This smut took me F O R E V E R to write because I get like super freaked out and nervous whenever I write about sex? It doesn’t make sense but whatever, I pushed through it and some odd amount of hours later its finally here. This is in response to this request. Enjoy~
Genre: Smut
“Yah, ___. Can you grab my makeup bag for me?”
“Yes, unnie.” You frowned in concentration and looked at Yoongi apologetically before running across the room and grabbing the forgotten make-up bag. Being the youngest hair and makeup stylist for the idol group BTS had it’s ups and downs. The boys loved you and you were close to many of them but the older girls bossed you around a lot.
You gave the older girl the bag and bowed slightly, returning to Yoongi to finish his hair. “I’m sorry oppa, I’ll try to finish quickly.”
“It’s fine, take your time. We still a couple hours before the shoot, I just wanted to get it done and over with.” His voice was deeper than usual and one look at his face let you know he was tired.
“Were you up late again, oppa? I told you that’s no good for your eye bags. They’ll just get bigger and require more makeup to cover them.” You bent over slightly and looked at his eyes, pouting as you noticed there were darker bruises formed under them. He blinked a few times at your closeness then smiled and rubbed your hair.
“I’ll try to catch up on some sleep today. Go do the kid’s hair. He’s waiting in the corner.” You looked and sure enough, Jungkook was sitting in the corner of the room playing on his phone, waiting patiently. None of your unnies ever wanted to do his hair because they claim every time they try he acts like a brat but he was never like that with you. In fact he was really kind to you, kinder than the other boys. Maybe it was because he was just a few days older than you were that made you so comfortable to be around. Whatever the reason, you were thankful.
Sometimes he brought you water or shared his snacks during their shoots, whether it was for a music video or just a photoshoot. You smiled and walked over to the boy, bending over to look at his phone. “What are you playing?”
He blinked and his face turned a slight pink but he smiled and looked in your eyes, although his eyes kept darting downward you figured he was just trying to focus on the game. “I was playing piano tiles but you distracted me.” His voice was deep enough to have a nice warm feeling to it and he always spoke to you comfortably. Maybe if he wasn’t famous you would have been best friends.
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