All Wound Up (Harder) | KSJ, PJM

All Wound Up (Harder) | KSJ, PJM

All Wound Up (Harder) | KSJ, PJM

Pairing: Seokjin x Reader x Jimin

Genre: smut, porn with the barest of plots, strangers to lovers, Rock Star!AU

Rating: M (18+)

Warnings: swearing, drinking, kissing, oral (m + f receiving), facefucking, fingering, masturbation (m), handjobs, multiple cumshots, teasing, orgasm denial/edging, nipple tweaking, pinching, light spanking, thigh slapping, finger sucking, threesome, rough sex, spitroasting, squirting, Jimin's tongue, yes that needs its own warning, brat tamer Jin agenda, Fire Jin and Mic Drop Jimin are the visuals but with a lot more sweat and body chains, prodigious use of the words "brat" "sir" and "good girl" so don't say I didn't warn you, pure sunshine Hoseok agenda

Word Count: 11K

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

Summary: It's Jin and Jimin's turn for their body chain fittings. Will you finish the job and go home, or will this turn into another unforgettable night?

A/N: It's finally here! The sequel to All Wound Up (Tighter), which was inspired by the body harnesses worn by the vocal line at Permission to Dance On Stage. This can be read as a standalone fic if you haven't read the first one!

This is basically PWP again, so please be advised that reality truly doesn't factor in here. In the real world, there would probably be more of a discussion about kinks and limits, but is just a story of filthy strangers about to get it on. It's one hundred percent pure indulgence. Please enjoy. 😈

(Also this is my first attempt at writing brat taming, so... please be kind! 🥺)

Unbeta'd as usual. Let me know what you think - my inbox is open!💕

Masterlist 💜 Find me on AO3 💜 Join my permanent taglist

All Wound Up (Harder) | KSJ, PJM

“Sugar! What a delightful surprise. Aren’t you supposed to be at your fitting with Jin and Jimin?”

“I sure am. So would you care to tell me why I’m at their hotel suite right now and they are not?” You sigh into your phone, listening as your business partner taps away on his laptop.

“Um, I’m not sure. My last email exchange with Yoongi says they’d be ready for you at four. Let me call him real quick and see what’s going on, okay?” Hoseok offers.

“Okay.” Hanging up, you slide down the wall to sit against the door, glancing at your watch with a frown.

As the owner of a successful body accessories shop, Dark & Wild, you really don’t have time to spare. Your jewelry is in high demand, especially after two of the members of the band Dead Leaves wore your body chains during the first leg of their sold out world tour. 

You painstakingly craft every piece yourself. As your company’s popularity grows, so does your need to be back in your workshop, not sitting in the hallway of the ritzy Black Swan hotel, waiting for the other half of the band to show up for a fitting for their own custom harnesses.

Your phone buzzes. “Got some bad news, sugar,” Hoseok softly coos, obviously trying to cushion whatever blow he’s about to deliver. “It looks like Yoongi got the dates mixed up. He thought the fitting was tomorrow. The band’s still at rehearsal right now.”

“Well, that’s just fucking great. I’ve wasted my time getting here today, and I can’t be here tomorrow because I have that out-of-town meeting with my silver guy, remember?” 

“I do remember, since I’m the one who scheduled it. But it’s okay - I have some good news, too.”

You lean your head against the door. “Why the fuck didn’t you lead with that?”

Hoseok laughs, the sunny sound filling the hallway. “Sorry, I figured it was better to start with the bad. Anyway, Yoongi is sending someone over to pick you up and take you to the concert venue. He said you’re welcome to hang out until rehearsal ends - should only be another hour or so - or you can hang out in the artist’s lounge backstage. You can do the fitting there when they’re done.”

“Sure, whatever,” you reply, grabbing the handle of your suitcase, which holds the custom pieces. “Tell Yoongi I’m charging him for the time I have to sit here waiting.”

“I’ll pass along the message,” Hoseok promises, hanging up as you drag your suitcase back to the lobby.

Yoongi apparently took your billing threat seriously, because only a few minutes later, you spot a tall slab of beefcake bounding towards you. His tight black “Security” shirt looks like it’s two seconds from ripping at the seams as he smiles at you, dimples popping out.

He calls out your name as a question and you nod. “Yoongi-ssi sends his apologies,” the tall man says. “I’m Namjoon. I’ll be your ride to Heaven.” 

“I bet,” you mutter under your breath, following him out to where an idling black SUV waits.

Dead Leaves typically sell out giant coliseums and stadiums, but for this tour, they’re going back to their roots and only playing in intimate venues. The show they’re rehearsing for today is at Stairway to Heaven, the iconic dive bar slash rock’n’roll club where all the greats who have passed through your city have played over the years.

This is what Namjoon informs you as you sit quietly in the passenger’s seat, resting your head against the window. You didn’t ask and you don’t care, but he’s more than happy to fill you in anyway. You get the feeling he doesn’t get to do a lot of talking in his line of work, eyeing the scrapes on his knuckles and the swell of his biceps. 

The band is on stage when you arrive at the club. Namjoon leads you to the balcony, which is really just a metal catwalk ringing the main floor. “You can hang out here,” he shouts over the music. “Or if you want to wait in the green room, it’s downstairs. Just take a left at the bottom of the stairs and follow the signs.”

You shoot him a thumbs up and he disappears. 

As the band strikes up another emo pop punk power ballad, your eye is drawn to familiar faces. The bass player, a dark-haired Adonis with a sprawling tattoo of branches and flowers trailing down his shirtless torso. Taehyung. And behind the drum kit, sporting purple hair now instead of pretty mint, tongue flicking out to lick at his lip ring as he pounds away, is Jungkook. The two men who’d worn your body chains. 

Visions of their fitting flash before your eyes. Memories of two pairs of hands. Two mouths. Two incredibly sexy men, making you cum harder than you’d ever cum in your life.

You turn away, not even bothering to look at the other two band members. What happened last time was a one-time thing. A total fluke. This time, you’re going to keep it professional. Do the fitting, make any necessary alterations, and get the fuck out.

Right? Right.

Turns out Dead Leaves’s music is actually really catchy. But you decide to go wait in the green room anyway. Hopefully, the band will finish shortly and you can get the fitting done and be back on your way to your studio before your entire day is shot. 

All Wound Up (Harder) | KSJ, PJM

Forty-five minutes later, you’re still waiting. You’re also pretty tipsy. 

All desire to maintain your professionalism goes straight out the window when you spot the impressive tequila collection in the bar at the back of the artist lounge, a literally green room with bright lime velvet curtains hanging from the walls. Plush leather couches line one side, makeup mirrors and vanities the other. It’s fairly swank for such an old rattrap of a club. Even the private bathroom is nice, with a surprisingly large glass double shower stall for the band to use.

Typically, you wouldn’t drink on the job, but the longer you wait, the longer you feel like you deserve a little treat. You pour yourself one shot, and it goes down smooth like butter, so you pour a second. Then you decide to put on some music while you wait, playing with the ancient jukebox in the corner of the room.

It’s as you’re taking the third shot, tipping your head back while you dance around the lounge, that the door opens and two angels walk in.

These heavenly blond men, one tall and broad shouldered, the other shorter and slender, gaze at you in surprise with wide innocent eyes, obviously not expecting to find you tipsy and grinding it out to “How Do You Want It?” like the rent is due tomorrow.

Slamming the empty shot glass on the bar, you wipe your mouth delicately as you grin. “Hi. I got bored.”

“Hi,” the tall one says. “I’m Jin.”

“Nice to meet you. I’m Jimin.” The shorter one flashes a cherubic smile. “Sorry about the wait.”

As they approach, you are struck by two thoughts: fuck, they’re hot, and fuck, they’re sweaty.

Jin peels off a black duster-length leather coat, revealing a white button-up that is totally drenched with sweat. Meanwhile, Jimin’s black t-shirt is sticking to him, outlining every muscle underneath. His plaid pants cling to obscenely thick thighs.

And you’re here to do a fitting. To put your hands all over those bodies.

Which has you wondering… where are the other two? Not that you need them here or anything. Just curious. 

Jimin notices you eyeing the door. “Taehyung and Jungkook needed to get back to the hotel,” he says, sliding behind the bar. “They said hi, by the way.” He knocks back a shot of tequila and grins, eyes squeezing into tiny crescents.

“Yeah,” Jin leans against the bar beside you, a similarly bright smile on his face. “I think they wanted to come say hello in person, but they’re doing an interview.” He downs the shot Jimin hands him as you wave away his offer to refill your glass.

“Oh. Cool.” Two fewer distractions to deal with. Definitely for the best. At least these two don’t throw off any sinful tempter vibes like the other two did. Jimin and Jin have such a sweet energy. Maybe you can knock this fitting out fast enough to get a ride home from Namjoon before your buzz wears off. Then maybe you can ride Namjoon at home. 

No more tequila for you.

“So, where do you want us?” Jin asks.

Déjà vu. 

You tilt your head slightly, wishing you hadn’t had that third shot. Then you glance at both men’s damp shirts again. “Do you, uh, need a minute to clean up or shower or whatever? Like, don’t let me stop you. You look like you’ve been rehearsing hard. ”

Jimin laughs. “Is that your polite way of saying we look disgusting?” he inquires, a mischievous gleam in his eye.

“No, no!” You wave your hands. “I just thought you might want to make yourselves more comfortable. I’m clearly interrupting your usual post-rehearsal routine.”

“Oh no, please, we’re the ones inconveniencing you!” Jin claims, eyes widening again. The silver chains dangling from his ears bounce as he shakes his head. “Yoongi-ah told us how busy you are. He feels really terrible about the mix-up and told us to make sure we took care of you.”

“Yeah, so if you don’t mind that we’re a little sweaty, we can go ahead and start. We don’t want to make you wait any longer,” Jimin finishes.

It’s obviously going to be a standoff between who can be the most accommodating, so you decide to cave. 

“I don’t mind if you don’t mind,” you declare, and grasp the handle on your case. “We can just use the mirrors here. Who wants to go first?”

“Go ahead, hyung,” Jimin says, tipping more tequila into his mouth. 

Popping your case open, you retrieve Jin’s harness as you wait for him to remove his shirt. He makes no such movement. After a few seconds, you clear your throat. “Uh. You gonna take that off, or…?”

Jin blinks. “Do you need me to?”

“Well, I thought… I mean, Taehyung and Jungkook said…” The other two told you they perform shirtless, so you just assumed the whole band did. You’re not really sure why you made that leap. “They don’t wear shirts on stage.”

“Ah. Right. Well, I do.”

“Yeah, hyung’s not a show-off like our maknaes,” Jimin chimes in, propping his chin in his hand on the bar. “Or me. He’s got class.”

“I wouldn’t go that far,” Jin winks. 

“The harness is designed to be worn over clothing as well, so it doesn’t matter, anyway.” You lift the chain and nod for him to step forward.

Jin stoops slightly so you can drape the chain over his neck. You slowly circle him, smoothing out the harness over the sodden wrinkles of his starch-white shirt. Patches of the material are so soaked that they’re see-through, giving you a glimpse of sun-kissed skin beneath. 

“Hmmm,” he hums, glancing at himself in one of the makeup mirrors on the wall as you step back. “Maybe it would be better without a shirt.” His fingers make quick work of his buttons and he starts to slip the top off. 

With a sigh, you help him remove the shirt without getting tangled up in his chain. His skin is so slick beneath your hands. Normally, you’d wrinkle your nose in disgust at a stranger’s sweat underneath your fingertips, but the shots have dulled your reactions a little so you don’t mind. It helps that he smells like tequila and strawberries mixed with his natural muskiness. It’s a heady concoction.

Or maybe that’s the liquor. 

Either way, it takes you a moment to realize he asked you something. 

“Sorry, what?” You meet his gaze in the mirror. He smirks for a second before he repeats himself. 

“I said, I think I like this better. What’s your professional opinion?”

Your professional opinion? The harness perfectly accents his sculpted body. 

No wonder the man prefers to keep his shirt on when he’s on stage. It’s bad enough he walks around with that handsome face. He’d probably start a riot if he walked around topless, too. His skin shimmers with his exertion, sweat clinging to his arms and pecs, and he seems even broader now without any clothing hiding his frame. The chain draws your eye down his back, from his wide shoulders to his rather tapered waist. He’s got those upside-down triangle proportions. A perfect Dorito.

Your unprofessional opinion? He’s hot as fuck and the chain would give you something to hold on to while you ride him into the sunrise.

Maybe you should drink some water.

The design Jin requested doesn’t appear at first to be as flashy as the others. It’s a simple chain, one loop around his neck, one strand running down his front, one down his back, ending in flares over his hips. But when he shifts, the metal catches the light, revealing tiny droplets of moissanite woven into the strands. The sparkling effect makes him even more dazzling. Especially when he unleashes that brilliant smile, warm chestnut eyes shimmering as he waits for your answer.

“I think it works.” 

Jimin joins his bandmate by the mirror. “Damn, hyung, you should definitely wear this and nothing but this on stage tomorrow night. Everyone will lose their minds.” His fingers ghost down the chain hanging on Jin’s back. “Okay, can I put mine on now?” Jimin turns to you excitedly. 

“Hold on a sec. Do you like the way it hangs, Jin? Is the length ok? The tightness?” You return to his side. “If you need any alterations, I can make those tonight and have this ready for you to wear tomorrow. If that’s what you want.” 

Jin appraises himself in the mirror. “I don’t think it needs anything. You're really talented, you know that?”

“I do. But it never hurts to hear it,” you grin. “If you don’t need anything changed, then it’s all yours.” 

Jimin claps. “Now do me!” 

The eternal 13-year-old in your head snickers at his words as you delicately remove Jimin’s harness from your case. Jimin yanks his shirt over his head and once again you’re greeted by the sight of bronzed skin coated in a glossy sheen of sweat. He’s lithe, more of a dancer’s build than rippling muscles, and like his absent bandmates, he has some ink, the word “Nevermind” scrawled along his ribcage while an ornately-written “Youth” hides behind one of his ears. On the back of his neck is a sliver of a moon. 

As he lowers his head, you arrange the chain around him, fingers flying to work any kinks away. Jimin’s chain has the longest neck piece, the v dipping all the way down to his navel. His links are larger than the others, more ornate, and hanging on such a gorgeous man, the effect is rather regal. 

As you finish uncoiling the flares over his hips, you brush your fingers over the tattoo on his side. “Nirvana?”

He shakes his head. “Everyone always guesses that.” 

“It’s a secret. He won’t even tell us,” Jin pipes up from one of the couches. He’s still wearing his chain, absentmindedly twining it around his hand, looking every inch the sweaty rock god he is.

“You guys already know too much about me. Gotta keep some mystery in our relationship,” Jimin grins cheekily, tugging on one of silver hoops hanging from his ear.

You simply hum, observing the harness closely, looking for any imperfections. Finding none.

You’re definitely not also examining the incredible body underneath. This entire band is nothing but ridiculously hunky men, huh? 

“So what’s the verdict?” you ask, extending a hand to straighten a few links. Your fingers once again skim over the smooth skin of his shoulder blade, perhaps lingering a second or two longer than necessary. 

Jimin’s expression changes as he assesses his reflection. He looks almost stern now, blond hair flopping over his furrowed brow, critically scrutinizing his appearance. Evaluating your work. 

“I love it,” he finally announces, a beatific smile lighting up his face. “It’s perfect as is.” 

“Fantastic.” Well, that was fucking easy. You glance at your watch. There’s still enough time for you to get back to your studio and get some work done without having it bleed into your night. Although, maybe you should wait to sober up a little more before you handle any machinery or tools. You’re still pondering this as Jin stands.

“Question - can we get these wet?”

“Hmm? Oh, yeah, I wouldn’t, like, wear them swimming every day or anything, but they’ll be fine.” You eye the chain dangling from his chest. “Why, are you worried about all that sweat tarnishing them?”

Jin laughs, a goofy squeaking honk that has you giggling despite yourself. You’re a lot of things, but a giggler’s not one of them. “No, but should I be? That’s the second time you’ve pointed out how gross we are after rehearsing.” 

“Ah, that’s not… actually, no, you’re right, the two of you are pretty nasty right now,” you reply with a teasing grin, zipping up your case.

“Hey!” Jimin protests, plump lips forming a pout. “We’re not that bad. You should see us after a concert.” 

“Besides, I didn’t hear you complaining when you had your hands all over me earlier,” Jin adds, wiggling his eyebrows faux seductively. 

“Excuse me? I didn’t have my hands ‘all over you,’ I was helping you adjust the harness!” you correct him with an indignant snort. “Believe me, if I had, we wouldn’t be having this discussion right now.” 

Well, that’s not quite what you meant to say. And now you can’t stop imagining running your hands all over his slick skin, caressing the areas you didn’t get to touch earlier, like the ridges of his abs… damn it, you need to focus right now! You’re so close to being done here, so why are you trying to drag things out? Just wrap it up so you can leave!

Jin loses his silly expression, eyebrow lifting in sincere curiosity now. “And why is that?”

For the briefest of moments, you consider laughing and changing the subject, but something about the look in his eye awakens your more playful side. There’s no harm in indulging in some flirtation, right? It’s been a long week. Might as well enjoy yourself a little.

It’s not like this fitting is going to end like the last one. You’re almost out the door now. Pretty much.

“I mean, you’ve seen my handiwork,” you purr, reaching out to stroke the strand of metal hanging from his neck, sliding your fingers along the links. ”Do you really think if I got my talented hands all over you, you’d still be able to speak right now?”

Maybe you laid it on a little thick. You’ve never seen a man’s iris visibly darken like that before. Jin’s eyebrow rises again as the corner of his mouth lifts. “I stand corrected.” 

“Mmmhmm. That’s what I thought.” Pulling the handle on your case, you look at the door. “So, do I just talk to Namjoon about getting a ride home, or….”

“Ah, Namjoon-ah is already gone. He took Tae and Kook to the hotel,” Jin explains.

“Oh.” Damn. There goes your trip to heaven. “Well, okay, can someone else here give me a ride home?” 

“I’m sure we can arrange something,” Jimin says. “Are you in a hurry to leave?” 

“Kinda. I have a lot of work waiting for me.” 

“Wait, are we done with the fitting?” Jin interjects. 

“Uh, yes? I mean, you both said you were happy with your chains as is, right? No alterations needed?” 

“Sure, but what about testing the quality of the chains?” 

The blank look you shoot him prompts Jin to continue.  

“You know, you say the harnesses are safe in water, but then tomorrow night we get on stage, and we splash some water bottles around, and next thing you know, these chains are all rusty.” He pauses, tipping his head towards his bandmate. “Jimin, don’t you think we should get a little demonstration? Make sure the chains can hold up to some serious wetness?”

Jimin glances at his hyung, and though you can’t quite interpret the look that passes between them, given the glimmer in Jimin’s deep brown orbs, you’re fairly certain you get the gist. 

“Yeah, you’re right,” Jimin nods, sly smile creeping across his face. “Yoongi’d never let us hear the end of it if we spent all this money on this jewelry only to have it corrode on us. And the last thing we need is an annoyed Yoongi-hyung.” 

“You wouldn’t want to leave us disappointed, would you?” Jin takes a step closer, his long fingers tangling in his chain as he peers at you. 

You glance from man to man. Both are waiting for your answer.

The pile of work waiting back in your studio is practically screaming your name at this point. So why are you still standing here, contemplating your next move? 

You know exactly why. You can’t stop thinking about the last fitting. That session ended the way it did because those two made you a very enticing offer. These two haven’t done any such thing yet, but they’re clearly dragging things out–they can’t possibly be serious about testing the “quality” of the chains, can they? They obviously want you to stay a little longer.

So what do you want? 

“Okay, so what, you need a demonstration or something?”

Both men nod. 

“Well, I suppose I could show you…” you spin around the room before pointing to the private bathroom. “In there?” 

The three of you crowd around the pedestal sink. Another playful urge comes over you. With a twist of the tap, you grab a handful of water and fling it at Jin, purposefully missing the chain dangling from his chest and hitting his face instead. He yelps in surprise. 

“Hey!” 

You and Jimin laugh as he sputters. 

“See? It holds up fine.” You gesture to the metal. 

“Uh, it barely got wet,” Jimin points out. 

“Yeah, you only hit my face!” Jin glares.

Sighing, you nod. “You’re right, I’m sorry. Let me try again.” You cup your hand and immediately toss more water at Jin’s handsome face. Jimin’s cackles grow louder as Jin grabs a hand towel, dabbing his eyes.

“Sorry, sorry, my aim is so bad today!” You reach for the tap and Jin suddenly grabs your forearm with his hand. “Hey!” 

A nasty artillery of curse words start to launch themselves from your lips, but the hard look he gives you makes you fall silent. “Don’t you even think about throwing one more handful,” he drawls slowly, speaking calmly, as his thumb softly caresses the inside of your wrist, back and forth. 

A shiver runs through you at the timbre of his voice.

“Okay. I won’t throw one,” you promise, all sweetness and light as you smile at him. 

As soon as he releases you, you scoop up water with both hands. 

It splashes everywhere, hitting Jin’s face, neck, chest, even you and Jimin get sprayed. The shorter man doubles over in laughter as Jin sputters in shock. As he dries his face again, Jin’s eyes sweep over you from head to toe, carefully assessing you. Another tingle races down your spine.

Then he draws himself up to his full height and your mirth evaporates completely. He pushes his dripping hair back from his face as he glowers, tongue poking his cheek, full lips pursed. The heat from his gaze ironically freezes you, and you go completely still as he curls his long fingers around both of your wrists. With a sharp yank, he pulls you to him, and you gasp. He holds you with a firm grip, not tight enough that you couldn’t break away. This close, you can feel the heat of his body. 

“Brat,” he rasps, the tone of his voice much lower than before. “That was very rude. I distinctly told you not to do that.” His gaze is unfathomably dark, sending a jolt of excitement shooting through you, right to your core. Fuck, that look just makes you want to piss him off more.

“No, you told me not to throw one handful. I didn’t. I threw two.” You lift your chin defiantly, a proud smirk on your lips. 

Jin’s eyes narrow. “Jimin,” he says, craning his head to look around you. “Did you hear that?”

Holy fuck, while reveling in Jin’s smoldering gaze, you nearly forgot about the other man, who is silently observing the two of you. Just watching. 

More déjà vu. 

“Mmmhmm. She’s got a real smart mouth, hyung.” Jimin’s hands dance over your shoulders as he comes up behind you. The rings on his fingers press lightly into your bare arms, and as he steps closer, you find yourself trapped between the bandmates. 

“If you think this is me being a smartass, you-” 

Jin grabs your chin, cutting off your retort. “He wasn’t talking to you, brat.” His eyes flash. 

Well. This is not a situation you typically find yourself in. Not just the physical, standing between two insanely gorgeous men, but letting anyone talk to you this way. You have a reputation for being a ballbuster for several reasons. You have literally kicked multiple people in the balls over the years for saying less to you. 

But right now you don’t want to do or say a thing to break the delicious tension in the room. Wherever this is going, you are in. 

“Bold little brat, coming in here, drinking all our tequila, calling us gross, disobeying our requests and now talking back?” Jin tsks, skimming his hand down your neck. Despite his rough tone, his touch is gentle, and you practically burn for more. “What should we do about that?”

Jimin sniffs. “What we always do, hyung. Teach them a lesson.” 

Well, fuck. You’re suddenly glad you didn’t leave earlier. Work has been so much lately - busy is good, but busy is stressful - and you’re in dire need of a release. The pile of unfinished projects back at your studio will have to wait. You need to know what these two have in mind. 

Jin nods in agreement with his bandmate. “Any suggestions?”

“I have a few,” you hum, knowing full well that he wasn’t talking to you. Jin’s eyebrows rise. He leans so close, you can feel his breath on your lips.

“Did I address you, brat? Say your name, hmm?” 

“No.” 

“No…?”

Oh, fuck, we’ve got ourselves a sir. This isn’t usually your thing, but… what the hell. You can play along.

“No, sir,” you intone politely, licking your lips.

Jin huffs in amusement. “Well, look at that, it’s not just her mouth that’s smart. She knows exactly what to say now, huh?” His head tips to the side again, that appraising look wandering over your frame, lingering on your chest, your hips. “Good girl. Keep it up.” 

“That’s what we like to hear,” Jimin adds, hands massaging your shoulders. His fingers are rough, unsurprising for a guitarist, and as they dig into the knots in your neck, a tiny moan slips past your lips. “Oh, she’s all wound up, hyung. Did that feel good?” His voice is a whisper in your ear, breath a ghost on your skin. 

“Yes,” you groan, and the fingers stop. Shit. “Yes, sir.” 

Jimin chuckles as Jin tugs you against his chest again, snapping your attention back to him. “So… are you ready to learn?”

It’s a simple question. You know what he’s really asking. This is it - last exit. Last chance to bow out. Because you’re pretty sure once you answer, there’s no going back. 

Fuck it. You’re in. 

“Yes, sir.” 

Jin studies your face carefully, suddenly rather serious. “If anything gets too much for you, you stop us right away by saying a safe word. Can you think of a word you want to use?” 

Shit. How rough are these two about to get? You’re pretty much down for anything, but you’ve never had to use a safe word before. What are you supposed to pick - something memorable but unlikely to come up naturally, right? “Uh. Sure. How about… alpaca?” 

His lips twitch in mirth. “Alpaca? Okay. If you think you’ll remember that?”

You nod. “Yes, I’ll remember. Sir.” 

That sinful smile again. “Good girl. Then let’s see….” He glances around the small space. “I think you still owe us a proper demonstration. Don’t you think so, Jimin-ah?”

“Definitely, hyung.” Jimin wanders over to the glass shower stall. “I don’t think we can trust her with the sink, though. We better try it here. In case it gets messy.” 

“Oh, I know it’s going to get messy. But she’s not going to try another trick like that. Are you?” Jin asks, once more grasping your chin with his fingers. You gaze into his molten eyes as you attempt to shake your head, but his firm grip keeps it in place. “Use your words.” 

“No… sir.” It is not in your nature to address someone like this. You’re absolutely going to forget at some point and it’s absolutely going to get you into trouble, isn’t it? 

The thought sends a hot lick of desire swooping into your stomach. 

Jin releases you and takes a step back. He starts to peel his ridiculously tight jeans off as Jimin also strips down to his boxers. “Come on, brat. Take off those clothes. Don’t want them getting soaked, now do we?” 

Both men stare unabashedly at you as you slowly peel your tank top and jeans off, leaving your lacy black bra and matching panties on. Jimin whistles, and you preen. You’ve never been shy about your body, embracing every curve, and the looks of admiration on their faces bolster you even more. 

“Such pretty packaging,” Jimin murmurs as he pulls you into the shower with him and Jin. “Okay if I unwrap you?” 

You nod, and he just blinks patiently, waiting. “Oh! Yes, sir.” 

With a crooked grin, Jimin slides his hands around your waist and up your back. He’s moving painfully slowly for your taste, but you don’t protest, breath hitching as he tilts his face to yours. Gentle lips caress your own, and as you lean into his kiss, he unhooks your bra before pulling you closer. 

Another pair of hands land on your waist, lightly tugging your panties down. The sensation is so featherlight that it tickles, and you giggle into Jimin’s mouth before moaning as the fingers quickly slip between your legs, smearing through the slickness there with a much rougher touch.

“Hmmm, someone’s eager,” Jin whispers into your ear as he presses himself flat against your back, as much as he can with a massive erection poking into the swell of your ass. The silk of his boxers rubs against you as he continues. “You want me to keep going?” His fingers hover at your entrance.

“Please, sir,” you gasp, breaking away from Jimin’s plush lips long enough to answer. The shorter man’s own hardness pokes into your thigh as you push back against Jin, waiting for him to slide one of those long fingers inside you. 

Only to let out a wail of disappointment as he withdraws his hand from where you want it most and gives you a little slap on your ass. The sting makes you jump in shock.

“You really think you deserve that right now, brat?” Jin smacks your cheek again, and you whimper pathetically, surprising yourself. “We’d be pretty terrible at this if we rewarded you now, wouldn’t we?” 

A million retorts run through your mind but you choke them down. “Yes, sir.” 

Jimin smiles sweetly, his hand soothingly rubbing the spot where Jin’s smacks still twinge. “Don’t worry. Just do what we tell you and we’ll make sure you get what you want.” His smile becomes something darker, more devilish. “Eventually.” 

In tandem, Jimin and Jin drop their boxers. You attempt not to gawk as their cocks spring free. Jin’s is just as long as you’d expected given his height, but you’re shocked to discover how thick the shorter man’s is. Jimin catches you gaping and shoots you a wink. 

“Let’s get wet,” he trills playfully, and with a twist of the knob on the wall, water begins to pour from the double showerhead above. 

Both men run their hands through their hair as the water cascades over their naked bodies. Jimin brushes the damp strands out of his face before he grabs your hand and tugs you over, spinning you around so Jin can kiss you while his own hands roam over your backside. The elder’s tongue slips between your panting lips as Jimin squeezes your ass, his mouth suctioning to your neck. There is warm, slick skin all around you, pressing into every exposed inch of your front and back, and for a moment you lose yourself in the sensation, eyes closing in bliss. 

Jin pulls away, tipping his head back to let the shower run down his broad shoulders and over his chest. The chain glitters in the light reflecting off the drops of water that cling to it as he holds the metal out to inspect. “Looks like it’s holding up well.” 

“Well, duh, I told you it was water resistant! I mean, hello, I can tell you exactly what it’s made of. The metal is–” Your eyes go wide as one of Jimin’s hands snakes around and clamps your mouth shut, gently pinching your lips between his thumb and forefinger. “Mmmph!”

“Wow, you just can’t stop with the attitude, can you?” he tuts, other arm wrapping around your waist to hold you flush to him. “Hyung, what are we going to do with this mouth?”

“I think we need to keep it busy,” Jin replies, eyes glimmering. Something about the look in his eye has you clenching around nothing. “You know, I’m not sure this shower is really doing the trick. Maybe you should help us out, brat.” He laughs. “Since you so rudely told us we were disgusting earlier, I think you should be the one to clean us.”

Jimin releases your lips so you can answer. “You want me to… wash you?” Your fingers twitch at the thought of finally getting to roam over their taut bodies. Jin gives you a look. “Uh, sir?”

Jin nods, and Jimin’s arm drops to let you move. Okay. Not quite what you expected them to ask you to do, but fine. You don’t mind. But as you reach for the soap and washcloths tucked into a niche in the shower wall, Jin holds his arm out, blocking you.

“Uh-uh,” he clucks his tongue. “Not with those.”

Oh, of course. Honestly, how did you not see this coming? 

“Tongue only,” Jin commands, dragging his fingers along your jaw and tapping your lips with his crooked pointer. “Now get to work.”

Stepping under the stream of water raining down, you tentatively approach the taller blonde, unsure where exactly to start. He grins, tilting his head to the side to expose his neck, and you rise up on your tiptoes, sliding the tip of your tongue between your teeth to give an experimental lick. 

Fuck, he even tastes like strawberries. 

A contented hum rumbles through Jin’s chest as you run your tongue down his throat, gathering the sweat and salt hidden in the little notch between his collarbones. You reach out with both hands to touch him, but Jimin stops you, locking his fingers around your wrists.

“Oh no, none of that,” he sings over your shoulder, tugging on your forearms. You understand immediately what he wants, allowing him to bring your arms behind your back. “Keep these here,” he demands, his fingers lacing yours together. “Can’t have you using your hands. Or touching yourself. You gotta earn that. Do you understand?”

“Really? No hands?” darts past your lips before you can stop it. 

There’s a sharp pinch on your ass. You jump with a squeal. “Hey!”

Another pinch. This time, you bite your tongue, glaring over your shoulder at the pincher, who merely smiles behind you.

“When I tell you to answer me, I’m not asking for commentary,” Jimin states, clucking his tongue. “A simple ‘yes, sir’ or ‘no, sir,’ will suffice. Got it?”

“Yes. Sir.” Goddamn it, how do people remember to keep using that word? And can you really keep quiet like they want you to? This stuff doesn’t come naturally to you, but you’ll be damned if you’re going to stop, especially now, as you tip your chin up again to return to your task. 

Without your hands to keep you steady, you’re a little awkward as you keep moving down, flicking your tongue over one of his dusky brown nipples, then the other. Water trickles into your lips, mingling with the tang of his sweat. Jin doesn’t seem to mind that you keep bumping your nose against him. He sighs happily while you lave over his torso, kissing and licking the whole way as you sink to your knees.

“Good girl,” he murmurs as you settle yourself between his legs. Another wave of arousal rolls through your belly. You actually like it when he calls you that. Surprising. The phrase always struck you as condescending, but from Jin’s luscious lips, it sounds like the highest praise. “Now let’s keep that mouth busy, okay?” His hand pumps his cock lazily a few times, and you sit back on your heels, just waiting. “Come here, brat. Come get a taste.” 

Jin’s wide shoulders block most of the water from the shower from hitting you as you rise up on your knees and lean towards the anaconda in his hand. There’s absolutely no way you’re getting that whole thing in your mouth without gagging, even for someone without much of a gag reflex. But you’ll sure as hell try anyway. 

“Better open wide,” Jimin advises, standing next to Jin under the other showerhead. He slowly strokes his cock, gaze fixed on your mouth. “Stick out that sharp tongue, baby, and let us see what else it’s good for, besides talking back.” 

Letting your jaw drop, you scoot forward as Jin lays the head of his cock on your tongue. You swirl around him, wetting the tip before you suck it into your mouth. “That’s it,” Jin groans, as his head rolls back. His eyes close for a second, but then he reopens them, not wanting to look away as you take more of him in. “Show me what this mouth was made for.” 

You merely hum in assent, focusing on keeping your jaw relaxed and your throat open as Jin plunges in languidly, reveling in the delicious wet heat of your mouth. It’s weird doing this without your hands to balance yourself. And you want to touch him, stroke the length that isn’t in your mouth yet, make sure he’s enjoying everything you can give him, but you remember Jimin’s instructions and keep your hands behind your back, tightly clutching.

One of Jin’s large hands cups the back of your head as he continues to slide more of himself into your waiting lips. “Ready to take more?” He starts to thrust a little faster. “Like this? Can you take it, brat?” 

“Mmmm,” you gurgle, saliva flooding your mouth, and you swallow around him. He moans and picks up his pace. His hand presses your head forward, and you don’t resist, letting him guide you as wants. 

“Go on, hyung, she can handle it.” Jimin’s own tongue snakes out of his mouth to lick at the corner of his lips as he grips his erection, jerking faster. “Look at her. She’s ready. Fuck that sass right out of that mouth.” 

“Fuck, yeah, she’s ready, aren’t you, brat?” Jin smirks down at you. “Gonna fuck your mouth now. Take it like a good girl.” 

Just like in business, when it comes to your sex life, you’re usually the one in control. It’s just how you’ve always been - no matter if it was a long-term relationship or a one night stand, you’ve always been the one calling the shots. To be like this now, on your knees, hands locked behind you, letting this man use your face as a fuck toy… well, it’s new. Even the previous fitting wasn’t like this. 

You’re fucking loving it. 

His hard cock plunges faster into your mouth, and you gaze up at him with wide eyes, trying to impress upon him just how much you want to stay his good girl. The tiles under your knees are hard and cold, but you don’t give a fuck, intent only on getting Jin off and proving you deserve a reward. All you want right now is to make him fall apart on your tongue.

Tears prick at the corners of your eyes as you gag, drool spilling over your lips only to be washed away by the water flowing from the showerheads. Jin fucks your face, his fingers gripping your head, making you bob on him. It’s not just saliva that drips down your body. Your arousal is coating your thighs at this point, and you clench them together tightly, wishing desperately for some friction. 

Jin’s head lolls back again, lost in ecstasy as he thrusts into your throat. With his eyes closed, Jimin appears to also be adrift in rapture, furiously stroking himself to the sounds of your gagging mingling with the moans that slip from Jin’s plump lips. 

Keeping your left hand behind your back, you carefully slide your right hand between your legs and press on your throbbing clit. A low hum bubbles up from your chest, the relief immediate and overwhelming. Jin hisses at the vibrations. “Fuck, brat, that’s it. Just like that.” 

You nearly slip a finger inside yourself, dying to feel something filling your throbbing cunt, but quickly lock your hands behind your back again before either man catches you.

Jin suddenly withdraws from your mouth completely. Shit. Did he see you touch yourself?

“Why?” you whine frustratedly.

Jin laughs, wrapping his fingers around his darkened head. “Poor thing’s cockhungry now, huh? It’s okay, brat, it’s just Jimin’s turn.” 

The other man bites his lush bottom lip as he watches you open your mouth with an expectant look. Huffing a laugh, he taps his cock on your waiting tongue. “Is that as wide as you can go?” 

With an annoyed glare, you open as wide as you possibly can, and his head finally passes through your lips. Jimin doesn’t take his time building up his pace like Jin did. Instead, the younger man immediately begins to thrust as quickly as you can take him, lips stretching around his girth as he ruts away. 

Whereas Jin tasted like strawberries, tart but sweet, Jimin is all salt, a slight tang that you still savor as you work your tongue along the bottom of his thick cock. His scent hits your nose as it bounces off his pelvis, filling your senses with nothing but him, driving all other thoughts out of your head.

“Ahh, shit, that’s a good little mouth,” he hisses as you repeat your actions, sucking and swallowing around him like you did to Jin, who is still gripping himself tightly as he watches. Your eyes bounce from man to man, drinking in their expressions. Jin’s gaze is sharp, focused, while Jimin’s eyelashes flutter against his round cheeks as he moans, running a hand down the chain hanging over his chest. “Fuck, baby, you can use your hands now.”

As soon as you hear the command, you ignore the unceasing need between your legs and reach out and grab Jin’s cock in one hand and Jimin’s in the other. Both men groan harmoniously, and you speed up your pumping, spurred on by the way their noises grow louder, more agitated. 

“Shit, I’m gonna cum,” Jin pants. “Gonna paint you, brat.”

“Oh, fuck, me too, here it comes,” Jimin gasps. 

“Mmmph,” you moan, and Jin’s first spurt hits you in the chin, white dripping down your neck as Jimin’s hips stutter and he cums down your throat. He pulls out as you sputter and choke, but you don’t let a single drop spill, swallowing it all down.

Jimin grabs your hand and helps you to your feet. “Such a good girl,” he murmurs, kissing you softly. “Let’s get you cleaned up, okay?” As he draws you in for another kiss, you feel the ticklish scrub of a cloth on your back, and realize that Jin is gently washing your sweaty, cum-splashed skin. 

After you’re clean, the two men quickly suds themselves down. You spin between them as they lather, trading open-mouthed kisses. Their quick touches are only making your need even stronger, something that both men seem quite aware of as you whimper pitifully under their caresses. 

“Poor baby’s still wound up, huh?” Jimin mutters into your neck, where he is busy leaving a love bite.

“Please,” you moan, puffing out your bottom lip. “I did what you told me to do!” You run your hands over Jimin’s chest, twirling his chain around your fingers. “Didn’t I do a good job? You both seemed to like it.” You flutter your eyelashes, laying it on real thick, and Jimin laughs.

“What do you think, hyung?” Jimin asks, shutting off the shower and reaching for the pile of towels outside the stall, handing you both one. “Does she deserve a reward now?”

“Mmmm, I don’t know,” Jin muses as he dries off. You toss your towel on the floor like the other two do and then follow them out of the bathroom and back into the dressing room. “I guess she was pretty good.” He takes a seat on a couch and stares at you with narrowed eyes. “Maybe a small treat?”

Jimin strolls over to the bar, pouring himself another shot. “Tell us what you want, brat.” 

There’s only one thing you want right now. “I wanna cum. Please, sir,” you add as an afterthought. 

“Do you think you deserve that?” Jin’s gaze feels like it burns through you as you nod vigorously. Absolutely you deserve it. Even if you broke their rule and touched yourself a little. They didn’t see you and you’re not about to say anything to prevent you from getting off right now. 

“Yes. Please, sir.” You clasp your hands in front of you, peering at him with wide, innocent eyes. Somehow you assume that begging might help. “I’ll keep being a good girl, I promise. Please let me cum.” 

“Hmmm.” Jin leans forward, a wicked glint in his eyes as he looks at Jimin. “I guess there’s no reason to deny such a sweet request….” The two men exchange a long glance before Jin nods. 

“Alright. How do you want it, baby?” 

“Yeah, what do you like? We’ll do whatever you want,” Jimin promises with an impish grin, sticking out his tongue. The long pink muscle reaches past his chin as he flicks the tip at you, and you don’t need to think for a second longer about what you’d like. 

“Fuck, I want that,” you proclaim, pointing at him. “I wanna get off on your tongue.” 

Jimin groans, one hand wrapping around your waist to pull you into a sloppy kiss. “Brat wants my tongue? Brat can have it.” He pushes you towards Jin, who reaches out to help you sit between his legs. 

“Hands up here,” Jin orders you, lifting your arms and placing your hands on your head. “Only we can touch you. Got it?”

God, you hope that means they’re going to put their hands all over you. You’re ready to pop.

You lace your fingers together. “Yes sir.” 

Jin’s large hands grip your thighs, spreading you for the other man to see. You’re completely exposed now, unable to hide any part of you, cunt bared and waiting. 

Jimin drops to his knees. The thrumming desire that’s been building since you first deepthroated Jin is nearly unbearable at this point, and you squirm slightly against him as you watch Jimin eye you hungrily. After what feels like an eternity, he leans forward and presses a kiss to your dripping slit. He sucks slightly, lapping up your arousal, and you relax into Jin’s embrace as you sigh loudly. 

“Is that what you needed?” Jin whispers in your ear. His mouth dances down your neck as Jimin finally extends his tongue and licks along your opening before plunging the wet muscle inside. 

Your desire has driven you beyond words, so you can only moan and whimper as Jimin eats you out. Between his strong tongue and his plump lips, you’re in heaven, wriggling against Jin as Jimin suckles on your clit. As you shift, Jin’s chain bites into your skin, leaving tiny impressions of the metal up and down your back. Marking you up.

“Mmm, for such a bad girl, you do taste so sweet.” Jimin runs his tongue along the inside of your thigh, swirling through the wetness clinging there before sucking a hickey into the tender skin, and you mewl, desperately lifting your hips to urge him back to where you need him most. 

Jin’s hands glide up your stomach to play with your breasts, kneading the firm mounds between his lithe fingers. He pinches your nipples, making you gasp. “You like that?” He does it again, and you feel him hardening against your lower back, letting you know that he’s enjoying it as much as you are. 

“Y-yes,” you stutter, dropping your head against his shoulder, eyes closing. Jin removes his hands. “Yes, sir!” you quickly correct yourself, and he rewards you with another sharp tweak. “Fuck!” His teeth nip at your ear. 

Your thighs twitch from the pleasure and pain, and Jimin holds one of your legs down to keep you from closing around his head. 

“Getting close, brat?” he asks, breathing into your core as he nuzzles your clit. 

“God, yes, sir!” You glance down and shudder helplessly at the sight of him, mouth and chin coated in your juices, sinful eyes observing your every move. His lips curl when he sees you watching him.

“Let me get you there, baby,” he rasps, and he sinks a finger into you. Then another.

“Shit!” His mouth, Jin’s mouth, their hands. It’s all too much, a tidal wave of pleasure washing over you. “I’m gonna, oh fuck, I’m gonna-”

Everything stops. Hands fall away. Mouths unlatch. Jimin sits back on his heels.

“Whaaa?” you cry, springing upright as your impending orgasm suddenly vanishes. “Why? I didn’t do anything, my hands are still up here!” You wave them in the air.

Jin’s laughter shakes your body. “Did you really think we didn’t see you in the shower, brat?” You twist to peer at him as he cackles. 

Goddamn it. You thought you’d been so sneaky. Clearly not. 

“We gave you one simple instruction and again you couldn’t follow it! You touched yourself, and then you expected us to reward you? For disobeying?”

You’re so frustrated, you could scream. Instead, you start to whine. 

“I-it was just a little touch!” you protest petulantly. “I didn’t even get off! Barely an-ah!” 

With a yelp, you rub the spot on your inner thigh where Jimin just slapped you. It doesn’t hurt as much as it shocks you. 

“Little touch or not, you were told to keep your hands where Jimin put them. And you didn’t. So no more of that,” Jin points to Jimin, who licks his lips lasciviously, “for you.” 

There’s a hissy fit rumbling inside you, but it’s drowned out by the way your pussy is still very loudly begging for their attention. You’re going to have to actually listen and obey if you want to get off, aren’t you? Time to swallow that pride. 

“I’m-I’m sorry, sir,” you squeak out, turning to face the other man, hoping to find a sympathetic face. He’s been the softer of the two this whole time, so you’re disappointed to find that stern, appraising look on his face, the same one he’d used earlier when he was evaluating his chain. 

“Only good girls get to cum,” Jimin informs you. “Do you know what bad girls get?”

Fuck, from his hard expression, you’re pretty sure it’s nothing good. And yet you’re certain you still want it. 

“No, sir?”

“They get punished,” Jin answers. He slaps your ass, making you flinch. “Stand up, brat.” 

You do as you're told. Both men rummage through one of the vanities, grabbing from a stash of condoms. 

Hold up. Your punishment is for them to fuck you?

“You want to go first?” Jin asks his bandmate.

“Age before beauty, hyung.” Jimin laughs at Jin’s dirty look.

As you watch, wondering what’s about to happen, arousal building in anticipation once again, Jin strokes himself a few times before he rolls the condom down his hard length. He runs his hand through his still damp hair, giving it a little shake while he eyes you up and down. Then he resumes his seat on the couch. “Come here.” He pats his lap. 

You straddle him, hands on his broad shoulders, hovering over his dick, slightly confused. This feels like a reward. You couldn’t be more elated at the moment, already soaking at the thought of both of them filling you up. But you don’t question them as you wait for Jin’s instructions.

He places a finger under your chin and tips your head up to look into his eyes. “You remember your safeword?” 

“Yes sir. Alpaca.” 

“Good.” Without any warning, Jin grabs your waist and guides you down onto his cock, burying himself to the hilt in one smooth move.

“Fuck!” You throw your head back as he immediately begins to pound into you, hands gripping your hips, thighs smacking your ass over and over as he sets a brutal pace. “Oh fuck!” Your hands flail, looking for something to grab onto. His body chain bounces against your torso, and you curl your fingers around the metal links, holding on for dear life. 

“That’s it,” he huffs, exhaling loudly, “fucking take it, brat.” A sheen of sweat breaks out over his forehead as he thrusts away relentlessly. 

“Oh god, oh fuck, Jin, that’s mmmph!” Your babbling ceases as Jimin suddenly sticks two of his fingers into your mouth. 

“Suck, brat,” he commands, and you obey. You can’t see him, but you can hear his moans and the slick sound of his cock as he jerks off behind you.

As quickly as before, your climax approaches. When you start to clench around Jin, he snarls, “Not yet,” and he swiftly rolls you onto your back before he pulls out. 

Goddamn it!

A loud, agonized wail leaves you as you feel another orgasm disappear, and the two men grin. 

Jin holds out his hand and Jimin slaps it as the two men switch places. Jimin arranges himself over you on the couch, nudging your legs apart to lie between them. 

Your frustration boils over. 

“Are you fucking kidding me?” you ask him. “Did you seriously just tag in?”

Jimin sighs, hooded eyes focused on your lips. “You know, I thought we did a good job earlier, washing your mouth out with our cocks, but there’s that sass again.” He finds the aching nub between your legs and gives it a firm pinch. You buck against his hand with a sharp inhale. “Guess we’ll have to try fucking it out of you instead. All night.” 

He keeps his hand pressed against you, and you start to rut against it, eyes rolling back in your head as you huff, “Don’t threaten me with a good time.” 

Jin honks a squeaky laugh, and you tilt your head to glance at him. He’s reclining in a chair at one of the vanities, looking absolutely debauched with his glittering body chain in one hand and his still-hard cock in the other. “Oh, I don’t think she gets it yet, Jimin-ah. Why don’t you go ahead and show her?” 

“Sure thing,” Jimin teases as he slides the tip of his wide cock inside you. He’s thicker than Jin, and the stretch has you gasping. Thankfully, Jimin takes his time, letting you adjust before he plunges forward. “Shit, so tight, baby.” As he bottoms out, he drops his head to kiss you, his long tongue seeking access to your mouth, which you grant happily. 

Then he snaps his hips and you keen as he quickly matches the tempo Jin set earlier, pumping away mercilessly.

“When I say all night, I mean it, brat. But you’re not getting off. Not until we say so.” Jimin presses your thighs into your stomach, bending you in half. “Is that a good punishment for you, brat? Do you think you can handle it? If we fuck you like this, all night long?”

“Ah, ah!” What are words? All you know right now is touch, the sensation of Jimin’s cock stroking into you, his hands gripping your legs, his sweat dripping down your torso. 

“Answer me,” he demands, gritting his teeth as he focuses on hitting that delicious spot inside you with every thrust. “Can you handle it, brat?”

Fuck yes, you can handle it, except no, you can’t. Your body is already nearing climax again, the tension in your gut so close to snapping that your toes are curling, and you honestly don’t know if you want him to stop or keep going. It’s crazy intense, the way they keep bringing you to your peak again and again. Maybe you can take it. Or maybe you’ll explode.

Either way, you want to find out. 

“Fuck. Yes,” you finally pant out a reply, fingers digging into Jimin’s arms. “Sir.” 

Jimin flashes you that crooked grin again, and just as you feel your crest arriving, he stills. You choke back a sob as he rises from the couch. If they want to keep edging you, fine. You’ll show them that you can take it.

Jin fucks you next, on the floor, on your hands and knees. Then Jimin has you ride him reverse cowgirl. Back and forth, taking turns, they bring you to the brink repeatedly. Their stamina is impressive. And fucking maddening. But you bear it all, eagerly taking every ounce of pleasure they offer, kissing, fondling, fucking you to the cusp again and again. With every lost orgasm, you moan and cry, but you don’t complain, hellbent on showing them that you can take your punishment.

“Okay, brat,” Jin finally croons much later as you’re bent over the bar counter, breasts jiggling into the cool marble while he pounds into you, “you’ve been such a good girl for us. I think it’s time for your reward.” 

“Oh god, thank you,” you nearly weep, only for Jin to cease his pumping. “Fuck! Sir!” Goddamn that fucking word!

Jin laughs as he brushes your shoulder with a soft kiss. “It’s all right, I’m just moving you somewhere more comfortable.” 

He tugs on your hand, leading you back to the couch. Jin guides you onto your hands and knees on the cushions as Jimin kneels in front of you, peeling off his condom & chucking it into the trash. “Think you can take me one more time?” Jimin asks, rubbing his thumb over your bottom lip. You nod. 

As your mouth parts to let him in, Jin pushes into you from behind. You rock forward, the momentum of Jin’s thrusts bobbing your head further onto Jimin’s cock. The angle of Jin’s rutting hits that soft spot inside you, exactly where you need him, and he slides a hand between your legs to rub at your clit, rolling the pearl between his nimble fingers. 

“Mmmph!” you moan around Jimin, triggering a chain reaction of groans. First Jimin, who begins to thrust slightly erratically, his rhythm faltering, then Jin, as you bounce wildly back onto his cock. He tightens his grip on your hip, other hand still fondling you, and you whine as best you can with a mouthful of dick. 

This time, when you start to clench around Jin, he doesn’t stop, continuing to drive into you and make you gag on Jimin. But it’s too much. The pressure is too extreme, feeling like you’re about to blow, and you feel it rising up in you, so close to bursting, so close so close -

You let go. Popping off of Jimin’s cock, you drop onto your elbows, burying your face in the couch cushion to sob with relief. Your cunt pulsates, walls squeezing Jin, and your eyes screw shut as you feel your release come flooding out. Jin groans, pulling out, ripping off the condom to pump into his tight fist. 

You’re not sure how long you roll on the waves of ecstasy that sweep over you, but it’s long enough that you barely register both Jin and Jimin riding their own euphoria until you feel something land on your back, hot and sticky. Any other other time, a surprise cumshot would’ve led to you kicking some ass, but you’re so blissed out that you truly don’t care. 

It’s been a while, but you’re pretty sure you just squirted all over the couch. 

With your eyes still shut, there’s nothing but panting and your heart pounding in your ears for several minutes. Then you prop yourself back up on your hands, lifting your head to look at the other two. 

“Good girl,” Jin gives you the warmest smile you’ve seen all night, hands soothingly tracing circles over your lower back. “You did so well for us, baby.”  

“Took all that like a fucking champ.” Jimin adds. He touches your cheek lightly, a soft tap of affection, before he clambers off the couch and into the bathroom. When he returns with a wet cloth, he quickly wipes you clean of your release, and theirs. 

Jin collapses onto the couch. You follow suit, letting him tuck you into his side. Jimin snuggles against you on the other side, laying his head on your shoulder. It’s a rather cozy arrangement, and you feel yourself relaxing completely, like a knot that’s been unwound. 

“So,” Jin drawls, “did you learn your lesson?”

“Yeah,” you sigh happily, fighting the urge to fall asleep nestled between them. 

Neither man speaks. 

“Oh, goddamn it. Yes, sir.” 

You’re jostled as both men shake with laughter. Jin drops a kiss on your temple. "Good girl."

All Wound Up (Harder) | KSJ, PJM

There are lots of things about Hoseok that make him the perfect business partner. Like his incredibly sunny demeanor, which comes in handy with schmoozing clients and wheedling deals out of vendors. 

Unfortunately, sometimes he directs that boundless sunshiny energy your way. Usually at the most annoying times of day, such as seven in the morning while you’re trying to sleep. 

“Sugar!” Hoseok throws himself on your bed, waking you as he bounces. “Time to get up!” 

“Why the fuck did I give you a key?” you grouse, rolling over and throwing an arm over your eyes. 

“Because I’m your best friend. And because sometimes you require a hands-on wakeup call when you have a meeting before noon.” 

“Hmmph.” 

Hoseok isn’t just using “hands-on” as a clichéd descriptor, he means it, as he tickles you until you slap his fingers away and sit up. 

“Okay, I’m up, fuck.” You yawn and stretch, but make no moves to get out of bed. “Did you at least bring–” 

Hoseok points to a coffee cup sitting on your nightstand. He flops onto his back and pulls out his phone.

“God bless you, Jung Hoseok. You’re a saint among men.” 

“I know,” Hoseok replies blithely, already scrolling through his texts as you wait for the caffeine to transform you back into a human again. “Hey, Yoongi wants me to thank you for helping out with his fuck-up yesterday. He sent a really apologetic note.” 

You think back to the events of the previous evening. “Oh, no worries, it was my pleasure.” 

Hoseok cocks an eyebrow at your unusually sweet response as he skims the message. “Let’s see - ‘Please let her know how much I truly appreciate her rolling with the band’s schedule. I know her time is valuable. Jin and Jimin both had nothing but the highest praise for her.’” 

At the word “praise,” you feel a slight stirring in your gut, and smile into your sip of coffee. 

“‘As a token of thanks, I’d like to invite her to join me at their concert Saturday night, as my guest. I’d love to show her my gratitude in person.’” Hoseok looks up at you with a ridiculous pout. “Damn, you must’ve really impressed him! Yoongi’s never given me a free ticket to one of their shows, and I’ve known him for nearly half my life!”

“Well, step up your game, Jung.” 

Hoseok rolls his eyes, but he grins anyway. “He said he’ll leave your ticket at the will call window.” Hoseok glances at you again. “If you don’t want it, I’ll happily take it.” 

Hmm. Well, you don’t have any plans for Saturday night, and the little bit of their music you heard yesterday you’d rather enjoyed. Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad?

Maybe being Yoongi’s guest means the chance to go backstage after the show. 

“You know what? I think I’ll go.”

All Wound Up (Harder) | KSJ, PJM

A/N 2: Part 3? Coming? Someday??

© 2022 by sunshinerainbowsbts. Crossposted to AO3. Please do not copy or repost.

Taglist: @theestrangeddreamer; @parkjiminxfloor; @underratedmisfit; @bangtanintotheroom; @fangirls94; @babycoffeefire; @parkdatjimin; @reliablemitten; @yuugehn; @ut-dixisti; @hesperantha; @seokjinger-ale; ​​@taeshuworld; @nch327; @hannahbee12719ficrecs; @7minsuga96; @dvalitaes; @wonieclub; @thatlongspringnight; @miscelunaaa; @acquiescence804; @itsirisz; @velvetskize; @starbtslove; @ajw05; @bruisedscrewedandtattooed; @minesuga; @greezenini; @aznstoner; @jkkkkkay; @xuxibelle; @soeur-de-ame; @boraborabts; @signmybook; @bbl32; @codeinebelle; @here4btsfics; @itbtoblikethatsometimes; @kookprada

More Posts from Jinaconda and Others

2 years ago

The Light of Dead Stars (05) | KSJ

The Light Of Dead Stars (05) | KSJ

Pairing: Seokjin x (f.) Reader; side Seokjin x (f.) OC; side Reader x Namjoon

Genre/Tags: arranged marriage, fake romance, boss/workmate aus; angst, drama, fluff, smut; slow burn

Chapter Warnings: Foul language, alcohol consumption; deceit; talks of past toxic relationships (infidelity, emotional abuse); Jin gets a kitchen injury, mentions of blood (18+)

Chapter Word count: 10.6k

Series Masterlist | Muse Moodboard | Setting Moodboard

The Light Of Dead Stars (05) | KSJ

Status: Ongoing

Series summary:  Your unconventional arranged marriage with your company’s President, Kim Seokjin, is necessary, practical, and simple - both your families benefit, and he minds his own business and so do you. But when a slip-up causes his parents to believe that you and he are in love, you have no choice but to pretend you are, especially with the trip to France for his brother’s wedding coming up. When you get back to Seoul, things start to change, and Seokjin is faced with the most difficult decision he has to make.  

A/N: It’s their last few days in France, the last chapter before things get even messier. Thank you to those who’ve been tuning in! I hope the complications and emotional roller coaster will be worth it.

The Light Of Dead Stars (05) | KSJ

Keep reading

2 years ago
진 (Jin) “The Astronaut” Promo Posters  ⤷ 22.10.28 1PM KST ; Ig , Twt
진 (Jin) “The Astronaut” Promo Posters  ⤷ 22.10.28 1PM KST ; Ig , Twt
진 (Jin) “The Astronaut” Promo Posters  ⤷ 22.10.28 1PM KST ; Ig , Twt

진 (Jin) “The Astronaut” Promo Posters  ⤷ 22.10.28 1PM KST ; ig , twt

3 years ago

One Year, My Love [M] (ft. Jungkook) | pt. 1

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→ historical/royal!au, marriagecontract!au, based off the kdrama 100 days My Prince; → You forge a marriage contract with the strangely speaking man who suddenly stumbled into your town with memory loss, but little do you know that he’s actually the lost Crown Prince, and a lot can happen between a married man and woman in one year. 

→ genres: lots of fluff/plot development, a tiny bit of angst, and a little smut → 15k words | part 1| part 2 | fin.

A/N: I went on a writing binge the past couple days and I was able to finish this monster fic, and wanted to get it out for you guys so you can read during quarantine! I usually tend to write really angsty and darker fics, so I hope that the fluff in this one is really refreshing :) 

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“No!” You scream, flailing your arms as the officials try to drag you into the waiting carriage. “I won’t marry him! I can’t!” 

The matchmaker looks wistfully at you as you struggle. “Please! Y/n, he is rich! He’ll pay for your debt, and you’ll avoid a punishment! I’m sure that your fiancee, ‘Jungkook’ that you speak of, doesn’t even exist! You have no one else! Just go!” 

You struggle, putting up quite a fight with the two men gripping either of your arms. “Never!” You scream, turning to bite one on his arm. He yelps and lets you go, and when his partner sees that you bit him, he throws you onto the ground, drawing his sword and whipping it at your neck. 

He huffs, “You bitch, you know that it’s the King’s decree that all women must be wed by tonight. This is your last chance to survive. Your punishment may be death, and if you want to meet that end, so be it!” 

You glare up at him, blowing the hair that fell out of your bun out of your face, “So do it! Kill me! I’d rather die than be married off to someone who’s older than my father! He’s a pig!” 

Keep reading

3 years ago

“Moonchild is for those who like the night more; for those who are unable to breathe in the daylight”

— [RM VLIVE 181101]

1 year ago

1. Asterism || KSJ

1. Asterism || KSJ

(banner by @itaeewon)

Title: Amalthea (Masterpost) - Part 1: Asterism

Rating: NSFW - minors go away i mean it Genre: best friend's older brother!au, angst smut fluff trifecta Pairing: Seokjin x female reader Beta team: @yoongiphoria, @here2bbtstrash, @kookstempo

Summary: You can count on two things in life. One: that your lifelong best friend Minji will always be there for you, in your corner, your brightest star. Two: that you'll never be free from her older brother Seokjin's orbit - the gravitational pull is just too strong.

Warnings: language, drinking, angst, kissing, fingering, explicit protected s*x WC: 9.5k

1. Asterism || KSJ

Part 1: Asterism Asterism: (noun) a recognizable pattern of stars that does not make up the full constellation

1. Asterism || KSJ

Things start when your mother texts you asking for a favor.

To be more historically accurate, things started when you were a child. But for the sake of brevity, for a tighter focus on the now, it starts with this text -

[5:41 PM] Mom: can you do me a big favor?

When you send her back “sure”, she calls you, which you expected all along. You’re surprised she texted first at all, instead of going straight to the phone call. She’s a creature of habit, your mother. 

“I cooked a few dishes and stuck them in the fridge,” she tells you. Pacing across your own kitchen, a fifteen minute drive from her place, you squint as you pass through the one exact spot where the afternoon sunlight assaults you from the window every day around this time. You’ve lived here for years - you’ve just been too lazy to put curtains up in this room. Your mother continues, her voice coming through your phone so loudly that you can hold it like it’s on speaker (although it’s not) and still hear her loud and clear. “You’ll see them, they’re in the tupperware with blue lids? Can you bring them over to the Kims’?”

“What?” you say - not because you didn’t understand the directions, but because you didn’t understand the why. She starts to repeat herself but you cut her off, clarifying, “Why are you making food for the Kims?”

“Didn’t I tell you?” she asks. “Or at least Minji? Mr. Kim had his knee replacement today.”

You call Minji from the car, but she doesn’t answer. You’ve been best friends since kindergarten; her dad’s house is just across the street from the one you’d grown up in, where your parents still live. You kids have all grown up, and away - you, Minji, and her two brothers - but Mr. Kim still lives in that same house, the light blue one that you can see from your childhood bedroom window. 

You still live close, and Minji’s just a few towns over. Her brothers moved far - requiring planes and trains to get back. You see Minji at least monthly, if not more often - usually you meet for brunch at a place between your houses. Sometimes, though, you meet back home home - for holidays, usually. The last time you were at her dad’s house with her was for the winter holidays two years ago; you’d rung in the New Year on her back deck. 

You try not to think about that night. 

You let yourself into your parents’ empty house with the code and head straight for the kitchen. As promised, there’s a small stack of blue-lidded containers, and you load them into a reusable grocery bag you steal from the cabinet beneath the sink. You lock the house back up and head across the street on foot. 

Once upon a time - for most of your life, really - you would have just let yourself in. You and Minji grew up in each other’s homes. This was your second home, her dad your second father. It had been like that your whole life. But once you and Minji went away to college, things changed - just slightly. Part of it’s just becoming an adult. You don’t barge in anymore, you knock. 

You expect Minji, or maybe one of her aunts if they’ve come to help, to answer the door. Instead, it swings open to reveal her older brother, Seokjin - full lips frowning slightly, strong brow furrowed as he tries to piece together why you’re standing on his father’s doorstep holding a grocery bag. 

The moment stretches, stills. It can go one of two ways - you can let it be awkward, or you can be sure that it isn’t.

“Hi,” you say, hoping it sounds breezy. “My mom cooked some dishes for you.”

Seokjin takes a minute step backwards, lips parting to speak, but then you hear your name squealed from over his shoulder and you brace yourself for impact. 

Jin acts fast, grabbing the bag of food from you and flattening himself against his open front door as Minji launches herself past him to hug you, laughing.

“I called you on my way over!” you scold her, smiling, hugging her tightly back. 

“Sorry!” she says, still holding you, still laughing. Jin’s still holding your food, just to the side of you, watching this display with a blank face. “I was helping my dad lay down. I left my phone in the kitchen, I think? You should see his knee, it’s disgusting. Is that food?”

She releases you and turns, heading through the house towards their roomy kitchen. You know you’re expected to follow. You reach to take the food back from Jin, shooting him a thankful smile. Your fingers brush as you take the bag, and you drop your gaze, hurrying to follow the sound of Minji’s voice as it floats through the house. Seokjin stands in place as you leave, and you hope he doesn’t see you shudder against goosebumps as you hurry away.

He’s had that effect on you since you were fourteen years old.

But that’s ancient history.

There’s a lot you want to ask him, starting with how long he’ll be in town, ending with… well. Not now. 

In the kitchen, Minji is trying to make room in the fridge for everything your mom sent over. You sit at the table, watching her absently, answering whenever her chatter pauses to ask you something. 

Jin joins you two wordlessly. He reaches over Minji’s head and then turns and holds out a beer bottle, offering it to you.

“Ooh, yes please,” you say, taking it from him. Minji looks up to see what you’re talking about and then nudges Jin’s shin - which is next to her head - to indicate that she wants one too. He sits across the table from you and sets a beer for Minji at the seat to his right. When she’s done in the fridge, she sits heavily next to her brother and they both look at you as they drink.

“So,” you say, because you have to say something about now, have to keep yourself from getting swept up in twenty-something years of memories that this house holds for you. “How’d the surgery go?”

“Great!” Minji beams. “The surgeons said it was exactly as expected. He’ll start physical therapy next week.”

“I’m glad to hear it,” you tell her genuinely. Mr. Kim was always important to you. You turn your attention to Jin, who’s downed half of his beer already. “Are you staying long?”

He nods, swallows, then answers. “A few weeks, probably,” he tells you. “I got approval to work remotely through the end of the month. Hopefully by then he’ll be back to a point where he doesn’t need someone here 24/7, and Minji can just pop in on him…” 

He trails off, his eyes going over your shoulder, watching a few birds hop from the bird feeder to the deck railing. The deck railing where you’d hung wet bathing suits to dry on never-ending summer afternoons, where you’d placed soda cans with rivulets of condensation running down their sides, where you’d leaned with Minji as you talked about boys and school and boys again, where you’d buried your hands in Seokjin’s hair as he’d - nope. 

Not going there. Not unless you want to drown.

“Do you want to eat dinner with us?” Minji asks, throwing you a life preserver by dragging you back to the present. 

“Ah,” you say, letting your regretful tone do the answering for you. “I’d like to, but… I should get home.”

I should get out of this house, you think. I should get away from your brother. 

She grins at you slyly. “Got that man to feed?”

You laugh in surprise. Seokjin is suddenly very interested in the label on the beer he’s almost finished. 

“No,” you say. “He’s out of the picture.”

Minji narrows her eyes at you, assessing. “We don’t seem sad,” she observes finally. 

You shake your head. “We aren’t sad,” you confirm. Jin gets up wordlessly and opens the fridge again, reaching for a second beer. His shoulders take up almost the whole space. You try not to notice, try not to think about the muscles of those shoulders rippling under your fingertips - enough. Enough, now.

You stand, needing the escape, needing to get away, draining the rest of your beer in one long drag that would make your college-self proud.

“Listen,” you say to the room at large, to both of them, after placing the empty bottle back on the table, “call me if you need help, okay? My place isn’t far. I can pop over if you need an extra pair of hands, or a break, or some errands handled. Okay?”

Seokjin’s still hiding in the refrigerator, taking a million years to choose between two of the same beer. Minji, oblivious, takes your hand gratefully.

“Thank you,” she says warmly, giving you a squeeze. 

You start to head back towards the front door, Minji still clutching your hand. 

“Bye, Seokjin,” you say over your shoulder.

He glances up at you around the open refrigerator door.

“See you,” he says. There’s something hollow in his voice. 

You get it, though. 

The last time the three of you were here together, two years ago, he’d welcomed in the New Year buried inside you against the back of their house, gasping your name against the inky dark of the frigid December night.

You’ve never told a soul, and you don’t think he has, either.

You’ve never talked about it at all.

1. Asterism || KSJ

You and Minji spent New Year's Eve out at bars and clubs together almost every year. The year you were twenty-six, though, something had changed. Suddenly, the idea of vying for bar space, in heels, for overpriced drinks and sleazy dudes seemed abysmal. 

“We could stay in,” Minji had suggested. “Pretend we’re sixteen, sneaking booze into dad’s basement again? Seokjin is back in town for the week because he dumped that shitty girlfriend of his for the sixth time, might be kind of fun to all hang out.”

You’d pretended to dislike the idea, grimacing a little as you thought it over. Your brain snagged on dumped his shitty girlfriend. 

“Come on,” she’d said cajolingly. “We can put on 90’s music and play card games, like we used to.”

You knew the whole time that you’d go; all you needed to know was that Seokjin would be there. Since he’d left for college, he only came home twice a year - Christmas holidays, and over summer breaks. Since he'd moved far, even those weren't promised.

Minji ended up with a small crowd - a few that you were friends with in high school, but most of them you thought were friends of her brothers. 

You’d spent most of the night trying to avoid staring at Jin - or at least avoid getting caught staring. It had been about two years since you’d seen him last - four years since he moved away. He was twenty-eight to your twenty-six that year, and you weren’t sure if it was the way he was aging or if it was the tequila, but he seemed - somehow - even more handsome than you remembered. 

It had gotten more and more difficult as the night went on to focus - on conversations, on card games, on how to balance as you walked; your brain wanted to spend its energy cataloging the quirk of his full lips when you said something funny, his windshield-wiper laugh when Minji dropped a whole tray of lemon slices she’d spent twenty minutes cutting, the strip of bare skin his shirt revealed when he bent down to help her pick them up. It was like your brain was trying to soak up every little detail of him that it could after so many years of distance, of him being somebody you used to be close to.

Eventually, you’d retreated to the back deck, alone, just minutes before midnight. Outside, the noise of the party fell away, and you took in deep gulps of cold air, your hands gripping the splintery wood of the railing. 

When the door opened behind you, you expected Minji. Instead, Seokjin stood there, staring at you like he’d asked you a question and was waiting for an answer. 

Maybe, in his own way, he had. Maybe it had been all the quick glances he’d given you that night. Maybe it had been the way he’d stuck close, listening when you talked, smiling wryly when you cracked jokes. Maybe it had been the way his eyes had followed you from room to room, the way his fingers had tightened around his glass when you bent down to grab one of the wayward lemon slices.

You’d stared back at him, unsure what the right move was. This was Minji’s brother, and you’d promised her almost fifteen years ago to never get tangled up with her family. This was Minji’s brother, who had bought you girls beer before you were old enough, who had once driven to pick you up from the mall on a rainy day when your date had gone badly. This was Minji’s brother who’d once held your hand in the backseat of your dad’s car as you sobbed over a broken wrist, who’d often let you sit and watch him play video games even after he’d told Minji to bug off and leave him alone.

This was Seokjin, who was staring at you so intently that for a moment you weren’t sure if he hadn’t asked you something.

“Seokjin?”

His eyes met yours.

“Explain to me how you got even more beautiful?” he’d murmured, and your heart had leapt into your throat.

“I - what?”

He was close enough to touch. You’d dreamed of this for so long - pathetically long, really. You’d never dreamed that he’d want you.

He stepped closer, and you did touch him - one hand acted without permission, coming up and resting lightly on his chest, over his heart. It had thumped beneath your tentative fingers. 

Your fingers had curled in the material of the thick hoodie he’d been wearing, had pulled him just closer.

And then his mouth was on yours, searing, and your hands were in his hair, and that deck railing was pressing into your lower back as he pinned you against it, and one of his hands was creeping beneath the hem of your shirt, and you could feel him hardening against your lower stomach, and -

And through the window, you could see the party carrying on.

You broke the kiss, pushed gently on his forearm to extract his sneaky hand from inside your shirt.

“They can see us,” you’d gasped, and he’d followed your gaze somewhat dumbly, like it hadn’t occurred to him that everyone else existed in the same place as the two of you.

Then he’d taken your hand, pulling you down the deck steps, away from the glow of light from the house’s windows, down into the darkness, where witnesses would have to work a little harder to see what was going on.

He’d pressed you against the wall of the house, beneath the deck, and as you’d tipped your head back to allow him access to nip and soothe lines up and down your neck you’d thought of all the summer nights you’d spent in this exact spot. This is where the keg usually goes, you’d thought absently as that sneaky hand returned to the bare skin of your belly beneath your sweater.

You hadn’t felt even remotely cold, despite the threat of snow in the air. 

You’d kissed until your lips hurt and you wanted it to hurt just a little more, your hands starting to toy with the waistband of his jeans as his thumb rubbed determined circles around your puckered nipple beneath the fabric of your bra. 

“Tell me what you want,” he’d said, the words mumbled against your lips. He’d pulled back just enough, just enough to watch your face as you told him -

“Anything. Everything. All of it… all of you.”

His hand had traveled up the back of your thigh, beneath your skirt, fingers pushing the cotton of your panties aside before stroking through your center. You’d moaned, low, aware that anyone could come out onto the deck above you without warning. His breath had hitched in response, and his hand had left your pussy long enough to tug you to him again, pressing you against his hips for just a second before returning. This time he didn’t toy with you, pressing his index finger into your messy heat, followed quickly by a second digit.

You’d mouthed his name against his jaw, trying to keep yourself upright as he pressed you against the brick of the house, as he pumped his fingers leisurely, fingertips rubbing circles against your front wall until he found the place that made you gasp and buck against his hand. He’d laughed, asked, “Yeah?” in a cocky voice you’d never heard on him before. It’d made you, impossibly, wetter. 

“You’re so fucking hot,” you’d whispered, half delirious, and he’d laughed again, like he knew already.

There had been a flash of foil between his teeth, the sound of his zipper echoing across the frozen backyard, and then he was pushing inside you, fingers still wet from you now gripping your hip to keep you in place. 

You’d groaned in unison as he slowly bottomed out. The brick had bit at your back, the winter air had bit at your face, and Seokjin had bit at your lower lip as he pounded into you steadily. 

It had been hurried. It had been hushed. 

Your name on his lips when he came took the air from your lungs.

You’d wanted this, wanted him, in silence for as long as you could remember. Before you had words to put to it, before you were old enough to understand why your stomach hurt when he left the room. 

It had hurt, after. The scrapes from the brick wall. Your sore hamstrings. Your chapped, cracking lips. 

His silence.

You’d both missed the countdown. Happy New Year.

1. Asterism || KSJ

You don’t know what you had expected after seeing Seokjin at his dad’s house unexpectedly. Apparently, some foolish part of your subconscious thought he’d reach out to you, because you find yourself disappointed when he doesn’t.

Stupid, you think. I don’t know what you were thinking. Aside from that one slip on New Year’s Eve two years ago, you’d done a stellar job at orbiting Seokjin in silence, keeping your feelings under control and out of sight, never pushing yourself into his path but never letting him stray so far as to forget you, either. Nothing’s changed. 

You tell yourself this for two days, until Minji’s name lights up your phone as you’re packing up from work on Thursday evening, your stomach growling and your feet aching to get out of their heels. 

“Yeeees?” you answer her as you power down your laptop and cast your gaze around your cubicle for anything else that needs to come home with you.

“Are you still at work?” she asks, sounding a little breathless, a little irritated.

“Packing up right now,” you tell her, rising and pulling your bag onto your shoulder. You give Dale, your cubicle-mate, a silent wave goodbye and head for the elevators. “What’s up?”

“I tried your mom first, but your parents are apparently out to dinner tonight,” she says. “Is there any way you can swing by my dad’s? I think Seokjin is having a hard time with dad, and I’m stuck here at least another two hours -.”

“No problem,” you tell her, cutting off her explanation. It isn’t needed. “I’ll head there now. Tell him I’ll be like…” You glance at your watch for the time, “...twenty-five minutes, tops, if traffic is bad.”

“You’re a saint,” she breathes in relief. “Thank you. Seriously, thank you. I’ll get there as soon as I can. I promise I’ll hurry. Did I tell you that deal with Mr. Lee fell through? I have been non-stop -”

“Don’t worry about it,” you tell her, meaning it. “I’m happy to help. I’ll be there soon. See you later, okay?”

You grew up on a dead end. You never tell people that, now. You always fancy it up if it’s brought up in conversation - you call it a cul-de-sac, though it isn’t according to the yellow sign that marks where you turn left to reach your parents’ house. 

Every inch of this street is steeped in memories for you - memories of growing up with Minji and Seokjin, running wild through these streets whenever the weather allowed it, learning to ride a bike, having snowball fights and water balloon fights and - once - even a foodfight. Thinking of your childhood with those two, you think mostly of chaos and laughter. 

You miss it, a little, and that’s only a little bit nostalgia talking. Maybe the lack of chaos is nice, but the lack of laughter kind of sucks. 

It takes Seokjin forever to answer the door when you knock. When he does, it’s evident immediately why Minji had called for backup. 

He’s sick as a dog; his nose is red, cheeks flushed, eyes glassy and sleepy. 

“Minji sent me,” you explain. “She said you need help with your dad.”

“I don’t,” he protests, just a little whiny. “We’re fine. Why’d she call you? I told her we were fine.”

This clear untruth is punctuated by a fit of coughing. You purse your lips and raise an eyebrow, waiting. 

He shakes his head, recovering. “It’s just a cold,” he says, doubling down. “I’m sorry you drove all the way here, but I don’t need help. I was just about to help Dad get showered - I need to get back up there, he’s waiting.”

He starts to turn to go, but you reach out, catching his sleeve. He turns, brows furrowing in frustration, but you cut him off.

“Jin,” you say seriously, “come on. I came here to help. What needs to be done? Do you want me to start heating up dinner while he showers?”

He sags back against the wall behind him, raising one hand to rub wearily over his brow, his eyes, down over his mouth. You let his sleeve slip between your fingers and you wait as his resolve cracks. 

He sighs heavily, eyeing the ceiling. “Could you strip his bed and put on clean blankets? So when he’s done showering, I can put him back in a clean bed?”

“Absolutely,” you say, relieved that he’s delegated a task. He leads you upstairs silently. Your feet remember the way to Mr. Kim’s bedroom. You weren’t often allowed to play in there as kids, but you have to pass it to get to Minji’s room; you think you could walk the path in your sleep.

Halfway up the stairs, you pause, stopping by one of the dozens of framed photos on the wall. You smile, putting your finger on the glass. 

At the top of the stairs Seokjin pauses, turns to see why you stopped. Something on his face softens when he sees. 

“Yeah,” he says. “That one’s still up.”

You give him a small smile. The photo your finger rests on is a group shot with blue water meeting blue sky as the backdrop. 

Mr. Kim stands in the middle, beaming, one arm around Minji and the other around Seokjin. Minji’s little brother Jungkook - only a year behind you girls in school - sits on the ground at Seokjin’s feet, grinning with a scrunched nose. You’re behind Minji, peeking around her shoulders, your eyes closed as you laugh. You’re all kids in the picture - Seokjin, as the oldest, is probably around ten. 

You’d been shy to be included in the picture, but Mr. Kim had told you that you were one of his kids in spirit if nothing else. You’d all been at the lake that day. Seokjin had been the one who made you and Jungkook laugh as the camera snapped. You remember it like it was yesterday. After the picture had been taken, you girls and Seokjin had dug a hole in the sand and buried Jungkook up to his neck. You’d splashed in the water, squealing over the slimy rocks that lined the lake’s floor. Later, you’d all eaten thick slices of watermelon, the juice dripping on your bare legs as the summer sun set over the horizon, the four of you sitting in a row on the picnic table bench like a matched set. You’d chased fireflies until Mr. Kim called your names, ready to pack you all into the car to return home, smelling like sunscreen and lakewater. 

It was one of your favorite memories, that whole day. 

You strip the blankets and sheets from Mr. Kim’s bed and toss them in the hamper. You collect a clean set from the linen closet in the hallway without needing to be told where they are. You spent as much time in this house as your own growing up. In the ensuite, you can hear the shower running, the low murmur of both men’s voices as they chat. You make the bed, fluffing the comforter, and then take the hamper down to the basement, where you dump them into the washer and get it started. 

When you head back upstairs, Seokjin is in the living room, slumped sideways on the couch, eyes closed. You’re not sure if he’s awake, if he knows you’re standing behind him. He has that hand pressed to his brow again, and you know a headache when you see it. 

You pad quietly up the stairs and into the hallway bathroom, where Mr. Kim used to keep all the over-the-counter stuff - bandaids, pain-killers, lozenges, even tampons back when Minji still lived here. 

Heading back downstairs, you grab a glass of water from the kitchen and find Seokjin exactly where you left him, pressing his face pitifully into the arm of the couch.

You nudge him gently, and hold out your offerings - fever reducer and the water. 

He grumbles as he takes them, pushing himself to a more upright position so he can drink from the glass without spilling.

When he sets the glass down, he looks over at you somewhat warily. “How have you been?” he asks, and there’s something resigned in his voice. Something defeated. You wonder what battle he’s lost, to make him sound like that. You feel - have always felt - that so much of what goes on in Jin’s mind is kept behind the curtain. For someone so loud, he’s the most private person you know.

“I’ve been fine,” you shrug. “Normal.”

He looks sideways at you for a long moment. “Is that a lie?” he asks finally, voice low. 

“No,” you say, trying to keep your voice light. It isn’t, right? You’ve been fine. What happened between you was two entire years ago, the lid closing tightly on a lifetime of maybes. You’d had your moment together and it hadn’t led to anything. What choice did you have, but to accept it and move on? So, there you have it. You’ve been fine.

You make the decision, right there, not to bring it up - what happened two years ago. His lips on yours, his body under your hands, the way your legs had trembled as they’d struggled to hold you up. Better to let it stay dead. If Seokjin had wanted to talk about it, he’s had two years and four months to do so. If he wants to pretend he didn’t fuck his sister’s best friend and then ghost her completely, who are you to mess with the plan? 

You need something sweet; you’re far too bitter.

But honestly, you can’t even hate him for it. He hadn’t promised you a thing, so logically there’s no reason to feel like a toy played with and discarded - even if you’re left wishing he had never picked you up to play with at all.

You look him over, taking in the sheen of sweat on his brow, the haze you can still see in his eyes. “You look like shit,” you tell him.

He lets out a single puff of a laugh, his eyes closed. “Now I know you’re lying,” he says, lips quirking into a smile. 

“You look like you have the flu,” you say flatly, ignoring his nonsense. 

“It’s just a cold,” he says.

You lapse into silence. He keeps his eyes closed, that hand still resting on his head. Finally, you say, “How about you? How’ve you been?”

He shrugs. “Been fine. Working. You know.”

A tiny smile tugs on your lips. “What are we playing these days?”

The smile creeps sideways across his face and he opens his eyes to actually look at you, sending you a conspiratory smirk. “Now you’re asking the right questions,” he says, and starts to tell you about a console game he got last week. 

You head to the basement when it’s time and move the sheets you were washing into the dryer. You pause in the doorway when you return upstairs, looking Seokjin over from afar. He looks better than he had when you’d arrived - eyes less glassy, cheeks less pink. 

“I think your fever’s down,” you say, as you return to where you’d been sitting before.

“I feel better than I did,” he agrees. He looks at you appraisingly, like he’s seeing you clearly for the first time. And, considering the fever, maybe he is. “So Minji said you live pretty close?”

You nod. “Not far. That apartment complex over behind the plaza with the grocery store? You remember, the one that we used to go trick-or-treating at?”

“Wow,” he says, giving an appreciative whistle. “Those are swanky.”

“I’m swanky these days,” you joke, smiling. 

Just then, there’s a soft beep from outside - someone locking their car.

“That’s Minji,” Seokjin observes, and you find yourself standing, feet carrying you towards the kitchen. 

“Do you need anything to drink?” you call over your shoulder. Jin is watching your sudden departure, clearly bemused. You busy yourself in their fridge, even though you don’t have a real reason to. You just didn’t want Minji to enter the house and find you and Jin having domestic hours on the living room couch.

The front door opens, and Minji calls your name through the house.

“I’m in here!” you call back, and head for the doorway of the kitchen. 

Minji hurries to you, setting her bags down on the kitchen floor and flopping dramatically onto the doorjamb. 

“I am so sorry,” she says. “Thank you so much for coming over.”

“Your brother’s sick,” you tell her flatly. “He had a pretty high fever when I got here.”

Her eyes widen, and she turns to look over her shoulder at Seokjin, who gives her a cheery thumbs up. 

“He says he’s fine,” you inform her, “but he’s got about two more hours before the fever-reducer wears off and then he’s gonna be useless again.”

“Thank you for the warning,” she tells you, while Seokjin squawks from the living room, “I am not, and have never been, useless!” 

You give Minji a quick hug goodbye and head for the front door. 

You meet Seokjin’s eyes as you pass through the living room. They’re sharp, now that the fever’s receded, locked on you and looking. 

“Feel better,” you tell him. “Make sure you hydrate.”

“Hey,” he says, making himself comfortable against the couch cushions, “thanks.” Then, an afterthought - “Seriously. Thank you.”

You give him a tight smile and slip out the front door.

1. Asterism || KSJ

Going home doesn’t stop you from worrying, even though you know Minji is home and capable of taking care of everything. But at work the next day, your eyes keep darting to your phone screen, as if you’re expecting updates on how Jin is feeling, if everything is okay at the house. 

No one texts you. 

You can’t ask Minji. She’s too fucking smart. If you so much as said, “Hey, is your brother feeling better?” she’d be all over it. 

You try your mom instead, texting her, “How’s Mr. Kim doing? Any updates?” 

She answers, “Haven’t heard anything!”

You groan, tapping the corner of your phone on your desk in frustration. You try to focus on work for a little bit, but it’s truly a lost cause. With a defeated sigh, you open your phone and thumb through your contacts. 

Kim Seokjin. 

You’ve had his number in your phone since you got it - your mom was the one who programmed it in for you when you were fourteen, citing Jin as someone you could call if you had an emergency. As if by being two years your senior, he qualified as a helpful adult. 

You haven’t used his number in over five years - not since you were still in college, probably. 

Actually, you realize, you remember the last time - though there were definitely parts of the night you didn’t remember. 

It was your senior year, the first weekend of December, and you and Minji were drinking in some girl’s dorm. You’d never even met this girl before, but there you were, perched on her desk with a bottle of flavored vodka in hand, watching her LEDs change color along the ceiling.

You and Minji were both wasted, even though it was relatively early - not even midnight yet. You leaned against each other, holding the other up, both of you giggling and tapping around on your phones as the conversation flowed around you.

That’s what had happened - you’d noticed it was about to be midnight, the clock about to change from 11:59. And despite being so drunk that Minji was mostly propping you up, so drunk that you had to close one eye to read the letters of this girl’s alarm clock, so drunk that you’d be throwing up in just minutes - a little part of you brain informed you that midnight meant it was officially December 4th. 

You’d texted Seokjin happy birthday at exactly midnight, one eye closed to make sure you were typing actual words. He was hundreds of miles away, had graduated and moved out already, and you hadn’t talked since the day the Kims had loaded all of his shit into a rented moving van, about five months ago. 

And he’d answered - “thank you! what are you doing up??”

To which you’d replied, “getting baja blasted with your sister” and he’d replied, “i do not want to know, thank you!!”

And then Minji had looked at you drunkenly and narrowed her eyes. “Who are you texting with that smile?”

The floor had swooped below your feet, and you’d run for the bathroom. Minji had forgotten about interrogating you, and you and Seokjin had never texted again.

Now, at your job, you stare at his name on your phone screen, wracked with indecision. 

“This is ridiculous,” you finally sigh. Behind you, Dale glances over his shoulder to determine if you’re talking to him or yourself. Ignoring Dale, you tap Seokjin’s name and type, “how are you feeling today?”

You don’t even have time to feel nervous about it - his response is almost instantaneous. He sends you a picture of a gaming screen, where he’s clearly playing a shooter POV. He follows it up with the sunglasses emoji. You laugh out loud, trying to keep your chuckles quiet to avoid calling attention to your cubicle. 

“What a nerd,” you mutter affectionately. You type back, “you must be fine then 🙄”. 

Seokjin’s played video games his whole life; it’s one thing you do know about him. How many hours of your childhood had been spent with him, Jungkook, and Minji crowded around the tv in their basement, fighting over whose turn it was to play?Usually Seokjin got to play the first controller (since he was older, stronger, and technically the console belonged to him), which left you and Minji and Jungkook to fight it out over the second one.

But you remember other times, too - especially as you got older - when you’d just sit in silence and watch him play. By the time you were a teenager - fourteen to Jin’s sixteen - Minji was over wanting to join him. She’d argue for use of the tv, and when she lost she’d flounce upstairs to her room to sulk about it. Sometimes you’d join her - usually, you’d join her. But sometimes you’d cast a glance at Seokjin, see if you were welcome. He’d always play it the same - look at you sideways, give you a tiny nod, pat the couch behind him like an invitation. (Seokjin played video games from the floor, letting the base of the couch prop him up. He said he focused better that way.) 

You’d sit, quiet, watching him work the controls, listening to him whine and groan and complain and shout his way through each map. And you’d feel special, because he let you stay after he’d told Minji to fuck off, because he didn’t mind your presence, because sometimes he’d ask if you wanted him to teach you how, even though you always said no thanks. 

You text your mom and ask what she’s making for dinner.

“Why?” she sends back. “Are you asking me to feed you?”

“Maybe,” you send back. 

You join your parents for dinner, “just because”. It’s not that uncommon for you to join them for a meal now and then, considering how close you live. You go because you love your parents and you want a home-cooked meal - definitely not because you know it puts you back in proximity to Jin.

Your mom glances up at you from across the table approximately every four-tenths of a second through the entire meal, until finally you slap your palm on the table and snap, “What?”

She purses her lips, amused. “Nothing,” she says, feigning innocence. “We just don’t usually see you on Friday nights.”

“Jagi,” your dad warns, his voice full of affection. Like he knows it’s a lost cause but he thinks he should try to rein her in for your sake. 

“I’m just saying!” she says, still all innocence, eyes wide. “I’m not complaining! It’s nice to have you here.”

You grumble a response, aggravated that she seems to be onto you. To escape their scrutiny, you rise and move to bag up the full garbage, tying the top of the bag and heading out to the trash cans at the end of the driveway. 

You pause there after hefting the bag up and into the bin, taking a second to breathe. It’s a nice night - the sun has mostly set, the sky deep and dark above you but still clinging to shades of pink down near the horizon. It’s warm, too, for April. 

You’re standing there, arms crossed, watching the sky inch closer and closer to darkness, when you hear a door shut across the street. Your eyes follow the sound immediately, and you see a man’s silhouette do the same thing you were doing - make its way down the driveway, a trash bag in hand. 

Romantic, you think wryly. A garbage date. You stay rooted to the spot, watching as Jin - just an outline, a shadow - tosses the bag into the bin and brushes off his hands. Then, he stops still, seeming to notice you.

You hold your breath, not sure how this will go, and then he starts to lope over, and you exhale in a whoosh.

“Hi,” he says simply, as he gets close enough that you can finally see his face through the dark.

“Hi,” you say around a tiny smile. “You seem better today.”

He scoffs. “I told you it was just a cold. I just needed to sleep it off.”

“I’m glad,” you tell him softly. Maybe it’s dangerous, maybe it’s stupid - to be soft with him. To act like you didn’t already get your answer from him, years ago. To pretend your affection for him is still as pure and untainted as it was when you were a teenager. 

But it feels safer, out here, away from his dad’s house. In there, the memories of that New Year’s Eve are too fresh, too strong - they cling to the air, slide down the walls. The heating unit sighs to life and you hear your own sighs as Seokjin’s fingers danced along your bare skin. The refrigerator grumbles and you hear the grumble of pleasure that originated low in Seokjin’s throat as he felt you squeeze around his fingers. Someone’s footsteps crunch gravel outside, and you hear the crunch of gravel as Seokjin made his way back to the front of the house in the dark, leaving you hidden in shadows, clutching the bricks and gasping for breath.

It’s better out here. In the fresh air, away from that house, the memories are looser, less focused - bike races, raucous laughter, chalk drawings, bouncing beams of light from flashlight tag.

“Thank you for the help yesterday,” he says, rubbing the back of his neck like he does when he’s embarrassed. “I know I kind of gave you a hard time.”

“You didn’t,” you say, letting him off the hook. You’ll always let him off the hook, for everything. You always have. “How’s your dad?”

He glances back at the house over his shoulder, like he needs to verify this answer before giving it. “Not so good today,” he admits. “He’s in a lot more pain, starting to get frustrated needing so much help.”

“Hmm,” you deadpan. “A Kim man who gets frustrated at needing help. Interesting.”

Seokjin laughs, full from his belly. “Shut up,” he says, but there’s no ire in it. “Can I help it if I’m a chip off the ol’ block?”

“We’re supposed to learn from our parents’ mistakes,” you tell him, like a reminder. “Not continue them.”

Just then, a car turns around the corner, the headlights casting you in blinding white light before throwing you back into shadow. You both turn to look - since it’s a dead end, traffic doesn’t just pass through here. 

You recognize the car - it’s Minji’s. She parks and pops out, calling hello to you, ignoring her brother. He makes a face at you like, what am I, chopped liver? 

“I have your mom’s tupperwares, do you want to take them?” she asks, pressing the lock button on her key fob and making the car behind her beep once, loudly. 

“Sure,” you say, following her into the house. A glance over your shoulder tells you that Seokjin is following, too, a few feet behind you, his hands in his pockets. 

Inside, Mr. Kim is sitting sideways on the couch, his leg propped up on a small stack of pillows, a bag of ice over his knee. He perks up when he sees you, lowering his phone away from his face and pushing his spectacles further up his nose. 

“How are you, sweetheart?” he asks. “I’d come hug you, but -.” He gestures at his leg.

“I’m doing fine,” you assure him. “I heard you had a rough day today.”

Mr. Kim shoots a dark look at his son, who looks innocently at the ceiling. “Just a little pain today,” Mr. Kim demures.

Seokjin glances at his phone. “We might want to get you upstairs soon,” he tells his father. “You know you’ll be asleep in about fifteen minutes, so unless you want to spend the night on the couch…”

You watch, feeling awkward and unable to help, as Seokjin helps his dad swivel and stand, an arm over Seokjin’s shoulders. They make their way slowly and laboriously up the stairs, and you feel a little anxious watching. 

“Are they okay?” you ask Minji as she returns from the kitchen, pushing your mother’s empty tupperware back into your hands.

“They’re fine,” she says easily. “It takes a while but they’ve got it down to a science. Hey, listen, do you want to go grab a drink? It’s Friday, and I’ve had a hell of a week, and what I would really like to do is Uber into town and drink like college-Minji.”

You laugh at this. “I’m not sure I’m prepared for the return of college-Minji.”

“Pleaaaaaaaase?” she begs, blinking her lashes at you. “We haven’t gone out together in ages.”

“Alright, alright,” you laugh. “Let me go tell my parents goodbye and drive home and change. Text me the details and I’ll meet you there.”

“Yessss!” she cries, dancing in place a little. You feel a swell of affection for her; you love Minji with your whole heart. You’ve been through a lot together. You’ve been through a lot separately, but always side by side.

There have been many times through your life where you felt like you were clutching Minji’s hand through the fire. 

You still remember clearly the way she’d bounded up to your locker, back when you were thirteen, squealing and excited because the most popular girl in your year had asked her for her number, had invited her over. 

You still remember clearly Minji sobbing on your bed weeks later when it came to light that the girl - who wouldn’t be the last to try - was just trying to get an “in” with Minji’s hot older brother.

“You know I would never, right?” you’d promised her. Stupid, at fourteen, not clarifying that you mean never use you to get to him. Stupid, because then you were sixteen and then eighteen and then twenty-one and then twenty-six and you weren’t sure what you had actually promised - had Minji heard it as I would never get involved with him? 

“I know,” she’d sobbed, reaching one hand blindly to clutch at yours. “I know you wouldn’t.”

And now you’re twenty-eight and the secrets you’ve kept keep piling up - each day you loved him, another pebble atop the pile. The slightest shake could topple the tower, and you’d be absolutely buried. 

You could never let Minji know you loved him. Not when you were fifteen and he was untouchable. Not when you were twenty, and he was the best part of coming home. Not when you were twenty-six, pressed between him and the deck railing. 

Not now, after two years of existing outside his orbit again. 

The bar she picks is small, but quiet - quiet enough that you can actually carry on a conversation from opposite sides of a wooden booth, which is exactly what you do.

What you hadn’t banked on was that Seokjin would join her, sitting on her side of the booth, complaining loudly that he’s not going to come out with you two ever again, he’s never been such a third wheel in his life.

“You could have stayed home with dad,” Minji says, giving him a swift elbow to the ribs. “Don’t be such a complainer. You jumped in on my plans.”

“Can we please talk about something besides your hot coworker, then?” he begs. “Anything, anything else.”

“We could talk about my hot coworkers,” you offer, even though you have none. But this - teaming up with Minji to push Seokjin’s buttons - is a song and dance you know by heart, something you’ve done since practically infancy.

He narrows his eyes at you. “Believe it or not, that’s not better,” he deadpans. 

You laugh, knocking back the rest of your drink and sliding out of the booth to go get another, leaving the Kim siblings to bicker in your absence.

You don’t expect Seokjin to follow; you don’t expect him to press up behind you as you stand at the bar, waiting for the bartender’s attention. 

But he does, his body heavy and warm against yours. The blood rushes to your pussy so fast it almost makes you mad. All he’s doing is standing in close proximity, can your body get it together?

“What are you doing?” you murmur, trying not to meet his eyes in the mirrored wall behind the bar.

“Minji wants shots,” he answers easily. Like his body isn’t pressed against yours, like he isn’t causing your heart to hammer against your ribs.

“You’re too close,” you manage to say, because it’s the best option you can think of. Better than she’ll see us. Better than you still aren’t close enough. Better than don’t do this if you’re just going to leave again. 

He does catch your eyes in the mirror, then. He must read something honest on your face, because he shifts sideways, leaving you cold. The bartender comes by, takes both your orders. You take your drink back to the table. Seokjin follows with a tray of bad decisions poured into tiny glasses.

Even though he gave you the reprieve when you asked for it, it’s clear he’s got a mission to ruin you. You’re sure of it, more and more sure as the night wears on. Sure of it when you reach for the same shot glass, your fingers brushing, his lingering. Sure of it when his eyes on your face make you so warm that Minji accuses you of having a drunk flush. Sure of it when his foot hooks around your ankle beneath the table, slides up and down your calf, slow and tantalizing, inches from Minji’s stilettoed feet. Sure of it when this causes your breath to hitch and his fingers tighten around his glass and his gaze goes to the opposite wall, anywhere but towards you.

You’re drunk, but it’s Seokjin that’s sending you spinning. 

You’ve made this mistake before, you remind yourself sternly. Nothing good can come of it. 

You excuse yourself and head for the bathroom, a marked up door at the end of a narrow, poorly lit hallway. You grip the sides of the sink and breathe deep, closing your eyes. The room sways and you press your forehead to the mirror, trying to ground yourself. 

“You cannot fuck him again,” you whisper to yourself, eyes still closed. “It wouldn’t mean anything even if you did.”

The alcohol catches up to you as you whisper these words; the truth of them slam you harder than normal. You blink away tears, taking a few shuddering breaths.

“Time to go home,” you tell yourself firmly, turning off the water and wiping quickly under your eyes in case any makeup ran. 

This is what it means to be in Seokjin’s orbit, now: to crash into each other, to fight with yourself - fight with the truth that he doesn’t want you, and then run away scared until he’s too far away to hurt you again. Spin idly along until the next time your circles cross paths. Do it again.

He’s in the hallway when you emerge, arms crossed as he leans against the wall. You have to pass him to get back to the table. He pushes off the wall when he sees you coming, stumbles a little. A tiny, sensible part of your brain whispers that he might be drunker than you are as you sidle into his personal bubble.

“What are you doing, Seokjin?” you ask him for the second time that night. 

His eyes comb your face. You don’t know what answer he’s looking for, what question he’s secretly asked you in his mind. 

“You tell me,” he retorts, which doesn’t make a lot of sense, but speaking somehow brought him looming closer and you’re drowning in the smell of him, the warmth of him, the desire to feel his body hard against yours again, to feel him split you open again, to have his mouth hot on your skin again -

You close your eyes, sag a little. His hands come to your elbows quickly, holding you up. “You’re confusing me,” you whisper, and then look up at him through your lashes. 

There’s something aching on his face, and then he whispers back, “I’m sorry. Y/N, I’m so sorry - I never meant -.”

The click-clack of high heels approach and round the corner. You and Seokjin leap apart like you’re burned, your arms tingling where his fingers had been.

It’s not Minji. The stranger murmurs an apology and brushes past you both, towards the bathroom.

Spooked, startled out of the moment, you turn to head back to the bar, back to Minji. 

Seokjin grabs your arm, pulls you back. You teeter back a step, then look at him expectantly as you regain your balance.

Seriously, so seriously, he tells you, “I swear, I never wanted to hurt you.” Then he releases your arm with a tiny push, guiding you back out of the dirty hallway and into the light.

1. Asterism || KSJ

You Uber home alone. You brush your teeth, remove your makeup. You change into pajamas, drink a glass of water. 

You wake up to your phone buzzing incessantly next to your head.

[10:14 AM] Jin 😎: oh [10:14 AM] Jin 😎: my god [10:14 AM] Jin 😎: i think i am dead? [10:15 AM] Jin 😎: are you dead too? are we ghosts? [10:15 AM] Jin 😎: can ghosts throw up??? 🤔

You giggle despite your own headache. 

[10:15 AM] You: whats wrong old man, you can’t hang anymore?? [10:16 AM] Jin 😎: WOW [10:16 AM] You: 😇

You check all your other socials, answer a few emails, and then finally drag yourself out of bed and head for a hot shower. As you stand beneath the hot water, you think about your first hangover, when you were sixteen. 

You’d woken up next to Minji on her basement floor, a hoodie balled up beneath your head like a pillow. You’d closed your eyes again, hoping the splitting pain in your head and the roiling adrenaline in your stomach were a bad dream. 

They were not.

You spent most of the next hour in the basement’s tiny bathroom, curled up on the floor next to your porcelain jail. When you felt like you could stand, you rinsed your mouth and pulled the pillow-hoodie onto your body, taking comfort in the way it swam on you, the hemline brushing your thighs just below your cutoffs. 

You’d made your way upstairs, hoping to sneak past Mr. Kim and your own parents and make it unscathed to your own bed. You wanted nothing but to sleep for the next fourteen hours. Or years. 

You got busted at the top of the stairs. Luckily, it was Seokjin bustling around the kitchen, not his father.

He had taken one look at you and started laughing, low in his belly. “Too much fun?”

“Shut up,” you’d whined, literally covering your ears against the noise. “Or I will throw up again, I promise.”

Jin had smiled at you, open and easy. “Sit down, kid,” he’d said kindly, jerking his head towards the kitchen table. “I have an age-old remedy.” 

And actually? It had worked.

After drying your hair and throwing on some jeans and a t-shirt, you scavenge your kitchen. You have most of what you need, and you toss it all into a tote bag and hunt for your keys. You finally find them on the floor next to the kitchen counter - chances are you’d tossed them at the counter last night and missed - and head out.

Your parents are home when you let yourself in. They both stare at you, baffled, then exchange a sly, knowing look.

“You’re back, I see,” your mom says, something sneaky in her tone.

“Do you have any bean paste?” you answer. “I’m going to go make Minji hangover soup.”

Only one word was a lie.

This makes your mom laugh, and she rummages in her cabinets and helps you complete the list of ingredients you need. 

The Kims’ front door is locked, so you make your way around the side of the house and fish the key out of its hiding spot, letting yourself in the side door that leads to the kitchen. 

The house is still and quiet, and you try not to clang any pots and pans as you get to work. When you finish, over an hour later, you set up the table - a bowl of hangover soup, and a mug of steaming hot coffee, black.

You text Seokjin, “come to the kitchen”, and set your phone back down, turning to start on the dishes. 

You’re informed of his presence by his laugh. You turn, hands red under the hot water and covered in suds, to see him sitting down at the spot you’d set up. He looks up at you, amazed, an uncertain smile playing across his face. 

“It’s an age-old remedy,” you tell him seriously.

“You are…” he trails off with a quiet laugh and reaches for the coffee. 

You’d love to know the end of that sentence. 

When you finish the dishes - save for the pot with the remaining soup, still on the stove for when Minji wakes up - you pour your own mug of coffee and sit across from Jin, watching as he finishes his soup. He closes his eyes and sighs happily, then sets down his spoon reverently.

“Thank you,” he says, like a prayer, but also like a joke. “That was so needed.”

“Consider it payback,” you tell him. 

It feels different, sitting across the kitchen table. Different than sitting across that booth at the bar. Less charged. Like it wasn’t something physical burning between you, like you’d thought, but the need for catharsis, for apology. Even if you don’t know what he’s sorry for, even if you still don’t know what exactly happened with him two years ago.

He’s thinking about it too, apparently. He says your name quietly, and you look up to meet his eyes. You can read the apology all over his face. The house is still still and quiet, no one awake but you and Jin. Like no one exists but you and Jin.

You’ve felt that way before.

Sitting beside him in the basement. In the passenger seat of his car, driving through a rainstorm. In his backyard, in the dark, your breath visible in the air as it leaves your mouth in desperate puffs.

“I kind of wanted to talk,” he admits, and your stomach twists. Maybe you should have had some of the soup. “About -?”

“There’s nothing to talk about,” you say quickly, already standing, already moving to gather up the tote bag you’d used to carry ingredients. You shrug back into your jacket, ignoring Jin’s wide-eyed look of surprise. “I should get going,” you say, still not looking at him. You go back to the kitchen door you’d entered through, picking up the key so you can return it to its hiding place outside. You pause on the threshold, turning, eyeing the stovetop thoughtfully. 

“Tell Minji you made the soup,” you instruct, and then you close the door behind you. 

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1. Asterism || KSJ
1. Asterism || KSJ

Thank you so so much for reading - i hope you like this one as much as I do! Please don't feel shy about letting me know what you think!

Part 2: Retrograde will post next Friday, June 2nd. Hope to see you there!

3 years ago
Cutie 🥺
Cutie 🥺
Cutie 🥺
Cutie 🥺

cutie 🥺

3 years ago
He’s Never Beating The Vampire Allegations [cr. Dwellingsouls]
He’s Never Beating The Vampire Allegations [cr. Dwellingsouls]
He’s Never Beating The Vampire Allegations [cr. Dwellingsouls]
He’s Never Beating The Vampire Allegations [cr. Dwellingsouls]
He’s Never Beating The Vampire Allegations [cr. Dwellingsouls]
He’s Never Beating The Vampire Allegations [cr. Dwellingsouls]
He’s Never Beating The Vampire Allegations [cr. Dwellingsouls]
He’s Never Beating The Vampire Allegations [cr. Dwellingsouls]
He’s Never Beating The Vampire Allegations [cr. Dwellingsouls]

he’s never beating the vampire allegations [cr. dwellingsouls]

3 years ago
Jungkook’s ‘jin-hyung’ Smile
Jungkook’s ‘jin-hyung’ Smile
Jungkook’s ‘jin-hyung’ Smile
Jungkook’s ‘jin-hyung’ Smile
Jungkook’s ‘jin-hyung’ Smile
Jungkook’s ‘jin-hyung’ Smile
Jungkook’s ‘jin-hyung’ Smile
Jungkook’s ‘jin-hyung’ Smile
Jungkook’s ‘jin-hyung’ Smile
Jungkook’s ‘jin-hyung’ Smile

jungkook’s ‘jin-hyung’ smile


Tags
2 years ago

⤑ 9 months to fall in love 10.

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It seems like everyone around you is either already in love, or in the process of falling, and while normally you couldn’t give a damn, finding out the co-worker you’ve had a teensy crush on is dating someone else at the office seems to sucker punch you right in the gut. It’s stupid, and you’re irritated at yourself, but you can’t seem to shake out of the funk you’ve fallen face first in.

Feeling lonely and heartsore, and mad for no reason, during drinks with your best friend you spot a man at the bar. Tequila confident, you make your way over to the stranger, and successfully one thing leads to another. The next morning you leave before he’s woken up, feeling satisfied in one way, but still as discontented as ever. Telling yourself it was an inebriated mistake, you quickly try to forget about it.

Only, three weeks later that night comes back to haunt you – in a very unescapable way…

image

pairing; kim seokjin x f reader au/genre; unplanned pregnancy, strangers to lovers, slow burn, romance (dare I say romcom in places), smut, angst, (melo)drama, dual pov words; 11,628

warnings for this chapter (!) Oc loves to forget food when it comes to Seokjin, a kitchen make out session that turns into slight chaos, Jungkook the cockblock, Seduce Seokjin Mode: On, he’s forced to talk about boobs, more specifically Oc’s boobs, ends up mansplaining milk production, Yuna makes everyone squirm, Jimin FINALLY appears (and loses a noticeable portion of his bank balance in the process) 

⟶ ao3 link

*inspired by the manhwa ‘Positively Yours.’

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note; *that* section of this chapter is for all the lactating anons (you know who you are lmao). Enjoy because this will probably be the last time breast milk comes up so much in conversation 🤣 Thank you for reading everyone! 

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↪︎ series index

SEASON TWO ⇤ previous | next ⇥

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Keep reading

3 years ago

⤑ 9 months to fall in love 8.

image

It seems like everyone around you is either already in love, or in the process of falling, and while normally you couldn’t give a damn, finding out the co-worker you’ve had a teensy crush on is dating someone else at the office seems to sucker punch you right in the gut. It’s stupid, and you’re irritated at yourself, but you can’t seem to shake out of the funk you’ve fallen face first in.

Feeling lonely and heartsore, and mad for no reason, during drinks with your best friend you spot a man at the bar. Tequila confident, you make your way over to the stranger, and successfully one thing leads to another. The next morning you leave before he’s woken up, feeling satisfied in one way, but still as discontented as ever. Telling yourself it was an inebriated mistake, you quickly try to forget about it.

Only, three weeks later that night comes back to haunt you – in a very unescapable way…

image

pairing; kim seokjin x f reader au/genre; unplanned pregnancy, strangers to lovers, slow burn, romance (dare I say romcom in places), smut, angst, (melo)drama, dual pov words; 13,452

warnings for this chapter (!) office altercation, toxic co-worker, miscarriage mentions (nothing happens or will happen, Oc is just worrying/making sure everything is fine), mention of parent death and heart attack, sexual propositioning, the reign of Sera is finally over, Seokjin takes control of the situation 🥵, allusions to narcissism, and I don’t want to spoil too much but the ending is sweet I promise 🤧

⟶ ao3 link

*inspired by the manhwa ‘Positively Yours.’

note; I will be dedicating the rest of May to Season 1 drabbles! Season 2 will begin sometime in June — I will let you guys know an exact date once I know more. Thank you for following this story, and I hope you enjoy this chapter! 

image

↪︎ series index

SEASON ONE ⇤ previous | next ⇥

image

Keep reading

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jinaconda - Lies Of the soul
Lies Of the soul

San, a vibe no one else can replace 🖤 Ot7 biased ,she/her. 18+, “ INTJ-T”

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