want."

She looks at him closely. Truthfully, she had sensed a shift in their relationship. Under normal circumstances, she would never go out of her way to drive to a small town just to spend time with a guy and his family if he was ‘just a good friend with whom she occasionally slept with’.

“What do you want?” She waits for him to speak.

After a short silence, he took a deep breath and asked a question that had been on his mind for a while: "Is this going anywhere? Whatever this is between us?"

She closes her eyes briefly before answering. "Don't answer a question with a question, Taehyung," she scolds him gently.

Taehyung looked down at his hands, fidgeting nervously. "I just want to be sure," he said after a moment.

Eunhae's heart sank a little at his words, but she didn't let it show. She was familiar with his cautious and indecisive nature, which was holding her back. She wanted to protect herself, especially her heart.

"You always say that. Every time you do something or make a decision, you say, 'I just want to be sure.' Is it because you actually want to be sure, or because you're unsure of yourself?"

He paused. His family always said that he approached everything carefully. He couldn't help but wonder if he was really unsure of himself or if he was just a serial overthinker.

But then his father’s words come flooding back to him: Make a decision. And deciding not to decide doesn’t count!

“What if…what if we actually gave this a try? You know, a relationship?”

She sighs in mild exasperation. “Tae, we’ve talked about this. We said—”

“I know,” he interrupts softly. “I know what I said but lately, I feel differently and I just thought I’d take a chance and find out whether you might be willing to do that, too?”

Eunhae puffed out her cheeks and blew out a shaky breath. “Look, maybe we should wait until we get back to the city. You’re going through a lot. You’ve had a few drinks, you’re emotional—”

"I'm aware of all that," Taehyung acknowledges. "And I want you to know that I would never force you to do something that you don't want to do. It’s just that," he pauses and bites down on his lower lip, "I guess I'm wondering if maybe this is something you also want?”

Eunhae grew tired of getting disappointed in her past relationships, so she decided to focus on herself after moving to the city. However, meeting Taehyung changed everything. The more time she spent with him, the more she realized he was different. She started opening up and being vulnerable around him. Despite trying to distance herself, her feelings for him only grew stronger during their last night together in the city. Not only did those feelings linger during her time with him and his family in his hometown, but they also deepened.

Her pulse begins to race as she tries to come to terms with how she feels. With some hesitation, she finally whispers, "I'm scared.”

Her admission makes Taehyung’s heart squeeze, giving him a glimmer of hope. He chuckles wryly, understanding her apprehension. "And you think I'm not?" he replies.

As they stand in silence, Eunhae couldn't help but feel a mix of emotions–excitement, fear, and uncertainty.

"I feel like I'm saying it all wrong and I'm fucking this up--" he says, his voice trailing off. The words seem to catch in his throat, and he swallows hard before he continues.

"No," she interrupts him, stepping closer until she is standing right in front of him. She takes his face gently in her hands, tilting it up so that their eyes meet. "You're not fucking anything up. You're doing just fine," she reassures him softly with a warm and sincere voice.

With that, he feels the tension in his body start to ease. He wraps his hands gently around hers. "If you're okay with it, can we talk some more in the morning?"

She smiles at him, her eyes crinkling at the corners. "Of course," she says softly. "I'll be here." As she speaks, he feels a sense of comfort wash over him, a feeling that everything is going to be okay between them.

She turns around to get back in her car but he stops her again. “Yeah?”

He steps closer and takes her hand. He brings it up to his lips and kisses the underside of her wrist. His lips touching her skin sends shivers down her spine. Pulling him closer, she tenderly kisses him. She sighs in contentment, as if eagerly anticipating this moment just as much as he was.

Minutes later, he watches her car drive away, and her taillights fade into the dark night. He smiles to himself, envisioning a future together and the possibilities that lie ahead.

******

You excuse yourself from a few friends whom you were catching up with to return a work call. Although your managers and colleagues sympathized, you also left abruptly to be with your family, and had only been working intermittently in the last week.

There was still work to be done, and you didn't mind checking in. You could have waited until tomorrow to answer your colleague's question, but instead, you stepped outside the bar to stand in a quiet corner by the dumpsters, away from a couple of Hobi's kitchen staff who were smoking on the patio.

"Are you sure you've got it?" you ask your colleague on the other end of the line, prompting them to ask any further questions.

As you listen to your colleague's assurance, you are unaware that Hobi is walking out of the side door, clutching two full garbage bags in his hands.

"Great, thanks. And please tell everyone that my family appreciates the flowers and sympathy card. Have a good night," you say before hanging up.

Your phone pings as you pull it away from your ear, signaling a new email alert from Sam. You open the attached document to find that it’s a petition for divorce. Sam adds in his message that his lawyer advised him to act quickly to avoid administrative costs. This only adds to your disappointment and frustration, as you were supposed to figure out all the logistics when he got back.

Guess the plan’s changed again.

As the reality of the situation sinks in, you shake your head gently. Even though you both decided to end the marriage, it still sucks to see it written on paper.

Feeling overwhelmed and frustrated, take a few deep breaths to try to keep it together. Exhale and allow yourself a moment to feel the emotions that are starting to consume you. You can feel your throat tightening as you try to hold back the tears, but eventually, they start to fall.

“Fuck,” you muttered under your breath, doubling over, your hands on your knees. It’s okay to feel this way, you remind yourself. It’s perfectly normal to have moments of weakness…have a little cry before you rejoin the others.

“Are you okay?”

Hearing his voice, you quickly wipe off your tears. Turning your head, you see Hobi with a curious expression, making you feel slightly embarrassed.

“Oh, hey,” you force a smile. “I’m okay. Just…needed some air, that’s all.” You wonder how long he’d been standing there and how much he's seen.

He stands there for a few seconds, regarding you. Then, he nods sympathetically. “I get it.”

The guys who were smoking call out to their boss and Hobi briefly acknowledges them, thanking them for all their help tonight.

Hobi turns to you, and you both stare at each other. A sob escapes you, and he quickly rushes to your side, embracing you tightly. You bury your face in his chest and cry, feeling safe in his arms as you ride out all of the pent-up emotions you had in you. His steady heartbeat against your cheek is a small comfort in the midst of your pain.

“Shhh, it’ll be okay,” he whispers softly. “I know it doesn’t seem like it right now but it will be. After some time, it’ll hurt less and less.”

As you listen to his words, you can't help but feel a sense of irony. How can he know that everything will be okay? How can he promise that the pain will lessen with time?

“Is that what you told yourself?” You ask when you lift your head up.

He furrowed his eyebrows in confusion. “I…I’m not sure I understand.”

Hobi suffered the loss of his father a few years ago, which is where his sentiment is coming from. However, after consuming several drinks and experiencing exhaustion and grief, you decide to bring up old, unfinished business.

You push off him and take a step back. “Did you tell yourself that—about us—when you left? Because that’s what I kept telling myself when you walked out. And you know what? It didn’t really work out for me.” Not only were you being childish but you were also projecting.

“YN—“

“Why would you do that? How could you leave me?”

He is dumbstruck by your sudden attack. This was not how he pictured the conversation going. "I left you? Are you serious right now?" he asks incredulously.

You shoot him a wry look. "I'm pretty sure you walked out that door, Hoseok," you say, your voice laced with frustration and anger.

Hoseok lets out a humorless laugh. "Because you told me to leave!" he retorts, his voice bitter.

The memory of him leaving is seared into your mind, yet he seems to have forgotten everything else that led up to it.

"I thought that after everything we went through, you would stick it out just a little bit more, for me!"

"I did!" he yells indignantly before catching himself. Losing his temper won't solve anything. He takes a deep breath to calm himself down. "It's just... I had a moment of weakness and needed to figure things out," he explains. "Walking out on you was the most bone-headed move I ever made. I regretted it the second I got home. I was fucking miserable!"

"But you still left me," you whimper pathetically. You're not sure what you hope to achieve.

"I came back," he whispers.

“When?” you ask unconvinced, struggling to process the fact that he had returned without your knowledge. In fact, he came back a month after, during which time you had hastily moved out of the apartment you shared. You had temporarily moved in with Namjoon until you found something more permanent. It was also during this gap that you met Sam.

“Did Namjoon know?” you ask, desperate for answers.

“Nobody knew,” he responds, his voice barely above a whisper. “I wanted to surprise you so I waited by the coffee shop across from Namjoon’s place. But then…I saw you with…him.”

You stare at him incredulously. “And you didn’t think to approach me?”

He looks down at his feet, his voice soft. "He made you laugh," he says, ignoring your question. "I used to do that, you know?" He had wanted nothing more than to beg for your forgiveness, to comfort you, and make you smile again. Instead, he couldn't help but think back to the memory burned into his brain: you with your bloodshot eyes and tear-stained cheeks.

“So I went home with my tail between my legs. Then one day, Joon told me that you were getting married. Do you know what that day was like for me?”

"I think I might have an idea," you mutter in a smart-ass manner.

"No, YN! You don't know half of it! Do you know what it's like to have your airway cut off? Huh? Do you know what it feels like to desperately gasp for air so you won't feel like you're going to die?"

“You say that as if you were the only one who felt like dying that day!” You sobbed, feeling some regret.

“And yet you still married him!”

Hobi didn't know that you married Sam because you got pregnant. Sam wanted to be responsible and proposed to you. It wasn't ideal and not what you pictured for yourself. The fact was that your baby needed their father, and you were trying to do right by your child.

"It's the money, isn't it? You married him because he had some big-shot city job raking in tons of cash?"

His accusation stings you. "Is that what you think of me? After all these years, that's your perception of me?"

“Look, I get it. I get the appeal,” Hobi says. “He was successful; how could I compete with that? I’m just the small-town guy, the boy who lived next door. What do I have to offer?”

"Really, Hobi? Self-deprecation? That's great," you sarcastically interject.

"I would have loved to keep you for myself, to hold onto you, but that would have been unfair." His dad had also fallen ill shortly after he returned home. "At least you got to live your dream. You got to marry the guy meant for you, and you had a family together. If I were in his place, I would have just held you back. If I had been in his place, your dreams would have remained just that—dreams."

All the talk about Sam being ‘the guy meant for you’ was giving you a headache. Exasperated and tired, you snapped, "If you wanted to be in his place, you should have just done that to begin with!" With that, you abruptly walked away from him.

Taken aback, he felt a flash of déjà vu from the past - the day he drove you home after your old high school boyfriend dumped you. He squeezed his eyes shut and groaned. This was not how he wanted the conversation to go. "Sunshine, wait!" he called out.

But his term of endearment only riled you up further. You turned your head slightly and yelled over your shoulder, "Stop calling me that!"

"Why?" He asks.

You stop and turn around, seething. "Because I don't like it!"

"You're a shitty liar, you know that?" he shoots back.

You jerk your head in disgust. "And you're a smug asshole, Jung Hoseok," you spit out.

You turn to leave, but he yells after you, "YN, come on. Let's talk about this, please?"

"No!" Fucking nerve he has.

He puffs out his chest and shouts, "If you keep walking away from me, then I hate you!"

If Yoongi didn't have the speaker volumes all the way up, an audience would be gathering around you right now. You turn around and glare at him. "Oh really? You hate me?"

"Yes, I hate you! And I especially hate that after all this time, you still walk away from arguments just so you can get the last word."

You scoff. "Wow. Nice. This was exactly what I needed to hear from you tonight," you say sarcastically before walking away once again.

"See? It's true! You always get the last word, and that's because your dad and brothers always treated you like a princess. Well, I'm done with that!"

You square your jaw and scowl at his audacity. "Oh, you're done?" You mock him.

"Yeah, I'm done. So done!"

Slowly, he advances toward you. "I'm done thinking about whether you get enough sleep or if you work too much and forget to eat. I'm done wondering if Sam cooks for you. And when you're sick? Oh my god--especially when you get sick! You get so whiny! Does he make you soup? Does he..." he represses a growl. "Fuck it! I don't want to think about all of that anymore. I'm done with these thoughts of you filling my brain night and day."

The raw emotion in his outburst sobers you up. You believed that he forgot about you, but instead, he has been holding onto memories of you all this time. Memories that have kept him up at night, replaying in his mind like an endless loop.

”I’m done.” He says softly.

As seconds pass, his face softens and he continues to stare at you.

You try to respond, but the words get stuck in your throat. Instead, you throw your arms around him in a tight embrace, holding onto him for dear life. You feel the warmth of his body against yours, and for a moment, all the anger you had slowly fades.

After a few moments, Hobi gently pulls away, his hands still on your back. He looks down at you, his eyes softening as he sees your tears. He wipes them away with his thumb, his touch gentle and comforting.

As he cups your cheeks in his hands and gazes at you, you can't help but feel a sense of longing. You tilt your chin up slightly. He's unsure at first, afraid that he might be crossing a boundary. You stroke his cheekbone wordlessly to assure him. You lean in closer.

He gives in and closes the gap between your lips.

The kiss is soft at first, tentative, but then it deepens, and you lose yourselves in the sensation, feeling his arms wrap around you as you savor the moment. Your pulse races as his lips move against yours, and you can't remember the last time you felt passion like this.

“Hobah, are you–”

You jump in surprise at Yoongi's voice from behind. You and Hobi quickly back away from each other, turning around and hoping Yoongi didn't notice how flustered you were.

"I was just coming back in, hyung!" Hobi says in a panic. "What's up?" His hand creeps behind his neck, rubbing it nervously while trying to sneak glances at you.

"Oh," Yoongi says, trying to hide his amusement. "I was gonna ask you something but it’s not urgent.”

With a slight nod, Yoongi disappears through the side door again, leaving you and Hobi standing there, worried about how much he saw...or if he saw anything at all.

Not long after, the front door opens and Namjoon appears. "There you are!"

You jump again. "What? I wasn't doing anything," you say anxiously.

"I didn't say you were," Namjoon says slowly. "Listen, we should probably let Hoseok know—Oh, you're here too?" he says, looking at both of you skeptically.

"What is it? What do you want?" Your tone is suspiciously aggressive.

Namjoon squints for a second but decides not to ask why you were acting weird. "Okay, chill,” he chuckled softly. “I was just gonna say, it’s getting late and Jin-hyung doesn’t want to stay out too long since Yoojung-noona isn’t 100% yet, so he’s asking me to round everybody up."

Hobi is standing there like a deer in headlights--the same look he had when Namjoon decided to confront both of you after catching you kissing back in high school.

"Great, I'll just go get my purse." You excuse yourself hastily and turn to head back inside.

Hobi stands there, unsure of what to do. Namjoon asks, “Is she okay? What did–”

“Nothing happened,” he says too quickly. “I mean, she’s okay, I think. We were just talking and…things got a little emotional. I…I was trying to comfort her,” he tries to explain.

Namjoon’s eyebrow twitches for a second, but his expression turns somber. “I appreciate you being there for her…you know, even after everything that’s happened.”

Hobi nods. Namjoon was initially upset with Hobi for moving back home without you, but what could he do? You were both adults, and your father had already scolded both of you separately. Namjoon decided to help you get back on track as much as he could.

Standing next to his friend, Namjoon takes a deep breath. "Who would have thought, huh? Two divorces in our family. First me, and now YN," he says, shaking his head.

Hobi's mouth falls open. He knew about Namjoon and Vee's divorce, but he was unaware of yours. He is unsure how to react. In a span of minutes, he confronted you about your past, lashed out at you, and you kissed.

He couldn’t help but summarize it in the most ironic way he could think of. “I’m sure that wasn’t in your dad’s bingo card,” he attempts to say in jest to mask his shock.

Namjoon chuckles softly, appreciating the joke but completely unaware of the multiple connotations behind the remark. "Thanks for tonight.”

“Of course,” he answers before the two hug. “Love you, bro,” Namjoon says, patting his friend’s back gently.

******

You and your brothers bid farewell to the remaining guests. Naya embraces you warmly, and you promise to have dinner together one of these weekends. Jimin has decided to leave his car behind and take a cab home instead.

Your brothers exchange hugs with Hobi, thanking him profusely for hosting the celebration. They start walking out the door and towards the van.

Finally, it's your turn to say goodbye to your host. You come up behind Taehyung, who seems to be feeling better. You make a mental note to ask him about it later.

After thanking and hugging Yoongi, he clears his throat loudly and excuses himself to wipe some tables.

"Thanks again for tonight," you say quietly, the memory of him kissing you still nagging at you.

"You're welcome. It was a no-brainer for me," he replies.

You smile awkwardly before embracing him. While he holds you tightly in his arms, he whispers, "I'd do anything for your family...especially for you, Sunshine."

Your heart wrenches. Even after the hurtful things you've said to him, you're not sure you deserve his kindness.

As the van pulls out of the parking lot, you look through one of the windows and spot Hobi by the bar putting away some beer bottles, and to your surprise, Dara comes up behind him and caresses his cheek.

◤Previous | Part 8d◥ | Main Fic Masterlist

Thank you for reading!

If you loved it and/or curious to learn more, please comment, reblog, or send me feedback! 📩. I love hearing from readers! If you didn’t like it so much, I would still like to hear about it 💜

#bts fanfiction #hoseok x reader #bts angst #namjoon fanfiction #hoseok fanfiction #taehyung fanfiction #seokjin fanfiction #seokjin angst #namjoon angst #taehyung angst #hoseok angst #btshoneyhive #thekpopuniverse #bangtantheatrenet #hoseok fluff #seokjin fluff #bts kim line #scions x kims jhs

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shina913 · 1 year

Text

Scions, Ch.8b | Kim Line + JHS

Scions, 8b

sci·on | \ ˈsī-ən \ Definition:(1)a descendant(2) a shoot or twig, especially one cut for grafting or planting

✼Scions Masterlist✼

Pairing: Fem!Reader Sister + Kim Brothers; JHS x Fem!Reader

Rating: M (🔞)

Genre: Siblings!AU; Marriage!AU; FWB!AU; exes to ?; Mom!Reader; Brother’s Best Friend; drama; angst; smut; fluff

Warnings: ANGST!!!; DRAMA!!!; sibling bickering; multiple POV switches; character death; parenting frustrations; alcohol consumption; mentions of fertility struggles; parenting fears; vulnerable confessions; cussing; pining; unrequited love; mentions of divorce/separation; emotional outbursts; mourning; soft sibling moments

Word count: 3.9K+

A/N: Second of three mini-updates. Thanks for being so patient! Thank you to my loves, @internetjunkdrawer and @itdoesntmatterwhy for reading through this angst-fest. I appreciate you both 💜

A/N2: One of the scenes here was lifted from 500 Days of Summer, just slightly paraphrased 🥺

Thirty minutes later, after bidding your kids and mom goodbye, you all pile into Yoojung and Jin's minivan. Jin takes the front seat while Yoojung is at the wheel. You and Namjoon sit in the row behind them, while Taehyung sits in the rear by himself.

Jin and Yoojung are quietly bickering in the front seat. “I can drive, yeobo,” he says.

“Congratulations. I can drive, too,” she responds as she secures her seatbelt and puts the keys in the ignition.

“Are you sure?” He asks. “What about your headache?”

“I’m fine,” she stresses. “I took some medicine an hour ago and I can get us all to Hobi’s, okay?” Jin nods and decidedly drops the subject.

Taehyung starts complaining, "How come I have to sit all the way back here?"

"I need the legroom," Namjoon replies matter-of-factly.

Taehyung rolls his eyes and retorts, "Couldn't YN-noona sit back here?"

You interject, "I wish I could, but I get car sick, remember?" You shove Namjoon's leg out of your way so you can buckle your seatbelt. He clicks his teeth in annoyance. Shooting him a glare, you say, "Quit man-spreading then!" He rolls his eyes and scoots to the other side to give you some room.

Annoyed and feeling left out, Taehyung blows out raspberries.

Jin sees the opportunity to tease his youngest brother and asks through the rearview mirror, "Do you need a booster seat back there?"

"I can grab Joobin's seat from my car?” You ask jokingly.

“Yeah, the law says you're supposed to sit in it until you reach 80 pounds or 4'9" in height - whichever comes first," Namjoon piles on.

"That's just great. Pick on the dongsaeng... ha-ha," Taehyung adds sarcastically.

Everyone laughs, including Taehyung who can't resist joining in despite his annoyance.

"Everybody buckled up?" Yoojung asks sweetly.

"Yessss! Now can we please go?" Taehyung whines.

As you finally settle into your seats, Yoojung turns the ignition on and the car starts moving away from the curb.

You turn to Namjoon and whisper, "Is Vee coming?" To which he responds with a head shake and an equally lowered voice. "No. She felt guilty skipping but I said it was fine. She did a lot today so I told her it might be best to stay off her feet and rest."

You nod in agreement and comment, "That's thoughtful of you." He shrugs noncommittally and says, "I'm just thinking about the baby."

"If you say so," you say under your breath.

******

Hobi's decision to close Hangsang for the day in solidarity with your family was a heartwarming gesture that you deeply appreciated. As you arrive, you are greeted by familiar faces, including classmates, childhood friends, and some of the restaurant's staff. It is comforting to see so many people who care about you and your family.

Despite the somber atmosphere, there is also a sense of joy and mischief in the air. You can feel your father's presence in the room.

Your best friend, Naya, walks up to you with her arms wide open, engulfing you in a hug. "Hey, hun." Your throat stings, making you take a deep breath so you won't lose it in front of all these people.

“By the way, I forgot to text you, but–”

Before she finishes her sentence, you already have a good guess about what she meant to warn you about. To your surprise, you see Dara, a former classmate from high school, walking around to pass shots to your brothers. When she reaches you, she hands you your drink and smiles awkwardly.

"Hi, YN. Good to see you," you say as you take the glass from her.

"H-hey, Dara. Long time no see," you reply, surprised to see her. Taehyung had only mentioned that family and close friends would be present at Hobi's invitation. You and Dara were never close and even had a disagreement early on during your relationship with Hobi.

You and Hobi were keeping your relationship secret at school. You didn't want your brothers to find out, but due to your own carelessness, they eventually they did. Dara was Hobi's algebra tutor and followed him around like a puppy. She flirted with him despite his attempts to keep his distance.

So you took matters into your own hands—which at the time, happened to be her hair.

It has been a few years since then, and although it was water under the bridge, seeing her still came as a shock to you.

Seeing the puzzled look on your face, Dara decides to explain. "I know you weren't expecting to see me. I work here every now and then just to help Hoseokie out."

Your eyes subtly flick over to Naya, who is shifting uncomfortably, before darting back to Dara. "I see," you say.

"Hoseokie wanted everyone to get drinks as soon as they walked in. Also, uhm, I'm very sorry for your loss," Dara says apologetically.

You smile politely at her. "Thank you, I appreciate that."

After a moment of hesitation, she speaks again. "I also wanted you to know that your dad was especially kind to me after my husband passed away. He was always there for me when I needed someone to talk to," Her voice trails off with a hint of sadness.

Her personal confession catches you off-guard. “I’m sorry to hear about your husband,” you say sympathetically. “I’m not surprised that my dad would do that for you. That’s just the kind of person he is, or…was.”

With a small nod, she excuses herself and walks off to check on other guests.

Shortly after, Hobi spots your group from behind the bar and asks Yoongi to turn the music down for a moment. All eyes turn to him as he makes an announcement.

"Thanks, hyung," he says to Yoongi. "And thanks for coming, everyone." You feel the anticipation building as Hobi pauses for a moment.

Before he can continue, there's a knock on the door.

Everyone takes a quick look around the room to see who's missing but it seems like everyone's already here.

Dara walks over to the window to identify the unexpected guest. When she recognizes the figure, she immediately unlocks the door for them.

Taehyung shouts in excitement as his childhood best friend, Jimin, makes his entrance. He enthusiastically waves him over and welcomes him with a big hug.

As Jimin joins the circle, he apologizes for being late. "I'm sorry for interrupting, Hobi-hyung," he says to Hobi. "Please, continue!"

"Thanks, Dr. Park," Hobi replies with a chuckle before proceeding with his toast. "Today is a day to remember and celebrate a great friend and member of our community, Kim Beomsok."

At the mention of your father's name, you and your brothers instinctively reach for each other.

Hobi turns to your family with a serious expression. "I think I speak for everyone here when I say that your dad was not only a good friend but also a father figure to many of us at some point in our lives," he says. "I remember when he helped me out when I was going through a tough time with my own dad being sick. I'm sure each and every one of you has a story like that to share."

"So, I encourage everyone to share their memories with our guests of honor here," Hobi says, raising his glass toward your family. "I think the best way to honor someone’s memory is to remember how they lived." As Hobi finishes, you see everyone nodding in agreement. You feel the shared feeling of love and loss for your father.

He raises his glass and you all follow suit. “Hear, hear,” Jin declares, and everyone echoes the sentiment.

Your father would have felt uncomfortable knowing that everyone was throwing a party for him. He didn't like being the center of attention. He would have asked everyone to have one drink and call it a day. Nonetheless, you appreciate the sincere thought behind this gathering.

******

“I’m sorry I couldn’t make it in time for the service, hyung,” Jimin says as he approaches Jin. He comes up to greet Yoojung and gives her a hug.

“That’s alright, Jiminah. We understand.” Jin responds.

“I also wanted to take this opportunity to apologize for how everything with your dad went down. I didn’t mean to be secretive. It’s just that he insisted and with doctor-patient confidentiality–”

“Jiminie,” Jin interjects, patting him on the shoulder gently. “It’s fine, really. As much as we loved dad, he had his reasons. None of us blame you.” Jin reminisces about the years he spent with his father, both the good and the bad. He recalls how his father would always put on a brave face, no matter what was happening in his life, and preferred to carry his own burden.

Jimin nods, relieved that you didn’t hold your father’s decisions against him. “Thank you, hyung. I’m glad you understand.”

Jin puts his arm around Jimin’s shoulder. “Of course. You’re family.”

“I know you’ll probably get this a lot tonight but,” he raises his glass to Jin. “How ‘bout a toast to abeonim?”

“Of course,” Jin chuckles and clinks his glass against Jimin's, while Yoojung taps her bottled water against their alcoholic drinks.

After taking a sip, Yoojung interrupts to switch subjects briefly. "Jiminah, I know you're off-duty, so I almost feel awkward asking for your professional opinion, at a bar, no less.”

Jimin throws his head back in laughter, his eyes crinkling in amusement. “Noona, I may be out of the clinic but I’m never truly off-duty.” As his laughter subsides, he asks, “What do you need medical advice on?”

With some hesitation, she glances at Jin. “I don’t know, yeobo. Maybe I was just tired–”

“Just tell him,” he urges her gently.

“It’s okay, noona,” Jimin reassures her.

"So, I don't know if it's just the fertility treatments or maybe the stress of the last few days," she recounts. "I was feeling faint yesterday. I think I was just dehydrated, to be honest, but Jin was concerned."

Jin sighs. He was only worried about her. "I still don't understand why you're not more concerned. You haven't been eating well, and you're complaining about back pain and dizziness…"

“Any exhaustion? Nausea?” Jimin presses.

“A little bit of both,” she answers. “But I usually feel like this during a new cycle. Maybe I’m coming down with something? I’ve had my hands full the last few days.” She tries to rationalize.

“Have you done an at-home test?” Jimin asks her.

Jin and Yoojung’s eyebrows furrow at the same time. Yoojung hadn’t done a pregnancy test since that one evening–which seems like ages ago now after everything that’s transpired since then. “I did several days ago but it was…negative.” The tail-end of her response was laced with frustration.

“Well,” Jimin starts, “I know obstetrics isn’t my specialty but if you’ve ever heard of false-positive home tests, it’s also entirely possible to get a false-negative.”

Jimin was aware of their fertility struggles because it was he who had referred them to another colleague. He knows how emotionally draining these journeys can be, so he did not want to give them false hope. He quickly suggested, "Again, not my area of expertise, but I would recommend doing another at-home test. It has been a few days since your last one, so you can try again. If you get the same result but still experience symptoms, contact your OB and they can do a blood test to give you a clearer answer."

Jin turns to his wife and says, "It's up to you."

After pausing to decide, she sighs and says, "I might still have one test in my bag. We can do it when we get home." Jin purses his lips, knowing that Yoojung is still determined, but it tore him up to see the heartbreak and disappointment on her face every time that second line failed to appear on the tiny pee-stick screen.

She gently squeezes his hand and calmly says, "We'll be okay." What she really means is that she will be okay. Although she doesn't say it in so many words, her voice assures Jin that she is prepared for whatever the result may be.

After a quick nod to her, he turns to Jimin and thanks him.

******

Taehyung and Eunhae sit across from each other at a booth and make some attempts at a conversation.

“I hope you’re not missing too much work,” he comments blandly.

“It’s sort of our off-season so, not too bad. I’ve been able to log in at the hotel and make calls from there.” She fidgets with her beer bottle.

“And you’re not going to get in trouble not being on-site?”

“No,” she smiles. “I can do my work anywhere, as long as I’ve got a laptop and an internet connection.”

He falls silent, keeping his gaze on Eunhae.

She looks up and catches him staring. “What is it?”

“I…” He begins apprehensively, “I was wondering–”

His thought goes unfinished when Jimin interrupts them. “Hey, bro,” Jimin greeted his best friend.

“Jiminie,” Taehyung smiles softly, rising to give him a lingering hug. “How are you?” Jimin asks, giving Taehyung’s shoulder a comforting squeeze.

Taehyung shrugs and sits back down. “I’m okay, I guess.”

Still standing, Jimin’s eyes drift to Eunhae. “Hi there,” he greets her.

Taehyung sees that glint in his best friend’s eye and decides to act quickly. “Eunhae, this is one of my best friends, Jimin. Jimin, this is Eunhae. She’s uh…” he pauses, thinking of an appropriate term to call their ‘association’ with each other.

“A friend from the city,” she smiled, sticking her hand out to shake Jimin’s.

His eyebrows rose in recognition. “Ah, so you’re Eunhae.” He exchanged a knowing look with Taehyung. “I’ve heard about you,” he says.

“I hope only good things?” Eunhae says before taking a swig of her beer.

“Always,” Jimin answers confidently, subtly winking at Taehyung.

“You’re the doctor, right?” She asks with some uncertainty. Even though they had long established not to share any personal stories with each other as part of their little casual sex agreement, Taehyung would still unknowingly drop the occasional tidbit during pillow talk.

“You’ve been talking about me?” Jimin scrunched up his nose and teased his best friend.

“Not like that,” Taehyung says with a subtle eye roll.

“Well,” Jimin says, nudging Taehyung to scoot down a bit so he could squeeze into the seat next to him. “I don’t know if Taehyung has ever mentioned that I’m a straight-shooter,” he says with a wink. “I have to ask, do you have a boyfriend?”

Taehyung covers his face with his hands, wishing the ground would swallow him up. He’s whined to friends about Eunhae more than just ‘a few times’ so Jimin certainly knows a bit more than what he lets on.

“Nope,” Eunhae answers simply.

“And why not?” Jimin asks.

“I like my independence,” she answers confidently.

Jimin smirks and Eunhae scoffs in return. “What? You don’t believe that a woman can just have a great time being free to do what she wants?”

“Eunhae, please excuse my friend. I think the marathon on-call schedules have messed with his head,” Taehyung says apologetically.

“Well, allow me to break it down for you.” Eunhae begins.

“Yes, please enlighten me!” Jimin flashes an eager smile and leans in closer.

“I like being on my own. Relationships are messy, feelings can get hurt. I’m still young and don’t feel like being tied down. And labels? Who needs them? If you’re consenting adults, I think that’s all you need.”

Jimin opens his mouth to speak but is immediately cut off by Taehyung. “But what happens if you fall in love?” His question makes Jimin slowly turn his head toward his friend and then at Eunhae. This ought to be good.

“Love? Come on, Tae,” Eunhae says dismissively. “That’s just a fairy tale.”

He scoffs at her answer. “It’s love, not mermaids.“

She laughs at his retort. “Still, lots of marriages end in divorce—“

“Not my parents,” he contests. “They stayed together and they were happy.”

Eunhae clears her throat, conceding to his specific point. “Your parents are a rarity—a unicorn, if we’re keeping with the fairy tale theme.”

Jimin tries to interrupt again, but Taehyung is quick with his argument. "So what if it's rare? Doesn't that mean a successful relationship is possible?" he says.

Eunhae looks at him, still skeptical. “Then maybe you should tell me what I’m missing.”

Taehyung thinks for a moment, then replies, "It's a feeling that's hard to explain. It's a connection that's deeper than words. You just know it when you feel it."

While Eunhae ponders on his words, Jimin takes advantage of the lull in their little debate, effectively breaking the tension around them. "Alright, alright! How about we just agree to disagree? Relationships are complex! I don’t think we can figure out this in one night."

He then rises from his seat to get another drink. "But I do have to say, this is quite an interesting topic, right?" With a nod, he heads toward the bar, leaving Taehyung and Eunhae to continue to stare at each other from across the table, lost in their own thoughts.

******

“When did she start working here? Namjoon never mentioned anything to me.” You kept your tone hushed while asking Naya about Dara. This really shouldn’t be affecting you. Hobi owns the business and can hire whoever he wants.

“I think she’s been working here for–” she took a deep breath, trying to jog her memory, “I want to say, a couple of years? On and off.”

“Interesting,” you say. “Do you know who was she married to?”

Naya shrugged. “All I know is that he’s not from around here. I think he was in the military?” She sighed and lowered her voice before speaking again, “Killed in action, they said.” You wince.

"She moved back here shortly after they brought him home. She lives here but works in another town during the week and tries to pick up work wherever and whenever she can. I'm pretty sure your dad gave her a couple of shifts when he would cater events, too. My guess is that she's just trying to fill her time, so she wouldn't think too much about what happened.”

Your face falters as you hear more about Dara's unfortunate circumstances. In hindsight, you realize that holding onto a petty high school feud was not worth it.

"After all these years, glad to know your gossip radar is still exceptional," you remark in jest.

Naya closes her eyes and smiles bashfully. "That's what happens when you never leave the hometown you were born and raised in. You know everything about everybody." She gives you a knowing look.

As you get lost in your thoughts, you notice Jimin heading your way.

"Noona!" he says with a goofy grin on his face, seeming to have had a couple of drinks. You hope he doesn't have to work tomorrow.

You beam back and greet him, "Dr. Park!" He throws his head back and lets out a belly laugh. "Stop it with that! I'm still the same guy who used to eat your secret snacks!"

Your jaw drops and your eyes widen. "I knew you and Taehyung were stealing my snacks!" you exclaim.

"Noona, you should find a better hiding place than your parents’ empty instant coffee tin," he laughs. You playfully poke him in the side, which elicits more laughter from him.

******

Yoongi walks out of the kitchen carrying a bucket of ice to refill the bin behind the bar. He notices Hobi standing still, with his shoulders rounded in and neck hunched forward. He is clutching a bottle of tequila with two empty shot glasses in front of him and has a faraway look in his eyes. Yoongi follows his gaze across the room and sees you standing next to Jimin, having an animated conversation with him.

Hobi is unaware that he is being watched, but Yoongi decides to break him out of his reverie by noisily dumping the ice bucket into the bin. Hobi flinches from the sudden loud sound.

“Yah, hyung. You scared me!” Hobi clutches his chest.

“Sorry. Pouring ice quietly is impossible,” he remarks sarcastically. “What are you doing?”

“N-nothing. Just pouring drinks,” Hobi stutters.

“You sure about that? You look like you’re hiding.” Yoongi accuses.

“Hiding? I’m not hiding! I’m right out in the open.”

“I meant you’re hiding from her.” Yoongi tilts his chin up, gesturing in your direction.

Hobi looks back in your direction and then laughs uncomfortably at Yoongi’s comment. “I’m not!” His voice rose several octaves.

Yoongi blinks languidly at him. “You’re not going to make me do this, are you?” He deadpans.

Hobi scrunches his face up in confusion.

Yoongi takes a deep breath and realizes that he's about to give the classic rom-com speech of encouragement as the trusted friend. "Why don't you just go up and talk to her?”

Hobi licked his lips and clicked his teeth. “It’s not that simple, hyung.”

"Not that simple?" he repeats. "For years, I've heard you say, 'All I need is a few moments with her.' Now she's right here, and you're hiding."

Before Hobi can answer, Taehyung strolls over to pick up the shots from the bar. He returns Taehyung's gratitude with a smile before walking away.

Once he is out of earshot, Hobi turns his attention back to Yoongi. "I don't know if I can, hyung."

"Of course, you can! You've practiced this speech for years!" Yoongi scolds Hobi.

Hobi wonders if he's whined to Yoongi too much about you. He's spent years regretting leaving and giving Sam the opening to win you over. He's tried, but failed, to move on. He releases a sharp breath, waving Yoongi off.

"I mean, even if I told her everything, it's not like it would change anything," he says, tearing his gaze away from you as he busies himself wiping already-clean glasses.

"Yeah, but at least you'd get it all out there," Yoongi shoots back. "And who knows? Maybe she has a lot to say to you, too."

Hobi has always wondered if you found closure all these years because he certainly hasn't. On the rare occasions that he feels lonely, he and Dara will meet up after-hours. She kept his bed warm some nights, but when the sheets cooled down in the morning, it was another reminder that she wasn’t you.

"I wouldn't even know where to start," he mutters.

Yoongi shrugs his shoulders. "Can't help you there. But while you think about that, I can at least get you started." He grabs the bottle of tequila from Hobi and retrieves two more shot glasses, pouring the liquor.

"Hyung, come on, we're working here," Hobi protests.

Yoongi snorts. "I'm working, whereas you own the place. There's a slight distinction there."

“When you put it that way,” Hobi arches an eyebrow and asks him pointedly, "Should you be drinking?"

Yoongi doesn't take his question seriously. "I drink regardless. Now, you, on the other hand," he slides a shot of tequila toward Hobi, "...should be drinking."

Hobi hesitates for a moment, then decides to pick up his glass. As he does so, Yoongi raises his own and says, "Geonbae."

"Geonbae," Hobi responds as they clink their glasses together. The warmth of the alcohol spreads throughout his body, relaxing him. Nervously, he looks over at you.

"I can't believe you talked me into this," Hobi says, shaking his head.

Yoongi grins at him. "You'll thank me later.”

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