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Trip || KTH

(banner by @/itaeewon)

Trip || a KTH one-shot by daechwitatamic (masterlist)

Pairing: KTH x female reader, JJK x OC, JHS x OC

Genre: f2l, fluff, camping!au

WC: 22k

Rating: M - minors DNI

Summary: Your gigantic crush on Kim Taehyung is so bad that you drop whatever you’re holding every time he speaks to you. Your dirty liar of a best friend SWORE to you he wouldn’t be on this camping trip, but he is. Luckily, the trip gives Taehyung the chance to see you in a new light, admittedly with some help from his best friend (and definitely hired spy) Park Jimin.

Warnings: socially awkward oc, introverted oc, a few injuries including a bad sprain and a deep cut that will require stitches – some scenes of basic first aid as these are handled and there is blood involved, cursing, drinking, kissing, groping, breast play, like two seconds of grinding, a disgusting amount of soft affectionate feelings

Notes: This is for @/thebtswritersclub Summer Project, for the “camping/hiking” prompt. I hope y’all enjoy! Thank you to the Mods who organized the event!

Huge thank you to @/kookstempo for beta-ing, for helping me choose snippets, and for dealing with my bible-book summary process. Another thank you to @/cherrysoulth for the beta job, much appreciated!

I did, in fact, steal the Douchebag Jar from The New Girl, so if you work for them, don’t sue me, just enjoy the kpop fanfiction that I make zero dollars from. I also stole “chaos gremlin” specifically as a direct description of Park Jimin from @/m-yg93, so, hey, thanks for the apt description.

“Hey, so… I know last week I said he wasn’t… but apparently, Taehyung is coming on this trip.”

You almost drive off the highway.

After you correct your car - the back seat of which is laden with backpacks, coolers, tents, camping chairs, and other gear – you shoot your best friend a look. She smiles at you sheepishly from the passenger seat. There are lakes as far as you can see on either side of the highway, water glinting silver under a mid-afternoon sun, the highway slicing between them like a snake through a puddle.

“How long have you known that?” you ask her suspiciously. You wouldn’t be surprised if she’d known the whole time and had just lied to you when she first asked you to attend a camping trip with her boyfriend and his friends. She knew you wouldn’t have agreed if you knew Taehyung would be there.

He makes you too nervous. You just can’t enjoy yourself when he’s at events. And honestly, you’d thought a camping trip would be safe. Taehyung’s charming and really fucking hot, but he seems a bit pampered to you. You can’t really imagine him roughing it.

Not that you’re all really roughing it – the campsite is the kind with bathrooms you can walk to that have showers and real toilets, even though you have to walk a bit to get to them.

“I just found out this morning,” she tells you earnestly. “I promise. I know that you’re doing me a favor by coming along – I promise I wouldn’t do anything to make this suck for you. Not on purpose.”

It’s true. Delia’s only been dating Jungkook for about four months. Lately, they’ve been getting a lot more serious, but there’s still a lot of firsts that they’re going through, and going away together (with his group of friends, no less) is definitely a first. She’d begged you to come for moral support, even though you – like Taehyung – are pampered. The flushing toilets had been one of your conditions. This is also why she’s in your car keeping you company instead of in the car with Jungkook, even though you know Hoseok is bringing his girlfriend and they are most definitely sharing a car.

You resist the urge to press your head to the top of the steering wheel in distress.

“Del,” you say, and stop. You don’t even know where the rest of the sentence wants to go. Your stomach is churning.

Delia presses her lips together, giving you a deeply sympathetic look. She knows well that you’ve been crushing on Taehyung since the first time you met him – the same night Delia and Jungkook hooked up for the first time.

She also knows it’s a crush that renders you stupid – suddenly clumsy, unable to form full thoughts or coherent sentences, all logic leaving your body with the air from your lungs every time he smiles anywhere near your vicinity.

(“Girl, stop tripping,” she’d tell you. “He’s a nice, normal guy! You need to get it together!”)

It’s bad.

She’s told you before she’s never seen you like this, and you always tell her it’s because you’ve never been like this. And you’ve never even been alone with him, never had a serious conversation. Your inability to be normal around him is literally just from what you’ve observed about him in group settings. Imagine if you actually had, like, depth in your conversations? You’d have to board the nearest rocket to the damn moon.

It's so embarrassing.

But as beautiful as Taehyung is – as effortlessly charming, and secretly clever, and slyly funny – he’s also unattainable. Or, at least, it feels that way when you join Delia to hang out with Jungkook’s crew. Taehyung’s never been unkind to you – in fact, he never acts aloof. He’s friendly and welcoming – they all have been, every time. But there’s something about him that makes you think he’s hard to really know, like there are parts of himself that he keeps close. You also can’t help but feel like he must be out of your league with a face like that; not that you’re insecure – you’re not – it’s just that he’s hotter than almost everybody on the planet.

You also know – from Delia, who heard from Jungkook, who heard from Jimin – that he went through a pretty rough breakup about three months ago.

Anyway. It doesn’t matter. He’s cool, and beautiful, and you… can barely even function as yourself when he’s around. It just doesn’t make sense to pursue it. You’ve tried to avoid joining Delia to hang out with the guys if you know he’ll be there, preferring to hang out with Delia and Jungkook when they’re with Jimin, or Seokjin.

It just feels simpler that way.

“It’ll be okay,” Delia tells you, tapping her phone against the top of her leg. “It’s a big group going, he’ll be easy to avoid.”

You do your best to level a stare at her without taking your eyes completely off the road.

“Del,” you say flatly. “We’re spending three nights in the woods together. There is nothing to do but sit around and talk to each other. You know what’s going to happen. I’m going to look fucking stupid the whole time.”

“You won’t,” she says, flapping a hand, like she herself hasn’t witnessed you absolutely malfunction in Taehyung’s presence several times.

“Don’t lie to me,” you grumble, looking back at the road ahead of you.

She pats your leg amicably, and you spend some time in companionable quiet as the dark forests rush by outside the car’s windows.

It’s late afternoon when you arrive, pulling up to the little wooden booth where you check in. The girl inside, in a khaki uniform, goes over the campground’s rules and directs you to the two adjoined campsites that the boys had booked online.

It’s clear that you’re the last to arrive. Three cars are parked at the sites, and there’s already two tents erected.

As you park, Jungkook makes his way over, waiting to greet Delia with an arm around her shoulders and a press of lips to the top of her head. She beams, glows, all that shit. You busy yourself by starting to unpack the trunk and the backseat, starting with the cooler.

“Let me help with that,” says a deep voice behind you, and you drop the end of the cooler you had been pulling out of the car. It starts to slip to the ground, and you scramble to catch it. A second pair of hands steadies it with you, veins prominent.

“Thanks you. I mean, thank you. Thanks. Sorry,” you mutter, your words tripping over one another, your eyes on the ground. On the other side of the car, Delia is literally covering her face with her hand, shaking her head. You feel like your face is on fire.

Jungkook comes around the car to rescue you from yourself, taking one handle of the cooler and helping Taehyung carry it over to the picnic table where the food will be stored.

“Jesus,” Delia says, materializing next to you.

“I’m going home,” you deadpan. You feel shell-shocked, you can’t even process what a disaster you are. You didn’t even make it twenty seconds without embarrassing yourself.

She rubs the top of your back bracingly, as if you tell you to buck up. Face still flaming, you work on untangling the tent from the camping chairs, carrying it over to the empty spot.

“We have one more tent to go up there,” Jungkook calls to you. “We’re putting two tents on each campsite.”

“Okay,” you tell him. “I wasn’t going to set it up yet, so we can figure it out.”

The boys start working on the last two tents while you and Delia finish emptying out your car. The third girl in attendance, Hoseok’s girlfriend, wanders over and introduces herself as Suz, and offers to help organize everything as you unload chairs and food, beer and bug spray.

Between the seven guys, it doesn’t take long to set up the two remaining tents, spacing them evenly across the campsite so that all four tents make a horseshoe around the fire and the picnic tables. You and Delia start setting up the camping chairs around the fire. At the picnic table, Yoongi’s opened the first case of beer. His can opens with a hiss, and you watch several heads turn in that direction.

“Yes,” Jungkook says, already moving to grab two.

“Great decision making,” Jimin praises, hopping over a cooler as he makes his way over.

“As expected of our appointed Campsite Leader,” Taehyung says, but you notice that he doesn’t go for a beer. He already has a plastic cup in his hand; you wonder if he’s not a beer guy.

“I deeply do not want to be Campsite Leader,” Yoongi protests after taking a swig of his beer. “Make Joon do it.”

“Joon?” The three youngest guys speak almost in unison. The tall man in question flushes, laughing a little with self-deprecation.

“I think you misunderstand,” Jimin says, pulling the tab on his own can. “We’re trying not to die this weekend.”

Hoseok’s girlfriend, Suz, looks up in alarm from the camping chair she’s claimed.

“Nobody’s going to die,” Hoseok assures her, smiling lightly.

Delia groans loudly. “Now you’ve jinxed it,” she tells Hoseok, tone scolding.

For a while everyone just chills. Jimin hooks up a Bluetooth speaker and music plays beneath the steady flow of conversation. Hoseok, Suz, Taehyung, and Namjoon walk down to the lake “just to check it out”. With Taehyung gone from the campsite, you relax, settling into your folding camping chair and releasing a deep breath.

You’re startled when something cold touches your hand; looking around, you see that Delia is trying to pass you a beer.

“Bless you,” you tell her.

“You need it,” she says, giving you a look that would piss you off if it came from literally anyone else on the planet. “You’ve got to relax. He’s just a normal person. You have to act like it.”

“Shut up, please,” you tell her through a fake smile hiding gritted teeth. You’re very aware of how close to earshot Jimin is.

“I’m just saying,” she says, wandering back to Jungkook’s waiting lap.

“Well stop,” you grumble, open the beer she’d handed you.

Yoongi and Seokjin seem to be heading up grilling for dinner, huddled around the fire with tongs. Jungkook watches them even as he talks quietly with Delia, who perches on his lap happily. This leaves you with no one to talk to except Jimin, so you do, hoping he didn’t hear Delia’s big mouth.

“Have you guys done this before?” you ask him.

He turns to look at you, eyebrows raised in question as he processes what you asked.

“Oh,” he says. “No, not really. I think a few of these guys have – definitely Jungkook – but not as a group like this.”

“Should be fun,” you muse. “What’s the plan for tomorrow?”

“Morning hike, I think?” Seokjin answers you from across the fire, where he’s opening a package of meat to grill. Beside him, Yoongi clicks the tongs absentmindedly, his eyes far away. “They were going to do the Red trail.”

“Isn’t that the hard one?” Delia asks, stopping rubbing noses with Jungkook long enough to re-enter the conversation.

Yoongi comes back to planet earth and tells her, “It’s the more challenging of the two we picked, yeah. But it’s not hard.”

“We thought we should save the easier one for the last day,” Jungkook explains, leaning around Delia to look at you. “We’ll be tired by then.”

“Define ‘not hard,’” you request dryly. “Some of us aren’t gym rats.” You cast an accusatory look at Jungkook.

“I’m opting out,” Seokjin tells you as an answer. “I’ll do the Blue trail with everyone the day after, but no thanks to the Red trail.”

“It’s really not hard, he’s being a baby,” Yoongi assures you. “It’s actually a shorter distance than the Blue trail, it’s just that it’s steeper.”

“There are some sections that are kind of rocky,” Jungkook tells you. “Make sure you wear shoes with good tread.”

“Got it,” you say, nodding. You have decent hiking boots; you’ll be fine.

By the time the crew that went to the lake wander back into sight, you’ve absently finished your first beer. You toss the can to Jimin, who’s closest to the bag you’ve all designated for empties. He also takes the liberty of fishing a fresh one out of the cooler and tossing it back to you – right as Taehyung gets close enough to call, “Is dinner ready?”

You drop the beer in the dirt.

Jimin grimaces and you close your eyes with a sigh, and then lean down to retrieve the can, wiping dirt off the top with the hem of your shirt.

“The meat’s done,” Jin answers Taehyung’s question as the group file back into camp. “What do we want to do for sides?”

You go quiet as the group discusses. You’re the least picky eater you know, so you can’t really add to the conversation. You’ll be happy with whatever they come up with. You sit quietly, sipping your beer, looking around at the group and listening.

Taehyung slips into the chair next to Jimin and starts talking to him quietly about the lake – you gather from the conversation that they want to take the canoes (which are still atop two of the parked cars at the campsite) out tomorrow or the next day. Suz snuggles on the chair with Hoseok, mirroring Delia and Jungkook on the opposite side. Namjoon plops into an empty chair and asks you, “Do you hike much?”

“Much, no,” you admit. “Maybe once or twice a year. And I’ve never been here before. It’s really pretty.”

“The views from the top are wild,” he tells you. “That’s why we picked the Red trail – it’s tougher, but it’s worth it from the top.”

“I can’t wait,” you tell him. You’re very aware of Taehyung’s eyes on you from somewhere in your periphery.

When the food is agreed upon and fixed up, everyone takes turns rising to get what they want. As you all settle back into your chairs to eat, conversation dies down to nothing. You can hear the scrapes of forks against the paper plates, birds calling down by the water, the shouts of some kids staying at a campsite that must be just out of sight.

After eating and cleaning up, you decide to walk down to the lake since you haven’t seen it yet.

“If you go straight that way,” Taehyung tells you, using his whole arm to point, “you’ll meet up with a dirt path that leads right down to the beach. You literally can’t miss it.”

“You’d be surprised,” you tell him with a small smile. “But thanks.”

“I can go and make sure you don’t get lost,” he offers, voice light.

“No,” you shake your head. “You already went, that’d be silly. I’ll be fine by myself.”

Delia kicks you as you walk by, and you refuse to look. You can translate the kick perfectly – it means “oh my god he offered to go with you.”

To which you’d reply, if you were speaking, “It doesn’t mean anything, he’s just being nice.”

You head in the direction that Taehyung had pointed out, passing several other campsites on your way, including the one with the yelling kids. There are about six of them, various ages, playing some very brutal form of freeze tag. There is tackling involved. With a small smile, you carry on.

Past two more campsites, both with older couples tending to their campfires, you find the dirt path as promised. It leads you past a Rangers’ station, as well as the shower and bathroom buildings, which you mentally file away for later. They’ll be harder to find in the dark, you figure.

It’s not much longer before the path slopes dramatically, leading down to the beach, grass gradually giving way to sand. There are a few people walking along the beach, but no one in the water. You find a spot that seems out of the way and sit, sand soft between your toes.

Out across the water, the sun is dipping low, almost completely out of view. Its reflection dances and shimmers and you let yourself sit there feeling still and peaceful. Delia’s one of your favorite people, and you like Jungkook a lot for her, and his friends have always been so nice, but sometimes it’s hard for you to be “on” with a group of people for a long time. You take this time, watching the sun disappear inch by golden inch, to recharge in the silence.

Eventually the golden hour fades to blue. You watch the sky grow darker and darker, stars coming out one by one, each time you blink another four appearing. You’re about to rise and head back before it gets dark dark when you hear familiar voices behind you. It’s Del and Jungkook, coming down the path hand-in-hand.

“We were sent to rescue you,” Delia informs you with a grin.

“I need to be rescued?” you ask, raising an eyebrow as you brush sand off of your butt and thighs.

“Taehyung certainly thought so,” she says suggestively.

“What does that mean?” you ask grumpily. You don’t love that these conversations happen in front of Jungkook, but you’ve accepted that what Delia knows, he knows too.

As far as you know, he’s kept his mouth shut.

She shrugs innocently. “He was very concerned about you down here by yourself, that’s all.”

Jungkook rolls his eyes. “He was not very concerned,” he counters. “He just mentioned that it’s dark now and it might be tricky finding the way back alone.”

You say nothing, leading the way back up the path. It is different in the dark, but you would have been fine.

You can hear your campsite before you can see it – Hoseok’s laughter carries across the night, harmonizing with Suz’s sharp giggle. You can hear Jimin’s voice, but you can’t make out what he’s saying, only that he sounds defensive. Below that, you can hear the quiet chords of a guitar.

It’s clear as you approach that the mood has shifted at camp. Liquor bottles, juice, and soda have been placed on the picnic table next to plastic cups. Yoongi, looking a little red in the face, leans over his guitar with a look of avid concentration. Seokjin is laying on his back across one of the picnic benches, looking sideways to argue heatedly with Taehyung about god-knows-what as Jimin laughs heartily, one hand on his aching stomach muscles.

“You found her!” Namjoon says, smiling.

“I wasn’t lost,” you assert. “I knew exactly where I was.”

“We thought you’d come back when it got dark,” Suz says, her dark eyes wide. “I wouldn’t want to be down there alone.”

“I kind of liked it,” you admit. “I like the part of dusk when it’s like… every time you look away and then look back, there are more stars than there were a second ago? We don’t really get to see that at home.”

“That’s true we don’t,” Namjoon muses. You head to the picnic table to mix yourself a drink; judging by the glassiness of Jimin’s eyes and the loose chuckle Hoseok is emitting, you have some catching up to do. Delia sidles up next to you to make her own drink and she gives you a loving hip-bump that makes you giggle.

“Careful, you’ll spill the vodka,” you warn her.

“No spilling vodka!” Taehyung calls from across the circle, overhearing this. “That shit was expensive!”

“See?” you say to Delia. “This is expensive vodka and you can’t spill it.”

As you finish making your drink, you’re aware of a pair of eyes watching you from the other side of the crackling fire. You try to ignore this piercing gaze, sip at your drink to make sure you made it right, and find an empty chair around the fire to claim. Even once you’re seated, you can feel Taehyung’s eyes on you. You try to avoid eye contact, watching the ice cubes float around the top of your mixed drink, twinkling as they reflect the firelight.

When you think it’s safe, you flick your gaze in his direction. He’s finally turned, talking to Jungkook. The firelight dances on his face, showing his sharp jawline, the structure of his cheekbones, before casting him in darkness once again.

After a while, Delia comes to sit by you, leaning against your shoulder. His arms and lap now free, Jungkook also unpacks a guitar from the car, and he and Yoongi play together, riffing and vibing. You lean back against Delia and close your eyes, content to listen.

“We should figure out the sleeping arrangement,” Namjoon says from the chair next to you, and you and Delia both turn to look at him. He’d been so quiet, you’d forgotten he was sitting there.

“Honestly,” Taehyung says, his voice flat and a little sour, “I vote to give the couples their own tents. We have the space. And no one wants to see that.”

Everyone does some mental math at that.

“It’s going to be two tents of three and two tents of two regardless,” Hoseok reasons. He sounds like he’s trying to come off like he doesn’t care either way, but it’s obvious he wants a private tent for himself and Suz.

Delia turns to look at you, guilt etched on her face. You had kind of thought the two of you would share a tent. It had somehow not occurred to you that she might want to snuggle with her boyfriend. And Taehyung’s exactly right – you don’t want to share a tent with her and Jungkook: those two can’t keep their hands to themselves for a minute.

So your options seem to be: tent with Delia, tent with Delia and Jungkook and get a free show, or tent with two of Jungkook’s friends that you don’t know super well.

Cool.

Delia is giving you puppy-dog eyes now. “I’m sorry,” she whines. “Can I puh-lease do a tent with Kookie?”

“You want to put me in a tent with two of these guys,” you clarify flatly.

A chorus of objections rises from around the circle.

“We are very nice,” Seokjin asserts, brows furrowed.

“You should be honored to listen to Namjoon snore all night,” Taehyung tells you, also trying to look severe, but his lips twitch.

“I am wounded,” Namjoon says, clutching his chest dramatically.

“You can join ours,” Jimin tells you quietly. While everyone else hurries to tease you, he seems to sense that you’re having some actual trepidation about the plan. “It’s me and Tae – we’ll give you a lot of room. He always ends up snuggling with me anyway.”

“Hey!” Taehyung calls. “Way to put me on blast, dude!”

“Is it true, or is it not true?” Jimin demands, and Taehyung pointedly looks away, tipping his cup to take a drink. “Exactly.”

Del is still sticking her entire lip out, begging.

“God, fine,” you say, exasperated. “But I swear if we have to hear you-.” You let the threat go unsaid and she reaches up to squish your cheeks affectionately.

“You’re my favorite best friend ever,” she coos, your whole face squeezed between her thumb and fingers.

“Tdank youf,” you try to say.

“And I’m your favorite, too,” she says.

“Andf yer muh fay’rite tchoo,” you say.

Satisfied, she releases you.

“That was hot,” Jungkook announces.

Suz levels a finger at him. “Douchebag jar,” she demands.

“The jar isn’t here!” Jungkook protests.

Suz shakes her head. “I don’t care. Hand over the dollar, douchebag.”

Jungkook grumbles, but starts digging in his pockets.

You all spend another half hour around the fire, the guitar music slowly fading out as the boys get tired – or tipsy. Conversation loops through time as you share stories from when you were little kids (tv shows you all remember from Saturday mornings, common household dynamics, who had the scariest mom) up to your college years (first time getting properly drunk, the worst professors you’d ever had, crazy roommate stories). You’re all laughing so hard your stomach hurts, pointing at each other and shouting as you find things you have in common.

“My mom forgot me at the mall once,” Taehyung admits as he chuckles, and Jimin and Hoseok howl, doubling over in their chairs. “Literally left me in the parking lot.”

“I know this story!” Jungkook shouts between bouts of laughter. “She didn’t forget you, you got out of the car!”

The laughter doubles in volume. Taehyung’s eyes are squeezed shut as he laughs, his grin taking up half his face. Jimin pounds his knee with a fist, gasping for breath between cackles.

“My parents did forget me at the grocery store,” you pipe up. The boys take deep breaths, whining as they try to stop laughing so they can listen, wiping tears of mirth from the corners of their eyes.

Delia looks at you, eyes wide with recognition. “I remember that. You were like twelve!”

“Wow, really?” Namjoon asks. “Usually when parents forget a kid, they’re little.”

You shake your head, smiling at the ridiculous memory. “I’m one of six kids,” you explain. “My mom always did a headcount, but she forgot my sister had a friend with her. It was really my fault for getting distracted.”

“Six?” Taehyung echoes. “That’s wild. Where do you fall in the line-up?”

“Third oldest,” you tell him. “I have an older brother and an older sister, then two more younger brothers and one more little sister.”

“I could never,” Jungkook says, shaking his head. “I’d lose two kids every time we went anywhere.”

“Too bad, baby,” Delia jokes. “I want ten.”

“Ten!” Jungkook shrieks, practically pushing her off of his lap. “Are you out of your damn mind?”

Yoongi, Seokjin, and Namjoon are sharing the second three-person tent, and it’s not much later that they take one of the lanterns and go to set up their sleeping bags. You expect them to come back to the circle when they’re situated, but when Yoongi unzips the front of the tent and emerges, he heads down the path towards the bathroom buildings instead, his toothbrush in hand. Jin follows him, and then Namjoon joins them after returning the lantern to the picnic table for someone else to use.

“Should we get ready, too?” Jimin asks. You look at Taehyung to see his response, but they’re both looking at you.

“Am I Tent Leader?” you joke, surprised. Delia groans, booing at you.

“You can be if you want to,” Jimin shrugs. “I know you’re in an uncomfortable spot having to share with us when you don’t know us that well. I just want to give you a little agency.”

“Yes,” Taehyung says, tone playful, nodding enthusiastically. “Agency. That’s exactly what I was going to say.”

“You were not,” Jimin kicks at him.

“We can set up if you want,” you shrug. The boys rise, grabbing the lantern that Namjoon had left on the table, and you head to the car for your sleeping bag and overnight bag.

The boys have taken the middle and the right side of the tent, leaving you the left third. The lantern hangs from the top of the tent, casting long shadows as you all maneuver around each other as you set up. Twice, you bump into Taehyung as you both circle your areas, getting everything just right. You both mutter apologies, and once, he rests his hand lightly on your elbow, as if to steady you even though the collision had been quite gentle. You face burns and you sit heavily on your sleeping bag, digging through your overnight stuff in search of a toothbrush and some pajamas.

“Namjoon-hyung!” Jimin calls through the tent wall.

“Yeah?” Namjoon calls back from the last tent in the line.

“What time do you want to leave in the morning?”

There’s silence as Namjoon considers this. You locate your toothbrush, your pajamas, a hairbrush, and a pair of slide-on sandals. You remove your sneakers and slip these shoes on, bundling up the rest of your goodies and heading back out towards the fire, making sure to zip the tent behind you.

The circle is full of empty chairs now, the fire burning low. There are lights inside all three tents now, shadows visible as the people inside move around.

“Probably we should be on the road by seven,” Namjoon says from inside his tent, and Jimin makes a noise to indicate he heard but doesn’t love what he’s hearing.

“Del?” you call. “Or Suz? Either of you want to walk down to the bathrooms with me?”

“Oh,” Suz says, sticking her head out of her tent with Hoseok. “Yes, me, please. Will you wait while I get my stuff?”

A few minutes later, the three of you make your way down to the buildings, stepping carefully in the dark. Behind you, you can hear a few more of the guys coming.

You pee and brush your teeth, changing into your pajamas. They’re a short and t-shirt set, but the material is thin, so you opt to leave a bra on. Damn, you hate to sleep in a bra, you haven’t had to do it since college. But you just feel a little less weird about the tent situation that way.

When you return to the campsite, Yoongi is pouring sand over the top of the fire to put the rest out. Jungkook is moving his guitar case back to the back of his car, the headlights illuminating the trees in the distance. Delia waits patiently at his side, the keys in her hand.

“You got it?” you ask Yoongi as you pass by.

“Yep,” he says easily. “It’s out. All good.”

You head back into your own tent. The lantern has been removed from the top, but Taehyung’s got a gigantic flashlight turned on, and it sits in the middle of the tent with its beam aimed at the ceiling. Taehyung is inside his sleeping bag already, in the middle.

Right next to yours.

Of course.

Who needs sleep anyway, right?

You settle into your sleeping bag, staring at the blue ceiling above you. A moth flutters against the nylon fabric, wanting to escape.

You fish out your phone and check to see if you have any service. You have one tiny bar, so you try to see if you can get a text to your mom to go through, to let her know you made it safely. You probably should have done that when you’d arrived. Oops.

“So, are you excited for the mountain?” Taehyung asks, startling you so much that you drop your phone on your face, spluttering.

“Fuck, ow,” you whine, covering your smarting nose with a hand. You can hear the rustling of Taehyung’s sleeping bag that indicates that he’s moving.

“Are you okay?” he asks, his voice a lot closer than it was a second ago.

Taking a steadying breath against the stinging pain at the center of your face, you remove your hand. Taehyung has wormed his way out of his sleeping bag and kneels next to yours. He’s peering at you, brows furrowed with concern. He’s holding your cellphone out to you in one hand, and you reach out to take it. Your fingertips brush his, soft as moth-wings, before pulling away again.

“I’m fine,” you say, voice hushed. He’s so close to you.

The zipper of your tent suddenly slides up, and the moment – if it was a moment, and not just your overactive imagination – is broken as Jimin makes his way back inside. Taehyung goes back to his space, and you all settle in. After confirming that everyone is ready, Taehyung turns off the big flashlight, pitching you all into darkness.

You lay there, staring up, letting your eyes adjust, listening. You can hear gentle rustling outside the tent – branches in the breeze, tall grass bending with the wind, maybe even birds or bats. You can hear the low timbre of someone’s voice a few tents away – Namjoon or Yoongi, talking quietly with the other guys. You can hear the faint sounds of music – another campsite that hasn’t settled in for the night yet, though they’re thankfully pretty far away by the sounds of it. You can hear Jimin moving his feet back and forth inside his sleeping bag, the deep huff of his breath as he gets sleepy.

Closer, you can hear Taehyung breathing, soft and slow. You want to roll to look at him, to see if there’s enough light from outside that you can see his closed eyes, the slope of his nose, the pout of his pretty lips. But god forbid he could see you looking, you’d die of mortification. Instead you keep looking straight up, your breaths slowly coming to match his long inhale, his slow, whistling exhale.

Eventually, the chatter in your mind melts into gibberish, and then darkness, and you lose yourself to sleep.

When the alarm on your watch buzzes to wake you, your first coherent thought is that you must have made a mistake when you set it. Outside the tent it’s bright, but your eyes and your body are telling you it is way too early. You open one bleary eye to see that, yes, it is in fact the time you wanted to get up. You wanted to eat a little bit and pack a backpack before the hike, and you know the guys wanted to get an early start before it gets too hot.

You roll over, expecting to find yourself face to face with Taehyung. Instead, it’s clear that he abandoned his sleeping bag in the middle of the night and currently has one arm and one leg draped over top of Jimin. You smile, endeared.

You sit up as quietly as possible – though, you have a feeling you could be as noisy as you want and not wake those two – and start shifting through your big duffel bag. You find athletic leggings, a purple sports bra, a tank top, and a pair of thick socks – what you don’t want is blisters from your hiking boots halfway up the Red trail.

You gather the clothes, as well as some toiletries, and make your way out of the tent.

Seokjin and Namjoon are already up, sitting at the picnic table.

“Morning,” Namjoon calls.

“We made cowboy coffee,” Seokjin tells you. You feel a spark of excitement, but then he continues with a cheerful, “It’s terrible!”

“I guess I’ll pass, then,” you say with a little smile. “Did you use an egg?”

“Tried,” Namjoon corrects. “We tried to use an egg.”

You shake your head, still smiling. “Better luck tomorrow, cowboys.”

After getting dressed and ready down in the bathrooms, you head back to your tent to throw your stuff back in your bag. The boys are still conglomerated into one shape, but Taehyung seems to be at least partially awake now. Jimin, not so much.

“Morning,” Taehyung croaks, one eye barely open.

You can’t help your tiny smile. Who let him be so cute? “Good morning,” you tell him. “Are either of you coming on the hike? We’re leaving in about twenty minutes, if you are.”

Taehyung closes that eye again and groans loudly in protest, which in turn wakes Jimin, who whines and stretches. Still smiling, you shake your head and head back out to the picnic table, knowing you’ll need some food if you’re going to tackle a mountain today.

As you’re eating a protein bar and a yogurt, the rest of the crew wake up, filtering in and out of the tents and down to the bathrooms. Delia waves at you sleepily on her way by, and Suz a few minutes later. Taehyung shuffles past, eyes still mostly closed, hair messy. He’s followed by Jungkook and Hoseok.

When you’re done eating, you pack a backpack: water bottles, granola bars, first-aid kit, bug spray – the works.

You take two cars to get to the trailhead. Jungkook drives you, Delia, and Taehyung. Hoseok drives himself, Suz, Namjoon, and Yoongi. Seokjin, as promised, is staying at the campsite and Jimin isn’t even awake yet.

It’s slow going – Yoongi was right, it’s steep. A lot of the trail isn’t even dirt, it’s big rocks, and you’re using your hands for balance as you make your way from one to the next.

“I think you’d have an easier time without that big backpack,” Delia tells you, then teasing, “Did you think we were going overnight?”

You frown at her. “Don’t come crying to me when you run out of water and want one of my four extras. Or when you’re hungry and you want freshly sliced strawberries.”

This gets Taehyung’s attention. “You brought strawberries?”

If it had been Jungkook, or – hell – even Yoongi, you’d probably have said, “Yes, and I’ll share if you’re very nice to me today.” But it’s Taehyung, so what comes out of your mouth is just a barely audible, “Mhm!”

He graciously ignores your inability to speak, happily telling you, “Strawberries are my favorite.”

Delia comes to your rescue. “Y/N always shares, don’t worry.”

“Everything I packed is for the group,” you agree, getting yourself under control.

The group stays close together, helping one another up as the sun rises and the air grows hotter. Often, the guys will climb a new ledge and turn around to help pull you girls up. Jungkook helps you a few times, and Yoongi, and Taehyung; his fingers linger on your wrist as you lean your weight forward to help propel you up and over.

Only one of these makes your heart flutter like a fool.

You all take a break about halfway up (according to Jungkook), sitting on some rocks by the trail’s side, passing around water bottles and – yes – the tupperware full of strawberry slices.

“It’s going to feel amazing to go in the lake later,” you muse, wiping sweat from your forehead.

“Oh god, I can’t wait,” Delia agrees, closing her eyes, daydreaming of jumping into the dark water.

“I can’t wait to eat,” Jungkook counters.

“You literally said that with a mouthful of food,” Yoongi points out.

“This doesn’t count, it’s just fruit,” Jungkook says, waving a hand. “I want meat.”

The whole group titters at this, and he rolls his eyes. “Whatever, I want protein, is that better?”

“Not really,” Suz tells him lightly, still giggling.

Taehyung nudges you as he passes back the strawberries, which are gone but for a few slices. “Thanks,” he says. “Those hit the spot.”

“What else is in the magic bag?” Jungkook asks, peering over.

“Uh,” you say, unzipping the top and shifting it around to look. “Granola bars, mostly. You want a peanut one?”

He makes a grabby hand and you toss him a bar, which he catches deftly. You drink some water, enjoying the coolness of the shady spot. A guy with a dog passes you all on the trail, coming down from the top, raising a hand in friendly hello. The guys bum-rush to pet the dog.

“We should probably get moving,” Suz says after a minute of this, glancing at her watch, breaking up the dog party. “If we want to be at the top before noon.”

The rest of the way up goes much like the first half – a slow, careful pace and a lot of helping each other up and over rock ledges.

Near the top, you lose your footing. You’d braced a foot near the edge of the ledge you were trying to climb, but your foot slips and your body follows. You slide with a yelp, and someone steadies you by cupping your elbow with a firm hand, another high on your back.

“You’re okay, I’ve got you,” he says, voice deep enough that you have to try not to shiver. The rest of the group doesn’t seem to have noticed that you two paused.

“Thanks, Taehyung,” you say, a little breathless. The slip had kicked up your adrenaline and your heart pounds in your stomach, in your fingertips, at the edges of your vision. “Shit. That scared me.”

“Go carefully,” he tells you, something firm and insistent in his tone. He climbs the ledge that you had slipped on and turns, holding out a hand to you. You take a quick breath and grab his hand, scrambling as he pulls you up to join him.

“Thanks,” you say shyly, and he gives you a grin and a salute before turning and following the group up the path.

When the trail levels out, leading from dirt path to flat rock expanse, you all rush out to see. The horizon seems forever away, hundreds of miles unfolding below you in ripples of green. The view takes your breath away, and you walk from side to side of the flat area, trying to see each angle. The rest of the group fans out, doing the same, phones coming out of pockets as everyone starts snapping pictures. The couples take some together – you act as photographer for Delia and Jungkook, as is your usual duty when third-wheeling them anywhere. You take a few of your own, trying to capture the way the foothills start as rolling hills in the distance, building in height and frequency as they near the actual mountain-range.

“Holy shit, wow,” you breathe, creeping closer to the edge, where you can see the lake. It looks literally magical from here, like every folk story you grew up on could really be true. It gives you the feeling that ancient societies, with their strong ties to the earth and its natural processes, were really the ones who got it right.

“It’s really something, right?” Taehyung asks. You’re not sure when he came up next to you – you’d been enthralled by the view, lost in your thoughts as you tried to think about how to describe the way the road cut through the trees like a ribbon, the way the lake glittered and winked in the sunlight.

“It’s so beautiful,” you say, so enraptured by the view that you forget to act like a clown in his presence.

“Let’s take a group picture!” Suz suggests, pulling out her phone. There are a few other hikers enjoying the view, and Suz has no problem getting a young couple to agree to take a picture of your group. You all congregate near the edge – but not too near. You’re painfully aware that in the bunch, Taehyung ended up to your left, and he rests his arm lightly across your shoulders. On your right, Delia wraps an arm around Jungkook’s waist and leans her head on his shoulder cutely.

“One funny one?” Suz suggests.

Delia and Suz are both climbing onto their boyfriends backs, as the rest of you try to think of poses.

“Wait!” Taehyung cries, laughing. He’s laughing so hard he can barely get the idea out. “We’re an even number! We should all do it!”

“What?” Suz asks, confused.

Jungkook’s caught on, and he starts to giggle too. “Tae, who are you offering to piggyback - Namjoon?”

Taehyung’s practically snorting now. “Absolutely not, have you seen how big he is these days?”

Yoongi’s shoulders shake as he laughs. “I’ll go on Namjoon’s back – that’ll be fucking funny.”

Everyone hurries a little, aware that a stranger is waiting for you to get situated so she can take your photo and be on her way. Taehyung turns to you, still giggling a little.

“You’re okay with going on my back, right? I guess I should have asked first,” he says, a little apologetically.

“I’m okay with it if you are,” you say with a shrug. “I’m not the one who has to lift a whole person.”

He waves a hand like it’s nothing and turns and squats so you can climb on. You hold his shoulders firmly, trying not to feel them too much, and squeeze his sides with your knees. He reaches back and hooks his hands behind your knees, giving you a little bounce to get you both comfortable and situated as he stands.

“Hurry up,” Namjoon huffs. “Yoongi’s heavy.”

The four guys decide to make faces like they’re exhausted, while those of you behind held up – including Yoongi – cheese and give peace signs out in front.

“I can’t wait to see this,” Delia giggles as you’re all lowered back to the ground. The hiker hands Suz her phone back. You all crowd around to take a look, sputtering with laughter as you take in how silly it is.

You hate that you notice how good you and Taehyung look together. You just look natural together, like you belong.

When you’re all rested and done taking pictures, Namjoon heads the group back down the way you came; the Blue trail that you’ll do tomorrow is a loop, but Red only goes up and back.

You fall into a kind of trance as you follow the pack back down. Your feet seem to move on autopilot, and you let your mind wander. You’re excited to swim when you all get back down – after eating a big lunch, of course. You wonder if the beach will be packed with families. This beach is only open to those who have paid for campsites, so hopefully it won’t be too -

A loud cry in front of you startles you back to reality. You gasp out loud as you process that Suz is on her hands and knees just below one of the ledges. She must have missed the step or tripped.

“Oh shit, are you okay?” Jungkook asks, hurrying over. Hoseok is already there too, trying to assess the damage.

Suz has tears on her face by the time you catch up. The boys have helped her roll to sit. Her palms are scraped and one of her legs is bleeding a lot from a long gash, but it’s her other ankle that she clutches. You’re slinging your backpack onto the rock in front of her without really thinking.

“Back up,” you tell everyone, and they shuffle to make room. You’ve got tons of first-aid experience from your job, and you can tell already that her cut will need stitches. But there are other concerns here, too.

“Alright, Suz, I know it hurts but you’re okay,” you tell her gently. “What hurts the worst?”

“My ankle,” she says, still holding it. “I slipped on the edge there and-.”

You tune the explanation out, eyeing her ankle – which has already started to swell – and the cut.

“Wipe your hands off as best you can and let me clean them – quickly,” you instruct. Once you’ve wiped her hands with an alcohol pad – she winces, but doesn’t complain – you give her a large square of gauze.

“Hold that on top of your cut,” you tell her, pointing to the bleeding gash. “Press hard, and don’t let up on the pressure, got it? I’ll wrap your ankle – I’m gonna have to take your shoe off.”

She follows directions, wincing again as you do what you need to do to get her ankle wrapped up in an ace bandage. Hoseok hovers behind her, face ashen, his hands on her shoulders.

“Is it broken?” he asks.

“Can you turn it in a circle?” you ask her, just to be safe, but you have a feeling it’s just sprained. She can, and you shake your head.

“Not broken,” you confirm. Of course, only an x-ray can tell for sure - and with tiny ankle bones sometimes an MRI is needed. But the range of motion is a good sign. Everyone is standing in a semi-circle around you three, exchanging anxious looks. A group of four hikers on their way up stop, inquiring if your group needs help.

“We’re okay,” you tell them over your shoulder. “We can get her back down. But thank you!”

The gauze has been pretty saturated, so you give her a fresh one and tape it into place. Honestly, the cut is what you’re the most concerned about.

“We’ll have to carry her the rest of the way down,” you tell the guys. “You should definitely take turns if you need to, and we need to be really careful about going down over the rocks.”

“You guys, I’m so sorry,” Suz moans, covering her face.

“Don’t worry about it,” Taehyung says immediately. “Let’s just get down safely, okay? No one’s upset with you.”

“Shit happens,” Jungkook adds.

“Hobi, you want first dibs?” Namjoon jokes.

The guys help Suz teeter on one foot until she’s up on Hoseok’s back. She carries her own abandoned sneaker. You remember Seokjin telling you you’d need good treads for this trail, and it’s clear she didn’t have that. You pack the first-aid kit back into your backpack and stand.

It’s much slower going the rest of the way. The group basically stops still every time the trail requires hikers to climb down a ledge, everyone helping to make sure whoever is carrying Suz makes it without incident.

It takes over twice as long to get down the mountain than it did to go up. You load into the cars – Hoseok very gingerly setting Suz in the front passenger seat – and head back to camp.

“She’s going to need stitches,” you announce to your car, as soon as the doors close. “I didn’t want to say it while we were still hiking and freak her out, but it’s seriously true. Someone needs to take her into town, like, immediately.”

“Hobi will take her,” Jungkook assures you from the driver’s seat. You relax, settling back and closing your eyes. You feel exhausted; swimming sounded so good earlier, but now that you’re all coming down from the adrenaline rush (not to mention having climbed a mountain) all you can daydream about is a nap.

Luckily, the drive back isn’t far at all. Hoseok’s car beats yours back – you have a feeling he sped the whole way, nerves acting up over his injured girlfriend. Jimin and Seokjin are at the picnic table, and it looks like Yoongi and Namjoon are filling them in on what happened. Hoseok and Suz are still in the car, talking seriously.

When Jungkook puts the car in park, you hop out, going straight to Hoseok’s door and knocking on the window so he’ll lower it.

“You need to take her into town,” you tell him seriously. He turns and gives Suz a look that says, see? Clearly, she’d been arguing that she didn’t need to go.

“Seriously, Suz,” you tell her. “That cut needs to be cleaned and you’ll probably need some stitches in it. And it wouldn’t hurt to get your ankle x-rayed. I don’t think there’s a break, but even if there’s not you might need crutches and some stronger painkillers.”

Her face crumples a little. “I don’t want to leave the trip,” she says, voice very small. “I was looking forward to this for months.”

“You can come back,” you tell her gently. Seokjin is on his way over to the car, his face serious.

“Hobi, are you going to the hospital?” he asks. Hoseok looks at Suz, face pleading. She sighs in defeat, pressing her lips together unhappily. Hoseok turns back to the window, nodding.

“Yeah, I’m going to drive her to the emergency room in town.”

“I’ll go with you,” Jin offers. “That way you don’t have to sit alone while they take her for x-rays and all that.”

“You don’t have to,” Hoseok says, but Jin waves him off, heading to the backseat.

You all crowd around the car to tell them goodbye, backing away when Hobi shifts the car into reverse.

A tentative silence falls over you.

“We need to eat,” Jungkook reminds you, breaking the solemn silence. “Should we make sandwiches?”

The sandwiches, and the chips, fruit, and cookies that accompany them, do the trick – you can feel the group perk up after a good meal. Taehyung and Jungkook show off the pictures from the top to Jimin – who seems like he hadn’t been awake long before you’d all returned. He laughs riotously at the ones of the girls and Yoongi being carried piggyback at the top. Yoongi really hammed it up, opting for a flower cup pose instead of the agreed-upon peace sign. You can’t be mad, the result is too funny.

“I don’t know about anyone else,” Yoongi announces, once his sandwich is gone, “but I need a fucking nap.”

“I was thinking about finding a place to read,” Namjoon says, eyeing the trees near you.

“I’ve been waiting all day to hit that beach,” Delia says. Reason Number 347787 that you love her so much.

“Yes,” you say emphatically. “Beach.”

“Well,” Jimin says, “you’re welcome to walk down to this beach. But Jungkook and I were talking yesterday about going cliff jumping? The place isn’t that far.”

“Is that safe?” you ask.

At the same time, Delia says, “How hard is the climb to the top? Some of us already climbed a mountain today, Park Jimin, instead of staying in bed until one in the afternoon.”

“It’s not hard,” Jungkook assures her. “I’ve gone before – it’s an easy slope up. Plus we don’t have to spend the whole time jumping – we can do it once or twice and then just swim around and relax.”

“Is it safe there?” you ask again, your question having been overlooked for his girlfriend’s.

“Oh,” he says, “yeah. I mean, I’ve gone there a lot. You have to be careful, obviously, like this is not a good drunk activity. But if you’re not being stupid, it’s safe.”

This doesn’t really placate you as much as you’d like, and your stomach stirs nervously. But at the same time, you’ve never done cliff-jumping before, and you’re not sure you’ll get the opportunity again any time soon. So, when the guys and Delia head into the tents to grab their bathing suits and towels, you do the same.

There are only five of you going, so you take one car. Jungkook is right when he promises it’s close – it’s only about a five minute drive once you’re off the campsite property. Jungkook’s phone dings as he parks, and he reads aloud the text from Jin, letting you all know that Suz is being stitched up at the moment, and her x-ray is coming next. You all agree to come check for an update in a few hours, and Jungkook leaves his phone locked in the car.

“Do you want to jump first, or swim a little first?” Jimin asks the group as you load out of the car. There are six more cars in the small, gravel parking lot, but no people near them.

“Should we get used to the water first?” Delia asks. You feel a little better to hear the nervousness in her voice; you don’t want to be the only scaredy-cat.

The body of water you’re at isn’t the same lake as the campsite, though they are close together. Instead, Jimin informs you all as you walk up the path, this is an old stone quarry.

“The water’s much deeper,” he explains. “That’s why it’s safe to jump from so high – no chance of it being too shallow.”

The water is – no joke – as black as ink. You’ve seen dark muddy water, and deep blue ocean before. You’ve never seen anything like this in your life.

Jungkook drops his towel and dives right from the rocky ground you stand on, surfacing with a splutter seconds later.

“It’s cold,” he warns, and you and Delia exchange a look.

“It won’t be so bad once we adjust to it,” she tells you.

“You have to just rip the band-aid off,” Taehyung says to both of you. “Jump in and start swimming – the sooner you’re moving, the sooner it’ll feel less like death.”

“Don’t go into sales, Tae,” Delia tells him flatly. He gives her a wink and runs towards the edge, hitting the water with a splash. Jimin follows closely behind, and they both shriek upon surfacing, making Jungkook howl with laughter.

“Oh,” you say, eyeing the boys, “I do not want to do this, suddenly.”

“Let’s jump and race to the other side,” she suggests.

“Seriously!” Jimin calls to the two of you. “Once you’re in, it’s fine!”

“Okay,” you tell her, the idea sounding like it will work. “To the other side and back?” You eye the distance – it’s not that far. The jumping area is clearly off to the left – you can hear the shouts and whoops from that direction.

She counts you down and you both take it at a run, diving in. The cold assaults you from every single direction as you hit the water, and it’s dark under there as well. You can’t help but shriek, the noise escaping you with a jet of bubbles. Once you surface, you launch to a fast front-crawl. Delia’s got a bit of a lead on you, but you don’t care – the goal is to not feel the cold anymore.

Once you get back to the boys – the race aspect pretty much forgotten – you do feel better. You push your hair out of your face and adjust your suit, treading water lightly as everyone chats and splashes.

Slowly, you all make your way in the direction of the cliffs, your pile of towels waiting for you back where you started. Once you get around the bend, it’s very clearly set up. The jump that’s clearly most popular looms above you, a line of visitors waiting for their turn showing you clearly how the trail to the top slopes gently down to where you are. Then, further down, there’s a much higher jump. No line there, but you see one young woman fly from the top, screaming with excitement until she hits the water, too far away for you to hear the splash.

“Absolutely the fuck not,” Delia says, eyeing the higher cliff.

“You don’t have to,” Jungkook hurries to assure her.

“Don’t worry, Del,” Jimin says. “Us chickens can stay down here with the kids.”

“Let’s do this one first anyway,” Jungkook suggests. “It’s fun to all jump together.”

When your turn comes, you all wait for the two teenagers who jumped before you to clear out from underneath. You all link hands, jumping at the same time with shouts and squeals. You’ve got Delia on your left and Jimin on your right, and you hold them tightly.

The jump isn’t too high, and you’re airborne for what feels like only a second - quick enough for your adrenaline to sing, for a smile to light up your face, for someone to your left to let out a whoop, and then you’re surrounded by cold and dark again.

You lose Jimin, the force of the water knocking his hand from yours. You’re still clinging to Delia tightly when you surface, laughing.

You tread water and look around, doing a quick headcount. Once everyone’s visible, you all make your way to the low area where it’s easy to climb out, ready to go again.

You do this for a while; you go as a whole group a few more times, then in smaller groups or alone. Jungkook abandons you altogether to go to the high jump, but no one else joins him.

“Go with me!” Delia tells you, and you two link arms, rushing to the jump. The boys do spins and flips, getting some scattered, half-hearted applause from the people still in line.

After some time, Jungkook returns, flipping his wet bangs out of his eyes. “It’s incredible. This is kiddie hour over here, that’s a jump!”

“No,” Jimin says flatly, and swan-dives from the ledge, literally escaping the argument like a secret agent.

“I’m with Jimin,” Delia says, her voice regretful. You know she loves Jungkook’s adventurous, thrill-seeking side, and usually she’s up to tag along. It’s part of what makes them a good couple, in your opinion. But Delia’s not the strongest swimmer, and you think the water factor is what’s tripping her up today. “We’ll stay here, right?” She looks at you like she’s already counted your support.

But the thing is… you’re considering the higher jump. It was your whole reason for coming, wasn’t it - to make sure a rare opportunity doesn’t pass you by? To take advantage of a chance to be brave, to put it on paper, to collect the receipts?

“I’ll try,” you say, your voice startling even yourself. Delia’s mouth drops open, but Jungkook grins, all squished like a bunny.

“Y/N! Yes! Come on, I’ll show you the path.”’

“Bye,” you tell everyone. “If Jungkook gets me killed, please say nice things at my funeral.”

Delia shakes her head. “I’ll say you were a giant fool.”

“My Nana won’t appreciate that,” you tell her with a pointed finger, and then scurry to catch up with Jungkook.

The path up slopes more sharply than the low jump, but at least it’s just a flat path, no rocks or ledges to climb.

“Hey, Jungkook, this is safe, right?” you ask, nerves having a field day. You have so much adrenaline going, you’re almost dizzy from it. And you know it’ll be worse at the top.

“As long as you’re being careful, yeah,” he tells you. “There’s puddles along the top, so don’t run before you jump or you could slip. As long as you have a clean jump, you’ll be perfect.”

“There aren’t, like, rocks at the bottom?” you ask nervously.

He shakes his head. “It’s safe. I’ve been coming here for practically a decade.”

You believe him, but something in your nervous system must not, because your hands are trembling.

Too bad, you tell your body. That’s fine, be scared. I’m doing it anyway. I want to be able to say that I did.

Your resolve crumbles when you stand at the ledge and look down at the pitch-black water below.

“Oh,” you groan, “I don’t know about this.”

“It’ll be fine,” he tells you. “You can watch me.”

That is not going to help, you think, but you don’t argue.

“I’ll jump and I’ll come right back up to check on you,” he suggests. “If you’re still not sure, we can walk back down.”

You nod, and he sets up to jump. He lets out a series of whoops and shouts as he falls - and he falls for a bit - before the water silences him. You watch him surface, further out than he’d landed, and start swimming back to where he can climb out.

You are not sure you can make your legs move. You are not sure you won’t hit a rock on the way down, that they won’t have to helicopter in medics for you. You imagine for a second the phone call your mother will get.

A voice breaks you from this reverie - thank goodness, because it was getting bleak.

“Are you going to do it?”

You turn fast, almost slipping in the puddles Jungkook had warned you about. You throw out your hands to steady yourself, and he reaches out as if to steady you too, but doesn’t actually touch you.

You thought it was Jungkook, somehow getting back to the top in record speed. Instead, it’s Taehyung.

“Why are you up here?” you ask him, your voice still sounding a little like you’re gasping. Your adrenaline right now is seriously no joke.

He eyes the ledge behind you. “I think I want to do it. Are you going to?”

“I was,” you say, “until I got up here and started thinking about all the rocks.”

He nods. “The rocks don’t scare me,” he says, “it’s just the height. I don’t… I don’t do great with heights. My heart is pounding just from standing here and we’re not even at the edge.”

You laugh a little with relief. “You should feel mine,” you admit. “I think I might pass out?”

You both scoot just a little closer, and you look at the general spot that Jungkook had disappeared. He seemed to think it was fun.

“What if we go at the same time?” Taehyung suggests. You’re both peering over the edge, and he’s reached out a hand, his fingertips butterfly soft, just barely resting on your upper arm, as if he’s prepared to pull you back if you slip. You’re not sure he knows he’s doing it, being protective. It’s so sweet it makes you want to scream.

“What if I land on you?” you laugh nervously.

“I’ll go further down,” he says, pointing. “Plenty of room between us. We can just time it together.”

You chew on your bottom lip. “But that means I can’t chicken out,” you say with a little laugh. “Or you’ll have jumped without me and I’ll look like a dick.”

“Ah,” he says, nodding, “yes, except I also can’t chicken out or I will look like a dick. It’s honestly the only way to trick my brain into doing this. Otherwise I’m going to stand up here until Jungkook comes to save me, and that will hurt my ego.”

You laugh again. “Okay,” you say finally. You’re up here, right? You’d made the decision to do this already. You just need to have a little bit of faith that things will be okay. Sometimes you gotta jump, your Nana always told you, and this time - for the first time - it was literal.

You can’t wait to tell her about this later.

You both set up, Taehyung moving a good seven feet to your right.

“Ready, beautiful?” he asks, looking sideways at you, and you almost fall off the fucking cliff. Beautiful?

Whatever your face does in response to this, he ignores it, beginning to count down - “Three…. two… one!”

No time to think about it, no time to second-guess, no time to scramble backwards and cling to a tree: you have to jump.

The feeling is insane - nothing beneath your feet, your stomach flying up to your throat; on your right, Taehyung shouts. Your feet pedal in the air on instinct, and then you slam into the water.

It hurts a little, honestly, and you have to tug your bathing suit bottoms out of your ass before you start pulling and kicking your way back to the surface. When you break out on the top, sucking in a large breath, you find Taehyung treading near you.

“That was wild,” he grins, shaking his head, his wet hair almost covering his eyes.

“Beautiful?” you repeat, your voice a little shrill.

He laughs, a deep belly-laugh, his smile crinkling his face. “Want to go again?” he asks, side-stepping your small meltdown.

This sobers you a little. “I do,” you admit. Now that you’ve done it once, it’s way less scary. You feel pretty confident you won’t leave here on a backboard.

You both swim to the area you can climb out; someone, at some point, installed metal rungs into the rock, like a ladder.

“Careful,” Taehyung warns you, “you’ll slide like crazy on these.”

“Thanks,” you murmur, slowly working your way up. Taehyung treads in the water behind you, waiting his turn, and you hope he’s enjoying the great view of your ass as you climb. Since you’re beautiful today and all.

He climbs out behind you and pushes his wet hair back, out of his face, which renders you speechless again, the cockiness leaving your body in an instant. You vow not to speak as you start up the path to the top, knowing you’ll trip over your words if you try right now.

“Hey,” he says. “I wanted to say… you were really cool earlier today.”

“I was - what?”

He grins again, like he finds your spluttering so endearing. “With Suz,” he explains. “You just… I don’t know, you just took charge and got everything sorted. It was really cool.”

You don’t know how to respond to this; you can feel your face heat up even though the rest of you is shivering from the quarry water.

“Thanks,” you mumble, eyes on the path.

He laughs a little. “It was like seeing a whole different side of you,” he says. “Normally you’re like… well, like this, all shy.”

“I’m not shy,” you lie, like a liar.

“You seem shy,” he counters playfully. “But I’ve been informed by some secret spies that when I leave you’re much chattier. Care to weigh in on that?”

“What is this, an interrogation?” you demand. “What spies? I’ll kill Jeon Jungkook, I swear to God -.”

He laughs again, a repetitive giggle that has him sucking for breath between each gleeful noise. “It wasn’t Jungkook. But I may have been informed by a little birdie that I make you nervous.”

“Oh, my god,” you utter, absolutely humiliated. Jimin? Had to be Jimin if it wasn’t Jungkook. He had overheard Delia talking to you at the campsite last night. He’s dead. He should have remembered that you’re sleeping in the same tent later. You will absolutely have revenge.

“Can I ask… why?” Taehyung presses, something gentle in his voice, and you realize belatedly that maybe his feelings are a little hurt. This makes you feel kind of bad, and you decide with a sigh that you probably owe him some honesty at this point. You’ve already embarrassed yourself roughly six hundred and fifty two times in the past two months… can you really make it any worse? Might as well go all-in.

“I mean. Look at you?” You laugh; Taehyung does not.

“That doesn’t mean anything though,” he says, and he sounds… disappointed. “I could look… I could look like anything but still be, like, a bad person. Or problematic, or mean, or boring. What I look like isn’t me.”

Something in your chest twinges, and you hurry to do damage control.

“No, I know that,” you assure him. He probably thinks you’re fucking shallow, now. “Believe me, I know that. It’s just that… I’ve also been around you enough to know you’re not - mean, bad, anything like that. Definitely not boring.”

“So, what am I?” he challenges. You’ve reached the top again, and you both stand, suddenly too involved in this tension-filled back-and-forth to care about jumping.

“Nice?” you suggest. “Silly? Creative?”

He scoffs, giving a playful eye-roll, the tension starting to diffuse a little. If you’d offended him or upset him, it seems like he’s starting to let you off the hook. “I’m not always nice.”

“You’re nice to me,” you point out.

“I am nice to you,” he agrees lightly, eyes twinkling.

“Who aren’t you nice to?” you tease.

“People who kick puppies. People who chew with their mouths open. People who spoil movie endings. That kind of thing.”

You laugh, and he grins at you.

“What else?” he asks, still teasing, but his tone is lower, his voice deepening. Your body reacts with a shudder that you hope you can blame on the chilly water clinging to your body, dripping from your hair. Heat blooms low in your belly and you force yourself to ignore it and focus.

“What is this, Taehyung’s Compliment Hour?” you complain.

“You have enough material to fill an hour?” He cocks an eyebrow. “I’m flattered.”

You laugh despite yourself. “Douchebag Jar,” you tell him, and he laughs.

“That thing is going to overflow before we go home,” he says.

“Yeah, and it will single-handedly be from you and Jungkook.”

He laughs again at this, and then gives you a look that you can’t really decipher.

“So you’re weird around me because I’m nice?” he says. “Just trying to understand.”

You almost jump from the cliff just to avoid this embarrassment. “I’m not weird around you,” you grumble.

He gives you a look.

You shuffle your feet, eye the water, squirm under his waiting gaze. “We established that already,” you finally give, and he cracks a small smile.

“Well for what it’s worth,” he says, turning to finally head closer to the edge, “I think you’re nice, too.”

A noise behind you startles you and you turn to see Jungkook jogging up the path.

“Hey!” he calls. “Glad I caught you. I just checked the time and I think we should head back to the car to see if there’s an update on Suz.”

“Okay,” Taehyung says easily. “One more jump?”

“We have to get down there somehow,” you agree.

The three of you line up - spaced far enough apart to not land on each other - and get ready to jump. Jungkook is in the middle, but you find yourself leaning to see past him, to catch Taehyung’s eye as you ask, “Together?”

He nods. “Together.”

The adrenaline of the jump, the feeling of falling, the bracing cold - none of them hold a candle to the feeling you get, like lightning straight through your heart, when he smiles at you as he says this.

Back at the car, you all stand shivering and chattering, wrapped in your towels as Jungkook checks his phone.

“They’re waiting for the x-ray results,” he tells you, reading the screen. “It should be soon.”

“Let’s head back,” Delia says decisively. “I want to shower while it’s still light out.”

“Yes,” you agree - you hadn’t thought about this, and you’re glad she has. “Me too.”

You all dry off as best you can before climbing back into Jungkook’s car. The drive back to camp takes only minutes, which is lucky because your leg is pressed against Taehyung’s leg, your elbow against his elbow, and you’re cold from the lake and his body is radiating heat, and that’s only one of two reasons you want to absolutely climb in his fucking lap. You’re saved from yourself as the car pulls into the space at your campsite.

What had that you’re nice too meant? Was that Taehyung-language for I like you too?

When Jungkook parks and you climb out, Yoongi and Namjoon turn to look at you. True to their word before you’d left earlier, Yoongi’s hair looks like he definitely just got up, and Namjoon is still holding the book he was reading, his finger in between the pages to save his spot.

“How was it?” Namjoon asks as you get closer.

“Incredible,” you say, even though the question had been geared more to the guys. “Incredible.”

You head to the tent to grab your shampoo and other toiletries for the showers and meet Delia back outside her tent.

“The water in there better get hot,” she grumbles as she zips her and Jungkook’s tent back up. “I’m fucking freezing.”

There are four shower stalls, so you take two right next to each other. You close the curtain and set your items down on the bench, organizing what you need now and what you need when you get out.

As the water heats up and as you shampoo, you chat over the wall with your best friend, filling her in on what happened at the lake.

“Oh my god,” she says. “Wow, so he basically admitted he’s into you!”

“Did he?” you ask. “Did he really, though?”

“Yes,” she says firmly, and you can hear her squirt shampoo or conditioner onto her palm. “You had me at the beautiful thing - that’s classic Taehyung, he was absolutely letting you know. Wow, I wish I could have witnessed it. I haven’t seen Taehyung turn it on to flirt with someone since before - you know. His ex.”

You frown. You’d forgotten that when Delia and Jungkook got together four months ago, Taehyung was still in a relationship. She hadn’t been there the night you’d met him - the night Delia met Jungkook. But Delia had been around them as a couple a few times in that first month with Jungkook - Jungkook’s relationship with her blossoming right as Taehyung’s was crashing and burning.

Full of doubt, you go quiet. After a minute, she says your name quietly, and then once more - insistently - when you don’t answer.

“Yeah,” you say flatly, so she’ll shut up.

“I’m telling you,” she says, as she turns the water off on her side of the wall. “He doesn’t just do stuff like that unless he means it. Okay?”

“Yeah,” you repeat, reaching for your towel. “I hear you.”

When you two return to camp, you’re informed that some decisions have been made in your absence.

“So I just hung up with Hobi,” Jungkook tells Delia, and you listen intently. “Suz is determined to come back tonight and finish the trip. Hobi and Jin both think she’ll change her mind as her pain meds wear off a little.”

“What does that mean?” Delia asks flatly.

Jungkook explains. “Her ankle isn’t broken but the sprain is bad. She’s on crutches, and she’s on some pain-killers - and antibiotics for the cut, too. Hobi thinks she’s going to end up wanting to go home - what fun can she have camping on crutches, and in pain?”

“That sucks,” you say sympathetically. You’d liked Suz, you were hoping she’d be back.

“It does,” Jungkook agrees. You notice that most of the guys are absent - you wonder if they’re all down in the mens’ showers. “Anyway, we were thinking we’d meet them all in town for dinner at a restaurant? That way she can eat with us more comfortably and she can make her decision from there.”

“Nowhere fancy,” Delia asserts. “I don’t have a curling iron here.”

“Sure, sure,” Jungkook says distractedly, eyes on his phone screen. “None of these places are that nice anyway.”

The drive into town is quite a bit longer than the drive to the quarry. Luckily - or maybe unluckily, you can’t decide - you end up in the car with only Jungkook, Delia, and Jimin; Taehyung hopped in with Namjoon and Yoongi.

“You,” you greet Jimin with narrowed eyes. His eyebrows rise as he clearly tries to remember what he’s done to piss you off. “What did you say to Taehyung?”

Delia turns all the way around in her seat to watch the carnage.

Jimin laughs nervously. “Oh, that,” he says.

“Yes, that,” you snarl. “I know where you sleep, Park Jimin! One sleeping bag over from me!”

“Okay okay okay-,” he says, hands up, like he might have to actually protect his face from you, “but hear me out!”

“Yeah, you’d better have an excuse!” you yell. Delia cackles.

“He started the conversation!” Jimin explains. “He said something to me about how you get all - y’know -.”

He’s too polite to say whatever descriptor he thinks fits the spot.

“So you said what, exactly?” you ask him with narrowed eyes.

“I was sticking up for you!” he cries. “All I said was that when he’s not around, you’re very fun and normal!”

Your eyes go wide. “Did you use the word ‘normal’?”

He seems to look left and right for a nonexistent escape route. “Okay, but! Y/N! He likes you and he was feeling like you didn’t like him because you wouldn’t talk when he was around! I was helping!”

This makes you go still. Delia slaps repeatedly at your knees in excitement. “He what?” you ask, your voice echoing in your ears. “Really?”

“I told you!” Delia squeals. “You didn’t believe me!”

“Yours was a projecture!” you protest. “I need cold, hard facts!”

Jungkook groans, rolling his eyes. “God, it’s like seventh grade in here. You like each other! Fucking do something about it!”

“No need to curse at me,” you mutter, but you turn away from Jimin, deciding he gets to live. For now.

The restaurant is casual, thank goodness, and the trio that came from town have already procured a table. Your car gets there first thanks to Jeon Lead-Foot Jungkook, and you choose seats.

“How are you feeling?” you ask Suz right away. “Does it hurt a lot?”

“I feel great,” she laughs. “Whatever pain-killer they gave me was-.” She uses her fingers to make a chef’s kiss.

“Yeah, she’s a little high right now,” Hoseok tells you all quietly. “Extra strength Tylenol from here on out, babe.”

The group from Namjoon’s car files in, and it surprises you not at all when Taehyung slides into the empty space beside you, giving you an easy smile.

“Did we miss anything?” he asks.

“Just that Suz is feeling those pain meds,” Jungkook supplies.

The waitress comes by and takes everyone’s drink order before sweeping away again, off to her next table. You and Delia take bets on whose cocktail will be more brightly colored (it’s hers - bright blue). The atmosphere is relaxed, the lamps glowing orange above the table, the chatter around the restaurant a comfortable background noise. Your drinks come and you order food.

“So,” Delia says to the whole table, over the top of her very blue drink, “you all know how hot I find it when Jungkook boxes, right?”

“We are painfully aware,” you tell her.

“Too aware. Please stop telling us,” Taehyung deadpans.

Jungkook covers his face with a hand, already knowing where his girlfriend’s story is going. It’s clear by the grin on her face that she’s been waiting to tell this story at his expense.

“Well the other night,” she says, pausing for dramatic effect, “he literally started boxing in his sleep. Like, three in the morning, we’re both dead asleep, and he starts punching my shoulder like I was the punching bag.”

Everyone cracks up, and Jungkook starts spluttering in protest, trying to defend himself.

“This is a fun game,” Suz says. “What’s the weirdest - nonsexual - thing you’ve ever had a partner do in their sleep?”

You all think hard, chuckles and giggles floating around the table as you consider options.

“My ex talked in her sleep, you’ve all heard those stories,” Namjoon starts. “She’d straight up give lectures in her sleep. It’d be the middle of the night and she’d be reciting archaeology facts. Sometimes I’d google what she was talking about - it was always true! She knew her shit.”

You all laugh at that, and you pipe up, “I had that, too. A guy I was… seeing… he’d talk in his sleep and if I answered him, sometimes he’d keep the conversation going. It was so fucking funny. One time he told me in his sleep that I had to fix my Pokemon stance.”

“What the fuck does that mean?” Jimin asks, covering his giggles with a hand.

“Like, how you stand when you throw the ball, I think?” you giggle.

“What was wrong with your stance?” Yoongi asks, eyebrows raised.

“I asked him that!” you say, pointing at him in appreciation for asking the Important Questions. “I asked what’s wrong with my stance and he told me - still in his sleep! - that my toes were too pointed.”

Everyone’s laughing, but Taehyung shakes his head through his chuckles. “There’s no way. There’s no way that happened.”

“I wrote it in a note on my phone so I’d never forget!” you tell him, laughing so hard now that it’s hard to breathe. “I swear, I have it written down word for word!”

“I win this one, hands down,” Hoseok says, “and the culprit is right here.”

“Oh my God,” Suz laments. “Don’t tell that one, it’s so embarrassing!”

“This game was your idea,” Hoseok reminds her, grinning. “Those in glass houses should not throw stones.”

“Now you have to tell us,” Yoongi says, swirling his drink in his glass.

“Okay,” Hoseok says, gleeful, as Suz shakes her head, laughing. “So it was the middle of the night, we’re fast asleep, and suddenly this sweet girl next to me screams ‘fuck!’ - like something is wrong, like she’s scared, and she leaps out of the bed.”

“I hate you,” Suz groans, covering her face.

“I, of course, turn on the light and also jump out of bed, because obviously something is trying to kill us,” Hoseok continues, ignoring her, giggling through every word. “And I’m frantically asking her - what’s wrong, what’s wrong, what happened?”

Everyone’s giggling a little in anticipation as he builds the story.

“So then!” he continues dramatically. “She tells me something bit her - so I’m thinking there’s a spider in the bed and we both start, like, looking in the blankets for it. Please remember that it is ass o’clock and we’ve been asleep for hours already.”

“Oh my god,” you say, giggling wildly. You’re dimly aware that your knee is touching Taehyung’s under the table, but you don’t move it.

“Then I notice that something on the sheets is red, and being half-asleep I assume it’s blood from whatever bit her, and I scream ‘you’re bleeding!”

Jungkook is practically crying, and Suz takes this moment to point out, “I really blame you for the hysteria. If you hadn’t yelled that, we would have calmed down.”

Hoseok continues to ignore her, too caught up in the magic of story-telling. “So, obviously, I start trying to look for where she is bleeding from. And I start checking her arms and her back and asking her where does it hurt, and where did it bite you and she goes very suspiciously still and quiet...”

“Oh my god,” you repeat. Next to you, Delia snorts loudly, trying to muffle herself.

“So she’s standing there, very silent, and then she goes - in this teeeeeny little voice - ‘I think maybe I was dreaming’.”

Everyone howls, Hoseok especially.

“So what was on the bed?” Yoongi asks through quiet giggles.

“Like, string? Fuzz? I guess off of my pajamas?” Suz says, laughing despite herself. “God, this is so embarrassing!”

Conversation dies down naturally when your meals come, but you notice with a tummy-flutter that Taehyung doesn’t remove his knee from yours, even when he sits up straighter to work on his food.

After you eat and your plates are taken away, you all sit around sleepily as you finish your drinks.

“So, I guess it’s not really a good idea for me to come back to the campsite,” Suz announces, frowning deeply.

“It really isn’t safe,” Namjoon reasons gently. “You’re on crutches and it’s dark. You should be resting and healing - it’s hard to do that in a sleeping bag. Your body will get better faster if you let it rest well.”

“Yeah,” she says glumly.

“We’ll come pack up our stuff and we’ll head home,” Hoseok says quietly, giving the top of her back a supportive rub. “I know you’re disappointed, but it’s really what’s best.”

“I know,” she says sadly. “I know it is.”

You slowly file out of the restaurant and back to the cars. The drive back is quiet; you’re all exhausted from your day, even sleepier still from the drinks you’d had with dinner and your full bellies. You lean your head against the window, watching as the buildings of town get more and more spaced apart, until they disappear altogether giving way to dark trees. Behind the wheel, Jungkook sings quietly under his breath. Delia splays a hand on his knee.

Back at camp, Seokjin helps Hoseok start taking down the fourth tent. Yoongi eyes the empty fire pit.

“Should I bother?” he asks the group. “Or are we all just going to bed?”

“I wouldn’t mind a beer before we go to sleep,” Namjoon muses, and there’s a murmur of assent.

“Fine,” Yoongi says, but then adds threateningly, “but I swear to God if I get this whole fire going and then everyone goes to bed in fifteen minutes, I will be seriously pissed.”

“I’m gonna get changed,” you tell Delia quietly. “You want to come down with me?”

Down in the dimly lit bathroom building, you change into sweatpants and a hoodie - the night’s gotten chilly - and brush your teeth for good measure before you two head back up the hill to the campsite, arms linked, flashlight guiding you along the grassy path.

When you get back, Hoseok and Suz’s tent is down and he’s working on taking the poles apart. Yoongi seems to have the fire almost going - Jungkook kneels beside him next to the circle of rocks, both of them blowing on the embers to get them to catch.

You grab a water bottle from the cooler and settle into the chair next to Delia’s, chatting quietly. Eventually, Hoseok finishes collecting his and Suz’s belongings, and loading up his car. You all gather around the passenger side window to tell them goodbye.

They both give solemn waves goodbye as Hoseok pulls out of the campsite, heading down the road towards the exit.

You all sit around Yoongi’s campfire for a while, chatting some but mostly just zoning out, enjoying the crackling fire, the cool night air, the vague notes of music floating from somewhere else on the campground.

Seokjin is the first to bed, followed by Namjoon. Delia and Jungkook go next, disappearing into their tent with little waves goodbye.

You’re tired - you’re exhausted - your arms and legs almost buzzing with how much physical activity you did during the day. You want to go to sleep, but that requires moving. You’re half tempted to ask Jimin to carry you. You finally muster up the strength and tell the remaining guys goodbye, slipping into your tent and crawling into your sleeping bag. You fall asleep before you even zip yourself back up.

You awaken again, groggy, mouth feeling like cotton, and reach for the water bottle you’d brought. You can’t have been asleep for that long - you can still hear Jimin’s quiet giggle and the low tones of Taehyung and Yoongi’s voices as they talk quietly by the fire.

You lay there, trying to get comfortable again, trying to chase the heavy feeling of sleep, but it’s dissipated entirely. Instead, your ears strain to pick up anything Taehyung is saying, and your mind starts replaying the moments you’d shared at the quarry earlier, the feeling of his knee warm against yours at the dinner table.

Finally, you give up, sitting up completely and running a hand over your hair. You pull on the sneakers you’d left next to your sleeping bag and unzip the tent, stepping out into the flickering firelight.

The boys stop talking abruptly when they hear the zipper, and you wonder with a flush if they’d been talking about you.

“Did we wake you up?” Jimin asks as you shuffle to the cooler for another water bottle.

“I don’t think so,” you say, voice a little froggy with sleep. “I just woke up and now my brain thinks we took a good nap.”

“I hate when that happens,” Yoongi says, nodding.

Then they all just stare at you, and you at them. You definitely interrupted some sort of secret boy conversation.

“Okay,” you say, giving a huff of a laugh. “I’m going down to the lake. Just gonna… sit in the sand for a little.”

“You’ll be okay down there?” Jimin asks, a little concern in his voice. “Bring a flashlight.”

“I will,” you say, to both parts of his sentence. You grab one of the heftier flashlights off the picnic table and shove your water bottle into your hoodie pocket, heading down the hill to the lake.

You take your sneakers off at the fence at the edge of the beach, not wanting to get them full of sand. You place the flashlight beside them, so you’ll find it when it’s time to walk back. Barefoot, you continue down the beach until you pick a spot five or six feet back from the water’s edge. The water laps gently at the hardened, wet sand before you as if the lake is a sentient, breathing thing. It inhales and exhales, and so do you.

You’re not even startled when Taehyung materializes next to you, dropping onto the sand less than a foot to your left. Part of you expected him the whole time, you think.

“Hi,” you say wrly, giving him a sideways smile. He returns it sheepishly, as if he knows just how predictable this move of his was.

“Hi,” he parrots.

“You really don’t like me being down here by myself, huh?” you tease.

He blanches, eyes widening. “Do you want to be alone? I can go back up -.”

“No, no,” you reassure him. “I was just teasing.”

He looks at you, and you can tell even through the poor lighting that he’s uncertain, feeling like he’s encroaching.

“Seriously,” you say again, reaching out to touch his arm, lightly so you don’t scare him away. “I’d like you to stay. Please stay.”

He relaxes a little, and you both turn to look at the sky. It’s cloudless, and the stars are plentiful; you want to drink the entire sky in, stock up, because when you all drive back to the city at the end of this trip you’ll only see about a third of this until your next adventure. Light pollution is no joke.

For a while you just watch the sky in silence. Then Taehyung says, voice hushed, “I keep thinking about today. Doesn’t this morning feel like four whole days ago?”

You laugh a little, the sound gentle. “It does. The cliffs feel like forever ago, and the hike? That was last week, right?”

He laughs again. “I can’t believe we’re still awake,” he says, and just the thought makes him yawn, which makes you yawn.

“I napped,” you point out.

“You were only in there for like twenty-five minutes,” he says. “That barely counts.”

“I feel pretty exhausted,” you admit. “But it’s nice down here. I like this.”

He gives a hum of agreement. A minute later, when the breeze kicks up and you shiver despite the hoodie, he reaches an arm around your shoulders, pulling you against him. You hesitate for the barest second, and then lean over, letting him pull you flush against his side.

You lean your head on his shoulder and he rubs his thumb along your shoulder blade absently. You can barely feel it through the hoodie and the shirt you have underneath it, but your pulse sings anyway.

“Taehyung,” you whisper. You don’t look at him; you don’t want to chicken out. You keep your eyes on the stars, on the tiny lights across the lake where there are cabins.

“Hm?”

You give a little sigh. You know asking might break the spell. But you don’t like games. And Jungkook was right - this isn’t seventh grade. You’re adults.

“What’s happening here?” you ask, voice barely above a whisper. “What is this?”

He squeezes your shoulder once, and you turn to look up at him, waiting.

“You know, twenty-four hours ago you were barely speaking complete sentences to me?” he points out. “And now you’re just throwing down the gauntlet at my feet, like it doesn’t even scare you?”

He’s right. You consider this for a second.

“It’s different now,” you muse. “Something’s… different.”

“It’s you,” he says, like he’s trying to convince you. “You’re different today, and I really like it.”

“You didn’t like me before today?” you say, just to tease, just to twist his words on him a little.

He lets out a noise of protest. “Of course I did - in theory. You have to admit, it’s hard to like somebody who doesn’t speak! Did I think you were gorgeous? Absolutely. But I couldn’t really get to know you.”

“And what’s the verdict?” you prod.

“I’m here, aren’t I?” he quips, and you elbow him playfully in the ribs. “Okay, okay!” he laughs. “I think you’re… really capable. And smart, and funny.”

“Alright,” you say, face burning as you fight a smile. “I get the idea.”

“Do you?” he asks, turning to look down at you seriously. “I want to make sure you know - I really like you.”

You smile down at your feet, wiggling your toes happily in the sand. He lets you get away with not answering, the tiny smile you’re trying to fight telling him everything he needs to know for now. He pulls you close by the shoulder again, and you listen once again to the song of the wilderness around you: the bird calls, the rumble of car engines on the highway in the distance, the lake’s sounds as the tiniest waves roll up to the shore, Taehyung’s steady breathing beside you. The sand is soft between your toes, and Taehyung’s body is firm and warm next to you, even as the lakeside wind blows.

Finally he turns, pressing his face close to your hair. You shiver as he whispers damn nearly in your ear, “We should go back.”

You shudder again, and you know he feels it. You hope he’ll chalk it up to the wind, to the nighttime chill.

“Okay,” you say, proud of how even you keep your voice. Your hands are itching to touch him, to have him keep whispering in your ear like that, to feel his hands on you, to feel his mouth on you.

You should go back. You need to get yourself under fucking control.

He stands and holds out a hand for you, deftly pulling you to your feet in one motion. You both take a second to brush sand off, and then you head back towards the fence where you’d left your shoes and the flashlight. He’s left a pair of slip-ons right next to yours.

You’re still standing at the fence, eighty percent of your brain trying to tell you down, girl, when the remaining twenty percent takes over. Out of your mouth comes the words, “You know… in the car today, Jungkook said we needed to stop acting like idiots and do something about it. Those were his exact words.”

Taehyung freezes, one shoe halfway on, and looks at you calculatingly, as if he’s trying to determine if you’re saying what he thinks you’re saying.

You are.

Fucking kiss me. You want to scream it.

“Do something about it?” he murmurs, something low and dangerous making its way into his voice. He takes a step closer to you; you fight another shiver. This suddenly feels like a game of cat and mouse, and you hope you’ll get caught. “You have any suggestions?”

You shake your head, smiling. “Don’t do that. Don’t tease me.”

He cocks an eyebrow, then reaches forward and brushes some hair away from your face. His touch is tender, but his voice comes out like steel when he asks, “You think this is teasing? What’s wrong, you’ve been wanting this?”

“For longer than you think,” you admit, and he smiles, brushing a thumb along your cheek, his hand resting lightly along your jaw. His eyes are on your lips.

“Better not keep you waiting then,” he murmurs and dips his head to kiss you.

You drop the heavy flashlight and it rolls away from you back down the path. You both ignore it; you’re focused entirely on his lips and how electric they feel against yours, how solid and sure his mouth is against yours, how you’re trying not to gasp from sheer want as his hand on your jaw twitches like he’s trying to keep it relaxed.

You make a happy sound and relax into him as his mouth opens for you; his free hand falls to your waist, then sinks to your hip, his fingers pressing against the fabric of your hoodie.

Either he’s pulling you in or you’re leaning in or both, but there’s no space between your bodies anymore as he presses his tongue into yours, a contented noise escaping him as he does. It’s lips and teeth and tongues for a long, breathless moment, your arms hooked around the back of his neck as you press your front along his.

The hand he’d been resting on your jaw slides around, cupping the back of your neck as the kiss deepens. You whimper lightly into his mouth, wanting more of his touch, and he groans in response, his hand on your hip slipping under your hoodie and pressing against the same spot on your hips that it had been, the skin of his palm hot against yours.

He breaks away from your mouth and kisses a line down your jaw towards your neck, a heart-pounding pattern of teeth then tongue then lips as he makes his way lower and lower.

You breathe out once through your mouth, going almost boneless under his hands, and he pulls you tighter against him as he starts to work his way up to your mouth again, reversing the path he’d just taken.

You capture his mouth again as soon as it’s close enough, sliding your tongue against his insistently. You curl your fingers in his hair and tug, and he moans against you, the sound making your knees go weak like jelly. God, he sounds good; you want to do a thousand different things to keep him noisy like that.

The hand under your hoodie begins to move slowly, tracing light patterns along the curve of your hips, up to your waist, then higher towards your ribcage as his mouth continues to make you dizzy. Goosebumps rise along your arms, the back of your neck. You remember - about the same time that Taehyung figures it out - that you hadn’t thrown a bra on since the thick hoodie kept you pretty covered. He gives a tiny growl into your mouth as he brushes his fingers along the underside of your breast once, then twice, before cupping it fully, his thumb rubbing the same languid circles that it had the entire way up your side. You gasp at the contact, breaking the kiss. He takes this opportunity to press his forehead against yours, whispering hoarsely, “So soft.”

You hum in answer, reaching for his mouth again, already missing it. He passes his thumb over your hardening nipple, feather-light, and you shudder under the touch, your fingers tightening in his hair. You can feel him hardening against your belly - god he’s all legs, so tall it’s unfair - and you roll your hips against him. He groans, low in his throat, lowering both hands to your ass and pulling your hips flush against his, upping the friction. You wind a leg around the back of his, trying to get closer, trying to angle it so you get some relief, too, trusting him to hold you up. He sucks your bottom lip into his mouth and worries it with his teeth, smiling against you when you moan in response.

“Thought you’d be shy doing this, too,” he tells you quietly, still smiling.

You’ve thought about this? you want to ask, but instead you say, “Told you. Something’s different.”

He kisses you again, chaste, sweet, then once more for good measure. You release his hair from your deathgrip, he rubs your ass one time like he’s telling it goodbye and pulls his hands away. You’re both breathing hard.

“We should go up,” he says, regret in his voice. “I’m sure they’re talking about it already.”

“‘Kay,” you say, looking around the dark for the flashlight and water bottle you’d dropped. Would you like to keep kissing? Definitely. Is your body screaming for sleep? Yes. You can’t have both. ��Do you see my stuff?”

You find the flashlight first and use it to locate the water bottle in the grass. Once you’re situated, he holds out his hand, linking his fingers with yours as he leads you up the path. Your heart pounds, not settling down even a little. In fact, holding his hand while you walk makes your heart race more than having his hands up your shirt had.

As soon as you’re close enough to see the campfire, Taehyung drops your hand and steps ahead, leading the way up to camp. You aren’t sure how to take that - was it coincidence? Or did he want to make sure that no one saw?

Jimin and Yoongi seem to be putting the fire out as you walk back into camp, a lantern on the picnic table your only real source of light. Taehyung stops to talk quietly with Jimin, so you slip past him and head to the tent. You give a quick glance over your shoulder before you enter, but no one is paying any attention to what you’re doing.

You’re still awake in your sleeping bag when the door unzips again and Taehyung and Jimin step through. Jimin’s got one of the smaller flashlights to guide them as they take off their shoes and get ready for bed. You watch Taehyung through the semi-dark, and he catches the glance, stilling.

Then, he gives you a tiny, secret smile as he turns and settles into his sleeping bag.

It’s reassuring. You think to yourself - as Jimin turns off the flashlight and leaves you all in the dark - about what Delia had said earlier, that Taehyung doesn’t play games with women, that he was straightforward with his intentions. You think about his words down at the beach less than an hour ago - I want to make sure you know, I really like you.

Whatever the weird moment upon arriving at camp was, you’re sure you’ll be able to talk about it tomorrow. You have faith that it will be okay.

You can see the general shape of him in the dark, your eyes adjusting, but you can’t see his face. You think he’s facing you, based on how close his breathing sounds. Your eyes are begging to close, your body aching for sleep. But your heart is aching too - to feel close to him again, to touch him again, to feel his warmth again.

Feeling a little silly about it, you inch your hand closer to his section of the tent, the nylon cool and stiff beneath your fingertips.

And then you aren’t touching nylon anymore.

Taehyung huffs a very quiet laugh through his nose as he feels your fingers touch his, grasping them quickly before you can pull away. Once he’s sure you aren’t going to take your hand away, he loosens his hold, gently rubbing his thumb along your knuckles, back and forth. You’re smiling in the dark, grateful that no one can see you as you grin like a fool as you give his fingers a reassuring squeeze.

He was reaching for you, too.

Things will be okay.

You awaken in the morning to something alarming: someone is standing in the tent, hovering over you. You scramble to sit, gasping in alarm, and then somebody says, “Hey, hey, it’s me, it’s okay.”

“Jimin!” you scold, pressing a hand against your chest, where your heart is pounding. “What the fuck is wrong with you?”

Next to you, Taehyung grumbles in his sleep. He strikes his foot out in Jimin’s direction, but he’s stopped by the confines of his sleeping bag.

“Sorry, sorry,” Jimin whispers, but he’s fighting a smile. “It’s just that you two were…”

You flush as you remember how you’d fallen asleep - your hand in Taehyung’s hand, both of you reaching across the dark to find one another. Was it possible neither of you had let go in your sleep?

Jimin seems to read an answer in your face to a question he hasn’t asked out loud. “Wow,” he says, rocking on his heels. “Wow.”

“Shut up,” you whisper, looking sideways at Taehyung’s sleeping form. You want to talk to Taehyung before you talk to anyone else about it. Jimin raises his eyebrows at you, amused, but he does what you ask and slips through the door of the tent.

You sit there for a minute, quietly, waiting to see if Taehyung will wake up and talk to you, but you hear his breathing deepen and even out again, so you decide it’s a lost cause. You dig what you want to wear out of your bag and follow Jimin’s footsteps out to the campsite.

Everyone else is up already, which makes sense seeing as they all went to bed before you and Taehyung went on your little field trip down to the lake.

“We’re leaving to hike in about ten minutes,” Delia warns you.

“I don’t know how I feel about a hike,” you admit. Your body feels like it’s been hit by a train. You’re sore from all the activity, but you also only got a few hours of sleep.

“It’s totally your call,” Jungkook tells you, “but this one is really easy. It goes up that ridge-,” he points across the lake, “then along the top, and then down the other side and around the lake to stop back here. It’s a really low slope, no rocks.”

“Basically, we’re taking a very long stroll,” Namjoon tells you.

You consider it for a second. “Alright, I’ll go down and change,” you decide. You make eye contact with Jimin. “You want to see if Sleeping Beauty wants to join us?”

Delia snorts into her fist and Jimin gives you a playful eye-roll before he heads into the tent. You hurry down the hill to the bathrooms, toothbrush in hand.

When you return, everyone seems pretty ready to go. You throw together a less aggressive backpack than you did yesterday - if it’s really a stroll, you shouldn’t need as much to eat and drink - noticing that Taehyung isn’t anywhere to be seen. Either he’s down at the bathrooms, or he told Jimin to fuck off and stayed in bed.

You sit at the picnic table, the wood already warm under your skin even though it’s still pretty early in the morning, and lace up your hiking boots. Delia sits next to you and leans against your shoulder.

“A little birdie told me that you and Taehyung were down at the lake together until after three o’clock this morning,” she whispers, eyes on you accusingly.

“Park Jimin,” you growl, eyes narrowing.

She giggles, then leans closer, lowering her voice even more so make sure the boys don’t hear you. “Nope - Min Yoongi.”

“Why are Jungkook’s friends so fucking nosy?” you grumble.

She elbows you gently. “Well?”

You don’t get the chance to answer, as Taehyung heads back up the path from the bathrooms. You snap your mouth closed and Delia looks at you knowingly.

“Later,” she tells you, standing, her voice making clear that this is absolutely a demand. Or, perhaps a threat.

Since the Blue trail loops around, there’s no need to drive to a trailhead; instead Namjoon leads you all through the campgrounds, your group weaving between tents, waving polite hellos to sleepy campers emerging from their tents to fix breakfast. At the edge of the campground, about twenty paces from the last tent, a large wooden sign announces the trailhead, along with a list of guidelines and a map.

Despite promising a stroll, the guys at the front strike a quick pace, heading up the trail. You’re happy to find that it is a gentle slope, normal dirt (no giant rock ledges), and is well shaded - the woods on either side dense with trees and various foliage.

You and Delia naturally slow down, hoping to get some space from the guys so you can gossip in peace. As he passes on your right, heading up to join Jimin near the front, Taehyung reaches over and gives a light, playful pinch to your side, making you squeal lightly before breaking into laughter.

“Watch it!” you tease, and he grins at you over his shoulder as he continues on.

Delia is watching you with wide eyes. “Okay, I need an update now,” she says.

You giggle quietly, and as you two follow the pack of guys you fill her in on what happened last night - Taehyung straight up saying he likes you, the kissing, how you fell asleep holding hands.

“That’s so cute I might throw up,” she tells you, brows furrowed - the same face Jungkook makes when the food is really good. They’re too alike, those two.

“It was kind of weird, though,” you muse quietly, aware that you have some space between you and the guys, but not that much. “When we got back to camp, Yoongi and Jimin were still up and he literally dropped my hand, like it was definitely a hide the evidence moment.”

She twists her lips, thinking. “But then he held your hand in the tent?”

“Yeah,” you nod. “So, what was that about?”

She makes a noise like she’s considering this.

“I’m just gonna ask him,” you decide. “It probably wasn’t a big deal. But just… I don’t know, I don’t want to do a stupid mixed signals thing. If he doesn’t want them knowing, we should… figure that out.”

“Can I just say,” she says, giving you an affectionate little nudge, “that I can’t believe that you’re just totally cool with that - with just asking him point blank? I think I’d be too scared to just say something like that, I’d be trying to figure shit out all covertly.”

You smile at her. “After the forty foot jump yesterday, nothing feels scary anymore,” you joke. “But… I don’t know. He feels… worth it? If this isn’t going to work, I want it to be because of a real reason. I don’t want this to stall out early because we’re too stupid to talk to each other.”

“I want it to work,” she says seriously, looping her arm through yours. “For both of you.”

The trail evens out, which must mean you’re at the top of the ridge. There’s no cool view from here - you’re still surrounded by trees on either side - but the group stops for a water break anyway.

Delia leaves you when she notices Taehyung heading over and makes her way over to Jungkook, giving his butt a playful pat in greeting. Bless her.

“Good morning,” you say, pressing the top of your water bottle into your lips to hide your stupid smile.

“Good morning,” he echoes, smiling back. “How’d you sleep?”

You shrug. “Pretty good, for the few hours we got. I don’t want to waste our last day here sleeping, but I really might need a nap.”

“We were planning to take the canoes out,” he tells you, “but we checked the weather and we’re supposed to get a pretty good storm after lunch. There’s a whole weather system passing over.”

“Oh shit,” you say, frowning. “That’s kind of a bummer.”

“We’ll make it fun,” Jimin says, shamelessly jumping into the conversation, clearly not having the sense to give you two some privacy the way Delia did. “We’ll be stuck in the tents so Yoongi and I were talking about breaking out the poker set?”

“Yes,” Yoongi says seriously from a few feet away. “Winning money off you dummies sounds like a great way to pass a rainy day.”

“I resent that,” Taehyung says with a playful frown.

“Sounds like the universe really wanted me to have a guilt-free nap,” you say, smiling. “And with the sound of rain? Heaven.”

“We should keep going, if everyone’s ready,” Namjoon tells the group, eyeing the sky above you. He’s right - the sun that had shined down on the campsite as you’d woken up is gone, heavy clouds filling the space between the treetops. “We want to get down there in time to put the tarps up.”

The trail leads you down the other side of the ridge and down to follow the natural path around the far end of the lake. At the front, Seokjin and Namjoon discuss how many tarps you have between you, and where they should go.

“We’ve got four, I think,” Namjoon says, counting in his head.

“One for each tent, and then maybe we can rig something to keep the campfire dry?” Jin says, thinking aloud.

When you get back to the campground, it’s already starting to rain just a little - a drop here and there.

You all get moving with the tarps, covering the tents first and tying them to the stakes that are already hammered into the ground, and then trying to set up the stand-alone cover for the fire. You manage to get it all done before the rain starts in earnest. Delia checks the radar on her phone.

“This is just the beginning of the system,” she warns you all. “It’ll be light rain like this for a little bit and then we’ve got the actual storm cell coming.”

Beyond the campground, the wind tangles with the trees, the leaves flipping over. Your Nana always told you that was a sign of a storm; you wonder absently if that’s true or if it’s just an old wives’ tale.

You all eat nonsense for lunch - a few people make sandwiches, some grab fruit, a bag of chips is passed around as the rain changes from “light” to “steady”. The tarp over the campfire seems to be holding up, and you all crowd your folding chairs under it, trying to stay dry.

“I think if Hobi and Suz had stayed, we wouldn’t all fit under here,” Jungkook observes, from practically your lap. The tarp definitely helps, but it’s clear that as the rain and wind pick up that you all won’t be staying comfortable and dry unless you spend the time zipped up in the tents.

“Who’s in for poker?” Yoongi asks, as he reaches for the cooler, trying to pull it over to the dry area without getting himself too wet.

Jungkook starts to speak and Delia jabs him in the ribs, shooting him a look. He closes his mouth, an amused expression settling on his face.

“I’m napping,” you announce, because this has been your plan all day. “I’m exhausted.”

“Yep, we’ll be napping, too!” Delia says brightly. You snort and she kicks you.

“I’m in for poker,” Jimin says. “I got cash especially for this, and I watched a ton of videos, so you better watch it.” This is directed at Yoongi. “I’m much better than last time.”

“Jimin,” Namjoon says kindly. “Every time you lie, you giggle.”

JImin scowls. “Maybe I’ll laugh when I don’t lie, too, then!”

“Poker’s never really been my thing,” Taehyung admits. “I think I wouldn’t mind resting either. Can I come snuggle with you guys?” he asks Jungkook, eyes glinting as he knowingly makes trouble.

“Absolutely the fuck not,” Delia says, rolling her eyes with a grin. “I’m not third-wheeling in my own damn tent.”

You pretty much all rise at the same time, folding up the camping chairs and stuffing them into their little bags. Jungkook collects them all and tosses them in the backseat of his car so they’ll stay dry.

Delia practically drags Jungkook by the hand into their tent, giving you a cheeky wave goodbye. The guys file into the third tent; Jimin pauses and looks at Taehyung. They seem to have a silent conversation - there are some eyebrows and head tilts involved - and then Jimin gives Taehyung a little salute and follows Namjoon into the tent.

Alone, the rain coming down around you, you and Taehyung stare at each other in silence. Then, he’s closing the distance between you, hands going immediately to your hair as his lips find yours. He grunts, barely audible, fingers tightening behind your head as he gets what he wants. You bring your hands up to grip at his biceps, half for balance and half because you love how they feel under your fingers.

He leads you backwards, one little step at a time, mouth working against yours, until you’re both in the rain. You can feel it in your hair, running down his arms and over your fingers, plastering your shirts to your backs. Taehyung doesn’t notice or doesn’t care, kissing you like he needs it to live. Arousal blooms low in your belly, your legs shifting with the onslaught of sparks and tingles and need.

Taehyung tears his lips away from yours long enough to whisper, “I wanted to do that all day.”

“Then you should’ve,” you challenge.

You’ve backed up all the way to your tent, and he untangles his fingers from your hair so you can bend down and unzip the door. By the time you climb in and zip back up, the spell’s been broken a little bit. Taehyung turns away from you, bending down by his sleeping bag to dig around in his duffle bag. Finally, he turns back and tosses a towel to you.

“For your hair,” he explains. “We probably shouldn’t stay in these, we’ll get sick.” He gestures at his wet shirt.

You narrow your eyes at him. “Why do I feel like you orchestrated this perfectly? Just for an excuse to take your shirt off?”

He laughs, holding up his hands to mime innocence. “No,” he protests, smiling a little. “I just genuinely couldn’t wait until we got in here to kiss you again. I haven’t thought about anything else since last night. Not even food.”

“So, what happened?” you ask, feeling bold. “We were together all morning - why wait?”

He looks at you like he’s calculating.

“I didn’t know how you felt about it,” he admits, voice quiet. You’re aware that Jungkook and Delia are about three feet away, and only separated from you by tent walls. “Like, in front of everyone. We hadn’t, uh-.” He stops, clears his throat, scratches the back of his neck and peers up at you. “We hadn’t talked about that.”

You’re slowly putting two and two together. “So last night, when we got to camp-?”

His eyes find yours. “What?”

You laugh, rolling your eyes. He doesn’t even know, and here you’d been thinking about it all day.

“You stopped touching me the second we were close enough for them to see - I just felt like...”

“Oh!” he says, eyes going a little wide as he realizes how it must have seemed to you. “No! No no no - I just knew I was already going to get teased to hell for following you down there, I didn’t want to drag you into it, too. At least without talking about it first.”

“I guess I appreciate that,” you say, fighting a smile.

He shakes his head. “As if I’d subject you to the chaos gremlin Park Jimin without your consent. And Yoongi acts like he’s above it, but that guy gossips. He’s worse than my mom.”

You giggle a little. Taehyung shivers visibly and says, “Okay, I really do need to change out of this. You should, too. I can- um- I can turn around, if you want, or-?”

He’s babbling a little, and it strikes you that he’s nervous. Taehyung, Kim Taehyung, the guy whose mere presence had made you stumble over words and forget how your hands worked, is nervous about you.

Warmth and happiness rise within you, almost enough to eradicate the chill from your rain-soaked tank top. It’s reassuring, and cute, and it somehow - impossibly - makes you want him even more.

He shuts up, flushing a tiny bit, and reaches for the hem of his shirt. He turns a little, like he wants to make sure you don’t have to look at his belly - as if you hadn’t all been swimming the day before - but you step closer as he pulls the thin material over his head.

“Want to give me a hand?” you murmur. Taehyung’s eyes shoot to yours, unsure. Around you, above you, the rain redoubles its efforts. The walls of the tent shudder and tremble under the onslaught of wind and rain. Distantly, you hear the first rumbles of thunder.

Then he steps the rest of the way to you, dropping his discarded t-shirt to the tent floor, reaching to take the towel out of your hands. He drapes it over his shoulder and reaches for the hem of your tank-top, his eyes steady on yours. He peels it away from your skin, up over your ribs, over your breasts. You raise your arms so he can pull it over your head.

You reach around to undo the clasps of the sports bra you’d worn for the hike, but he swats at your hands, going for it himself.

“This one likes to get stuck,” you warn him, smiling.

“I got it,” he assures you, full of confidence, and he’s right - you can feel the clasp give and then he’s sliding the straps down your arms - one, then the other. He gives it a light toss over to your sleeping bag, and then takes the towel off of his shoulder. He’s been watching you the entire time - for signs of uncertainty, or just because he wants to, you aren’t sure - and he doesn’t stop now as he gently dries your arms, your shoulders, your belly, carefully under and around each breast, then around and down your back.

“How’s that?” he murmurs, dropping his hands.

“Drier,” you smile, “but still chilly.”

“Well, that’s unacceptable,” he says playfully, voice so low. You’re about to shuffle into his arms when you’re surprised by a flash outside. The lightning bolt is followed quickly by a sharp, angry crack of thunder.

You gasp instinctively, then chuckle at yourself. Taehyung smiles at you indulgently and then crouches by his sleeping bag, messing with the zipper. You peer around him to see that he’s unzipping it completely, and then he shakes it out to increase the amount of floor it covers. Instead of standing, he plops down in the center, legs stretched out before him. He looks up at you, head cocked, like a delectable invitation.

Another crack of thunder spurs you into movement, shakes you from your reverie, and you straddle his lap easily, your hands finding his shoulders for balance. He’s kissing you again before you’re even settled in, his tongue stroking yours as his hands splay wide across your back. You shiver into his embrace, your chilly body aching for the warmth that radiates from him. You don’t know if you should blame the cold or the excitement, but your nipples are impossibly hard, and Taehyung moans quietly into your mouth as he feels them brush against the flat of his own chest as you press your body against his.

One hand comes around from your back to cup a breast - the one he’d neglected last night at the lake, as if he’s been keeping score and knows where his attention was lacking. He breaks the kiss to nibble a gentle line down your jaw, his fingers pressing at your flesh, his thumb rubbing circles against the hardened pebble it finds there. When you whine, he turns his head so he can whisper closer to your ear, “Shhh, beautiful.”

You nod, sucking in a quiet breath, and he continues kissing you, continues tracing shapes with his thumb, sending shocks and sparks down the length of your spine as you roll your hips over his.

The storm has found you in full, thunder cracking and snapping above the tent, barely seconds of silence before another rumble gives its reply. Taehyung’s beautiful face glows white and then dark again as lightning strikes somewhere nearby.

The rain and wind act as music, guiding your pace as you continue to kiss. You kiss him until your head spins, until your lips burn, until your core aches. You run your hands up his back, down his sides. He twists under your touch, choking back a giggle, and you realize you’ve tickled him. You place your hands flat over the spot, your touch firm enough to quell the sensation.

“Sorry,” you whisper, giggling a little. He answers you with a kiss, one hand still holding you in place in the middle of your back, the other leaving your chest and tangling in your hair again. You find your hands trailing down his chest, between your bodies, landing on the button of his shorts.

His hand flies to your wrist, and you stop, looking at him quizzically.

He lets out a tiny huff of a laugh, shaking his head. “Sorry,” he says. “Half of me hates myself for this… but, I don’t want our first time to be… on a sleeping bag… in a tent… four feet away from Jeon Jungkook. I want to do it right - do it better.”

You can’t help it - you release a tiny laugh, giggling into his neck. Again - who let him be so cute?!

He leans back so he can peer at you, accusatory. “Are you laughing at me?” he cries.

“No,” you assure him, even though you were, a little bit. “I just didn’t know you’d be so… considerate.”

He pouts adorably, his hands coming to rest on your hips, just above the band of your leggings. “I appreciate the art of romance,” he sniffs defensively and you giggle again.

He gives another defensive sniff at your giggle. Then, almost bashful, he asks, “Lay with me?”

He reaches for a loose blanket from on top of Jimin’s sleeping bag - he’d been cold the night before, stealing spare blankets from the car. You shift off of his lap and he snaps the blanket to spread it out, laying back on his pillow and patting the space next to him. As you slide in beside him, smiling softly, he pulls the blanket up over both of you, rolling to curl up against your back. The feeling of him behind you, warm and solid, is enough to send your mind skipping and singing into oblivion. How can you feel so happy over something so simple?

“Well,” you say quietly, as he brushes some hair off of your neck and presses his lips sweetly to the spot he’d uncovered, “on the topic of romance… last night I asked you what’s happening with us, what this is. You never answered.”

He considers this, tightening his arms around you. “I guess I got distracted,” he admits, still nuzzling the back of your neck, sending goosebumps racing down your arms even though you two had cooled it down. “I’ve been told I have a one track mind. And you weren’t wearing a bra.”

You giggle. “That’s fair,” you allow. “But I’d still… like to know.”

He shifts behind you, warming his legs against yours. Another crack of thunder, further to the east, makes you jump, and he smoothes a hand down your arm.

“I’m pretty open to the options,” he says finally. “I want to see where this goes, but I’m okay with whatever pace you want. If you want to go home and just talk, we can do that. Or if you want to try dating - I mean, I’d like to take you out. If… you want that.”

You reach up to where his hand is resting on your upper arm and lace your fingers together, giving him a squeeze.

“Yeah,” you whisper. “I’d like that.”

His hand is reassuring in yours, his arm warm and solid around you. Slowly, you let the cadence of his breathing and the steady pattern of rainfall lull you into sleep.

The morning mood is cheerful and bustling as everyone takes down the tents and packs up the cars, but you feel a bit like you have a heavy heart. While you are definitely looking forward to a real shower and a night in your own bed, you also don’t want to go back to reality, back to work and your apartment and a whole world that until now spun merrily along without Taehyung in it. You want to stay optimistic, but you wonder if going home will pull the inertia away from whatever has started between you.

Your nap the previous evening had been interrupted by Jimin, coming to tell you that the rain had moved on and Seokjin was starting a fire for grilling. He’d squealed, a hand over his eyes, as soon as he saw you two spooning.

(“Tell me you’re not naked!” he’d cried, which of course had gotten everyone else’s attention. And, well, you were - from the waist up, at least.

“Chaos gremlin,” Taehyung had growled as he reached over to grab your bag so you could find a t-shirt, the blanket clutched to your chest.)

Taehyung spends much of the morning needling Namjoon to let him ride shotgun; he’d ridden up with Suz and Hoseok, so he had to ride home in Yoongi’s car.

“My legs are too long for the back seat!” Namjoon protests. “I have to sit like a crab!”

“You love crabs!” Taehyung counters. “And my legs are just as long!”

Namjoon pats him on the head placatingly. “I know you like to think that, buddy. But they’re really not.”

Delia helps you carry the cooler back to your own car, sliding it onto the backseat, and then you both go back to get your bags and camping chairs. Taehyung stands by the backseat of Yoongi’s car - accepting his defeat, you guess - and jerks his head when you catch his eyes.

You toss your bag onto the floor of the backseat, and then shuffle over, pouting playfully.

He gives you a smile and takes your wrist, pulling you closer.

“Why are you sad?” he asks.

“I have to go back to work tomorrow,” you lament.

He laughs out loud. “That’s the whole reason?”

You shrug. “I’m gonna miss Seokjin’s shitty cowboy coffee.”

He crosses his arms, biting on his bottom lip to keep his smile at bay. “That’s why you’re sad, huh? That’s your story?”

You smile up at him, caught in your game. “I guess I’m just hoping we really do see this through.”

He looks at you seriously now, arms coming uncrossed. “We will,” he promises. “I told you I want to take you out. I’ll text you as soon as we’re back to set it up.”

“Okay,” you say, voice small, mouth twisting. “If you say so.”

“Trust me,” he says. He pulls you in for a sweet, soft kiss, then tells you, “Scratch that - I’ll text you as soon as I miss you.”

This makes you laugh a little. “Okay,” you say again. “Looking forward to it.”

He goes to help handle the last of the heavier items and you and Delia do a last sweep to make sure you hadn’t left any garbage or recyclables hiding anywhere. Once everything is certainly squared away, everyone calls goodbye to one another and you all head into your respective cars.

“Let’s get this show on the road,” you say, sticking your phone in its little dock and pulling up your map. “Two and a half hours home.”

“Let’s get it,” Delia grins.

Yoongi’s car pulls out first, then Jungkook’s, and you follow. At the exit, each car stops at a stop sign, then takes a left onto the two-lane highway. As you pull up to the stop sign, a notification pops up on your phone, overtaking the map for a split second.

[10:45 AM] Kim Taehyung: hey beautiful. what are you doing friday night?

(definition graphic by my dearest darlingest @/kookstempo)

Thank you so much for reading! If you enjoyed this, please consider leaving some form of feedback!

You can also find the rest of my work here on my Masterlist :)

#bts oneshot #*kth #fluff #smut #f2l #camp

750 notes · View notes

sevnreads · 29 days

Text

collard greens | kth

Working as a counselor at a summer camp for kids isn't the most exciting job, but hanging out with Taehyung makes it worth it.

○ Pairing: Taehyung x trans man!Reader

○ Rating: Explicit/18+

○ Genre: A classic Jai weed fic, friends to lovers, summer camp au, smut, fluff

○ 13 / 100 Drabble Challenge (Camp Counselor)

○ Word Count: 3,670

○ Warnings: Some body/gender dysphoria, reference to top surgery, reference to hormone therapy, marijuana, oral sex, (self) hand job, Jai didn't proofread this jhsdkjfsk sorry friends

○ Notes: Today is International Transgender Day of Visibility, created to celebrate trans and nonbinary people worldwide. Particularly on Tumblr and with reader-insert BTS fanfic, there is little representation of trans and nonbinary characters. Readers are often written as AFAB and use she/her pronouns and traditionally feminine terms to describe their genitalia (even when listed as gender-neutral readers). I wanted to share a story that explicitly focuses on a trans reader. I welcome everyone to read this story, regardless of gender or sexual orientation. As F. Scott Fitzgerald once said, "That is part of the beauty of all literature. You discover that your longings are universal longings, that you’re not lonely and isolated from anyone. You belong."

○ Disclaimer: The trans community is diverse, and this fic doesn't represent all trans and nonbinary people's experiences. If you'd like to learn more about how to be an ally for trans and nonbinary people, check out this article from the Human Rights Campaign.

○ Post Date: March 31, 2024

○ Masterlist | AO3 Crosspost

○ What was Jai listening to? A weed playlist

“Did you know that smoking weed makes your sperm count decrease?”

You scrunch your nose at Taehyung’s vulgar question, but he doesn’t notice. He’s nearly cross-eyed as he licks along the edge of the blunt he just rolled with expert fingers.

“Not me,” you challenge. “Maybe you.”

Taehyung stares at you for a moment. You can practically see the gears turning in his head before he sticks the blunt between his lips and speaks around it.

“Shit, yeah.”

The summer air, thick with humidity, doesn’t help when your face heats up from Taehyung’s mistake. It’s funny how seemingly inconsequential moments—like Taehyung forgetting that you don’t have the same parts as him—can bring you such euphoria. Taehyung has always been good at that, though. He’s never treated you differently, singled you out, or made you feel like you aren’t enough or are too much.

You’re just two dudes perched on a mossy rock in the middle of the woods, smoking a blunt while the camp kids you’re supposed to be taking care of are asleep in their cabins.

Simple as that.

Taehyung pauses to light the end of the blunt and inhales deeply, drawing smoke through his pink lips and exhaling it slowly. The thick cloud doesn’t have a chance to disappear into the night sky before Taehyung breathes it back in through his nose.

Rolling your eyes at Taehyung’s unnecessary display of stoner prowess, you take the blunt from his pinched grip and curl your lips around the tip.

“Are you trying to say weed is, like, male birth control?” you ask, smoke coming out of your mouth in disjointed puffs and streams between your teeth while you talk.

“It basically is.”

“That feels very unreliable.”

Your fingers brush against each other every time you pass the blunt between you. The contact makes your arm tingle, and the feeling wiggles down the right side of your body the more times you reach for the blunt.

“I mean, I smoke, like, every day, and I haven’t knocked anyone up yet,” Taehyung admits with a shrug.

You nearly choke.

“You’re fucking people raw, Tae?”

“Shhh!” Taehyung giggles with his index finger to your lips. You grab his wrist and try to push him off, but he doesn’t budge.

“Taehyung,” you whisper, but he pinches your top and bottom lips together to keep you quiet. It’s useless; his giggles are louder than you are.

“Listen,” Taehyung grins as he brings the blunt to his lips. Yours are still pinched together with his other hand. “I got tested before camp started, and I got no babies.”

“That’s not–”

“I know the test is for STIs, not babies, obviously!” Taehyung squawks, shoving you hard on the shoulder when you finally free yourself from him with a giggle, almost sending you flying off the rock. “I’m just saying I got neither.”

“Alright, alright! I believe you. No STIs, no babies.”

“Exactly.” Taehyung winks at you as he exhales a thick cloud of smoke.

Since you’re sitting next to each other, it’s impossible to escape the shy embarrassment Taehyung triggers in you. He has no business looking as good as he does when he smokes. It’s his lips and eyes, you think, watching him take another hit. The perfect pink bow of his upper lip and the plushness of his bottom lip make his mouth look pretty when the smoke swirls out of it.

When he looks at you through the smoke that surrounds you, his eyes are dark and lidded, a heavy gaze that weighs on you as you bring the blunt to your lips.

“Do you want me to roll another one?” Taehyung asks, his voice rough and thick, after a few more passes of the blunt between you.

It doesn’t feel like you’ve been outside for a long time, but a quick glance at your phone tells you it’s way past time to return to your cabin.

“We should head back, unfortunately,” you say with a sigh, “Waking up in the morning is going to fucking suck.”

“There’s probably just this last hit left.”

You wave away Taehyung’s offer of the blunt now smoked down to a pinched nub.

“I started it, so you have to end it,” Taehyung insists.

“Fine, come here.”

You’ve shotgunned weed with someone before. Although people may call it a shotgun kiss, it isn’t a real kiss. The person who inhales the smoke is supposed to blow the smoke into the other person’s mouth. Sure, that requires getting close to the other person, but it doesn’t require mouth-to-mouth contact. Everyone knows this, especially someone who smokes as much as Taehyung does.

So why does Taehyung lean in too close to press his lips against yours when you blow the smoke into his mouth?

It’s quiet outside, just the chatter of insects and other forest dwellers breaking the still summer night, so you easily hear the breathy way Taehyung inhales the smoke you’ve passed to him. It’s a soft, gentle sound that makes your entire body tingle, starting where his plush lips connect with yours.

Have you wondered if Taehyung’s lips are as soft as they look? Of course, you have; who hasn’t? Taehyung is easily one of the most gorgeous people you’ve ever met, but he has always been just a camp friend.

You’ve known Taehyung for years, spending half of every summer together at this camp since you were kids, eventually becoming counselors once you aged out of the program. Despite living in different cities and attending different universities, you’ve maintained an unlikely friendship through camp.

However, now you’re wondering if you’ve been reading your relationship all wrong.

Taehyung pulls away and turns his head to the side to exhale the smoke before cupping the back of your head and leaning in again. He’s pretty like this, with his eyes closed and expression relaxed.

“Is this okay?” he asks, and for some reason, it feels like the hottest thing anyone has ever said to you.

“Yeah,” your voice is hoarse when you respond, scratchy from the smoke making your throat raw and your mouth dry. You made the rookie mistake of not bringing anything to drink.

When Taehyung slips his tongue in your mouth, you can taste the smokiness of the blunt. He cups your face with both hands and deepens the kiss, tilting his head slightly and causing your noses to brush against each other. Making out while high comes with an indescribable pleasure, something airy and electrifying that washes over your entire body in waves. It isn’t like normal arousal that you feel throbbing from your core and spread throughout your body. Kissing Taehyung while high makes your entire body tremble.

You twist your fingers into the sides of his baggy t-shirt to have something to hold onto as he sucks your bottom lip into his mouth, eliciting a low groan from you. The old camp shirt is faded and soft from years of going through the wash. You’ve got an identical one in your dresser at the cabin.

“We have to go back,” you insist weakly once Taehyung releases your lip from between his teeth.

“I forgot.”

“Of course you did.”

Your laugh is full of anxiety as you look away from Taehyung’s heavy gaze. His eyes are blazing red. You wonder if he kissed you because he’s high and if he’s going to wake up in the morning and pretend it didn’t happen. Is that better than the alternative outcome where Taehyung is weirded out because, well, you’re you?

“Shut up,” Taehyung grumbles, but he wears a grin as he digs the toe of his hiking boot into the ground, twisting it to make sure the blunt is put out.

“First one to the cabin gets to shower first,” he declares.

“Taehyung!” you hiss, but he’s already crashing through the forest brush with flailing arms.

It takes a few seconds for your brain to get in sync with your body, still foggy from weed and Taehyung’s kisses. You scramble to get up, having to adjust your pants with a tug to your crotch as you jog after him. Bottom growth is affirming, but it’s also a pain in the ass sometimes. You can’t imagine how cis men deal with all that.

Taking off in what you hope is the direction of the camp, you quickly realize there’s no way you’ll make it to the cabin before Taehyung. The forest floor is uneven, and you’re an idiot and didn’t wear your hiking boots. Your smooth-soled Converse slide against mossy rocks and get caught on raised tree roots, nearly sending you flying as you try to catch up with Taehyung.

When you finally reach the cabin, you’re wheezing, and your entire body is sticky with sweat. Taehyung is already in your bedroom, whistling as he rifles through the dresser like he’s having a grand time despite his hair looking like a rat’s nest and having welts on his legs from running through bushes in shorts.

“Took you long enough,” he grins as you stomp through the front door and head straight to the bedroom.

The cabin is small, with a living room big enough for a couch and a coffee table, a small kitchenette off to the side, and a door to the bedroom you’re sharing with Taehyung. You each have a twin-sized bed that sits across from the other in the small room, and you share a large dresser placed in between your beds against the back wall. On the opposite side of the room is the door to the bathroom. Everything is a tight fit, but you don’t mind. The two of you are hardly ever in the cabin anyway. Being a counselor requires long hours full of activities, meaning you’re only in your cabin to sleep unless you have an off day.

“I’m gonna go enjoy a nice, warm shower now.” Taehyung rubs his victory in your face, his tongue pressed to the inside of his cheek, and his eyes glittering like fire embers in the cabin’s pale yellow lighting.

“Dude, fuck off,” you give him your middle finger as he shuts the bathroom door with a cackle.

Thankfully, it doesn’t take long for Taehyung to finish showering. You trade places silently, your red eyes avoiding Taehyung’s because the time you had alone made you paranoid about what happened in the woods.

The paranoia only gets worse while you’re in the shower. There’s no need to scrub yourself with your washcloth so aggressively, but you feel like your entire body is crawling. It isn’t the discomfort you once felt when you looked at your naked body. It’s been a while since you felt discomfort when touching your chest or washing between your legs. No, this feeling you’re experiencing now is something different. Rather than feeling the urge to hide, you want to be seen. You want to be seen by Taehyung, and you don’t know what to do with that desire.

Showering doesn’t calm the need pulsing through your body. You feel a little less high, but you’re still buzzing with electricity, still incredibly sensitive as you dry yourself with a fluffy towel. With your brain still floating in the clouds, you almost think you’re hallucinating the slow opening of the bathroom door. Quickly, you wrap your towel around your hips and stare at Taehyung, whose head pokes through the door crack.

“Hellooo,” Taehyung drags out the word, low and slow, as his eyes sweep over your body.

He’s blatantly checking you out, and you feel your cheeks heat up from arousal or shame; you’re not sure which. You may not experience dysphoria anymore, but that doesn’t mean you’re running around shirtless, sporting scars where most guys’ pecs end. It was never “okay” to be shirtless with the chest you had before; it’s taking a while to feel “okay” doing it now.

You take a deep breath and remind yourself that Taehyung has never cared. He watched you blossom for over a decade as you shaped yourself into your most authentic form, and he kept up with every change, no matter how different things were from the summer before.

“Do you need something or…?”

Blinking, Taehyung’s face turns pink, and he shakes his head.

“No. Well, I mean, sort of?”

Taehyung laughs at himself, and you can’t help but laugh, too, because who can hear Taehyung laugh and not want to experience that same joy, even if it’s twinged with nervousness?

“What do you sort of need?” you finally ask with a grin, that shared joy warming your chest.

“Can I come in?”

“You’re already halfway there.”

With a cheeky grin, Taehyung slips into the bathroom and closes the door so you’ll stay warm. He’s wearing loose boxers and a tank shirt because the cabin’s lack of central air conditioning makes it hot at night. He’s cute like this, soft and domestic.

“Did you like it?” Taehyung keeps his hand on the doorknob as though preparing to leave, but his voice is steady when he asks the question.

“Like what?”

You know what. Taehyung knows you know what.

He clarifies anyway.

“When I kissed you, did you like it?” Taehyung switches between focusing on your eyes and your mouth. “Because… I want to do it again.”

It only takes a slight nod for Taehyung to crowd you against the bathroom counter. The kiss feels confident this time, no longer an accident or hesitant test ride. Taehyung holds your jaw to tilt your head up and kisses you hard enough to leave you breathless. You noisily inhale whenever he lets you.

“I didn’t want to wait,” Taehyung explains against your lips while you moan against his.

“For what?”

“You to finish showering.” Taehyung’s free hand runs down your side to squeeze your hip, part of his hand slipping under your towel. “Is this okay?”

You don’t know what’s gotten into you, but you let him unwrap your towel and drop it on the slippery tile floor. Maybe it’s the weed making you feel reckless, letting this boy see you in a way you haven’t let a boy see you since you started your transition. Maybe it’s just because it’s Taehyung.

“You, too,” you groan when you feel Taehyung’s clothed cock press against your thigh.

Taehyung doesn’t need to be told twice, reaching over his shoulder to pull his shirt over his head by grabbing the back. Once he’s shirtless, his mouth finds your jaw, kissing across to the sensitive spot just below your ear while you tug down his boxers so he can kick them off.

Beneath the arousal building inside of you are nerves you can’t seem to shake. They’re making it difficult to concentrate on how fantastic it feels to have Taehyung’s soft lips kissing and sucking your neck. All you can think about is how you’re afraid that Taehyung will freak out, that he keeps forgetting, and how it feels nice when he forgets when you’re talking about guy stuff, but it’ll feel devastating when he realizes he has forgotten now.

Slowly, Taehyung’s fingertips skirt your torso, creeping down your side to swipe over your waist and trail along the crease where your hip meets your thigh. You hold your breath as he ventures further, eventually shooting your hands out to squeeze his biceps when his fingers dip into your hole to gather your arousal and drag it upward.

“Can I suck your cock?” Taehyung breathes, hot and ragged, against the curve of your ear.

Jolting back, you stare at him with wide eyes and feel your heart flutter painfully in your chest because you still haven’t started breathing again.

“W-What, what did you say?” you stammer, holding Taehyung’s red, lusty gaze.

“Can I suck your cock? I want to suck you off.”

Taehyung says it so simply, like it’s the easiest thing in the world. He slid his fingers through your arousal and didn’t refer to it as your pussy or clit, as if he already knew those words would make you feel disgusting.

“You, how did you know… why did you call it that?”

Scrunching his eyebrows and frowning slightly, Taehyung pulls his hand from in between your legs.

“Uhh… you always call it your dick when we’re talking about stuff with the guys?” There’s a panicked edge to Taehyung’s voice, each sentence coming out like a hesitant question. “But, uh, I feel like most of society agrees that dick isn’t really sexy, so… I thought cock would sound better…”

When you don’t respond, Taehyung’s face shifts from pale with panic to bright red with embarrassment.

“Shit, should I not have said that? Should I have asked first? I’m sorry I—”

You kiss away Taehyung’s embarrassed babbling, your fingers dug into his hair, and your body pressed flush against his. His hands curve around to hold your lower back and pull you closer as if it’s even possible. You want him to try, to mold you into him.

“Thank you,” you whisper.

When Taehyung smiles, his teeth press against your bottom lip.

“You don’t need to thank me. I just wanna make you feel good. Will you let me?”

“Yeah, yeah.”

You bite your bottom lip and squeeze the edge of the counter on either side of your waist as you watch Taehyung get on his knees. The bath mat protects his knees from the hard tile when he kneels in front of you.

“You’re so pretty,” Taehyung says softly as he rubs his hands up and down the inside of your thighs with slight pressure to push them apart a little bit more, “Pretty boy.”

It’s hot watching Taehyung lick the tip of your cock, the hormones you’ve been on making it stick out beyond your folds. Taehyung is gentle when he presses your lower abdomen with his palm and uses his fingers to pull your lips back slightly to expose more of you. He gets you nice and wet before he wraps his lips around your cock, suckling it and flicking it with the tip of his tongue.

“Oh fuck,” you moan, grabbing Taehyung’s head with one hand so you can run your fingers through his bangs and push them away from his face to see his eyes better.

Taehyung hums in response to your moans, and you feel the vibration rumble through your groin. He’s skillful as he licks and swirls your cock with his tongue and keeps a tight suction around it with his lips and hollowed cheeks.

For a moment, you tip your head back and try to regulate your breathing because how is Taehyung about to make you cum already, just from his mouth? Sure, your body has been more sensitive since you started your hormone therapy, but fuck.

To make matters worse, when you look back down, you notice that Taehyung’s free hand is wrapped around his cock. He pumps his cock at the same rhythm as he begins to bob his head as if he’s sucking even more of you than there really is. You can say, without a doubt, that no one has ever tried to affirm you and make you feel as complete during sex as Taehyung is.

“Fuck, yeah, Taehyung,” you adjust your grip on Taehyung’s hair and start guiding his movements, pulling him up and down by his hair, “Just like that, shit, your mouth feels so fucking good.”

You aren’t pulling his hair hard; you’re really only following the pace he’s already established, but it feels good. It must feel good for Taehyung, too, because he whimpers and jerks off faster. His body trembles just like yours does, and it doesn’t take long for both of you to be panting and frantic.

“Gonna cum, fuck, fuck.”

You squeeze Taehyung’s hair and the edge of the counter as you buck your hips, coming right as Taehyung adjusts his angle to lap at the gush of arousal at your hole, painting his mouth and chin.

“God, you’re so hot, you have no fucking idea,” Taehyung groans into the inside of your thigh, where he nuzzles his face.

His breath is hot and wet as he pants, trembling for a few seconds longer before he finally cums, too. Some of it leaks between his fingers and lands on the inside of your leg, but you don’t care; you just caress his hair from his face while he breathes slowly to calm himself down.

With trembling legs, you twist around to collapse onto the closed lid of the toilet, unable to stand any longer. Your head feels spacey and throbs, likely because you’d been holding your breath too much. It’s okay, though. It makes your body feel all warm and jiggly.

“We have to shower again,” Taehyung says quietly.

He looks just as fucked out as you feel, his eyes wide and staring out into the void as he continues trying to relax his shuddery breath. You can’t help but laugh, throwing your head back and letting it out, like whatever other pent-up energy you had left over after you came needs to escape somehow.

“Yeah, we do,” you wheeze even harder once Taehyung’s face cracks into a boxy smile, and he starts laughing, too.

“I got cum all over the floor,” Taehyung cackles, falling back on his bare ass and holding up his cum-covered hand.

You wipe the tears collecting in the corners of your eyes and shake your head. “That is something I don’t envy.”

“It’s so fucking inconvenient!”

Taehyung grins up at you with crinkled eyes, and you don’t know why you were so nervous before. He’s so perfect it makes your heart hurt.

“Next time, I’ll be the one to swallow,” you promise slyly, pleased when Taehyung lets out a weak moan in response.

“Bro, don’t do this to me,” Taehyung throws his head back and whines at the ceiling. "I’m gonna fall in love with you if you’re not careful.”

Grinning, you shrug. Tonight has been pretty reckless; there’s no use in being careful now.

Disclaimer: All my writing is fictional and for entertainment purposes only. None of these characters are meant to actually represent the real people mentioned in the stories.

All rights reserved © @gimmethatagustd - Do not copy, repost, modify, or translate any of my writing. Do not use my writing for any AI purposes whatsoever. Do not use my fics for anything aside from reading and commenting on them. My fics will only be posted on this Tumblr and on AO3 (gimmethatagustd & daddytaehyungie).

#bts oneshot #*kth #smut #fluff #f2l #camp

95 notes · View notes

sevnreads · 29 days

Note

hii! I saw that you were taking requests,if you’re okay with this one could I request bf!jungkook and black!reader that won’t stop smacking his gf’s bum? And if you’re fine with pet names can they be (mama/mamas) i hope this isn’t too much and love your writing btw ^^ ♡

✩｡°𝄞🍑 ALL THAT ASS 𝄞°✨｡✩

╝ one-shot ╔

╰₊ 𓂂➢ pairing: idol!jungkook x black!reader

╰₊ 𓂂➢ genre: established relationship, fluff, smut

╰₊ 𓂂➢warn!ngs: ass spanking/smacking, sensual massaging, teasing, oral (male receiving), hair pulling

╰₊ 𓂂➢ summary: your idol boyfriend whom you barely see, surprises you at home on a random friday afternoon. the two of you make up for lost time.

╰₊ 𓂂➢ word count: 2.1K words

╰₊ 𓂂➢ author’s note: i’m so sorry that this took me so long. i was severely behind on schedule TT. (thanks for requesting this— i enjoyed writing it!!)

The last thing you expected to see coming home from work is the house decked out with candles and rose petals creating an alluring trail throughout the walkway of your shared home. With whom you stay with your boyfriend— who (undoubtedly) put this whole thing together.

It’s exceedingly surprising to see your boyfriend stalking down the stairs in his comfy grey sweatpants and a white tank top.

The idol is usually off and away at the studio whenever you arrive home from work— especially on weekends. Coming in the house late at night, leaving the two of you with barely an hour of alone time before either one of you passes out. The simple fact that Jungkook is in this house before noon is a miracle. And you don’t feel the need to question it any longer. Not at all. You set your work bag on the ground, hurriedly taking off your shoes to sprint over to your fluffy haired boyfriend.

“What are you doing here?” You say into his chest once you’re fully embraced by his strong tatted arms. You could cry, you missed being held in his arms so much. He softly kissed your forehead. “They sent us home early for the day.” He briefly explains, only focusing on you. You look up at him, “what’s all of this for?” Jungkook smiles down at you, yearning and desire laced in his eyes.

“I figured that since I haven’t seen you in like forever, I’d do something special for you, mama.” You giggle before removing yourself from his hold. “You saw me three days ago babe.” You sarcastically correct as you strut up the stairs to your bedroom, Jungkook follows closely behind.

“Yeah but like, three days ago feels like ages. You know I have separation anxiety.” He partially jokes. He doesn’t have separation anxiety, he’s just needy for your attention and physical touch is his love language. Surely, three days without touching you is equivalent to death.

“Didn’t you miss me, mamas?” He lowly mutters in that sexy little bedroom voice he knows you love; sneaking up behind you to wrap his arms around your waist. Gets you every time. “Of course I missed you. So much.” You turn around to face him, standing on your toes to place a long sensual kiss on his lips. His lip rings’ tickling your lips as you do.

“Good,” he says softly. “Because I’m cooking dinner tonight. So you go ahead and get your sexy ass in the shower and meet me down stairs.” He finishes with a smack on your thick rump making you jump and look back at him as he makes his way down the stairs.

You soon settle in the shower, lathering your body with smell goods and eventually even washing your hair which you never seem to have the time to do. Feeling yourself decompress as the steaming water massages your scalp. When you get out the shower you are (once again) surprised to see Jungkook standing there waiting for you. You eye him suspiciously while you grab a towel to wrap around your wet hair. “What are you doing?” He shrugs. “Nothing mamas. Can’t watch my beautiful girlfriend step out the shower?” He says smugly taking a step towards your wet body. “Thought you told me to meet you downstairs.” You arch your brow and without hesitation he lifts you off of your feet, your naked body lamely folding over his shoulder as you deliriously plead for him to let you down.

He isn’t an inch phased by your feeble punches to his back. Instead he lowly chuckles, sending a loud and heavy smack to your ass before gently tossing you on the bed. He comes to hover over you to which you kick him in his knee making him retract his movements, groaning.

“You deserve it!” You growl and he nods his head in agreement. “You’re right, you’re right.” He says, slowly traveling his hands up your legs to your thighs. “Sorry mamas.” You lightly moan at the added pressure. Slowly unraveling underneath his touch. His thumbs teasingly outlining your buzzed vag.

“Turn around, lemme massage you.” He demands and you quickly obey straight away, lying on your stomach as Jungkook diligently rub you down, kneading and manipulating your body. You’re very vocal about your pleasure, whining and moaning when Jungkook reaches sensitive spots. It doesn’t go unnoticed the way he pays extra attention to your ass. Generously fondling with the fleshy rump, jiggling it and smacking it around. Whispering opulent praises in your ears, his knees on either side of your body as he takes the time to sprinkle kisses on your back.

You can’t help but grow aroused. You wouldn’t expect any less, the way he’s consistently cajoling soft moans out your mouth with his hands. Yet another one of his god gifting talents. However, before it could go any farther he removes his hands and mouth from your body, flipping you over.

You’re literally breathless despite not moving an inch since he threw your body on the bed. Jungkook continues showing your body love; hasn’t been able to touch your body to his liking and satisfaction in weeks. He takes in your figure displayed in front of him as if it’s his first time seeing you like this.

He slowly and erotically drags his tongue up your abdomen to your neck, flicking his tongue off your chin before taking your mouth in his. When he breaks the kiss you urgently chase his lips. He moans into your mouth, feeding into your hunger. Your hands roaming his bulging biceps and broad shoulders.

Pulling away to catch your breath, Jungkook takes his time marking your neck and gently playing with your perky tits. Your hands are stuffed in his mane of hair, helping you control the anticipation as he trails passion marks down your breast, to your stomach. When his mouth is a few open mouth kisses away from your pretty pussy he eyes you, immediately satisfied with your fucked out expression. After placing a feathery peck on essence he gets off the bed leaving you absolutely baffled. “Get dressed, mama. Dinner’s almost ready.” He exits the room and you scoff, mindlessly scanning the state of the room as you process everything.

You’re not sure what kind of prolonged foreplay Jungkook has going on but it’s leaving you hot and bothered. Furthermore, you’re frustrated as you get up to search for a comfy pair of pajamas.

When you get downstairs you see Jungkook tussling with chocolate covered strawberries he made (that are stuck to the tray). His eyebrows furrowed as he spews out various curse words. “What’s that!” You sing out with a bright smile on your face which instantly calms Jungkook down a bit. “These strawberries are being stubborn— can’t get them off.” He pouts and you stalk over to him. “Lemme see if I can help.” You scoot in front of him, taking his place in front of the tray of strawberries. And as if you posses some sort of magical powers, you effortlessly lift a strawberry. Turning around to see Jungkook face, all he could do is smile lovingly at you.

“You’re literally an angel.” He says and pecks your lips. Your body warms at the sight of his smiling face. He smacks your bum before walking off to grab the food from the kitchen to which you simply shake your head.

The two of you eat your dinner while catching up on everything that occurred during the last month. His music that he’s been working on nonstop and your time with the kids at school.

Enjoying the amazing food that Jungkook cooked for you and actually spending time with your busy boyfriend. After dinner, you decide to watch a movie with Jungkook in the living room. You pour the two of you a glass of red wine, gracefully carrying it as you trek to the couch.

“Thank you, mama” He says when he sees the two glasses in your hand. You hum, slowly bending over to set the glasses on the coffee table, careful not to spill anything. The cotton pajama shorts you’re sporting rises up your thigh, showing off the curve of your ass, exposing the pleasant sight to Jungkook. And of course, like an uncontrollable reflex he goes to smack your bum, watching the thick flesh ripple by impact. You jump and quickly turn around, glaring down at your cheeky boyfriend. “Seriously Jeon, what’s with my ass today?” The lecture ends with laughter because you just cannot take his goofy smile seriously.

“Nothing. I just love your ass.” He lamely explains, wrapping his arms around you to squeeze your notorious cheeks in his hands whilst pulling you down on top of him. “And it’s all mine. You’re all mine.” His tongue slips out his mouth to wet his lips and you take the opportunity to kiss the pair.

The movie ends before it even begins. The home screen resting open on the television while you desperately pine for your hot, hunky boyfriend to fuck you silly. You leave red marks along his neck, identical to the ones he gave you. His strong hands rests on your ass as you eagerly grind your clothed pussy against his growing bulge. You easily grow impatient, removing yourself off of his lap and lowering yourself on your knees in front of the man.

He bites his lips at the sight, enthusiastically awaiting the next series of events. A load grunt escapes his lips as you grip his heavy bulge in the palm of your hand. Much like you, Jungkook doesn’t appreciate teasing. He hurriedly slips his grey sweats down his thighs, his dick springing up against his stomach. “You free balling is nuts.” You chuckle and grab his veiny length in your hand.

“Easy access, mama. You know what to do.” His voice lowers a register and you in fact do know what to do. Lightly smacking his tip on your tongue before closing your mouth around it. His brows furrowed together as he looks down at the pornographic scene. You lower your head making his length disappear in your mouth, nose hitting his lower abdomen, deep throating his fat cock. You lift up once a choke threatens to break out.

Not even a few seconds later, you wrap your swollen lips around his dick again. The tip repeatedly hitting the back of your throat and Jungkook’s low breathy moans floats in the air. “Yes, fuck that feels so good.” His abs clenching and unclenching when he feels his climax nearing. He grabs a fist full of your hair, guiding your head as you suck him off. You eventually allow him take control, letting him thirstily fuck into your throat. Tears streaming down your cheeks as you continuously choke on Jungkook’s girthy length.

“Look at me— shit! Lemme see.” His words slurring as he lovingly caress your face, in contrast to the way he’s brutally thrusting into your throat. You blink away your tears to look up at him and once you do he immediately gasps. His mouth falling agape under your gaze. “Mhmn, I’m gonna cum.” He says breathlessly and your hand reaches to tenderly caress his balls. A loud moan leaves his mouth at the sudden feeling.

“You want me to cum in that pretty mouth of yours mama, hmm?” He asks, smugly smirking and you instantly strain a nod, his dick still thoroughly penetrating your warm mouth. You watch as his face scrunch up in pleasure and seconds later you feel his warm seeds plant in the back of your throat. He slowly lets go of the hold he had on your hair as he sinks into the couch.

You wipe your mouth in satisfaction before standing up, making your way to the television. Not even a successful three steps were made before Jungkook grabs your wrist, pulling you onto him. Your stomach lays flat over his lap and you let out a giggle. “Where ya going?” He leans to the side to see your face. “I was going to turn the movie on.” You respond with a cheeky smile.

Jungkook mockingly shakes his head at you. “I’m not done with you— you don’t get to suck the soul out of me then walk away.” He sexily says which arouses you. Teasingly, you arch your back, sticking your ass up in the air over his lap.

“Mmmm, what are you thinking baby.” You further tease him and, predictably you receive a smack to your ass making you gasp out.

“Show me what you can do with ALL THAT ASS.”

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#bts oneshot #*jjk #smut #fluff #established relationship

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sevnreads · 29 days

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Angel | myg (m)

☾ Pairing: Mafia!Yoongi x Sex worker! F. reader

☾ Summary: Yoongi never meant to keep coming back. You never meant to become Yoongi’s favorite. Being Min Yoongi’s favorite has dire consequences.

☾ Word Count: 15,551

☾ Genre: Semi-established relationship, mafia, smut, surprising amount of fluff

☾ Rating: 18+ Minors are strictly prohibited from engaging and reading this content. It contains explicit content and any minors discovered reading or engaging with this work will be blocked immediately.

☾ Warnings: Sex work and mentions of sex work, Yoongi and the reader are very confident in their relationship but also don’t want to ask for more, uses of the word whore negatively in some parts, vague references to dismemberment in an offhand conversation, intense action sequences, depictions of violence, reader is smacked around and kidnapped, depictions of injuries and pain, two sequences of detailed anxiety attacks, graphic depictions of blood, violent scene in which reader fights for her life and gores someone, depictions of murder/panicking while committing murder? Idk how to describe that one, mentions of nightmares/light reference to PTSD post-murder, explicit language, explicit sexual content including oral (m. and f. receiving) light throat fucking, nipple play, ass play (f. receiving), unprotected vaginal sex, Yoongi… almost doing a strip tease but it’s not as goofy as that it’s more sensual?? Yoongi is a little bit possessive at the end.

☾ Published: September 3, 2023

☾ A/N: You voted for it, you got it! Introducing the fic that came out on top for the Hali’s Happy Agust Bracket Challenge! Thank you to everyone who voted during the entire month of August, I had such an amazing time seeing everyone yelling and voting and sharing and having fun with it. It means the world to me that you guys have fun and enjoy doing these kinds of things! Here is mafia Yoongi in all of his glory - I did try to keep it tame with the murder/violence/criminal side of it because there are things in this genre I’d like to table in later (most likely on Hali’s After Dark) but I hope that you enjoy this! Somehow it really turned into two people who are just !!! eternally confident in one another, despite their strange trades. Shout out to the hurricane and covid for FAILING TO STOP ME FROM WRITING THIS I’M A GOD (not really I am very tired but I did it osifjdoigj). This is mostly edited.

☾ Disclaimer: All members of BTS are faces and name claims for this story. This is entirely a work of fiction and by no means is meant to be a projection, judgment or representation of real-life people. Any scenarios or representations of the people and places mentioned in works are not representative of real-life scenarios.

Masterlist | Ask | Angel Playlist

Yoongi would rather be anywhere else but the low lit, smoky club. The production team on the dancefloor below uses way too much cryogenic smoke for Yoongi’s taste, fogging the dancing bodies with thick clouds, the lasers reflecting off the smoke in dizzying patterns. From the VIP section, he isn’t choked by the haze, but he is choking on the cloying perfume of the woman in his lap.

She’s pretty enough, one of Kwan’s finest. No doubt trained from a very young age to please her employer’s most prestigious guests. Yoongi doesn’t touch her though, save for letting her sit on his lap, her hand cradling the back of his neck. She leans into his chest, her breath close to his ear as he watches Kwan consider Yoongi’s deal.

Yoongi doesn’t have to make the deal at all. Offering to become a minority owner of the club is a mercy, really. Yoongi could go after the investors who fronted the money when Kwan opened his business in the middle of the entertainment district, and he could wipe out the petty criminals pushing drugs in shadowy alcoves near the bathroom, damaging the cut that Kwan takes from them at the end of each night.

Yoongi could even go as far as to sow chaos every night, sending in his followers to pick fights with the elite clientele, make it a nightmare for the celebrity clients and cities government officials who use the back rooms for more nefarious matters, exposing the underbelly of La Vie if he felt like it.

Investments, Hoseok always insists. Investments, not enemies. They already hate that you’re taking a chunk of what they built - especially the seaside property. Let’s try to play nice and show face.

Forcing hands is exactly how Yoongi got to this position, sitting in a club and offering Kwan a rather generous deal: Kwan retains eighty percent of ownership, Yoongi becomes a twenty percent owner, the only person allowed to supply the club’s drugs, is paid for security services, and has access to the information funneled through those that work the private client rooms. He could just take it like he always has, and he still has half a mind to do.

Men like Kwan who think they’re savvy in business and the nuances of the criminal enterprises that run the city make Yoongi’s lip curl.

“These terms are bullshit, and I don’t have control of the back rooms.” Kwan looks up from the contract, glasses sliding down his nose. He’s a little bit older than Yoongi, and good looking. He has a traditionally handsome face that idols and actors like to get moderated to look like. He looks like new money though, with designer pieces that don’t quite match and a Patek watch that is flashy, but not coveted. “While it is under my jurisdiction, it is a handshake deal with Anya that she runs them the way she wants. They are her clients, not mine.”

“Then Anya will have a handshake deal with me.” Kwan’s face darkens. Yoongi is tired of this. Is tired of the feeling of the girl’s hand stroking the hair at the base of his neck, is tired of the way she presses up against him, and is tired of Kwan’s dawdling.

“Take the weekend to think about it,” Yoongi insists and stands. The girl falls off him, letting out a surprised sound as she hits the booth. Yoongi adjusts his suit and frowns when he sees there is body glitter on it. He casts a harsh look at the girl who stares up at him with big eyes before turning back to Kwan. “There are no terms for negotiating. Thank you for the drinks and the entertainment. You’ll hear from me.”

Kwan’s face is red like the neon of Yoongi’s favorite motel when he walks out of the booth. Synth and base rattle the metal catwalk that makes up the VIP section, overlooking the dancefloor. Seokjin slides into step with Yoongi as he goes, an imposing shadow as they circumnavigate the walkway.

It’s loud and raucous when they get to the dance floor. Members of the security team watch Yoongi as he goes, their eyes alert. He pays them little attention, just like the gazes of the people dancing in the ground when they catch sight of him.

Sometimes, Yoongi feels a little bit like a myth in moments like this. Out in public, Yoongi is an astutely dressed man who speaks quietly and says very few words. He wears nice but not gaudy jewelry, and he always styles his long hair slicked back, showing off the faded, red scar over his eye. What Yoongi lacks in height, he makes up for in omnipresent stares and quick reactions.

Everyone in the city knows exactly who Min Yoongi is, and they know that he doesn’t make threats. He simply acts.

Outside, rain falls from the inky sky. Hoseok leans against the brick wall under the awning, clove-tinged smoke drifting from the cigarette jammed between his lips. When he sees Yoongi, Hoseok pushes off the wall and adjusts his suit jacket. Where Seokjin looks tall, dark and imposing, Hoseok is wiry and sharp, dressed in all white, looking pristine as he raises his eyebrows at Yoongi in question. Yoongi nods towards the idling SUV as an answer.

They don’t bother with an umbrella. Yoongi ducks his head down as he quickly walks across the pavement and into the car. The interior is moderately cool in the SUV. He takes a seat in the middle, Seokjin sitting alone in the row behind him and Hoseok to his right.

Outside of the rainy window, the world turns into a smear of wet neon. Checking his watch, Yoongi notes that it’s just past midnight. If he hurries, he can stop by the Red before he goes home for the evening. If he goes home for the evening, at that point. The thought of sinking into sheets that smell like almond and cinnamon ease him.

“So?” Hoseok flicks through his phone, face lit up blue by the screen. He looks hauntingly beautiful, all edges and sharp lines. “Deal or no deal?”

“Giving him the weekend to think about it.” Hoseok sighs. “He thinks it’s a bad deal for him because it it is, and he’s stuck on the operation Anya runs in the back rooms. He doesn’t want to lose that connection to her. She feeds him information for his extortion of city officials.”

“How else would he have cleared that permit near the docks to build,” Seokjin mutters. Yoongi casts a glance into the back seat where Seokjin sullenly stares out of the window. “Fucker is sticking his nose in a district he has no rights to. At least we had the means to get that operation cancelled.”

“Yeah, and it’s part of why he doesn’t want to deal with us,” Hoseok says. “Even so, offering the deal is the right move. If he doesn’t take it, crush him like a fucking bug. He’s an intelligent businessman, it’s no surprise that he’s going to try and find a way around you. He might sniff around or try and fuck up some assets.”

“Hobi, you better fucking hope he doesn’t go to that fucker Seo.”

“He doesn’t have the balls. Seo Changbin is unhinged and volatile. He’s more likely to send Kwan to his family in chainsawed pieces.”

Yoongi grunts, amused. “Bang has kept him under control as of late. Seokjin, have Jungkook look into getting some people in there. I’m not interested in them linking up as permanent partners.”

A headache presses against Yoongi’s temples. He doesn’t care to debate politics and machinations with Hoseok and Seokjin. He closes his eyes and rests his head against the headrest, letting their discussion fall to a dull sound.

Yoongi feels like he’s bleeding at the edges, the color of him spilling out of neat lines and all over the pages. His empire is growing faster than he can keep up with, he’s playing politics more than he’s playing the savvy gangster, and the more capital he gains, the more of himself he loses.

When Yoongi had started to climb the ladder of crime and chaos, he didn’t know where it would lead him. An early grave, perhaps. But Yoongi has always been smart and knows how to pick his battles, knows how to innovate. He is not the most inspiring man to lead people in the underbelly of the city, but he does know what he’s talking about and he’s good at guessing what people want most.

People, he’s discovered, all want the same thing, whether they’re at the bottom rung or the top.

The boy he once was wouldn’t recognize him. The new Yoongi wears designer suits, the carefully curated art collections in the opulent halls of his home, the shaking hands with political figures to help install certain assurances within the city. There are more officials that line Yoongi’s pocket than there are gangs in the city, but it’s a weapon he wields well.

Old Yoongi might not be so impressed.

Yoongi feels the phantom ache of the scar on his eye. It doesn’t matter what old Yoongi wants, though. This new version of him is doing whatever he needs to live another day and to install another brick in his kingdom.

The driver drops Yoongi off at home. Tall gates with security cameras and guard house at the entrance keeps almost everyone away from the Min estate. There’s been a few idiots here or there who have climbed the walls and met the three lovely dobermans that roam the property freely.

Erebus catches Yoongi’s eyes as he walks to the large garage. The eldest of Yoongi’s canines sits and watches Yoongi approach with keen, dark eyes. He grins at the dog, whistling lowly. Erebus stands and joins Yoongi on his way to the side door, jamming in a code to the garage.

Inside, the automatic lights flip on. Yoongi squints from the harsh lighting, closing the door behind him. Rows of vehicles gleam under the fluorescents. Sports cars, old collectibles, sturdy SUVs. Yoongi has an armada at his disposal, though he so rarely drives himself anywhere these days. Not after Seo put a hit on him a few months ago, the insane fuck.

Yoongi pulls the tie loose from his neck and begins to change. He presses his finger on a thumb-print lock to a wardrobe and pops it open. Inside are casual clothes: jeans, a t-shirt, a riding jacket, boots and a gleaming black helmet. Nondescript clothes that can belong to anyone.

Every movement feels heavy. He should go upstairs and swallow down something to help him knockout, but he doesn’t. Instead, he finishes going through the motions and tosses the worn clothes in the wardrobe and walks over to the parked H2R in, all sleek, black metal.

Erebus sniffs Yoongi’s knee once, a sort of send off. Yoongi bends down and kisses the doberman on the head before shooing him, sending the dog through the garage and up the stairs that lead to the main house.

Instead of starting the bike in the garage and peeling out the front of the home, Yoongi pops the kickstand up and walks it out of the side door, careful not to bang the tailpipe on the door or scrape the shiny black paint. Once outside, he walks it through the entire yard, arms aching a little as he keeps the bike balanced.

Gravel crunches beneath his boots and the tires of the motorcycle. Crickets chirp in the yard until he makes it to the back gate in his home that opens up to a government only street. Being back-to-back with the minister has its perks, like an extra security measure that he doesn’t have to monitor constantly.

Swinging his leg over the bike, Yoongi slides the helmet on, turns the key, and presses the on switch. It roars to life, vibrating underneath him. He revs it a few times before he pulls back on the throttle and shoots down the street like a bullet from a gun.

Iron gates, walls and security houses blur past him. He lives among the gods of the city, high up over the glittering lights and those who pay pilgrimage to the political, criminal and tech giants who loom over them. Yoongi was one of them not that long ago, rising faster than he could have thought possible.

Still, he descends often. Nightly, even. Like even the most powerful gods, Yoongi’s weakness is a vice he can’t - doesn’t want to - rid himself from. While he doesn’t think of himself as impervious, Yoongi doesn’t have many weaknesses.

His biggest one, though, spends most days at the Red with a private suite in the luxury pleasure house disguised as a motel.

Yoongi parks his bike in a secured garage that he has a paid spot in. The payment for it is discrete and in all cash, one of Yoongi’s several attempts at covering his tracks when he visits.

The garage is still a few blocks away from the Red. He tucks his hands into his pocket, enjoying the balmy evening, rain still clinging to the air though not falling now. This late at night, there aren’t many people out. Cars drive by, tires hissing on the wet road. Neon lights burn above fluorescent-lit windows of small food shops.

At the end of a dead end street, a red motel sign buzzes against the night sky. The non-descript brick building doesn’t look like much, but Yoongi knows better than most. Instead of approaching the front door, he leans against the wall a few shops down, tucked underneath the shadow of an awning.

Pulling his phone out, he dials and brings it up to his ear. As the phone rings, he looks up at the four-story building. There are windows with dark curtains pulled shut and never opened. Yoongi knows that the glass looks ordinary, but is bullet proof grade to protect the most private of clients.

It doesn’t look like much. The brick is old, it’s bracketed by a laundromat and a hardware store, and across the street is a noodle shop and boarded up general store.

“It’s late,” you answer, voice scratchy. Yoongi nearly shivers at the sound of your voice, eyes fluttering shut as he breathes in the rain-tinged night. “What’s a girl to do when a boy calls her this late, hmm?”

“Let said boy upstairs and out of the rain.”

“Hmm.” You don’t say yes, but Yoongi can hear the rustle of sheets and the soft creak of the bed when you get up. He waits in silence, though he imagines you’re walking across the bedroom to head to the main part of the state room. “It’s not even raining anymore, I bet.”

“It is. I’m soaked to the bone. Freezing. I might catch a cold.”

“Whatever shall we do?”

He grins, ducking his head. He can feel the warmth climb up his neck to his face, shaking his head. Only you can get him like this, heart skipping like he’s in grade school making out with someone behind the bleachers for the first time.

“Come on,” you tease on the other line. “Your door will be open.”

“Thanks, Angel.”

“Mhmm.”

His door isn’t really his. But it is a private access door in the back of the alley that requires a keycard and has an armed guard sitting in a security room next to the entry way on the inside. Yoongi hangs up the phone and heads to the special door, avoiding the puddles dripping from fire escapes.

Just as Yoongi reaches the heavy door, he hears the beep of the auto-lock and it swings open with you leaning on the frame. He wants to eat you whole. You’re not in work clothes, meaning you either wrapped up a while ago or didn’t work tonight. He doesn’t want to know so he doesn’t ask, instead walking up to you as you step to the side and let him in.

Glowing light flickers underneath the security door to the left. You close the door behind you and pass him, letting your fingers grab his hand and link fingers. There are security cameras here, but it’ll look normal, with you pulling him through the halls and to the elevator. Touching is very much permitted here. Encouraged. Required.

In the elevator, you stand by Yoongi. He leans into you, silent. You squeeze his hand, very small in his, but warm enough to soothe him. You smell faintly almond and cinnamon, making him go wild as he presses a kiss to the top of your head. You giggle, leaning into him fully, arm pressed to arm.

Perhaps it’s stupid to be so open like this. When Yoongi first started coming here, he was still and awkward, never coming too close, never letting himself be too familiar. Now, the need for you is too strong. He doesn’t care if there’s a camera on him watching him melt into you. He doesn’t care if maybe it shows that this is a little more than money, a little more than just a quick fix.

Yoongi has been coming to you for almost three years. He doesn’t remember when it stopped being about sex, but it hasn’t been that way for a while. At first, he thought it was so silly. Mafia man in love with a woman he pays to have sex with him. Except it wasn’t so silly. You’d long stopped considering him a client and insisting he doesn’t pay you.

He doesn’t dare. He doesn’t know what money you make from clients. He knows that it has to be good to be at the Red, which specializes in top clientele. He knows it has to be great, even, because you always meet on your terms. In this space.

He also doesn’t dare to ask you to stop. He doesn’t know how many clients you take, or who. He doesn’t know when, he doesn’t know how often. He knows nothing about your work except that he doesn’t ask you to stop and you don’t ask him if he wants you too.

It’s an unspoken rule between you. Yoongi is too afraid to ask you to come live with him, and perhaps you’re too afraid to ask him to take you. Whatever the reasons, neither one of you is brave enough to cross the line first. So instead, you dance along it, making whatever this is work.

Inside the stateroom is clean and smells like expensive candles. The room is luxurious and is exclusively yours. A cut of your earnings go to holding the room, just like the rest of the workers in the other rooms.

With the door firmly locked behind the two of you, Yoongi heads to the open kitchen and leans against the counter, facing you. You kick off your slippers and turn to face him, half shadowed by the darkness of the hall, half lit by the warm salt lamp in the living room.

Yoongi drags his eyes up and down your frame. Soft curves, gentle lips, kind eyes. He was gone the first time he saw you, and he’s gone now. Even after all this time.

“What?” you ask, fingers fidgeting with your t-shirt. He thinks it might be one of his, but he might be imagining it.

“Come here,” he instructs, patting his thigh.

You grin and approach him. He opens his arms for you and he sighs as you press against him. Your arms wrap around his middle, squeezing him tight. Slotting your head between his shoulder and neck, you hide your face against him, breath warm against his throat. He envelops you in his arms, wrapped around your shoulders and draped down your back.

Almond fills his senses. He closes his eyes for a second, breathing you in. You don’t say anything, content to sag against him in the low light of the room. This is what he comes here for more than anything. Everything else you offer is secondary. His foremost desire is this - you.

“Everything okay?” you finally ask, because of course you do.

“Mhmm. Just a long night.”

“You smell like perfume.”

“Hmm?”

“Like peaches.”

He opens his eyes and looks down at you. You crane your head so that you’re peering up at him with one eye, brow arched. His mouth twitches. “Jealous?”

“Maybe.”

“Interesting.”

“Not particularly.”

He lowers his arms, letting them drape around your waist. He smacks the round of your ass a bit, not enough to hurt but enough to make you pout. “We really going to get into the mechanics of this right now?”

Your smile is all he needs to know you’re not serious. At least, not enough to do something about it. “No, but it’s fun to tease you.”

“Perhaps I should tease you back, then.”

Hand in hand, you lead him to your room. Yoongi sees the white sheets and grins. White sheets are for him. Grey sheets are for clients, something you’d established in the infancy of whatever this relationship is. He appreciates the little layers of how you make things different for him. You make him feel special - and not the kind that he pays for.

Falling backward into the bed, you look up at him with those fucking eyes that make him week in the knees. It’s dark in the room but he knows it well, standing at the foot of your bed and reaching down to snatch an ankle and pull you a bit closer. You squeal as he does, making a jolt of joy go through him, grinning.

“How was your day?” he asks, lifting your foot to rest on his shoulder. He presses an innocent kiss to your ankle and he watches your brows furrow. “What?”

“Are you a foot person?”

“What if I was?”

You shrug a shoulder, watch him trail kisses down your calf. He nips the meat of your leg, an innocent bite but one that makes your leg twitch. “I’d say I’m surprised to learn something new about you after three years.”

“Yeah?” Yoongi lowers himself so that he’s on his knees, the carpet pressing into his slacks. The back of your knee fits perfectly over his shoulder, your leg resting along his back. You lean up on your elbows and look down at him, watching him settle between your legs. “Think you know everything about me, huh?”

Yoongi’s hands feel your warm skin. He marvels at the softness of your thighs, stroking his hands back and forth. Looking at you, he raises his brow in question. You’re too distracted by the feeling of his hands. It stirs something in him, and he cruves his fingers, dragging his blunt nails softly against your skin.

“Feels good,” you mumble, half-lidded. “I do know everything about you, Min Yoongi.”

“That so?”

“Yes. I could eat your heart if I wanted to.”

Yoongi’s stomach flips at how right you are, at how much you know it. Your confidence in his feelings never fails to make him feel like he is cut open and laid bare at your feet, waiting for you to step on him. To make him regret that vulnerability.

You never do. At every turn, you’ve shown him that you won’t take advantage. That you have no desire to use the fact that one of the most powerful men in the city is in the palm of your hand. Power for the taking. You could wield him like a weapon, he thinks, and yet you don’t. All you want from him is for him to speak freely, to kiss you often, and to hold you tightly.

So he does.

Yoongi presses kisses up the softness of your thighs. You drop from your elbows to lay flat on your back again, your breath catching. He watches raptly at the rise and fall of your chest as you gasp a little. He knows exactly what you like, reaching for your sleep shorts to pull them off slowly.

Tonight, he has nowhere else to go. Neither do you, letting him lean further up between your legs to press wet, open-mouthed kisses against your hips. You squirm a little, sensitive in the hip area. He loves it - would die for it - letting his tongue slip between his teeth to lave over your hot skin to soothe stinging flesh where he’s nipped you.

His hands are familiar with every dimple in your skin and every curve. He traces them as he pulls your shorts down, grabbing the elastic band of your underwear as he does. He throws them on the floor, hands settling on the inside of your knees as he presses you open, dropping his eyes to your wet folds.

Yoongi groans. You’re always so eager for him. That’s never been an illusion, the way your cunt drips slowly down to the curve of your ass at the most innocent of touches from him. It fuels Yoongi’s ego, knowing he has this effect on you. Knowing he’s the only one who can get you trembling in anticipation just by kissing the inside of your knees.

He made the mistake only once asking if you ever get off with your other clients. The flash of anger and irritation had never made him ask again, but you at least gave him an answer: no.

Thinking back on it now, Yoongi doesn’t know why he asked. He doesn’t care who you have before or between. All he cares about is being in the darkness of this room, your scent heady, his head shadowed between your legs.

Leaning forward, Yoongi drags the flat of his tongue up your cunt slowly. You let out a moan and he hums, closing his eyes. He’s been craving your sweet tang all day, the tip of his tongue lingering just under your clit before he drags around it, missing your bundle of nerves on purpose. You let out a sound but he grins, removing his tongue to return to tracing sloppy kisses on your legs instead.

Already lightheaded, he grounds himself by sliding his hands along the outside of your thighs, gripping you here and there as he lavishes you with attention. He knows he’s tired, but he at least wants this. Wants to taste you before bed, to have you melt in his mouth, fingers in his hair. He needs it.

Yoongi doesn’t dip into the drugs that his operation injects into the streets. He doesn’t need to. There’s nothing that makes him forget who and where he is the way you do. Nothing that amounts to feeling your soft skin beneath his palms, smelling the barest hint of sweat beneath your vanilla perfume.

When Yoongi gets a taste of you, it’s an instant high. He feels lost, hands skimming up your thighs to hold your hips to the bed. Your hands seek his, linking your fingers and pressing your joined hands to your hips as he drags his tongue up the inside of your thigh.

This is why he keeps coming back. The intimacy. The reassurance that this is something more than an accident that Yoongi stumbled on a few years ago. That this is more than the roll of bills he will leave on the nightstand tonight, even when you say not to.

There is nothing else he needs in these stolen moments with you.

“Yoongi,” you murmur, voice soft. He hums in response. “Please, I’m going to lose my mind.”

“Good,” he shoots back, biting your knee. You twitch and curse at him, making him laugh. Your glossy cunt is a sure sign that you’re not lying, though. Clit swollen, hole clenching. “Fuck, you have such a wet pussy.”

“Then put your fucking mouth on it, Yoongi.”

He laughs. “As you wish, Angel.”

A breathy whine in the shape of Yoongi’s name leaves your mouth when he starts to eat you out properly. He takes his time, eyes closed as he indulges, tongue rolling up and down your slick pussy. You turn liquid in his mouth, your hips canting as he flicks his tongue across your clit. You shiver in his hands and he grins, gently sucking your clit into his mouth.

“Yeah,” you pant. “Fuck, like that.”

Alternating between fastening his mouth on your pussy to suck gently and sliding his tongue into your hole, Yoongi goes with what he knows makes you a mess. Holds out his tongue and lets you fuck yourself against his face, your hand coming to grip his long hair.

The wet slide of you against his face makes him ache in his pants. He ignores it, determined to hold you still as he buries his face in deeper, picking up the firmness and pace of his mouth and tongue. He feels your essence drip down his chin and his neck. Hears the squelch when he thrusts his tongues into your pussy. Can’t get enough of the way your thighs close around his head, muffling the sound of you whining and saying his name.

Yoongi’s scalp stings when you pull his hair. He doesn’t care. He whips his head back and forth between your legs, tongue pressed against your throbbing clit. You’re shaking underneath him and he pushes you further, dipping low to slurp at your pussy bottom to top, not letting an ounce of you spill out.

“Holy fuck,” you squeak, voice high-pitched as you arch off the bed. He looks up at you, mouth attached. “Your fucking mouth.”

He grins, and leans into you further, pushes your thighs higher. Your legs bend easily under his weight. His hips are pressed against the foot of the bed now, hips rolling slightly, seeking for friction. His eyes close as he gets the barest bit of friction against his cock, more focused on making you come into his mouth than getting himself off.

When you come, your whole body goes taut. Yoongi holds you tight in his hands, mouth moving against you messily as he licks you through your orgasm. You dissolve in his mouth, making him hum against your heat. You twist in the sheets, body twitching, muscles flexing. He avoids your clit, thrusting his tongue into your entrance until you’re gasping for air, hands pressing against his head to get him to stop.

Yoongi removes his mouth with one, lascivious lick. He sits backwards on his feet, panting as he looks at you melt into the bed. Your limbs are lifeless and tangled in the blankets, your hand over your eyes as you catch your breath. You look fucking beautiful.

“Come here,” you rasp, voice rough.

The bed creaks under Yoongi’s weight. He walks over on his knees, drinking you in. Your cum slicks your thighs, shining in the barest shaft of light escaping the bathroom from a nightlight. You turn to face him, face balmy with sweat. You reach up and work the zipper on his pants, making his stomach flip.

“You don’t-”

“Shut up,” you growl, tugging the metal down hard. He smirks as you press your fingers into his hard shaft through the cotton of his briefs. “Wanna feel your cock in my throat. Can you fuck my mouth?”

“Fuck yeah, Angel.”

Yoongi nearly falls getting out of his pants. You laugh, the sound so sweet that he feels himself blush. He’s hot all over, coming alive in the darkness of your room as he strokes his cock. You look innocent, splayed on the bed and blinking up at him.

Precum drips from his dark tip and you open your mouth, tongue catching it. He curses under his breath, entranced by the way your tongue disappears between your lips. You hum, a glint in your eye as you smirk at him.

“Vixen,” he says, shaking his head.

“Give it to me.”

One day he thinks he’s going to die of loving you. He knows that this is what it is. It’s more than you opening your mouth and sticking out your tongue for him. It’s more than him letting you suckle on the tip of his cock playfully, his eyes fluttering shut and his thigh muscles twitching.

Yoongi loves you. It is an incredibly simple fact in his over-complicated world. Among all of the shit and the moves and countermoves he deals with every day, coming here to simply be in love with you is a relief. A home.

A shiver crawls up his back as he slowly inches his cock into your mouth. Your mouth is wet and warm, your tongue rough on the sensitive underside of his shaft. He keeps one hand on the base of his cock and the other on your jaw, keeping your mouth open to make the slide easier.

Everything fades away again. Yoongi sucks in a sharp breath as you open up for him. When he touches the back of your throat, he’s careful at first. He knows you can take it. You’ve taken so much more from him, gone so much harder. He doesn’t want to go hard tonight though. He feels soft at the edges, your taste lingering in his mouth.

The wet sound of your throat convulsing around him making him stroke faster. He knows you’re okay, breathing heavily through your nose as you gurgle around him, spit and precum slicking his shaft as he pulls in and out, marveling at the way you look at him, eyes watering.

Your eyes fix on him. Yoongi clenches his teeth, trying not to burst in your mouth. It’s hard when you look at him like that, gaze so dark and hungry and fathomless. You’ve never said you love him. You don’t have to. He knows. He knows in the same way he is aware you know he loves you. He knows enough to trust you with him. With everything.

There’s not a single doubt with you. It is a rare gift to share this open trust with someone, especially in his position. It is an added bonus that you know he loves it when you swallow around his cock as he presses into the back of your throat. The tight heat of your throat constricting around him does him in, and Yoongi comes with a growl.

You take it in stride, gulping. Taking it down. His eyes roll back in his head and he thinks that if he didn’t love you already, this alone would make him fall in love.

Pulling out his softening cock, he falls backward on the bed. He’s still in the top half of his clothes, but he is exhausted, lashes fluttering. Your hands are delicate as you begin to pull the jacket from his body. He rolls to the side and lets you, lost in the daze of a much needed orgasm. He feels at ease now, more than he has all day.

“Come on,” you whisper, pressing a kiss to the spot under his ear. “Take a quick shower while I change the sheets, they’re sweaty. And I came on them.”

“I’d sleep in them anyway.”

“Hmm, too bad. Shower.”

“Meh.”

“Yoongi, you smell like a whore.” That makes him crack an eye and look at you. Your gaze is pointed. “And not like me. I don’t like it.”

“Huh. So you are jealous.”

“Get in the shower.” Your mouth twitches as you try to fight a smile. “Or else.”

Getting up before the sun is your favorite thing. Even now, when you’re tired from being woken up in the middle of the night, you make an effort to crawl out of bed to make coffee. Your steps are heavy and you shiver in the freezing air of the kitchen as you open a drawer and pull out a coffee pod. You hold it up close to make sure you’ve got Yoongi’s favorite brand before sticking it in the machine and popping the lid down, punching the button to brew.

Yoongi is a sleeping mound in your bed. Leaning against the counter, you admire him from afar. He’ll be up soon, your body clock tuned to the hours of his operation. It’s been that way for over a year now, your circadian rhythm trained to be the most functional during the hours in which Yoongi is awake.

When you were younger, you would have hated to admit that. Would have detested the thought of ever adjusting a single part of yourself for a man. Your entire job was to be moldable. To put on whatever face your client needed, to shape yourself into whatever person that you needed to be.

You have been so many things. A wife. A mistress. A temptress. A lost loved one. And darker things still, sliding on the skin of client’s fantasies over-and-over again until you lost the substance that made up whoever you were for hours at a time.

Back then, it would take hours and days to regain who you were. It wasn’t until you were more advanced that you were able to separate who you are from who you pretended to be. Now, it’s not necessarily. There is no other, no mask. Just you and Yoongi, the single client you decided was worth being moldable for.

The smell of coffee wakes him up before his alarm. You watch him sit up in bed, eyes not yet open. His hand spreads to where he expects to find you, only to discover open space. He swivels back and forth then, looking for you. Maybe a little panicked.

A pang aches your heart. It is so easy to forget that even after years of getting up before him first, Yoongi will never be trained out of the instinct that something of his has been taken. The day he doesn’t worry is the day he’ll lose everything and you know it.

“I’m over here,” you call gently. He relaxes and pulls himself together before getting out of bed and trudging out of the room.

Yoongi is pretty in the morning. His face is swollen with sleep, making him look so much younger. Like a dumpling, even. His mouth is fixed in a pout as he rubs at his eyes, steps uneven and dark hair sticking up all over the place. He looks at you, eyes glassy. The faded pink scar over his eye is less intimidating in the morning. You grin and open your arms. His reaction is automatic, sliding between them and sinking into your embrace, head thudding to your shoulder.

“Hi,” you purr, your hands squeezing around his middle. His shirt is soft in your fingers as you play with the hem. He grunts back, not much of a morning person. You don’t mind. Instead, you let him lay his weight on you, unwilling to move even as the coffee finishes brewing. He smells like sage shampoo and something more unique to him. “You okay, sleepyhead?”

“Mhmm.”

“Can’t talk yet?” he shakes his head against you and you laugh. “Come on, coffee.”

With Yoongi latched on to you, you walk over to the coffee maker. You giggle, elated as he clings to your front, letting you move him backwards. With his butt pressed against the counter and arms wrapped around you, you lean around him to grab the steaming mug and bring it in front of him.

Pouting, he drops his hands from you and takes it.

Years of mornings and carefully pulling back layers of Yoongi has earned this rare silliness between you. You’re acutely aware of the fact that the sleepy man in front of you, no matter how soft and blushing he is in the mornings, is a murderer. He’s extorted people, has threatened them, sits at the top of drug trade, and has pushed people into political office with dirty money and blood. Your eyes linger on his scar, a memento of his violent youth.

You don’t care. It doesn’t matter what Yoongi is and is not. All that matters to you is that he is Yoongi and that he is yours. At least, yours in the way it matters. You don’t dare ask him for more than what you have. It is the one thing you’re afraid of, because even though you know that he loves you, that you know he trusts you, asking for more is something you don’t want to do. Too many people want more of him. You just want whatever you can have.

As he sips his coffee, careful not to let it spill over and burn you while you bury yourself in snuggling him, you close your eyes. A couple of years ago, you didn’t think a life like this was possible. Getting in at the Red was the first step in the right direction. Though still for sex workers, it was an upper level platform in the industry you clawed your way to.

Both of you are similar in that regard. Yoongi started from nothing. A poor boy who dropped out of school to work a job and help pay rent at his apartment, too uneducated with not enough resources to make a dent in the world. It was the same story for you, though perhaps a little bloody around the edges, a hand that started selling you before you could make the choice yourself.

At the thought of your mother, you feel your jaw clench. The bite of the memory is only soothed by the knowledge of Yoongi putting her down himself. Perhaps it makes you a monster, but you’ve accepted that long ago you were what the world crafted you to be, and you wouldn’t apologize.

If you were Yoongi’s shield, he was your sword. You protected him from the weight of his atrocities, and he slayed your monsters.

It’s what drew Yoongi to you in the first place, the unapologetic approach to life. You appreciate it in him too. He doesn’t try to pretend that he is more or less than what he is, and you never try to hide the ugly parts of yourself.

And here he is anyway, coffee-warm lips pressed against your forehead. It almost makes you ask for more, but you don’t. This is enough for now.

The room at the Red isn’t where you live, but it’s yours in everything except lease. You long stopped using it for its intended purposes, now pleased to use it as a neutral ground to meet Yoongi and to stay where you know he is safe. His sprawling estate under guard and gun is surely safe enough, but you like having Yoongi where you can see him.

After a mostly innocent shower together, Yoongi gets dressed and kisses you goodbye after you walk him down. It’s still dark outside when you swipe your security key. He puts on his biker helmet and gives you a little salute before jogging down the alleyway, splashing into the morning and vanishing around a corner.

You linger for a moment, watching the empty space where he vanished. It would be nicer to be somewhere you didn’t have to escort him out. Somewhere you could be together all the time. You don’t think Yoongi would say no if you invited him over to your apartment, but you don’t have the security and the heavy protection that the Red offers.

Collecting your things, you scribble a note for the cleaner before heading out. You’ll only return to the room if Yoongi intends on swinging by again. Though it is more than a suitable place to spend all your time, you like your small apartment tucked downtown above a coffee shop. It has a hominess that feels more like you. That is a little less sterile.

Sun cracks over the city, spilling light like yolk over the buildings. You shield your eyes as you make your way down the sidewalk, shafts of light falling between buildings. The subway is full of people heading to work. Everyone shuffles without speaking, some buttoning collars of uniforms while others close their eyes in seats, headphones snug over their head.

The lull of the train as it starts makes you drowsy, but you fight to stay awake. Now that you don’t spend hours sleeping in and recovering from servicing clients late into the night, you value your mornings. Want to be the kind of person whose business hours are during the day, to feel the sun on your skin.

At your stop, you disappear in the flow of people going up the steps. The concrete above is still wet from the rain the night before, your steps tapping wetly as you go. It’s still summer, but the wind in the shade is cool as you enter the parking garage of your building, heading toward the elevator.

It’s mostly empty, people having left for work already. There’s a single black SUV by the elevator that you don’t recognize, the windows too dark to see inside. As you approach the car, you realize that it’s on, idling quietly.

Years of living in the wrong part of town have you slowing your steps. Your eyes flicker to the plate to see a metal shield over it, hiding the numbers on the vehicle. The back of your neck tingles. You come to a full stop, staring at the running vehicle. No one makes a move to get out and there’s no indication that someone is inside.

While you don’t live in the luxurious part of town, your neighborhood is relatively safe. It’s not without instances, but you live deep into Yoongi’s territory, his foothold on this block strong. You’ve never had to worry about walking down the road by yourself at night or making it to your apartment when drunk.

Now, you’re worried. Instinct needles you sharply. There is no reason to think the SUV means you any harm, but something is screaming at you to walk away.

Then the elevator opens and a normal looking man and woman exit. They don’t pay you any mind as they get into the vehicle, shutting the back door. Your nerves ease and you laugh at yourself for being so ridiculous. There’s no reason for anyone to be doing something nefarious this early in the morning.

Shaking yourself out of it, you walk the rest of the way to the elevator. As you reach your hand to press the button to call the elevator car, you hear the sound of the car doors opening. You whip your head to look over your shoulder as men get out of the passenger seat and the back seat.

Instinct kicks in. You turn and run, screaming shrilly for anyone that can hear you. They take off after you, steps thundering against the pavement as the SUV squeals its tires to back out of the spot and peel after you. There’s nowhere to go but out into the street. You head for the sidewalk only to be snatched from behind and lifted off your feet.

You react immediately. You throw your elbow back, connecting to one of the men’s faces. He screams and you hear bones crunch. He drops you but your knees buckle, a mix of fear and lack of coordination making you fall to the ground. The other man is on top of you, pressing you into the ground as you scream savagely, kicking your limbs to wiggle out of his grip.

He grabs your hair and pulls. You yell out, eyes smarting from the sting in your scalp as he then shoves your face into the ground. It hurts. Pain blooms in the side of your face. You’re aware of tiny pieces of gravel digging into soft skin, cutting up your face. The sting is small in comparison to the throb that pulses through your cheekbone as he grinds your face into the pavement.

Screams echo in the garage as you’re yanked backwards. There are several hands on you, grip like iron. You snarl and yank your limbs to no avail. Just as you’re pulled into the interior of the car, a piece of cloth is slapped hard against your face. You gasp in surprise, a pungent smell filling your nose before you feel a swift fog take over, your mind fading until there is nothing left.

Pain. It’s the first thing you feel when you come to. It’s a slow sort of drift toward awareness, like sluggishly swimming to the surface of a deep lake. You manage to drag yourself there, but immediately want to sink back into the nothingness again once you feel how much you hurt.

Your face perhaps hurts the most. Not only does your skin burn, but it feels like you’ve been rocked with a cinderblock on the left side of your face. You dully recall having your head pressed into the concrete with near bone-breaking force. It explains why when you open your eyes, the left feels a little swollen.

The room you’re in is empty. Your shoulder muscles are on fire, hands tied behind your back in the chair you’re sitting in. It’s hard to pinpoint what hurts worse, body littered with bruises and injuries. Still, you’re alive and that has to count for something.

A man leans against the wall across from you. He watches you curiously. When you become aware of him, you straighten a little in the seat. Your ass tingles with the numbness of sitting there for who knows how long, and your biceps strain with the movement, making you hiss.

“I’d like to untie you,” the man offers. “But I need a guarantee that you’ll behave.”

You want out of the ropes, so you nod your head. He nods once and pushes off the wall, walking over to you. You use the nearness of his proximity to gather as many details as you can: Patek watch, a basic model. He smells like mandarin and something spicy like pepper - maybe an Arabian fragrance. The suit he’s in is well-tailored and when he pulls a knife out of his pocket to cut the ropes around your wrist, you see a mother-of-pearl handle.

Money. This man has money.

Relief makes you sigh, melting into the chair when the pressure in your shoulder blades releases. You immediately lift your hands and place them into your lap, rubbing your trembling fingers across your palms, pressing firmly to encourage blood flow. Your handles tingle as the circulation begins to return to normal, though you can’t make a fist or move all of your appendages immediately.

The man backs away and leans against the wall once more. He’s incredibly handsome, the kind of guy who might be an actor or in the movie industry, perhaps. You continue to assess him, placing him a few years older than yourself. His hands are linked in front of him. No marriage ring, no tan to indicate there was once a band there either.

The expensive cologne matched with the watch leads you to believe someone else picked them out, which leaves you with two options: a lover or a sales associate. Judging the make of the watch, you know it doesn’t look like a limited edition series, so not a very personal gift, if a gift at all. And while the cologne smells expensive, it’s too spicy for a day scent, indicating that he doesn’t have someone to tell him the difference between night and daytime colognes.

If you have to guess, they’re things he’s purchased himself on the advice of a sales associate or because of the amount of numbers on the price tag. It’s a habit that comes with new money.

“I apologize for the roughness,” he offers. “It wasn’t my intent to hurt you.”

“Intent matters little. Results matter a lot.”

“Well said.”

Feeling starts to come back to your hands as you flex them. You’re in some sort of construction building. It looks like maybe an apartment building in the making, with plastic tarps covering the windows and metal scaffolding exposing unfinished concrete. Outside, you think you faintly hear the sound of docks and workers.

“Do you know where we are?”

You look him up and down. “We’re in a building. You’re against a wall, and I’m in a chair.”

He scoffs. “Smart mouth.”

“You asked a question.”

“So I did. We’re in a building that was supposed to be my next venture. Someone, however, got in the way and created a bunch of red tape with the city. Now my funding has been slashed and this building has been sitting unfinished for a year, draining me of my property taxes.”

“Well,” you deadpan. “I’m a whore, not a lender. I can’t get you a loan.”

He grins, but you can’t tell if he’s amused. “You’re not just any whore though, are you? I have on good authority you service high profile clients. One of your clients is the reason this building is stuck in paperwork, and now he wants to take even more from me. I can’t let that happen.”

Yoongi. He’s talking about Yoongi and you know it. You try not to squirm in your seat, meeting his dark eyes head on. Your mind is trying to make decisions and keep up as much as possible, funneling through the list of names Yoongi has mentioned, anything at all that can give you a leg up.

“High profile clients are where the money is,” you admit. You think perhaps this man is Kwan Daehyun, whom Yoongi has been playing chess with for the better part of a year. “I don’t like to sell information on my clients, but I suppose you know that since you kidnapped me.”

“Consider the sales price on this particular client’s information to be your life. I just need a little bit of information, and you’re free.”

You shrug. “You’ve got me there. What do you want to know?”

“Min Yoongi.” You continue to stare at him, giving away nothing. Your heart is racing in your chest and you try to keep your hands from shaking. When you continue not to answer, he clicks his tongue, annoyed. “What can you tell me about his weaknesses?”

You can’t help it, you laugh. Kwan frowns as you giggle. It hurts to laugh, face bursting with pain as you catch your breath and shake your head. “What a cheesy fucking questions. What, you think I just have a list of things that can hurt Min Yoongi?”

“I know how pillow talk goes. He must talk about his stress. Brag about his assets. What else do men go to whores for?”

“To get their cock sucked, usually.”

Kwan pushes off the wall and storms toward you. You sneer up at him, a little less afraid of him now. He appears small and gutless to you, kidnapping a sex worker to ask for pillow talk secrets to gain a fucking advantage. It means he has nothing on Yoongi and has resorted to pisspoor tactics to get anything usable against Yoongi.

Though how he managed to get to you is unsettling. You’re unsure how he made the connection, or how long he has been watching Yoongi. You find that to be the most irritating, to know that Yoongi has been under surveillance for any period of time. Not that you’ve been smacked around and put in an abandoned building on threat of murder.

“I will fucking kill you.”

There is truth in his words. Questioning you is a desperate attempt, but perhaps not his only. It occurs to you that he doesn’t thin you hold any value beyond questioning you, and though he’s said he’ll spare you life, you don’t think that’s true. He only sees you as a vacuum for information, and if you don’t have it or you give it to him, he’ll kill you.

You need to be valuable. And fast.

“Kill me and you ruin any chance of that deal with him.” Kwan hesitates, eyes darkening as the words spill out of your mouth, “In fact, that was probably already off the table as soon as you had me physically harmed and dragged into a car here. So now, you should stop asking me about what Yoongi’s weaknesses are and start asking, what will Min Yoongi do if you call him and tell him who you kidnapped and tied to a fucking chair.”

Kwan narrows his eyes. You see him assessing the weight of your words. You fight the urge to leap at him and reach for the folding knife in his pocket. Just because you can’t see a gun doesn’t mean there’s not one, and just because you can’t see or hear anyone else in the building doesn’t mean they aren’t there.

Outside you can hear the cry of a seagull. When you breathe in, you smell ocean water and salt. Definitely keeping you in a building by the docks. You think you know the one. Kwan takes a few steps back from you and crosses his arms over his chest.

“You think he gives a shit if I have you?”

“You asked for Yoongi’s weakness. You’re looking at it.”

“I think you’re bullshiting me. I think you’re a whore he won’t deal for.”

“One way to find out, right?”

Instead of answering, Kwan turns on his heel and walks towards the opaque tarp. He walks through it and two men replace him at the entrance. Both of them are armed, staring down at you. Ignoring them, you roll your neck in slow circles, trying to ease the soreness.

Tentatively, you reach a hand up to your face, pressing your fingers into your cheek. You hiss, the pain still raw and present underneath your fingers. You can feel small scabs from where the gravel broke skin, but thankfully it doesn’t feel like your eyes are too swollen.

Time passes. You remain in the chair, fidgeting now that you’re awake. Your tongue is heavy in your dry mouth and your lips begin to burn from wetting them constantly, only to be dried out by the salty air. You feel itchy and irritable, trying not to squirm too much in the chair lest you disturb the guards.

Most of all, without having to put on a brave performance, you feel afraid. Afraid of being here by yourself in this warehouse, afraid that you’ve made a mistake trying to make yourself valuable, afraid that Kwan isn’t going to give you a chance to talk to Yoongi as proof of life.

You’re not versed in this part of Yoongi’s life. So much of his business has been held separate from you. The violence and the extortion and the sketchy deals have always been something he did outside of that room at the Red. You’re not afraid of this life, though. Just unprepared and trying to guess what to do next, fueled by poorly written crime movies and stories that Yoongi has told you in the warmth of your bed.

It feels like hours have gone by when Kwan comes back into the room. You sit up straight when you see the phone in his hand and see the fire in his eyes. He looks like a man who has had something go right - which means you have him right where you want him, if he’s doing what you think he is.

Kwan holds out the phone to you. “You have five minutes to talk to him as an act of good faith on my proposal.”

You see Yoongi’s name on the caller idea and try not to start crying. Swallowing thickly, you lick your lips again and bring the phone up to your ear. The tremble in your hand and your voice isn’t a performance when you say, “Hello?”

“Where are you? He hasn’t told me.”

“Yeah, I’m alive.” You sniff a little. “Agh, don’t make me cry. My face will get saltier than it already is.”

“I need more than that, Angel. He’s trying to make deals with me, but I need to know where you are to come get you. He won’t tell me where you’re at unless I wire over money and legally sign over assets.”

“No, he hasn’t hurt me. He’s been polite, though I’ve been kind of a beach- bitch. I’ve been a bitch. Sorry, I’m very tired.”

“Is it the building in the warehouse district at the docks? That apartment shell?”

“Yes, I can do that. Just… please agree to whatever he says, I feel tired and loaded. Bloated. Sorry, I’m confusing words again.”

“Yeah, well I’ve got fucking guns too. We’re going to come get you okay?”

This time when you sniff, you feel actual tears. Of relief that he understands your weird turns of phrase, of the terror at knowing he’s going to have to come get you. To risk his life for you. You knew he would, and yet you almost hate to ask him.

“Thank you.”

“You’ll be okay, Angel, but I need you to listen.”

“Okay.”

His voice is firm as he says, “I need you to do whatever it is you need to do to protect yourself. Don’t think twice about it. It is you or them, do you understand me? There is almost a certainty you are going to have to kill someone when we come get you. Start thinking about it now. Try to get used to it so that when the time comes, you’re not afraid anymore.”

“Okay. I love you.”

“See you soon.”

Yoongi likes to think that he is an expert in control. His compartmentalization is unmatched, and though he is incredibly proud, his pride is not easily wounded. Foolish slights and insults don’t rile him the way they might have in his youth, and physical threats of harm are amusing, especially when no very few people carry through on their threat.

When Yoongi hangs up the phone, he loses every ounce of control he’s ever felt. Never has his urge to destroy been so sharp. He sees red, slamming his hands across his desk and swiping everything off. He tastes metal in his mouth as he bites through his cheek, screaming as he hammers his fists on top of the desk hard enough that he thinks he might split the wood.

Hoseok and Seokjin hear the commotion, crashing into the office with Namjoon and Jungkook behind them, weapons drawn. Yoongi is shaking when he looks up at them, the phone screen cracked in his hand. He cannot stop shaking, the adrenaline coursing through his veins like a dose of heroin.

All of their voices sound like a mess of sounds. The ringing in his ears overpowers everything they’re saying as he stands there, hands at his side, mind racing and chest heaving as he pants. Why is he panting? Yoongi feels like he’s suddenly not getting enough air, dropping his phone to loosen the tie around his neck, trying to give himself more room to breathe. Why do his clothes feel so fucking tight?

Suddenly it’s like there isn’t enough air in the room. Yoongi feels the tunnel vision come up on him fast. Chills spread through his body as he wavers, hands held out as he tries to catch his breath. He feels hands on him trying to steady him, but he yanks away from them. They feel too close, too much in his space and he needs more room. Room to get this blazer off and breathe. Breathe, why can’t he breathe?

Yoongi stumbles into a wall. His vision pulses on the edges and he can vaguely make out Hoseok’s voice. He looks up at him and sees his friend, his advisor. Hoseok isn’t touching him, but his head is cocked as he tries to keep and maintain eye contact with Yoongi.

“Inhale for seven seconds,” Hoseok says. “Then exhale for seven. I’ll count.”

“What?” Yoongi demands.

“You’re having an anxiety attack.” Hoseok states it as if it’s the most common thing in the world. “You have to regulate your breathing or you’re going to pass out. If you pass out, we can’t help.”

It’s the only thing that gets him to listen. He counts with Hoseok, drawing in long breaths.

One. Two. Three. Four. Five. Six. Seven.

Yoongi has to shake this. Has to get ready and call his people, needs to make plans to come get you. He knows exactly where you are - wants to fucking kiss you for how clever you mange to be even while terrified.

One. Two. Three. Four. Five. Six. Seven.

He knows you’re afraid. Yoongi has never heard your voice tremble like that since he’s known you. He knows every tone of your voice, every color to the spectrum of your sounds, able to pick them apart to know how you feel. And while you spoke in a clear tone, it was all wrong. Colored with terror. Voice soft and rough and wavering.

One. Two. Three. Four. Five. Six. Seven.

The ringing in his ears fade. Yoongi continues to take slow, deep breaths. His hands are still shaking and he feels a little light headed, but when he blinks a few times and looks around, he sees his closest men and confidants standing around him, waiting.

“Talk to us,” Hoseok urges. “What’s going on?”

“Kwan has my girl. They’re in that apartment project we froze in the docks.”

“He told you where they were?”

“No, she did.”

Hoseok looks weary. “That sounds like a trap - did he already offer you a deal?”

“He said several things. He didn’t tell me where they were, she did.”

“In front of-”

“Hoseok, stop asking stupid questions or I swear to fucking god I’ll hit you first. She’s not used to any of this, but she isn’t fucking stupid. She used the words salt, beach and loaded. They’re in that building and they’re armed.”

“Poetic,” Seokjin grunts. Yoongi cuts his gaze to his head of security and the man pales. “Sorry, bad timing.”

“Get every fucking person we know on the fucking ground and here. We’re going to get her.”

“They’ll see us coming from a mile away.”

Yoongi stares at Seokjin. “I don’t give a fuck. Kwan wanted to find a weakness, well he found one. And now I’m going to paint that shitty little development with his blood.”

An hour later is when it hits Yoongi. He stops in the middle of tying a shoe and he stands. He’s replaying the conversation with you over and over in his head, looking for any other details he could have missed. He was so fucking proud of you for getting your point across even while scared, but now it’s something else he thinks of.

I love you. He had almost not realized you said it at all at the end of the call. He can’t remember if he said it back, but he’s suddenly sick over the what if of it all. What if he doesn’t get to say it back? What if he gets there and swarms in, only to find you dead?

In a moment of panic, he texts Hoseok to request proof of life on the hour every hour from Kwan under the guise of considering his horrendous deal. Kwan, of course, thinks he’s got Yoongi. He doesn’t, naturally. They haven’t agreed on a time or place to meet, and Kwan does not seem to understand just how poorly he’s miscalculated.

None of it matters. All that matters is that Yoongi is going to come get you like he promised, and he is never letting you out of his sight again.

Surprisingly, your living conditions change a little upon Kwan learning that you’re more valuable kept alive and in decent condition than beat up or dead. He has a cot and a fan brought in, along with an ice back for your cheek and a thermos of water.

You crush the thermos almost immediately. Though you’re kept under armed guards now, you’re relieved to be able to lay down and stretch your sore limbs. When the ice pack finally grows hot and melts on your aching cheekbone, one of the guards gets you a new one without question.

It almost makes you feel bad for what is to come. Almost.

You know Yoongi. It’s why you gambled with a hostage play in the first place. He won’t let them have you and it doesn’t matter what Kwan offers him, Yoongi is far too powerful to accept deals from the likes of Kwan. It isn’t so much a matter of pride as it is a matter of power. You know Yoongi has the power to pull you out of this without further harm.

At least, you have put every ounce of trust and confidence in him that you have.

Time moves slowly. It’s hard to know how fast Yoongi will mobilize or what his plan is. It would make sense for him to perhaps cause a distraction elsewhere to get Kwan’s eyes off of you, but it’s also a dangerous game to play with a hostage.

It doesn’t matter. Yoongi has his job and you have yours, which is to work the screw out of one of the cots joints. You’ve picked one that isn’t imperative to the overall structure of the cot. It can bear your weight without the screw as long as you don’t lean on the joint too much. It takes you a while to unscrew it with your bare fingers, all while lying on your back trying to look uninterested in anything.

I need you to do whatever it is you need to do to protect yourself.

Finally, you pull the cool metal free. You slide it into the pocket of your sweatpants. The weight of it feels better than nothing. It won’t do much damage, but a well placed punch to the face with the screw between your knuckles will do what you need, even if you damage your hand to do it.

You’ve never killed someone. Thought about it a few times, maybe. Had some people try to sway you to slip something into a client’s drink, but you never accepted. Killing isn’t your business. It’s Yoongi’s, but you know that if he’s telling you to take the chance, it’s because he wants you to live.

The thought is chilling. You rest your hand on the pocket, feeling the shape of the screw. You don’t know how to kill. You’re not even entirely sure that you have it in you. You’ve seen people die and you’ve seen people murder. It seems easy.

You’re not sure if it’s that simple.

It’s late into the night when a commotion draws you from your half-slumber. You lift your head as someone comes in and mutters something to the guards. They nod and one of them leaves, the other turning to face you with a glare, hand resting just inside his jacket where you assume there’s a gun.

Outside, you hear the sound of peeling tires as a car takes off.

Nerves take over. You feel your heartbeat pickup as you continue to lay on the cot, one hand under your pillow. It’s hard to think of what might be happening over the sound of your own pulse, but you try to regulate your breathing. There’s nothing happening right that second that you can control, so there’s no reason to panic.

A few minutes go by. It’s agony, waiting with bated breath. It’s quiet outside except for the sounds of the ocean and the mostly empty warehouses and docks. Plastic snaps in the breeze, loud in the silence of your waiting. You think that this is the worst part, the anticipation for what’s to come. You can’t sleep now even if you tried.

When the first round of gunfire comes, you almost lose control of your bowels. It’s a shameful sort of fear that takes you by surprise, making you freeze up. You have been waiting for it, and yet now that you can hear the sound of automatic weapons somewhere below, it feels worse than you imagined.

Looking up at the guard at the door, you reel in surprise to see him rushing toward you. Time seems to slow down. The sound of guns and yelling fade to the background everything suddenly becomes hyper focused.

I need you to do whatever it is you need to do to protect yourself.

As the guard leans to pick you up, you strike like a snake, pulling the screw from your pocket and jabbing upward with a savage scream.

His guttural cry splits the night. You feel hot blood spray your hand and dot your face as you plunge the blunt screw into his eye socket. Blood makes your fingers slippery and as he falls onto his back, hands clutching his face, you lose your grip.

I need you to do whatever it is you need to do to protect yourself.

No hesitation. You dive for him, stained hands searching for the weapon. The metal of the gun slides in your slick fingers. Through the blinding pain, the guard realizes what you’re doing and grabs your forearms. You pull back against him but can’t shake his grip, your hand stuck in his jacket on the gun. You finger the trigger and squeeze, but it doesn’t budge. The fucking safety.

Sliding a knee down, you crush the cap of your knee between his legs, pressing his balls with your full weight. He screams and his grip goes slack. You yank on the gun, almost dropping it as it slides free from the holster. Your grip is clumsy and shaking, your heart pounding so hard you think you might die of fright before you manage to find the safety on the hammer and pull it back.

I need you to do whatever it is you need to do to protect yourself.

Click. Squeeze. Bang.

You don’t aim. Don’t have the sense to at that moment. This close, you don’t have to aim at all. You hit your target and his yelling turns to shrieks. You can’t tell where you’ve shot him, all you know is that you have. You scramble away, hands slipping on the floor, gun clutched clumsily in your hand.

A hand goes around your ankle and you scream as he drags you backward. You roll onto your back, bringing the gun up again, trying to aim in the general direction of his chest.

Squeeze. Bang.

It’s so loud. Your ears are ringing and you’re unable to hear anything as the grip on your ankle immediately goes slack. The guard goes limp, the fight leaving him immediately. You don’t look - can’t look. Can’t focus on anything but the way your vision tunnels.

Dizziness sweeps over you as you crawl away from him again. Your knees and palms might hurt if you could feel anything at all, but numbness starts to take over as you manage to press yourself against a wall near the doorway. You don’t dare move toward it, too untrained to handle a gun while terrified.

“Angel!” you hear Yoongi’s voice screaming somewhere in the building. You open your mouth but nothing comes out. Your lips tremble. You try to find your voice, willing the words to come. Mouth open, his name on the tip of your tongue, you can’t find a response. “Angel, come on, baby! Where are you?”

“Yoongi,” you whisper. It’s not nearly loud enough and your voice cracks on the name. You close your eyes and take a deep, shuddering breath as you muster strength behind your voice. “Yoongi!”

“That’s it, keep talking to me.”

It sounds like he is yelling somewhere down a stairwell, voice echoing up concrete walls. “Up!” You start to curl into yourself. “Yoongi, up!”

Steps thunder in the stairwell. You drop the gun next to you and look at your hands. They’re slick and wet. In a panic, you start wiping them on your sweatpants, smearing red as you do. You viciously wipe your hands. You want the blood off, you don’t want it all over you, it’s hot and stick and it’s not yours and it belongs to the dead man who was trying to take you-

Warm hands grab your face and tilt you upward. You blink through blurry tears. Yoongi looks back at you, his forehead sweaty and his slicked back hair a little messy. He turns your face from side to side as more of his men flood into the room, guns raised.

Yoongi’s mouth moves but you can’t hear him. You shake your head, looking up at him. His grip softens and the gentle brush of his thumb back and forth across your face eases the rising panic inside of you. You sniff, taking a few slow, trembling breaths.

“Are you seriously injured?” Yoongi asks again, voice rough. Cracking. “Do you need medical attention?”

“No.”

“The blood-” You shake your head violently, closing your eyes. “Okay. It’s okay. You did what you needed to do, Angel. I’m going to get you on your feet and take you home, okay?”

“I don’t-”

“My home. Not yours. You’re coming home.”

Yoongi doesn’t need to explain what he means. As he slowly pulls you to your feet, you know what he’s telling you. You’re going to his estate, because it’s yours too now. The agreement is unspoken but mutual. You don’t want to go back to your apartment. You don’t want to go back to the Red. Right now, all you want is to wash the blood from your hands and get away from this place.

Seokjin is at the door with a blanket. He wraps it around you as Yoongi keeps his hands around your waist, steadying you as you walk. You get down two levels of stairs before he tucks you into him and presses his lips against your temple.

“Close your eyes,” he murmurs, mouth moving against your skin. “I won’t let you trip.”

You do as you’re told. His steps are confident and careful as he leads you through the bottom floor. You hear the murmur of voices, the flapping of plastic tarp, and the humming engines of vehicles. Yoongi lifts you lightly and helps you get into the cool interior of a car that smells like leather.

When the door shuts, you flinch and open your eyes, staring straight forward. Yoongi is next to you, arm going around your shoulders as he pulls you into his side again. You realize for the first time as you glance at him that there’s blood on his face and in his hair. His knee bounces up and down, his hand resting against it, still gripping a gun with the safety off.

“Are we safe?” you whisper, staring at his gun.

“Yes.”

“Then why-”

“It makes me feel better,” he admits. “I just need to come down.”

“Okay.”

“Look at me.”

You do. His eyes are dark and though his mouth is pinched at the corners and the vein throbs in his forehead, his eyes are soft for you. “I love you,” he murmurs. “We’re safe.”

A week makes the pain in your cheekbone fade away. A week does not make the memory of squeezing the trigger fade. At night, the memory is worse. What your mind had been unable to remember at first comes back in full-clarity at night, gripping you in your sleep and dragging you down into an endless terror until Yoongi pries you from the clutches of your nightmares and wakes you.

It’s easier with him by your side, though. You’re at least able to fall asleep, if not stay asleep through the night. When he wakes you from screaming and thrashing in the sheets, you’re able to settle against him, his hold on you firm. Comforting.

Yoongi takes this in stride. He doesn’t complain, doesn’t lose his patience. He simply murmurs that he gets it and holds you, his skin warm and smelling like home.

Home.

The estate is a sprawling mass of elegance that stuns you each day. Beyond the opulence of the home and the luxury that it offers, what matters most is the security. The personnel at every entrance, the high gate with cameras and alarms, the three lurking dobermans that still terrify you when you see them standing in a dark hall at night or watching you in the kitchen when you get a glass of water after a nightmare.

Nox has come around to liking you, at least. She’s become your shadow in the house, which had made you a little unsure at first. Now, she trails you up the stairs and to the master bedroom. You’ve grown used to her - prefer it, even, when Yoongi is not home like right now.

Erebus and Khonsu are on the floor of the master bedroom. Both watch you as you enter, unbothered but aware. Where their younger sister has adopted you as an owner and a thing to protect, they still seem set on Yoongi only.

The three dogs remain in the bedroom as you end the bathroom. It makes you feel safe to know that even if someone managed to get through the gates, up the driveway, through the secured doors and the dozen people that Yoongi has stationed at the estate since your kidnapping, the dogs are another line of defense.

So is the gun under the bathroom cabinet and in the nightstand, but you don’t want to touch a gun ever again. Not if the nightmares it gives are like this.

Steam fills the room accompanied by the scent of eucalyptus. Carefully, you peel the clothes from your body and toss them into a corner. The stone shower is warm with heated floors and a digital panel both inside and outside for control of the fifteen different water settings. There’s even steam options, but you simply turn on the rain feature, slipping under the dripping ceiling.

The hot, wet taps of the water lull you into a trance. You stand with your head tilted down, letting the rivulets of water run the full length of your body.

“Angel, I’m home,” Yoongi calls from the bedroom. You smile, appreciating that he announces his presence instead of sneaking up on you. He’s always careful to make noise when he enters rooms now and announces his arrival. “You just get in?”

“Yeah,” you call back. “Join me?”

“Give me five.”

When he finally enters the bathroom, you turn around to look at him. He’s already pulling the tie around his neck loose, dropping it to the ground. You catch sight of the red across his knuckles. Though he is free of blood - an effort on his part now to bring it home to you - you notice the days where he comes home and his knuckles are split or bruised, hands aching.

Watching Yoongi undress captures your full attention. His movements are slow and methodical. His back is to you, shirt dripping off his broad shoulders to join the tie on the floor. He looks up in the mirror and pauses, dark eyes catching yours. You raise a brow and gesture for him to continue. When he does, it’s with his tongue poking his cheek and a smirk.

Knowing that you’re watching, Yoongi turns it into an art. His fingers trace the top of his slacks before he slowly undoes the belt, pulling it with a satisfying hiss through the loops before holding it out to the side and letting it clatter to the floor. Your eyes are zeroed in on his reflection in the mirror as he works the button open, peeling the top of his pants apart to reveal the logo of his briefs.

Yoongi pauses. Your eyes dart up to his in the mirror to find him watching you, eyes dark. The scar looks menacing today. You squeeze your thighs together, chewing on your bottom lip. He notices, smirk growing as he rolls the slacks down his thighs and kicks them aside. You see the imprint of his half-hard cock in his briefs, your attention on him alone enough to get his blood pumping.

You’ll never get over having that effect on him. Knowing that even after the nightmares and becoming an inconvenience - in your eyes, at least - the chemistry between you isn’t gone. It’s still there, a burning candle.

Slowly, Yoongi peels off his briefs. His heavy cock bobs as he steps out of them and you feel your pussy clench around nothing, just thinking about him stretching you open. He says nothing about the small bead of precum at the tip as he turns and walks over to the shower.

He’s built beautifully. Broad shoulders with a slim, tapered waist. Strong arms and large hands, firm chest and soft but muscular stomach. Yoongi is the perfect blend of pretty and rugged, a combination that you didn’t know existed until him.

When he steps into the shower, you step further into the water, making room for him. He shuts the door and frowns at the distance between you, holding out his hand. You take it immediately and he pulls you forward, careful not to let you slip on the tile.

He doesn’t waste a moment. Yoongi’s mouth captures yours, wet from the shower water as he sucks your bottom lip between his teeth, nipping lightly. You hum, bringing your arms to loop around his neck, fingers combing through his wet hair. His cock presses against your lower stomach, and you shiver.

Yoongi’s kisses are addicting. Slow, like he has all the time in the world, but hungry, like he can’t get enough. His tongue brushes the roof of your mouth, his teeth pulling at your lip again when he pulls his mouth away to press open-mouthed kisses on your jaw.

Tilting your head back, you let him pepper kisses along your throat. You close your eyes, letting him hold you to him. The room tilts as you sway in his arms, the feeling of him licking the hollow of your throat entrancing. It’s so simple yet it feels so good.

One arm loops around your waist to keep you pressed to Yoongi, his other slides up your wet skin to cup your breast. You let out a breathy moan when you feel his thumb circle your stiff nipple, the stimulation so bare but so good.

Yoongi keeps you cradled against him, mouth working your neck and shoulder and back up to your mouth while his thumb lazily plays with your nipple. You're pliant in his arms, letting him do whatever he wants with you.

His mouth starts to descend and when he finally takes your nipple into his mouth, you can’t stop the whine that escapes you. He hums as he sucks gently, tongue flicking back and forth over the peak. You can’t help but twitch in his arms, a ripple of pleasure sliding through you.

Heat pulses between your legs and you feel the slick gathering in your folds. Your legs squeeze together again as Yoongi drags his teeth over your sensitive nipple before letting go and switching to the other. This time, he looks up at you through dark, wet lashes, sticking out his devilish tongue as he uses the tip to trace your skin.

“Show off,” you mutter, voice shaking.

He laughs and runs the flat of his tongue over your nipple before giving a sharp suck that has you arching into him. “You love having your tits in my mouth,” he shoots back. He bites the top of your breast softly, teeth scraping your soft skin. “Don’t deny it.”

“I plead the fifth.”

“Hmmm.”

“You don’t have to say anything,” he teases. The hand around your back slides down to your ass. He grabs a handful, squeezing generously. “Can you turn around for me? Legs spread so I can see that pretty pussy.”

“Fuck.”

He drops his arms so you can turn around. You press your palms against the wall, shivering as the cold tile leeches the warmth from you. The temperature difference makes the room tilt. You slide your legs apart and stick your ass out toward him, lifting a little.

“Fuck yeah.”

You can’t see him, but you feel him as he slides down to his knees. His palms grip your ass, spreading your cheeks open. You close your eyes and let your head hang between your arms when it feels too heavy to hold up yourself.

“Just want a quick taste,” Yoongi mutters.

“Shiiiit,” you hiss, feeling his tongue dance up and down your cunt. He licks you in broad, slow stripes before he puts his entire mouth on you and sucks sharply. “Just like that.”

“Fuck.” The smack of his lips against your wet heat are bracketed by the slick sound of him stroking his cock, the filthy sounds echoing in the shower. “I could eat you out every day.”

“You do.”

“Fine.” His tongue zigzags back and forth, reaching to swirl around your click. He kisses your cunt and stands up. “I’ll make it twice a day, then.”

The blunt head of his cock slides between your folds. You press back toward him, eager to have him push in and split you open. He tuts at you, giving you a gentle smack on your ass. “Eager.”

“I’ve been waiting all fucking day for it, Yoongi. Give it to me.”

“Mmm.”

The feeling of Yoongi sinking his cock into you slowly drives you mad. You feel like you can’t breathe, every inch of his thick length stretching your walls to the max. It feels like he’s in your guts when he bottoms out, the pressure immense and good and dizzying.

He starts slow, giving a few shallow thrusts as you adjust to be pried open. You relax around him, falling into the pleasure as he begins to fuck you in earnest. Hands on your waist, he pulls your ass backwards, meeting every one of his strokes in a loud, wet smack of hips on ass.

A shiver ripples down your spine and you moan when he adjusts the angle, prodding your g-spot. “Yeah?” he asks through gritted teeth. “That the spot?”

“Yes, please fuck me just like that.”

Nothing else exists beyond this. The steam makes your skin even hotter, cloying the air and making it hard to breathe. It makes everything fuzzy, like you’re drifting in and out of reality, pleasure unfolding in you as you squeeze around his cock.

Each snap of his hips is punctuated with stilted breath. You’re gasping, thighs burning as you take every inch of him, fingers curling against the wall, eyes rolling back as you fall into a mute space. You make sound but no words come out, the pressure against that spot inside of you driving you mad.

Yoongi slides a hand from your waist over the curve of your ass and between your cheeks, thumb pressing gently on the rim of your ass. You let out a loud moan, fingers trying to grab the wall to no avail. The new stimulation feels delicious, Yoongi’s thumb pressing against your asshole in time with his strokes. He doesn’t push past the ring of muscles, but it doesn’t matter - it’s enough to send you careening closer to your orgasm, toeing the line of insanity.

“Fuck, Angel,” he pants, fucking into you harder. “Just like that, make it fucking creamy. You gonna come?”

“Fuuuuck yeah.”

His thumb presses harder against your rim. “Come on, give it to me.”

“Shit shit shit shit.”

You lose the ability to say anything. Your body folds forward, only held up by Yoongi and the press of the freezing cold wall as he fucks you with precision. It sends you over the edge, your knees knocking as you come, fists pressing into the wall as you yell through it.

The sound of the shower is drowned out by your babbling. Yoongi thrusts hard a few more times, hand slipping away from your ass to grip your waist hard, chasing his high. He comes with a loud curse, fingers digging into your skin.

For a moment, he leans into you, pressing his cock as far in as he can go. Your pussy throbs around him, every pulse ebbing around him. He presses kisses up your spine, hands sliding up your ribs to pull you upright until your back is against his chest.

“Fuck,” he pants, voice rough. “I’m so glad you’re mine.”

“I’ve always been yours.”

“I mean entirely. Without sharing.”

You pause, looking up at him with a frown. “You know I haven’t been… taking clients for two years, right?”

He pauses. “What?”

“You stupid boy,” you laugh, laying your head against his shoulder. “Of course I wasn’t. I just wanted you.”

“Then why stay there?”

You shrug a shoulder, letting your eyes fall closed. The warmth of the orgasm blooms through you, Yoongi’s skin hot against your back and the shower hotter still. “It was a place I knew you’d be safe when you visited. And I didn’t want to ask you for more. Everyone always wants more from you. I just wanted you.”

“All that time, I could have just… asked you to come home?”

“Yes. But it’s okay. I’m home now.”

He kisses your neck. “You are home, Angel.”

#bts oneshot #*myg #smut #fluff #mafia #established relationship

3K notes · View notes

sevnreads · 29 days

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𝔪𝔦𝔡𝔫𝔦𝔤𝔥𝔱 (𝔪) | 𝔪𝔶𝔤

𝔭𝔞𝔦𝔯𝔦𝔫𝔤: yoongi x f.reader

𝔯𝔞𝔱𝔦𝔫𝔤: m (18+); MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

𝔰𝔱𝔞𝔱𝔲𝔰 | 𝔱𝔶𝔭𝔢 | 𝔤𝔢𝔫𝔯𝔢: complete | one-shot | fluff and smut

𝔰𝔲𝔪𝔪𝔞𝔯𝔶: "I think I can help you sleep better."

𝔱𝔞𝔤𝔰 & 𝔴𝔞𝔯𝔫𝔦𝔫𝔤𝔰: smut, explicit language, sleepy yoongi struggling with burnout :((( , taking a shower together <3, long hair Valentino yoongi 🧎🏻‍♀️, dick bulge through the silk pants 🫡 , oral sex (m. receiving), flexible dom/sub dynamics (they each take charge at certain points, but it's nothing intense), praise (yoongi calls her "pretty/good girl" 🫠), slight hair pulling/grabbing, face-fucking, finger sucking + a paragraph talking about Yoongi's hands, a lil bit of gagging, cum swallowing, might as well add body worship from how much reader talks about how gorgeous he is, yoongi's thighs ♡, spit/drooling, slight ball play, reader sniffs the balls because she's like that lmao, reader doesn't touch herself or cum, this list is nasty but I promise you they're very sweet with each other 😭, cuddling <3, this is about sucking dick it should not be this long

𝔴𝔬𝔯𝔡 𝔠𝔬𝔲𝔫𝔱: ~4.8k

𝔞/𝔫: hello! this is my first fic ever on this blog. I rewatched all the Valentino Yoongi content recently, saw him looking scumptious in these pajamas, and next thing you know we're here 💀 I haven't written anything this long (that is non-academic) in a very, very long time, so I would ask that you please be nice and bear with me. But I do plan to get better the more I write. That said, I hope you enjoy! 🤍

𝔪𝔞𝔰𝔱𝔢𝔯𝔩𝔦𝔰𝔱 | 𝔱𝔞𝔤𝔩𝔦𝔰𝔱 | 𝔞𝔰𝔨 | 𝔣𝔢𝔢𝔡𝔟𝔞𝔠𝔨 | 𝔞𝔯𝔠𝔥𝔦𝔳𝔢 𝔬𝔣 𝔬𝔲𝔯 𝔬𝔴𝔫

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆟 𓆞 𓆟 𓆞 𓆟 𓆞 𓆟 𓆞 𓆟 𓆞 𓆟 𓆞

“You need to relax.”

Your voice was insistent but gentle, much like your fingers buried in Yoongi’s thick hair, and he closed his eyes and leaned into your palms as you worked shampoo into his scalp. A quiet whimper escaped his lips as you circled your fingertips against a tense muscle at the base of his skull.

He was overworking himself again, frustration making his shoulders taut and wearing his patience thin. His eye bags were puffy, exhaustion evident in his eyes. It pained you to know that he hadn’t given himself a break over the past few weeks. Yoongi was so passionate, something you adored about him – but you knew that when inspiration struck, sometimes he had the tendency to push himself too hard, for too long. Now it left him on the brink of burnout.

That’s where you came in. Yoongi had been glued to his desk before you came in and practically forced him from his chair. He made weak protests as you dragged him out of his home studio and forced him into the bathroom, but he’d shrugged off his clothes anyway as you turned on the warm water.

Now you both stood under the warm sprinkle while you washed his hair. Yoongi let out pleased purr-like sounds from deep in his throat that made you grin. He reminded you of a wet, docile cat resigned to its bath time.

When it was time to rinse, you cupped your hand over his brows to block any soap from getting in his eyes as water poured over his head. Then you took your fingers and gently rubbed along his neck to clean him and hopefully melt any tension there. Yoongi held your wrist and gently rubbed his thumb along your skin, his way of giving you a silent thank you. Warmth bloomed in your chest, so you planted a kiss on his fingers – your own silent “you're welcome” that wouldn’t disrupt the nighttime quiet.

You held him close, rubbing down his chest and stomach with a soapy rag. Thick bubbles lathered from his shoulders all the way down to his fingers before swirling down the drain.

Around his hips and butt, you were sure to be gentle, even gripping one of his cheeks playfully. Yoongi pouted, whiny, and you couldn’t help but giggle at the red that dusted his cheeks before his face broke out into a small, tired smile. Meanwhile, Yoongi set about reaching down to clean himself. He wasn’t overtly prude but he did always prefer to do this part himself, so you crouched down carefully and made your way down his legs.

You focused on softly rubbing down Yoongi’s legs and even leaned forward to lay a soft kiss on the skin. You couldn’t explain it, but you adored Yoongi’s thighs. You loved touching them, holding them, kissing them. Biting them. A small pool of heat bloomed in you as you realized that you were now eye-level with his cock too, driving you to give him a more forceful, hungry kiss. The thought of taking him into your mouth, right here and now, crossed your mind, fueled by the simmering image of Yoongi’s head thrown back in bliss, body glistening from the shower water. Unfortunately, you knew from experience that water wasn’t conducive to sex, and the thought of soap getting in your eyes and nose was not in the least bit appealing.

With great restraint, you pulled away and scrubbed his calves and feet. As soon as you were done, Yoongi hauled you up and scrubbed you down with the same gentle ease as you had given him. He made sure to shield your hair from the pouring water, since you’d clipped it up to keep it from getting wet. Your tummy quivered when Yoongi passed his hand between your legs, a small look of mischief glinting in his knowing eyes when you bit your lip. But he continued his downward path, leaving you feeling warmer than steam.

A part of you ached, feeling how tender he was being with you, even when he was tired, even when you were the one trying to take care of him. He always was. Yoongi’s eyes flickered down to your face and must have seen something in it, because his eyes were soft when he met your gaze again.

“I want to take care of you, too,” he said. You didn’t say anything, but the shy turn of your lips was enough to tell him how you felt.

When you were done, Yoongi shut off the shower and reached out to wrap you in a spare towel, rubbing your shoulders and back all the way down your torso and legs. Then Yoongi deftly unwound the towel and used it to dry himself. You wrinkled your nose.

“You should use your own towel,” you complained, but there was no malice in your words. Yoongi only chuckled and pulled you close.

“I’m tired,” he countered with a playful whine. “And impatient.”

A laugh bubbled from your mouth and he rubbed his nose against your temple. Your cheeks warmed when he shifted and you felt a subtle tell-tale poke against your hip, but before you could say anything, he pulled away with a soft rub on your tummy to slip into his pajamas and finish his night routine.

You were left to do the same, but now you felt anything but sleepy.

The festering heat that had been lingering inside you now sparked into a deep desire. As you pulled on your pajamas – a simple tank top and sleep shorts – you thought of Yoongi’s hands on you, thought of his skin underneath your own wandering palms.

Then you chided yourself. Don’t be selfish, you thought. He’s tired. Let him rest. You knew it was true. Yoongi was probably exhausted and would have no energy to do what you wanted, and it wasn’t fair to expect that of him right now. Besides, you reasoned, it wouldn’t be a good idea to keep him up longer than you already had.

You made your way to the bedroom, which beckoned you with its deep blues and cozy greys.

Yoongi’s room was a nighttime haven. He liked to keep it as comfortable as possible, with soft carpets and downy pillows. Next to his large bed sat a settee, your robe robe sprawled across it from when you’d tossed it before the shower.

Once you sat on the plush duvet, you almost immediately felt your eyelids become droopy. You were almost glad for the gentle tug of drowsiness, which quelled your desire enough to make sleep bearable.

Until Yoongi came into the bedroom – and any thoughts you had about sleep immediately evaporated.

His pajamas were black silk, the fabric sleek like ink against his skin in the low light of your bedroom. He didn’t seem to notice the way you couldn’t tear your eyes away from him while he riffled through his bedside drawer for something. Socks, maybe. You couldn’t be sure, not when your mind suddenly felt hazy as you traced the line of Yoongi’s body down, down until – Oh God, was that the outline of his cock?

Swallowing almost became impossible from how heavy your tongue suddenly felt in your mouth, your eyes hungrily taking in every delicious detail of the man in front of you. His dark hair, the curve of his lips, the small shadow that pooled in the divot of his collarbone, making you want to bite bite bite.

You didn’t know why these pajamas were driving you up the wall, especially when Yoongi had been naked in front of you not long ago, but they were. They pulled your eyes to him and sparked your dampened libido back to life.

“What’s the matter, pretty girl?” Yoongi’s voice startled you out of your thoughts. Dark eyes and a small smirk met your eyes when you finally looked up. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

Fuck. He knows.

Embarrassment flooded your cheeks, warm and red. Of course he would. He knew you. He knew you’d been aching for him ever since the shower, knew that you wouldn’t ask for what you wanted because you were supposed to be making sure he rested. But as your eyes fell again shamelessly to his veiled cock, you realized that he was just as needy as you.

Yoongi’s gaze was the same – knowing, wanting – when you met it again, but the red of your cheeks disappeared as your lips parted in an impish smile.

“Nothing,” you shrugged as you stood up from the bed, “just thinking.”

You closed the distance between you two, until the familiar smell of him, warm and woodsy, filled your head.

“I think I can help you sleep better,” you said, your finger sliding up his chest and playing with the lapel of his sleep shirt. The look Yoongi gave you made you want to get on your knees right there and then.

Yoongi’s breath was warm and sent goosebumps up your arms when he said, low and oh-so-quiet, “Show me.”

I will your eager smirk said as you took his hand.

He followed you to the settee nestled in the corner of the room and landed with a quiet poof against the cushions when you pushed him backwards and immediately kneeled between his legs.

A sly glint shone in your eye as you smoothed your hands down Yoongi’s chest, his heartbeat strong and steady, then brought them up and down his thighs over the luxurious slip of his silk pajamas, the fabric the only barrier keeping you from touching his skin.

Yoongi let you take your fill of him, leaning back against the cushions and watching you with amused eyes that made you only more eager to please him. As you worshiped him with your palms, the need to feel him everywhere overcame you. To smell him, touch him, taste him.

Your hand ghosted over where his cock was hidden, and you nearly moaned feeling the slowly-stiffening bulge. A devious bite of your lip as you looked up at him, your hands reaching for the hem of his pants. “Can I take these off?”

Yoongi huffed out a laugh, beautiful and bright. The sound made your heart swell. He ran a hand through his dark hair and sunk lower in his seat, spreading his legs wider. “Go for it.”

The pants were off in seconds and pooled around his ankles. Miles of milky white skin seemed to stretch on forever as Yoongi let you run your hands over him; his legs, his hips, his stomach and chest as your hands roamed under his shirt. You quickly unbuttoned it too, leaving his chest bare for you.

Yoongi’s dark eyes brimmed with budding arousal but still shone playfully as he watched you. A tremor ran through him as you gently scraped your nails down the skin of his navel, right above his cock. Goosebumps traveled up Yoongi’s stomach and a quick glance upwards let you know that his nipples had stiffened, but you kept your eyes on the real prize.

Semi-erect and already stiff at the base, Yoongi’s cock was flushed dusky pink at the tip. Desire coursed hot and molten through you, your hands hot as you shifted eagerly on your knees. You couldn’t wait to have him in your mouth.

Leaning in, you pressed small, fleeting kisses around his thighs, avoiding his cock entirely, getting him worked up from the teasing sensation of your lips on his skin. In truth, it helped hold you back as well. Yoongi’s pretty honey skin always filled you with the desire to mark him up. The temptation to suck on it, bite it, worry it between your teeth until bruises and bite marks bloomed all over him was strong, but instead you settled for gentle brushes of your lips.

Your hands still made their way up and around his legs, soothing and comforting. Closer and closer you made your way up, licking at warm skin. A breathy sigh made you look up: Yoongi’s head tilted back slightly as he looked down at you through half-lidded eyes.

You lifted your head and rubbed around his hip bones. “Good?”

Yoongi hummed in response, the tension in him melting away as he gave you a slow smile. “So good I’m falling asleep.”

“Don’t sleep on me.”

“Keep me up,” Yoongi challenged.

You rolled your eyes and pinched his thigh playfully. “Fine, I’ll get to it.”

Settling in again, you licked your palm and fingers. You heard Yoongi gasp quietly as you wrapped your fingers around him, gently pumping your fist. His skin was hot, pulsing in time with his heartbeat. Laying your head against his hip, you watched him close his eyes as he licked his lips.

“Better?” you asked with amused eyes.

Yoongi nodded. “Much better.”

You hummed, pleased. “Good.”

Once Yoongi’s cock had completely filled out, you took a moment to admire it.

You remembered, before ever seeing Yoongi naked, wondering if his cock was just as pink as his lips, his elbows, the knuckles of his long, knobby fingers. You had been pleased to find out that it was pinker, especially when erect.

The head glistened red and sticky with precum. You felt your own mouth start to drool at the thought of it between your lips: the velvety skin, the heavy weight of it against your tongue, the taste of him.

You rubbed his hips before taking his cock in your hand again.

“So fucking perfect,” you breathed, the words pouring out of your mouth before you could even think, your breath ghosting tantalizingly close to his tip. Yoongi let his head fall back in bliss as you worked your fist around him, goosebumps racing along his hips. You couldn’t tear your eyes away from him splayed out above you, knowing you were making him feel so good.

Feeling bold, you continued to stroke him and leaned down to where his balls hung low. Yoongi lifted his head, eyes sharp as your tongue laved over the velvety skin before gently sucking one of the plump balls into your mouth. You held his gaze, unwavering, matching the intensity of Yoongi’s dark eyes. You hummed, pleased, then smirked slightly before placing a wet kiss where your lips had just been. Then you did the same with the other, rolling it in your mouth gently. Yoongi’s soft tongue poked out to lick at his lips before he sucked in a shaky breath, reveling in the pleasure of you playing with him

Precum slipped between your fingers and filled the room with the slick sound of the glide up and down his shaft. The wet, filthy sound drove your lust to even greater heights, and the whine Yoongi let out when you suddenly stopped stroking made your cunt ache.

His eyes met yours and the smile you gave him was absolutely sinful when you gripped your fingers around his tip to press your nose against the base of his cock. Yoongi covered his face and huffed out a laugh that broke into a strangled moan as you inhaled the clean, heady scent of him.

You hummed lowly. “Fuck, you smell so good, Yoon.”

A bead of precum dripped from the slit of his cock, and you circled it around the head with your thumb, unrelenting, until it was sensitive and glistening. You relished the way his thighs tensed at the motion, the way his hands tensed, the way he squeezed his eyes shut. A teasing lick to his head. A strangled “shit” under his breath. Fuck, you couldn’t wait to have him moaning, loudly.

You wanted him, craved the taste of him, the feel of him in your mouth—

“Can’t wait to taste you,” you said innocently, then taunting. “You’d like that, wouldn’t you? Like me to suck on your cock?”

You licked your lips, watched Yoongi’s eyes follow the movement of your purposeful tongue, then licked up the underside of his swollen, needy shaft. A low moan tumbled from Yoongi’s mouth as he shifted his hips. “Fuck—yes, please.”

Satisfied with his desperation, you brought your mouth down around the aching tip of his cock. Yoongi sucked in a breath and gripped the cushions as you teased your tongue over his slit. The salty taste of precum burst in your mouth. Slick and warm, it coated your tongue. You moaned. This is what you wanted.

After a few moments toying with his slit, you circled the sensitive rim around the crown of his cock, drawing breathy moans from Yoongi’s lips. Then you trailed your tongue down to the spot underneath where you knew he was sensitive and slowly licked it with the flat of your tongue.

Yoongi had shown you how he liked to tease it with the pad of his finger sometimes while he masturbated – quick or languid, always unrelenting until he’d managed to spurt all over himself. He loved when you played with it afterwards, making his hips spasm from the oversensitivity. More precum dribbled from his tip which you suckled up with deliberate licks.

Yoongi threw his head back and stilled as your tongue flicked over the spot quickly, assaulting it with your tongue. “Fuck,” he hissed, his whole body tense above you.

Suddenly, a dull pain lanced across your scalp. Yoongi’s hand laced into your hair and pulled your head closer, making you whimper at the rough treatment.

“Down,” he said, tugging again, and holy shit, just one word uttered gently from him had you clenching your cunt desperately like a bitch in heat. Happy to comply, you sunk your mouth down around him, keeping your eyes on him the way he liked it. You held your head low for a moment before pulling off. “Good girl,” he praised with a subtle groan. Yoongi gave you a couple seconds to regain yourself, rubbing soothing circles on your abused scalp, before saying, “Again.”

Eager, you repeated the motion and held your mouth there for a moment, eyes closed as you swallowed around him. When it was time to pull off, you sucked in a breath with your eyes locked on his slick cock. To see it flushed and gleaming with your spit made your stomach twist with lewd excitement. A whispered “fuck” left Yoongi’s lips as a string of spit stretched from his tip to your lips, and you preened when Yoongi reached out rub his thumb soothingly across yourcheek.

“You look so pretty with your mouth full of my cock,” he said, and you felt dizzy with arousal when he gave you his beautiful smile. He was gorgeous — dark hair and deep eyes and flushed cheeks. Tender touches and gentle praise. The sudden fondness in Yoongi’s eyes clashing with his filthy words and the fact that his cock had been down your throat not five seconds ago gave you momentary whiplash.

Yoongi’s smile melted into something cruel as he dragged his thumb down your mouth, breaking the sticky string of spit, before pushing it past your lips. Feeling cocky, your tongue came out to lick obscenely around his thumb and you moaned around it as if it were his cock.

It might as well have been; you loved Yoongi’s hands, his long fingers and rough palms. His beautiful instruments, when he was strumming the guitar or playing the piano. You loved how gentle they were with you, brushing back your hair, holding your hands, cupping your cheeks. But you also loved how filthy they could be: rubbing your clit and fucking your wet cunt until it made obscene squelching sounds and dripped down his palm. You felt your cunt drool filthily onto your panties, surely soaked by now.

Two more fingers pressed past the gates of your lips as Yoongi fingered your throat gently. Fuck, such a filthy sight had Yoongi gripping his still-aching cock, groaning at the way your throat tightened around his digits, the way spit spilled from your mouth.

“So fuckin’ eager, like you were made for me.” Yoongi’s voice rumbled low from his throat, his chest heaving slightly, making you grip your knees. He pulled his fingers from your mouth and tilted your chin up, your hazy eyes now open. A surprised squeak left your mouth as Yoongi leaned down and kissed you sweetly on the lips. His soft hair ticked your cheeks.

“Just a little more, yeah?” he said, holding your face close to his, and you nodded, dazed. Your eyes locked onto his pink lips that shone with your own spit and his precum. The sight shouldn’t have excited you as much as it did, but it sent a thrill up your spine.

Then Yoongi was leaning back and licking his lips. “Then c’mere, pretty girl, come finish sucking my cock.”

And how could you say no to that?

It wasn’t long before Yoongi’s wet cock was back in your willing mouth. You circled your tongue around his tip reverently, Yoongi’s hips canting into your mouth when you looked up at him with those slutty, wanton eyes.

“Good girl—just like that,” he groaned. “Keep going and don’t fucking stop.”

Your pussy tingled and you thought you might be able to cum just from the way the center seam of your shorts was rubbing against you. Even if you didn’t, you would be more than satisfied. You loved making Yoongi feel good, and you loved his cock. You could spend eternity on your knees worshiping Yoongi and his beautiful tool. The glide of him in and out of your mouth was perfect, so solid and warm that you couldn’t help but think about the way it felt when he slid into your cunt, filling you up just right, slippery with your wetness—

God, if you weren’t so hell-bent on making sure Yoongi slept well tonight, you’d push him down and ride him until morning.

You gagged a bit in surprise when Yoongi gave a particularly quick thrust into your mouth, but fuck it if the sound he made wasn’t worth it. The deep, breathy groan went straight to your cunt, and you moaned around a mouthful of cock. Pleasant vibrations traveled down Yoongi’s shaft and made Yoongi’s grip on your hair tighten.

“This okay?” he asked, breath strained. Yoongi’s fingers tensed and, as if he could sense the sharp pain in your scalp, immediately went lax.

So considerate, you thought fondly to yourself. You’d be smiling if your mouth wasn’t so busy.

You brought Yoongi’s free hand to where his other fingers were already threaded in your hair. A garbled hum and a nod was all it took for him to hold your head in place as he rut his hips into your mouth, letting out a string of moans while your fingers played with his balls.

Spit slid past your lips and dripped down your chin with each of Yoongi’s thrusts into your mouth. You felt so thoroughly used, sitting for him so prettily on your knees, not even touching yourself while he chased his release.

“You’re doing so good, so fucking good,” he said, sucking in a breath, head thrown back against the couch.

Yoongi’s hand pushed you down until your throat contracted around him, tears welling along your waterline. You didn’t mind though — Yoongi was desperate to cum, chasing blissful orgasm, and you were happy to give it to him.

As he thrust into your mouth, you licked along his shaft before flexing your tongue to rub against the rim of his cockhead. Yoongi’s hips stuttered and he let out a shaky breath. You peeked up at his blissful face, seeing his half-lidded, hazy eyes. Yoongi was close, teetering on the precipice of his release. His stomach was tense as you slobbered over him, the sound of your slick lips and his voice mingling in a lustful torrent.

You groaned eagerly, letting your tongue do the work until, finally, Yoongi came. The deep, breathy groan he let out was going to stay with you forever. So was the sight of Yoongi in the throes of his orgasm: head thrown back, thighs spread, skin flushed pink all the way down his neck. The veins snaking up his arms were taut, stark under his skin.

Yoongi’s brows were furrowed and his plush lips parted. His hips stilled as he pushed you down securely on his cock. It pulsed hotly in your mouth, spurting a thick pool of cum on your tongue, making you moan obscenely. Yoongi’s breath hitched as you closed your eyes and swallowed his seed, palm still cupping his balls.

Like his length, they throbbed as his cum was spent. You fondled them gently to milk more out of him, not wanting to miss a single drop. You loved Yoongi’s cum — the taste of it, the feeling of it sliding hotly down your throat and settling deep in your belly. Your eyes became glassy at the thought, a dopey smile spreading across your lips.

Yoongi gently slid himself from your mouth to paint your lips with the last drops of his cum, watching you reverently drink everything he had to offer until there was nothing left. Feeling naughty, you licked across his overstimulated tip one last time, and Yoongi shuddered, his thighs closing around her head.

“Brat,” he huffed, but he was smiling. Your smile was just as bright as you swallowed the sticky mess on your lips and lapped at his cock with little kitten licks to clean him up. A kiss was planted on his knee before you pulled up his pants and tucked him away. “Only for you,” you said with a pat to his thighs.

Yoongi re-buttoned his sleep shirt and pulled you up into his lap to smooth down your unruly hair. He gently ran his fingers across your chin, wiping away the mess of his escaped cum and your spit. Then he kissed you. You hummed happily against his lips before Yoongi pulled away.

“Thank you,” he whispered, looking at you like you were the most precious thing in the world. “You always make me feel so good.”

It was amazing, really, how you could suck his cock so unabashedly on your knees, but the gentlest words from his mouth had you blushing shyly.

He took your hand in his and led you towards the bed where he pulled you down with him, his frame enveloping yours as the comforter fell over you two. Yoongi intertwined your fingers and rubbed his thumb across the back of your knuckles.

He was always like this in the afterglow of whatever you two did – affectionate, attentive, a bit sleepy. Yoongi was, at heart, a passionate, considerate lover who thrived on soft and tender moments such as these. You could never get enough of it; the way he touched you, how tender and safe he made you feel.

He rubbed his nose against your hair and slipped his hand across your stomach, solid and warm.

“You didn’t cum?” he asked, and you shook your head no. Yoongi drummed his fingers soothingly against your skin. “You want to?”

The offer was tempting, but you felt yourself close to crashing now that you had burned through your lust, and although you couldn’t see him, you knew Yoongi must have been even sleepier than you.

You brought his hand close to your chest and kissed his fingers sweetly.

“Later. I’m sleepy,” you said, then sighed. “Besides, I feel like I need another shower.”

Indeed, a cool layer of sweat now covered your skin, along with some spit and cum that had dripped onto your chest. Not to mention how sticky your panties felt in your shorts.

Yoongi chuckled sleepily and tightened his arm around you. “Okay,” he agreed, holding you close before his fingers ventured down and pressed over the seam of your shorts. He rubbed a slow, deliberate circle over your clothed mound, a teasing phantom touch that reminded you of the pleasure he could give you with those fingers. His lips were hot against your throat, and you shivered as he gripped your hip in his free hand and said, so close to your ear that you shivered, “Later.”

The thought of his head between your thighs, suckling on your poor pussy while his deft fingers prepared you for his cock, flooded your mind. You could only imagine soaking him down to the base as he slipped inside you, making you roll your hips against his fingers.

You nodded quickly, breathily. “Yeah, yeah, that sounds good.”

Yoongi’s breath was like a balmy breeze on your neck as he chuckled. “Thought so.” He placed a kiss under your ear before snuggling close, finally letting himself sleep. Your own eyelids fell shut, and Yoongi’s heartbeat lulled you like a gentle rhythm in your ear until sleep overcame you too.

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆟 𓆞 𓆟 𓆞 𓆟 𓆞 𓆟 𓆞 𓆟 𓆞 𓆟 𓆞

#bts oneshot #*myg #smut #fluff

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